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In his almost three months of fatherhood, Ronan Lynch had learned a few things. If a thing can be spilled, it will be. If a thing can be broken, it will be. There will always be small bits of fossilized food to be found in improbable places. And, that there is a small breath's-worth window of time between when a kid makes a mistake (or gets hurt or spills or breaks a thing) and when they look at an adult to decide if it's a big deal or not. As the adult, Ronan has learned not to flinch, not to react, to be the one who decides it isn't a big deal worth losing any shit over.
Ronan has learned that just when he thinks he's gotten the hang of being a dad, it puts him on his ass. Like right now.
He fucked up his reaction this time and Bridget was crying. Ronan had also learned in these three months that he is absolute shit when it comes to child-sized tears.
"Bree," Ronan said as gently as he can manage, dampening the washcloth again, "It's fine. Nobody's gonna care. Calm down." Fuck, 'calm down' was on Adam's list of 'not helpful phrases'.
Bridget's lower lip continued to tremble as giant tears rolled down her pixie face, flushing her tanned freckled skin with mottled red splotches. She hiccupped in great gulps of air, which didn't seem to be helping from Ronan's perspective, while he scrubbed at the patch of red sauce staining her dress sleeve. (She'd had an apron on. How had she managed to get some of it on herself?) Bridget turned to the side and saw that his efforts had only made the stain bigger. Her crying ticked up in volume once more as the kitchen's sliding door opened.
Adam walked in, one arm full of zucchini as he ushered Bryan through with the other and closed it behind them. Ronan saw that moment on Adam's face, the one that took over when an emergency (whether it be stains or blood or nightmares brought back from Bryan's dreams) was in-progress. He laid down the zucchini and came over to the sink.
"Oh, Bree," Adam said with tenderness, "What happened, sweetheart?" He patted her mess of black curls back from her face, the ones that had escaped the braid he'd plaited for her only an hour ago (Ronan was worthless at braids too, much to everyone's amusement in the farmhouse.), and smoothed a thumb over her wet cheek.
"I," Bridget gulped, "I was stirring and," another gulp of air, "it popped and I was too close."
"Ah," Adam said, glancing aside at Ronan, "Too bad you didn't let it pop on him instead. Not like he'd notice with that shirt of his, hm?"
Ronan scowled. It was a perfectly acceptable black t-shirt, thank you very fucking much. It's not like it was worth dressing up for his brothers anyway.
Bridget smiled weakly and Ronan heard Bryan snort over by the table. Adam's magic was working, as it nearly always did with their twins. Theirs. He still tripped over that sometimes.
Adam reached over and took the wash cloth from Ronan's hand, raising one of his fair eyebrows in amusement. "Remind me to review laundry procedures with you again, Lynch."
Ronan bared a sharp smirk, "Meet me in the laundry room sometime and see if you can." He immensely enjoyed the blush on Adam's cheeks at that, remembering their last rendezvous in that small room a few days before when the kids were occupied outside by Chainsaw and her antics. It was much more difficult to find alone time with two eight-year-olds around than Ronan had assumed it would be but they made do, pretty well in fact. And, the little heathens were worth it he supposed.
Adam didn't respond (his blush said enough) as he turned back to Bridget and scooped her off the counter top, twirling once in a fast circle. She kicked out her bare feet with a small giggle, tossing back her head as she did. Ronan and Bryan shared a look. The boy rolled his eyes mockingly as if he hadn't been swung around by Ronan in the backyard a couple of nights ago and Ronan scoffed.
"Alright," Adam said to Bridget, "how about the yellow dress then? You almost picked that one this morning."
Bridget considered, "Do you think they'll like it?"
Adam nodded, "I'm sure of it. You go change then I'll fix your hair. Deal?"
"Deal."
Adam pressed a kiss to her forehead and set her down, her little bare feet plopping on the wood floor as she bounded upstairs as if she'd never shed a tear in her life. Ronan turned back to the sauce pot to stir it again.
"Hands," Ronan called out over his shoulder to Bryan. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Adam tousle the boy's hair before heading back outside. How many vegetables did they need to pick?
Bryan dutifully washed his hands then came to stand beside Ronan next to the stove top, stepping onto Bridget's stool for a better look.
"Careful," Ronan said, "It might pop and you aren't wearing a smart color like me."
"I have twenty-seven shirts," Bryan replied, "I can change."
Ronan nodded. Bryan had a strange habit of that. He knew exactly how many pieces of each article of clothing he had, he knew what color every object in his room was, he kept track of the state of the pantry and fridge better than even Adam did. It made a sort of sense, coming from the place that the twins had. They'd only had the clothes on their backs (and each other) when they first came to the Barns last June. There were worse habits to have.
Ronan pulled out the wooden spoon and blew on it, then put a hand under it as he held it out to Bryan. The boy took a bite immediately (good thing Ronan had blown on it, he thought) and considered.
"More sugar?" Bryan guessed.
Ronan took the rest of the bite and nodded in agreement. Bryan grabbed the sugar bowl and held it as Ronan took a hefty pinch of it and added it in.
"You ready?" Ronan asked as he stirred.
"It's just dinner," Bryan said. The tightness in his voice betrayed the nonchalance of his words.
"Exactly," Ronan said, "Nothing special. Don't worry about it." He looked sidelong though at Bryan's unruly mop of black curls nearly identical to Ronan's own. "That mess doesn't look ready though. Go get a tie, after you comb it out a bit. You look like one of the sheep before shearing day."
Bryan huffed but he murmured an 'okay' as he shuffled off the stool and headed upstairs to the lavender-painted bedroom he shared with Bridget. They had bunk beds since they weren't quite ready to sleep apart yet, even if Bryan's dreams could be...unruly at times. Ronan continued to stir, wondering when he might be able to talk the boy into a haircut. Both of the children were anxious around scissors of any kind. Ronan tried very hard not to dwell on that fact, otherwise he was likely to snap the spoon in his hand.
He didn't look up as Adam came back inside, retrieving the vegetables from the table and depositing them into the deep sink. The tension in Ronan's body melted when Adam slipped up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist and pressing against his back. His breath was a whisper against Ronan's neck as he leaned closer, making Ronan shiver in a way he never fought.
"Hmm," Adam said, "Delicious."
"You haven't tried a bite of it yet, Parrish," Ronan replied.
"I wasn't talking about the sauce, darlin'," Adam cooed, all deep accented twang and strong hands as he pressed a kiss to the sensitive skin beneath Ronan's ear. Ronan dropped his head back against Adam's shoulder, not particularly caring to pay attention to the sauce at this point as Adam's mouth continued its sweet journey up to Ronan's ear and then down to his jaw.
A bump from the upper floor had them both glancing upward on reflex. Adam smiled against Ronan's skin, breathing him in.
"They're nervous," Ronan said.
"Of course they are," Adam said, "It's a big day."
"It's just my brothers."
"It's meeting their uncles and their aunt and their cousin for the first time," Adam countered, slipping a few fingers beneath Ronan's t-shirt to press against his bare skin, "They haven't had a family before. It matters, trust me."
Ronan did. There had never been a time without Declan for him and he barely remembered a time before Matthew. Even when they were orphaned, they were the brothers Lynch. And, Ronan'd had Gansey too. He didn't quite understand what it meant to lack family in the way that Adam did so intimately.
"I can promise Bree that none of them will care what color her dress is," Ronan said, pressing back against Adam and letting his husband hold some of his weight, "Though Declan might comment on their hair."
"One thing at a time," Adam said, laying his cheek against Ronan's as a thunder of footfalls and indistinguishable chatter announced the children's return. He pressed a kiss to Ronan's temple before stepping back to greet the twins.
"Stool, please," Adam said to Bridget. She came to grab it with both hands, laying her head against Ronan's side for a second in affection before carrying it over to the kitchen table where Adam waited with a variety of combs and hair ties to wrangle her curls back into respectability.
Ronan focused on the sauce for a moment. Those little touches, those small acknowledgements of the safety and warmth that the kids felt around here still managed to affect Ronan. He hadn't expected it. In fact, he'd made damn sure he had no expectations when they brought the twins to the farmhouse other than he'd be there when they needed it and make sure they were taken care of in every single way he could think of.
He hadn't expected the rest, the all of it.
The sleepy good mornings with pillow creases on cheeks and the bedtime stories that always went on longer than agreed upon. The silly made-up games and the running around the yard. The cooking with Bridget and listening to how wicked whip-smart she was with Adam's lessons. The teaching Bryan about being a dreamer and the boy's fascination with both farm work and Adam's attempts to restore cars. How the twins both adored Chainsaw and Opal, a fearsome foursome if there ever was one. How they clearly loved Adam, and himself.
Bryan ambled up to him, holding out a single thick hair tie. Ronan set aside the spoon, turning the burner down to warm.
"Up or back?" Ronan asked as Bryan turned around. Ronan couldn't braid but the length and curl of his own hair made him capable of dealing with Bryan's easily.
"Back," Bryan said, then tagged on, "Please."
Ronan smirked, "Sure."
Bryan nearly always chose to wear his hair the same way as Ronan's but neither of them acknowledged it aloud. Instead of the top bun they both often wore while outside in the heat, Ronan pulled Bryan's dark curls into a semi-decent ponytail at the back of his head, managing to get all except for a couple of errant curls at the base of his hairline. Ronan tugged at a curl when he finished and Bryan shuffled his shoulders (He was terribly ticklish.) as Ronan fixed the boy's collar.
"Done," Ronan said, "You good?"
"Yeah," Bryan replied, still a little too tight, a little too high.
"Can you take some water out to Chainsaw, Bry?" Adam asked, not looking up from Bree's braid as he held a couple of bobby pins in his mouth. It looked only a step down from heart surgery in complication to Ronan's eyes. "It's too hot out there and I don't want her dunking herself in the creek before everyone shows up."
"Okay," Bryan said, grabbing a pitcher and filling it before heading out to the front porch.
"Thank you," Adam said as his fingers continued moving in an inexplicable pattern.
Ronan leaned against the counter top, watching the two of them: Adam in concentration on Bridget's hair as she sat on her stool between his knees, her face buried in a book as if the world didn't exist beyond it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the birth certificates pinned with magnets to the fridge. Bryan and Bridget still liked to look at the dream objects regularly, ever since their second week at the Barns when Adam had told them they could stay permanently if they wanted. Ronan had wondered if it was too soon for them to choose.
"It's so they know they have a choice in the first place," Adam had explained, "Control can be an empowering thing when you've never had it before."
Adam had expected the twins to mull over it but Ronan had known from the start. He wasn't surprised when Bryan's face lit up like the sun itself or when Bridget threw her arms around his own waist in excitement. Ronan wasn't surprised that the twins confirmed they wanted this to be their home the moment it was offered. He wasn't surprised by Adam's tears, the soft ones in the moment nor the more intense ones that night after they put the kids to bed.
Family. It was a growing thing, larger and deeper with every passing year. He smiled a little to himself when he thought of how he'd sometimes catch Bryan running a finger over his new last name printed on the paper or how Bridget insisted on writing her full name on her homework even though she was the only Bridget in the house.
"There we go," Adam said slowly, tying the ribbon at the bottom of the braid that reached down Bridget's entire back, "All done."
Bridget leaned her head back and Adam leaned down. They touched noses, both smiling, and Ronan's heart managed to both clench hard and expand straight out of his chest.
He couldn't wait until the next six kids showed up. Ronan knew he'd probably never sleep again (Who knew his teenaged insomnia had been practice for fatherhood?) and he'd need to up his game in hair braiding and stain removal but, yeah, he couldn't wait. Now that they had started their family, he found himself a bit desperate sometimes to see the rest of Lindenmere's gifted vision to Adam come true, the one that had shown a full farmhouse with eight kids and a happy Christmas and more joy and love than Ronan'd ever imagined himself being blessed with.
He wondered when child number three would arrive. He wondered who they were and what they were doing now. Ronan prayed they were alright, that they were loved and cared for even if that meant they'd lose that somehow to end up at the Barns with him and Adam. He knew they'd do their damnedest to live up to it.
Bridget bounced out of the room with her book in-hand (meaning she was probably sneaking off to a quiet corner to continue with it) and Adam came over to the sink, kissing Ronan's cheek as he passed to start washing vegetables. He glanced at the clock across the room.
"Half an hour 'til they're here," Adam said, "Give or take."
Ronan sauntered over, copying Adam's motions of earlier as he pulled his husband against him and wrapped arms around him from behind. Adam hummed a little with contentment as he continued washing.
"You mean my little witch can't tell me what time they'll be here down to the minute?" Ronan teased. "You're slacking."
Adam leaned his head back, angling his head at just the right angle to capture Ronan's mouth with a kiss. Ronan sank into it, uncaring about the time and buzzing at the feel of Adam's lips against his own. He deepened the kiss, hungrily taking Adam's lip between his teeth lightly to taste him further. Adam's small moan against his mouth was enough to set his blood on fire and Ronan struggled not to take it further considering they were in the kitchen where anyone could sneak in at any moment. He definitely needed to make some time for just the two of them tonight.
Adam smiled as he pulled back, looking up at Ronan through his dusty lashes that had Ronan cursing his younger self for not making better use of their alone time over the years. It was a smile that had Ronan thinking of both angelic and devilish things as Adam turned back to the sink.
"Twelve seventeen," Adam said as he picked up a tomato and turned the water back on.
"What?" Ronan asked, trying to parse the words.
"I'm no slacker, Lynch."
Ronan's laugh was a bark that brought out Adam's own rough chuckle as he hugged him from behind and pressed his cheek against Adam's hair. Even the smallest moments could be tinged at the edges with the magic of a dream.
__________
It was exactly twelve seventeen in the afternoon when Ronan felt the slight pinch of tension at the back of his neck. Adam met his eyes from across the kitchen with a knowing smirk as he'd too felt the same sensation. They had company.
Ronan had continued to perfect the Barns' security system over the years as he didn't much care for making their family confront hard truths and painful memories for every visit, especially now with the twins and the knowledge of other children coming in the future. There was a lot more emotional intention (as Adam called it, Ronan still preferred 'mind fuckery') baked into the current system along with several more rules but between himself and Lindenmere, with his power as Greywaren, it was easy enough to manage. The light pinching sensation, a brief alert rather than the sharp one that warned of danger, told him that his brothers were only minutes away.
"They're here," Ronan bellowed, unsure of where the twins had gone off to in the house, "Come on, you little monsters!"
Adam rolled his eyes and stood. They both walked toward the front door together to find Bryan and Bridget standing at the top of the staircase as if frozen in place. Their large tawny honey-brown eyes were even larger and wider than usual and Bridget was chewing on her lip while Bryan's hands fumbled in his empty pockets. As if sharing one mind, both Adam and Ronan reached out a hand to the twins at the same time. The children glanced at each other, had one of their quiet uncanny moments, then slowly padded down the stairs as the gravel of the driveway crunched under tires. Adam took Bryan's hand and Bridget held out her arms for Ronan to pick her up. They led the twins outside to the porch.
Declan still drove a Volvo, which Ronan thought his older brother did at this point just to spite him. The fact that Henry drove his Maserati like an eighty-year-old woman didn't help matters as he pulled in beside Declan. Ronan felt Bridget tense in his arms as Matthew's blond head popped out of Henry's car as soon as it stopped moving. He rubbed a small circle between her shoulders. Both kids had put on weight since their arrival so she felt much less fragile than before but Ronan still said a quick prayer that today would go well.
From what he and Adam had been able to piece together, between talking with the kids and seeing flashes of memories in Bryan's dream space, the twins hadn't spent much time around other people. There was school but it wasn't a regular thing and even then they kept themselves apart, and everyone in that no-place town allowed it. Ronan remembered the house, in the middle of nowhere, and could imagine they barely even saw the mailman (if anyone at all) for weeks at a time. They hadn't managed to go to Mass as a family yet (Now that had been a discussion with Adam, deciding just how religion would work in their household.) but they'd driven through town several times, letting them get accustomed to at least seeing the normality of it. The twins even waved hello to Boyd from the car when Adam dropped vegetables off at the garage for his old boss and his wife.
The only visitors to the Barns since their arrival had been the three Fox Way witches which the twins seemed to accept easier than 'normal' people as they felt a bit abnormal themselves. Surprisingly, Gwenllian and Bridget had taken quite a shine to each other and Calla enjoyed Bryan's too-smart mouth while Maura of course was sweet and adored them both (and the twins adored her pie). But, Ronan thought as he watched Jordan unbuckle her daughter from the car seat, Adam insisted this was different.
Matthew, of course, approached first. Ronan could tell he was holding himself back from bounding up to them like an overexcited retriever. He smiled his sweet charming smile at Adam and Ronan before looking at the kids, nodding to them both.
"Hiya," Matthew said, "Bryan and Bridget, yeah? I'm Matthew. You can call me Matt or Matty or whatever you want really."
"Matty," Bridget mumbled against Ronan's neck.
Ronan bounced her a little on his hip in encouragement, "A little louder, Bree?"
"Matty is a nice name," she said with a little more confidence.
Matthew's smile put the sun to shame. "Yeah! I like it too. Do you like Bridget or Bree better?"
Bridget shrugged at Matthew, "I like both. Lynch is a nice last name. That's your last name too?"
Matthew nodded and Ronan caught Adam's encouraging smile, his own hands resting on Bryan's shoulders who was pressed back against his legs but staring straight ahead. "It's everyone's last name here," Adam said to her while patting Bryan's shoulders in silent comfort, "We're all Lynches."
"Not quite," Henry chimed in as he stepped up beside Matthew. He bowed his head grandly to the children, "Henry Cheng, little Lynches, at your service."
Bryan looked up at Adam and raised a quizzical eyebrow. It was enough to make Ronan snort a laugh.
"Don't mind him," Adam said, "Every family needs an oddball."
"Now that sounds like something your charming husband would say," Henry countered, setting a hand on the small of Matthew's back, "I expected better treatment from you."
"I guess he's rubbing off on me," Adam said.
"Now that's a shame," came a feminine voice from behind them, "I would much rather it go the opposite direction if any influencing is being done."
Jordan held Naomi on her hip as she grinned up at them. Naomi, a charmer like her youngest uncle, instantly waved at Bryan and Bridget with a toothy grin. She was a beautiful child, a near replica of her mother other than bearing Declan's blue Lynch eyes. Ronan was surprised when both twins waved back at her, even if they were a bit tentative about it.
"I'm your Auntie Jordan," she said to the twins, then took Naomi's hand, "and this is your little cousin Naomi. She could use some help unpacking her toys, if you two aren't too busy. It's a long car ride for someone so tiny and I'm sure she'd love some company. Right, Mimi?"
Naomi nodded with enthusiasm and Ronan was relieved to feel Bridget's tension lessening with each introduction. Jordan waved a hand behind her shoulder as the final Lynch approached, carrying several more bags than Ronan thought a single overnight trip warranted. But, what did he know. His kids were already eight when he got them.
"And this is your Uncle Declan," Jordan said. She smiled innocently over at her husband. "Uncle Deckie? Uncle Lanlan?"
"They're eight years old, not eighteen months," Declan huffed. Ronan recognized his eldest brother's dad smile now after over three years of Naomi. It was a soft open thing, so unlike the Declan of his own childhood.
"Good to meet you both, Bryan, Bridget," Declan said with warmth, even if it was still so very Declan to talk to eight year olds like they were eighteen. He looked to Ronan, "Are you going to keep us out here baking in the sun or can I sit all this stuff down in the air conditioning?"
Ronan rolled his eyes, "You're whinier than the kids are."
He led the way back inside, depositing Bridget on her stool in the kitchen, wanting her to know he was still close but she didn't have to cling to him like a leech either. She watched the others file in from a distance but she didn't turn away. Bryan stayed close to Adam's side but his eyes tracked everyone in the room as the tension in his shoulders gradually lessened, allowing him to be a bit more open with his interactions than his twin.
Ronan nudged her lightly with an elbow, "I thought you wanted to talk to Matty and Jordan."
Bridget had wondered aloud about them many times over the past few months, dreams who grew up and did things with their lives. Unlike Matthew, Bridget had known she was a dream from the beginning so she didn't have the same identity issues he did. And, unlike Jordan, she was distinct enough from Bryan to have already formed into her own person. But, Ronan knew Bridget was curious. She knew the dangers she faced as a dream more potently than a child her age should understand. She'd had to learn too early what it meant if Bryan got hurt. Ronan hoped her having such knowledge early on would help her be braver when venturing out into the world later in life, even if he hated how she'd come to learn it.
Bridget fiddled with the ribboned belt of her dress, "Yeah but...."
"Oh, Bridget!" Matthew's voice rang out over the din of conversation. He was digging through his messenger bag and pulled out a book, holding it up for her to see. "You like to read, right? Did your dads show you this one?"
Adam met Ronan's eyes for just a moment before turning back to Declan. Ronan would have to mention it to Matthew later. He and Adam had purposefully not brought up being called anything other than their names with the twins, even after their adoption. They were simply Adam and Ronan. In their own ways, they both knew how much weight came with having a 'dad' in name if not in spirit. It was the kids' choice and they'd never ask it of them.
Bridget noticeably perked up at the sight of a book in the same way another kid would look at a bar of chocolate. She shook her head at Matthew, glancing up at Ronan.
"He wrote that one," Ronan told her.
Bridget's eyes doubled in size as she looked back to Matthew. "You wrote a book?" she asked in disbelief.
Matthew's smile grew, "A few. You wanna see? I brought some copies for you guys. And some other ones too I thought you might like."
Henry looked to the ceiling with a dramatic sigh, "I spend my life and fortune in bookshops."
"Could be worse," Ronan said.
"Yes," Henry said, "but that is a hard thing to remember when you can barely see the floor of your own home due to the library which seemed to have appeared overnight. I should make furniture out of them at this point. Something useful."
"You can't tear up books to make furniture!" Bridget cried out in dismay.
"Very true!" Matthew agreed.
Henry held up his hands, "I meant to stack them into creations of furniture, not destroy them. I value my life too much for that."
Matthew bumped his shoulder against his boyfriend's, "Also true." He looked back to Bridget for a second before going back into his bag, "Speaking of which, there's this one here...." He trailed off as he continued his search.
Ronan nudged Bridget again and she glanced at him for only a second before leaving his side to make her way to Matthew. It seemed to help that Matthew's eyes weren't focused on her as she reached him and peered down into the bag with him. He gave her a quick smile and began going through the books, laying them on the table as they took up more and more space that Ronan had planned to use for dishes of food. Considering the look of interest on Bridget's face, he figured he could wait a little longer before setting things out.
He was somewhat surprised when he looked over to see Naomi's chubby little fingers wrapped around Bryan's hands. The boy still stood close to Adam while the adults spoke but he was smiling shyly as Naomi prattled on (With how much both of her parents liked to talk, it wasn't a surprise.) and swung his hand around in some sort of song. Ronan should've guessed at that, he supposed, as Bryan had a 'little' sister even if he had dreamed her to be his twin.
Declan ambled over to Ronan, opening the fridge to retrieve two beers before standing beside him as they looked out over the crowd. For the first time, Ronan thought he could see Adam's vision of the future clearly: the farmhouse bursting with life and love and family. How strange, how unlikely, how precious.
"How are they doing with everything?" Declan asked, taking a sip. Ronan did the same.
"Considering what they went through," Ronan said, "Really fucking well actually."
"No bodies?" Declan asked, part-tease, part-not. After all, he had cleaned up plenty of Ronan's dreamt messes.
"Not yet," Ronan replied, "He seems to have more control than I did back then. The bad ones aren't as bad but some of his memories when he's awake are worse."
"I can imagine," Declan said.
They both stood in silence together for a bit. Adam and Ronan had been clear with the others about the abuse the twins had suffered, or at least the extent they knew of it. It helped them all avoid questions, avoid sudden unseen touches, helped explain their skittishness and wariness. The Lynches knew how to take care of their battered own, how to be delicate, when the situation called for it.
Declan took a long drink, "Plus, Bryan has an actual goddamn dream teacher. That'll help. Too bad Dad didn't see fit to do that with you, or any of us for that matter."
"Lay off," Ronan said, though not unkindly. After the revelation of the full truth that was Niall Lynch, both brothers had reevaluated how they viewed their father. At times, it was easy to fall back on old habits, for good or ill.
"I didn't mean it like that," Declan said, borrowing a hand wave of dismissal that looked nearly identical to Jordan's, "I'm glad the kid has someone there for him. It would've helped you a lot to know you weren't on your own or if I could've helped."
"You helped plenty," Ronan admitted begrudgingly. It was too small a way to say that Declan had saved Ronan's life multiple times.
"You could pay me back by watching Naomi tonight," Declan said.
"I'll stick with eight-year-olds," Ronan said, "They're more than fucking enough as it is."
"Any more clues on the next one?"
Ronan may have let it slip during a phone call one very late, very drink-heavy night with Declan that there were more Barns' child-Lynches in the future but fortunately he hadn't mentioned how many. He figured Declan's brain might have exploded if he told him that he would have eight nieces and nephews from Ronan alone. Who was to say what Matthew would get into (if he and Henry ever got their shit together).
"Not telling," Ronan said, which nicely glossed over how Adam hadn't told him shit about kid number three. His little witch said he didn't know anything, only that there would be a couple years between the twins and the next child, but Ronan could never be quite sure. That was one of the downsides of not being able to see the future for himself.
"Fine," Declan said with a shrug, "I don't know if we'll try for another."
Ronan nodded. Jordan's pregnancy with Naomi had been challenging. The doctors who worked with the Office of Idealization Management (the agency he and Adam had worked for) might have called it 'interesting' but Ronan found himself disgusted by the word. A dream having a child with a non-dreamer, a non-dream. Ronan himself had been plagued by questions of Matthew's physiological complexity; fortunately, it seemed that Jordan was a complete replica of Hennessy in every way, right down to the organs and cell structure. Ronan had to give his best friend props for that. And, he was thankful that he didn't have to worry about Matthew getting pregnant (he hoped).
"Maybe Matthew and Henry will pick up the slack," Ronan said.
"What's the pot up to on that one?" Declan asked.
"Seven hundred twenty," Ronan answered.
"And Adam's still out of the running?"
"Don't be a fucking idiot."
Ronan, Declan, Jordan, Gansey, and Blue had a long-standing bet on the month when Henry would propose to Matthew. (Hennessy was also in on the bet, not because she cared but because it was gambling.) Somehow, it was clear to them all that Henry was going to have to be the one to take that step but the total pot kept getting upped as years passed and everyone had to readjust their predictions. Ronan felt good about his current bet. Henry was a traditionalist and Matthew had graduated from UVA and published his first three children's books. The timing was right. Ronan had put a good chunk of cash down that this coming Christmas would do the trick. Henry was also a sap; he would be the dramatic big-gesture type to propose during the holidays. He wouldn't be able to help himself.
Adam wasn't allowed to bet. It wasn't fair when someone could see the future.
"He needs to grow some balls before it bankrupts one of us," Declan complained, finishing his beer.
"Maybe if you slyly drop a hint that he has your blessing, it'll speed things along."
Declan considered, "That's not a bad idea, you sneaky fuck."
Ronan shrugged. Four months until Christmas. It would take Cheng at least that long to decide on an engagement ring, if he hadn't already. Ronan ran a thumb across his own wedding bands, glancing aside at his husband. A few more months and he and Adam would celebrate their fourth wedding anniversary, and nine years in total. It seemed like a lifetime. It seemed like nothing at all. He couldn't wait for nine, nineteen, ninety more years.
"So," Declan ventured, "What're we eating?"
"Lasagna."
"In August?"
"There is no such goddamn thing as a not-lasagna season," Ronan countered, "That's what air conditioning is for."
Declan's laugh was a short snort of a thing but Ronan scowled at it anyway. If Adam had been looking at that moment, he would know it as Ronan's pleased-but-not-showing-it scowl. Adam had a lot of practice learning the many scowls of Ronan Lynch.
The family moved about the farmhouse and outdoors then. Bridget and Matthew disappeared to the porch swing with a pile of books while Bryan and Naomi were watched over by Henry who was surrounded by an absurd pile of toys. On the back porch, Adam and Declan traded shop talk (as both were still in close contact with Mister Gray and involved in keeping tabs on what, and who, mattered when it came to protecting the Lynch family) and Jordan and Ronan moved about the kitchen with practiced ease, both with an ear out for their children in the next room over.
"Christmas?" Jordan guessed Ronan's bet on the Matthew-Henry proposal question as she dodged his opening of the oven.
He nodded, "You're thinking New Years?"
She nodded in response, "More flash, more glitter. Strikes me as Henry's style."
"A lotta fuckin' money on the table to see if you're right," he said.
"Not even a scrap of a painting's worth," Jordan said flippantly, "Barely worth my notice. How many calves is that pot worth?"
"Depends on the year," Ronan said with a shrug. In the nearly four years since his and Adam's mostly-retirement (They still managed the Henrietta and Illidoran ley lines on their own as they were unwilling to let other dreamers touch them.), they had made a go at a real farm. Not selling dreams as Niall did (Ronan didn't want that kind of attention on his family.) but real animals and real land and real fucking pains in his ass when neither cooperated. Sure, there were times when he skirted things with dreams to make it simpler but his cattle and sheep were awake creatures, not dream stuff as Opal would say, and he busted his real ass to make it work. Adam did too. They loved this place, for its magic but also for the real sanctuary it gave them.
Now that he had kids, Ronan appreciated the idea of a legacy. Of leaving a home for them that lasted longer than he did, a place that would always be awake and living when he wasn't.
"It's good what you're doing here," Jordan said, pulling the salad from the fridge to give it a toss, "I'm rather proud of you, little brother." She'd taken to calling him that since the wedding, despite the fact he was positive that she was younger than him in terms of years spent on this earth.
"Gee thanks," Ronan drawled, "Don't say that to Adam. He wants to get goats."
"Goats?" Jordan asked, "Is there something wrong with goats?"
"They're demons. They eat everything and you could run over them with a tractor and the little fuckers wouldn't die. It's unnatural."
"I think, if given a true picture of it all, no one would call any of us in this house 'natural'."
Ronan tilted his head, "Cheng?"
Jordan shook her head, "Absolutely not. He might be the most unnatural." She cackled and Ronan smiled his sharp toothy smile in agreement and they finished preparing dinner.
By the time everyone sat down around the massive table (expanded over the years because they knew too many damn people), the twins seemed to have relaxed. They spoke easily with everyone around the table, even Declan, and Ronan felt immense pride at seeing them do so, at facing something that made them anxious and scared and doing it anyway. It was so much more than he could do at twice their age, not unless aided by alcohol or a cruel tongue or violence. His pride in them was a bright and shining thing.
That night, after dessert and holding mugs of coffee, Henry, Jordan, and Ronan watched the others move about the backyard from the comfort of patio chairs. Declan and Bridget seemed to be having a very serious discussion about something, Matthew had convinced Bryan to toss a football with him, and Adam was dancing about to some unknown tune with Naomi giggling wildly on his hip.
"He looks good with a baby, Lynch," Henry said, gesturing to Adam with his coffee mug.
"Yeah," Ronan said, unable to look away from his smiling husband. It came out dreamier than he meant it to so he cleared his throat and took a long swig of beer. Both Henry and Jordan smirked at him but said nothing.
"So, all quiet on the Mommy front?" Ronan said to Henry, trying to change the topic.
"She still insists she will retire at the end of the year," Henry said, "It is yet to be seen but I am hopeful."
Seonduck's health had been flagging the past year or so, a fact not known to many but shared by Henry with the Lynches. He considered them trustworthy; they were family. Ronan felt that much more confident in his bet.
"You'll stay in New York, though?" Jordan asked, "Where the publishers are?"
Ronan gave her a sly narrowing of his eyes. He saw what she was hinting at.
"Of course," Henry said, oblivious, "It is important to Matthew's career." He cleared his throat, "Actually, speaking of Matthew."
"Hmm?" Jordan asked, burying the need for more words with a drink of her coffee.
"Etiquette likely requires me to go to Declan but," Henry winced, "it seems more palatable to speak with you two first. I would, well, I would like to ask Matthew if...."
Ronan held up a hand, as if caring that it was a struggle for Cheng to say it aloud. Really, he needed to protect his bet. He couldn't be accused of tampering if he didn't actually hear Henry make a clear announcement of his intentions. They all thought he cheated because of Adam anyway (not that he helped Ronan out at fucking all).
"That's Declan's job," Ronan said, "I'm just here in case your mommy decides to bring a gun, or twelve, to the reception."
Henry's eyebrows shot up to his impressively highly-gelled hair, "Oh no! I can assure you. Mother adores Matty. Even more than she does myself, which is saying something as I am her favorite child by far."
"Well that's good to know," Jordan teased, "Talk to Deckie. To be honest, Adam would be the next best to approach after him in regards to the 'family'." Jordan put a spin on the word as if they were a mafia clan. She leaned conspiratorially toward Ronan's side, "We are just the pretty arm candy, aren't we, bruv?"
Ronan let his smile be extra wicked, "Obviously we fucking are." Jordan laughed and Ronan watched Henry smile but his face was still pale. Oh yeah, he had the Christmas proposal bet in the bag.
Across the lawn, Naomi called out for 'Da' and Adam handed the toddler over to trade places with Declan for Bridget's attention but the girl soon wandered over to see what her twin and Matthew were up to. Adam came up onto the porch to perch on the arm of Ronan's chair, taking a swig from his beer without comment. Ronan slid an arm around Adam's waist, relishing that special heat of him despite the humidity plaguing the late summer night air of Virginia.
"What are you three conspirin' about?" Adam drawled, uncaring of his accent and running a hand through Ronan's grown out hair. If there hadn't been company, Ronan would've dragged his husband into his lap and demanded even more of the attention.
"Conspiring?" Henry asked innocently, "Why ever would you imagine such a thing?" He tried to emulate Adam's country drawl and failed miserably.
Ronan gently pinched Adam's hip before slyly letting a couple of his fingers dip between Adam's boxers and his bare skin. His husband eyed him coolly, at least to everyone else. Ronan knew the flame behind those sunset blue eyes no one else would recognize.
"Don't interfere with things you aren't a part of," Ronan cautioned with a dangerous smirk. Adam raised an eyebrow.
"Oh?" he asked, leaning further into Ronan's touch. But, before he could say further, he caught a glance at Ronan's watch, "It's bedtime."
"Ah," Henry said, standing and stretching, "so this is the life with children I am to look forward to. The six of us used to party until dawn."
"That's not what I remember," Adam said, "I'm very dedicated to bedtime."
Ronan snorted, "As long as you aren't working."
"Kettle, black," Adam retorted.
Jordan looked over the yard at almost the same time that Naomi let out a pitiful whimper-cry of sleepy discomfort. She stood, "Yes, that is my cue. We'll see you all after breakfast, yes? Naomi is still a bit of a terror before nine a.m."
"Gives me time to get these lazy asses moving," Ronan said, bumping Adam as he stood. Adam only rolled his eyes before calling out for the twins to say their goodnights. To Ronan's surprise, both children hugged Matthew and said goodnight to both Naomi and Declan, doing the same to Jordan and Henry as they scampered inside.
"Hands and faces!" Adam called through the open screen door, "And teeth!"
Jordan chuckled, "Already such a task master."
"Just wait until you aren't brushing Naomi's teeth yourself," Adam said, "It's ridiculous how hard they try to get away with not doing it every night."
Jordan leaned in and kissed his cheek, "And yet, you two are doing such a beautiful job of it. They are so lucky to have you."
Ronan wrapped an arm around Adam's waist, tugging him in, "We're lucky to have them." Adam beamed up at him and Ronan felt it on every inch of his skin, "Alright. Off to bed, fuckers. We've had enough of you for one day."
"Good night to you too, Ronan," Declan called, already walking away with Naomi fussing on his hip.
"G'night, bro!" Matthew called. Henry jogged over to him, tossing a wave goodbye to the others, and Jordan squeezed Ronan's arm in farewell as she too left to join her family. Adam and Ronan watched the two pairs walk off to the remodeled barns, now guest houses, they called their own during visits.
Adam leaned his head against Ronan's shoulder and let his weight droop. Ronan was always there to hold him up.
"Go to sleep," Ronan said, "I'll do bedtime."
"They'll pass out easy. It's been a long day for them," Adam said. He turned and wrapped his arms around Ronan's lower back, snuggling up against him as he buried his face in his neck.
"It was long for you too. I'll be up in a few minutes."
Adam shook his head, his accent growing even thicker with fatigue, "I gotta check somethin' on the car."
Ronan rolled his eyes, "Tonight, really? Can't you do it tomorrow?"
Adam shook his head again, his hair tickling Ronan's jaw, "Promised Bry I'd talk to him about it at breakfast. Gotta look now."
Ronan reached out and hooked a finger under Adam's chin, bringing his beautiful face up to his own. His eyes were full of moonlight and magic and Ronan felt at home in them. He kissed him with every bit of the longing and need thrumming beneath his skin, the depth of it leaving them both breathless.
"Finish up with that fucking car ASAP, Parrish," Ronan growled, "Other things need your attention."
Adam's eyes glittered brighter than the stars winking above, "You know how to give incentive."
"You bet your fucking ass I do," Ronan said, tugging lightly at the back of Adam's hair and relishing the way Adam pressed tighter up against him with a teasing smile. "Don't make me wait."
Adam snaked a hand up the back of Ronan's shirt, letting his nails drag against the naked skin until goosebumps pebbled in the wake of his touch, "I'll be done in the shop before you are with bedtime. Wanna bet?"
Ronan eyed Adam's mouth, "What do I get if I win?"
"Anything you want."
Ronan's smile was a devil's grin, "You're on, Parrish."
Adam winked as he pulled back and it was all Ronan could do not to pull him back in and say the fuck with it all. "Try to keep up, Lynch." Then, Adam turned and walked off to his shop barn. Ronan wouldn't admit how long he stood there just watching every inch of his husband walk away.
Ronan rubbed a hand over his face in an effort to focus and went inside. The twins were feeling gracious that night, he supposed, as they had actually brushed their teeth by the time he reached them. It was still a bit of a trial to get into pajamas (It made no sense to him why Bridget insisted on particular sets on particular nights.) but then, finally, after one made-up story and three books and Ronan's singing of one Irish ballad, the twins were half-sleep and curled beneath their blankets.
Ronan leaned down and pushed Bryan's hair back from his face to kiss his forehead goodnight. From the top bunk, Bridget leaned forward for the same before pulling her stuffed raven plushie (affectionately named Hatchet) tight to her chest.
"Ronan?" Bryan asked, his voice soft with sleepiness.
"Hmm," Ronan replied.
"Naomi calls Declan 'Da'," the boy said.
"Yeah."
"What did you call your father?"
Niall's face flashed in his mind, handsome sharp features and wide charmer's smile. "Da," Ronan said, "or Dad."
"Can we call you 'Da' too?" Bryan asked.
It was as if every cell in his body froze in that moment. Ronan fought to keep his voice even and unaffected. "If you want."
"I do," Bridget chimed in, "I always wanted a Daddy though."
"We could call Adam 'Daddy'?" Bryan offered his twin. Ronan struggled to keep breathing. "Then we'd have a Da and a Daddy."
"I like that," Bridget said. She turned her large luminous eyes on Ronan, "Would Adam like that too?"
"Probably," Ronan said, "Ask him at breakfast. You little monsters need to get your beauty sleep."
Both twins snuggled deeper in their blankets, their curiosity seemingly settled. Ronan adjusted their blankets and flipped on the nightlight sitting atop their dresser beside the door.
"G'night, Da," Bryan called out, his little voice so soft and sweet. Bridget seemed to mumble the same though it was hard to tell with the pillow half-covering her face. Ronan felt it in some place deeper than his heart.
"Night, kiddos," Ronan managed to choke out as he pulled the door mostly closed.
He walked fast through the house, snatching the baby monitor from the master bedroom before heading out into the night. He felt somewhere between breaking out into a run and collapsing into the warm summer grass, like bursting out of his own skin but also wrapping his arms around himself. He felt so much, so so very much, so big and so grand that it consumed him.
Ronan stepped into the shop barn and stopped. The dream lights above gave off a gauzy ivory light as they drifted with one bulb sitting on the engine block of the classic junker Adam and Bryan were restoring. Adam's hands were buried in the guts of the thing, his dusty hair flopping into his eyes. He glanced over after a beat when Ronan continued to stand silently only a few steps within the doorway. Adam's head cocked to the side, trying to read him, and he wiped his hands on the rag that was ever-present in his back pocket. He said nothing as he walked over to Ronan and laid a hand on his shoulder, reaching around to cup the back of his neck as he stroked his thumb along his jaw soothingly.
"What is it, baby?" Adam asked with a tenderness that brought every raw exposed nerve in Ronan's body to the surface.
"They," Ronan started, then took a breath. His voice was a little shaky as he continued, from both wonder and overwhelm. "They called me Da."
"Oh," Adam said with the same gentleness, matched by a soft smile that both steadied Ronan and made the rush of love swirling in him that much more potent. Adam pulled him into a hug and Ronan buried his face in his hair. "That's really somethin', isn't it?"
Ronan nodded, relishing the sensation of being held and of knowing Adam would hold him up.
"We're awake, Ronan," Adam said, always knowing what Ronan needed to hear, "We're here. It's not a dream." It was their mantra since the failed apocalypse all those years ago in Boston. The words that kept them grounded through both the nightmares that still gripped them and the realities that seemed too good to be true. This was one of the latter.
A long moment of silent comfort with them simply holding each other followed before Ronan spoke again. "So I guess your little witchy ass was right again. This is why we don't let you in on our bets."
Adam's chuckle was a deep rumble in his chest that Ronan felt as much as heard while they held each other close. Ronan didn't want to mention that the other part of Adam's vision would probably come true soon too, the part which told them they would one day be known to eight children as 'Da' and 'Daddy' respectively. That was for the twins to announce to Adam for themselves though. Ronan wondered if they'd do so at breakfast or if they'd be too sleepy to remember it by then.
Adam ran his fingers through the hair at the base of Ronan's skull and the last bit of tension left his body. "I wouldn't waste money betting with y'all anyway," he said, kissing Ronan's cheek as he pulled back to look at him, "You're all sore losers. It's too annoying to listen to."
"It's hard to complain when you have an unfair advantage," Ronan grumbled. He leaned in close once more, "Speaking of unfair, I'm gonna take a hammer to that car if you don't walk away from it right now. I got bedtime done first. I won our bet."
Adam's slow smile, full of warmth and a touch of mischief, was a thing to burn cities for. He slid his arms tighter around Ronan's neck until they were flush against one another, "Ah, right. What was the prize for that again?"
"Anything I want," Ronan growled. He slid his hands into the back pockets of Adam's jeans, squeezing lightly as he fitted their hips together with practiced ease, "And I'm here to claim it, angel. Objections?"
Adam leaned forward and pressed a hungry bruising kiss to the particular spot of Ronan's jaw that always undid his husband. It never failed, and it didn't then either.
"None at all," Adam cooed against Ronan's skin. If Adam had more to say, there wasn't time for it as Ronan captured his mouth with his own. It was flame and it was moonlight and it was home.
__________
Ronan spooned the batter into the waffle maker and then reached for a mug when he heard Adam's footfalls on the stairs. Even after all these years, Adam still hadn't taken to the early mornings of a farmer terribly well. He blearily took the mug from Ronan's hand after kissing his stubbled cheek.
"Sleep well?" Ronan asked innocently.
"Once I got there," Adam grumbled.
"You weren't complaining then, husband."
There was a couple of minutes of silence as Adam mixed his lightly sugared, lightly creamed coffee before coming up to press a soft lingering kiss to the back of Ronan's neck. It made both goosebumps and memories of last night rush over his skin, hot and cool and impossible to ignore.
"And I won't complain now either," Adam teased, sliding his hands up from behind to rest against Ronan's chest. "There are some things worth losing sleep over, I guess."
"Thanks for the glowing fucking review," Ronan said, smiling a little at Adam's amused snort.
Ronan continued to work on the waffles for a while as Adam continued to hang onto him, both of them content in the warm silence. The peace was broken though when a massive thump from upstairs announced the twins' waking. Ronan rolled his eyes. Bridget had a ladder to get down from the top bunk but she woke up with such frenetic energy every morning that she couldn't be bothered with the last few rungs. Adam nuzzled Ronan's neck, kissing his skin sweetly a few more times before stepping back to pour a couple of glasses of orange juice for the kids while sipping his own coffee. Ronan carried the waffles over to the table just as the twins barreled in.
Bridget was covered to her toes in a bright purple kimono robe Hennessy had sent her from Japan last month and Bryan wore a beanie hat pulled low to his eyes and one of Adam's old Georgetown sweaters that came down to his knees. Ronan was puzzled by both kids' wardrobe choices but said nothing as they came over for good morning hugs and kisses. Bridget came first, wrapping her tiny arms around his waist and smacking a loud kiss against his belly.
"Morning, Da!" she said brightly. Ronan felt Adam's eyes on him at the same time his heart seized. Sleep hadn't made them forget anything then. He rubbed a hand over her back.
"Morning, little bit," he replied as he did every morning.
Bryan came up then, squeezing tighter than his sister had and Ronan leaned down to kiss his hair through the beanie.
"Morning, Da," the boy said.
"Morning, bud," Ronan replied.
Adam's smile was warmer than afternoon sunshine as the twins made their way over to him together. He bent over to wrap an arm around each of them, pulling them close and kissing both foreheads with unabashed affection.
"G'mornin', sweethearts," he said, "Did you sleep alright?"
They nodded, not stepping back from Adam's arms around them as they glanced once toward each other. It was that twin thing, that silent communication and knowing Ronan had only seen between Hennessy and Jordan before these two came into their lives.
The twins looked then up at Adam and he continued to smile down at the pair. Ronan felt the moment go still between all four of them.
"Good morning, Daddy," the twins said in unison to Adam.
The effect was instant. Ronan felt Adam's breath catch in his own chest. He watched as his husband's eyes grew glassy and his smile wobbled.
"Oh," was all Adam managed to say. Ronan smiled at the picture the three of them made in that moment. The sweetness, the vulnerability, the love, the family-ness of it all.
"Is that okay?" Bryan asked. He sounded more curious than worried.
Adam nodded, his eyes growing damper by the moment, "Yeah. Yes, yes of course. If it is with you."
"We want to," Bridget said.
"Good," Adam said, his words a bit shaky, "Alright." He leaned down again and kissed each of their cheeks. "Thank you," he said, his voice a whisper, "You are our treasures, you know that?"
Ronan walked over to the trio, hoisting one kid in each arm to the delighted shouts of surprise from each. He looked between them and Adam and spoke conspiratorially to the twins, "I think Daddy needs a hug. What do you think?"
A tear rolled down Adam's cheek even as he laughed when Ronan stepped forward and the twins both wrapped their arms around Adam's neck to pull him into a family-sized hug. Adam wrapped his arms around the three of them and brought them close so Ronan could press a sweet kiss against his lips. Bryan made yuck sounds while Bridget cooed dramatically, both cackling in amusement.
"It's not a dream. We're here," Ronan told him, "We're awake."
Adam smiled, looking at all three of them before his eyes settled on his husband. "And what a life it is."