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They were dreaming when the ley line snapped under their very hands. Bryde felt it first, gasping, then going still as stone in the space between them. Hennessy felt it next and dropped to her knees, letting out a scream that rocked Ronan to his core. Then it hit him, and he understood.

They were dead. They were dead. There was nothing to draw from. Ronan had never felt it, except in the emptiness, but he felt it now: drowning. Nothing. Nothing. Hennessy was leaking nightwash from the eyes already, hunched over beside him, and they were dreaming, stuck here, and there was nothing. Nothing. The ley line had—it had snapped, gone, broken, nothing, there was nothing to draw from, they were trapped in their dream with the Moderators closing in and they were dead. 

"Run." 

The voice was weak, but firm—Bryde, standing now beside them as they choked, weak, pale, trembling. For the first time since meeting him, Ronan was afraid. He had never seen Bryde weak before. Bryde was weak, they were trapped— 

"RUN!" He roared, and Ronan lurched to his feet. "They are coming! Wake up! Wake up and run, both of you, wake—" he froze, and for a moment, Ronan's heart stopped. 

Then he felt it. 

A glow, a niggle of something in the back of his mind, warm. He took a breath and didn't choke on nightwash. Bryde whipped around. "That's not possible, that can't—it can't be. What is that?" he whispered, and Ronan sobbed, because he knew. 

The ley line blazed. Hennessy gasped, shaky, desperate, and dug her fingers into the dreamt Earth. Before their eyes, tendrils unfurled from the severed ends, and to Bryde's obvious astonishment, twisted together, braiding, sealing, pulling taut. 

"It won't hold. It can't. Go, go, you need to go!" Bryde sounded desperate. "It can't." 

"It can," Ronan breathed. 

"What is it?" Hennessy half coughed the words out, spitting up a glob of nightwash that was worse than Ronan had seen since the day they'd met. Ronan laughed, incredulous, and spun around, watching as something pulled at the line, forcing it together, tying it in. Something leaked from his own eye. He decided it was a tear and refused to brush it away to check.

"It's impossible," Bryde said, agitated. 

"It's Adam," Ronan said, beaming. Then his smile faded. "It's Adam." Which meant he was scrying. Alone, in Harvard, scrying after the Lace had seen him, scrying alone after Ronan had had to cut him with a talon to bring him back, alone, willing to die to save them. "Adam. ADAM!" 

"KERAH!" Ronan spun around again, eyes wide, just in time to catch a familiar form. "Opal. Opal, what are you doing here!? Adam. Is he—" 

"Go!" She half screamed, half bleated into his stomach. "Adam is home! Lindenmere! He came so I could go with him, he was looking for you, and we felt it snap! He can fix it, but he says he can't hold it, and there is something coming for you and you have to go!" 

"Adam is a seer." Bryde's voice was incredulous. Ronan would have been so smug about that if it had happened only two hours earlier. Now he had no patience. 

"Adam is Ronan as Ronan is Adam," Opal told him, stepping back to face him. Her little face was stone serious, even with the skullcap sliding down over her eyebrows. She stomped a hoof. "They are one and two and three, connected. Cabeswater needed hands and eyes that Ronan could not spare and Adam gave them. He is part of us. He will fix the ley line long enough to get you out. You go." 

She turned to Ronan then, butted at his shoulder, bleated. "He says--"

"Opal, help me." Ronan's heart ached as he turned to find the face he'd been looking for for days, grim and pulled taut and pale, but alive.

"Adam," he whispered. "Adam." Adam met his gaze with something desperate, something that almost broke him in two, and shook his head. He knelt in the dirt, in Lindenmere, in their home, hands buried in tendrils of gold, braiding frantically. 

"I should get you to do my hair," Hennessy said, standing up. She was shaking. "Not many people braid like that." 

"You must be Hennessy," Adam said, swallowing hard. He cried out as the ley line surged against him. "I don't have much time. Ronan, I'm sorry. I've been trying, but without being able to scry, you're hard to find, and I couldn't get ahold of you. Declan told me about the townhouse, the Moderators, but there's nothing about them anywhere, in any database. People are asking questions and there are eyes on me. I talked to Blue. She's here. She's pumping me full of energy, me and Lindenmere. Alter idem. I needed to tell you. My phone fell out of my stupid pocket on the drive back and I lost it, that's why I never answered you—I'm so sorry." 

"Tamquam," Ronan half sobbed, falling to his knees in front of Adam, cupping his face. Adam leaned in and kissed him, hard, desperate, mouths squished messily together. 

"Alter idem," he answered when they broke, gasping. "Go. I can't hold it, Ronan. Tell Bryde to bring something back. Not you. You're too much power and too little control, I can't support it. You'll rip me to pieces. I will hold it until you're out, but you're out of time. Opal's got to bring me back in the next minute or I'm gone. I love you. I will find you. Live." 

"I love you, too," Ronan said, and tore himself back. "Opal, you take care of him, you hear me?" 

"Yes!" she answered, bleating, and stomped both her hooves one after another. "Go go go, go, Ronan!" 

Just as Ronan found the power to wake in the bonds of the knitted ley line, a hoarse, ragged scream tore through the air. Adam. He turned and found his boyfriend bent almost in half backward, shrieking, holding desperately to the ley line fragments as something black and vaguely geometric took on a pointed shape and pierced through his eyes in one sharp stab. Adam screamed again, worse than before, and the ley line began to slip as blood ran in rivulets down his face, spattering on the back of his shaking hands. 

Ronan screamed and woke up. 

Paralysis took him, as it took Hennessy next to him when he felt her breath change. 

There was a flash, and a rumble, and then Bryde was there, throwing Hennessy over his shoulder and hauling Ronan along by the neck of his jacket. Ronan hit his head on the roof of the car as he was thrown in—and then Burrito roared to life under them and they were peeling out of the woods, dirt flying under the tires, just as headlights began to appear on the logging road behind them. 

At last, the spell passed, and Ronan jerked to life half a second before Hennessy on top of him. They scrambled apart, Ronan clawing his way into the front seat, her sprawling out across the back. 

For a long time, they drove in silence. Then, on the long, straight highway with no headlights behind them, Ronan began to cry—quietly at first, then desperately, then hysterically, curled over himself and wailing in the front seat. 

"That was your boy?" Hennessy asked, leaning over the console. Her eyes were still rimmed with black and sticky residue coated her cheeks and chin—Ronan's too, probably, judging by the sticky pull of his cheeks when he bawled. 

"You failed to mention that Adam can repair broken ley lines," Bryde said. He sounded thoroughly rattled, awed. "Who was the little girl? She was with you when you called me the first time, in your forest." 

"Opal," Ronan said hoarsely. "We need to go—we need to go, we need—Adam. Adam. His eyes—we need to go to him, now." 

"You want to jeopardize our safety for your lover?" 

"Are you crazy?" Ronan asked. "Adam. Adam. I forgot he could fix them. He gave—he sort of offered part of himself to the ley line through Cabeswater—my first forest, the one I... The one I lost. He was scrying. He can't do it by himself because he needs to be brought back from the outside. He can't wake himself up. It's different from dreaming. He got hurt. The Lace got him. It stabbed him. We need to go to him." 

"It's a lot more dangerous," Bryde said solemnly. "Scrying is traveling the ley lines through a series of other people's dreams, and once you're in, you can't get out. Like letting your physical body float out in space without a tether, hoping the guy with the body hook doesn't miss when it's time to bring you back." 

"Yeah," Ronan breathed, leaning back against the seat and trying not to hyperventilate. I have to convince him somehow. I have to get to Adam if it fucking kills all three of us. "Yeah, that's it. He's brave. Last time he went in, he saw the Lace, and he said it saw him. I'd never heard anyone scream like that before. Like he was being ripped in two and knew he was dying. It was terrifying. He said he couldn't do it again. He shouldn't have done it again!" 

"My dream," Hennessy realized. "He was trying to get to you, and I was in the way." 

"No," Ronan said. "He was trying to get to Bryde." He shook his head. "He has to have driven all night to get there in time. Blue—Blue's our friend, she's a... she's not a psychic. Her mom is, and the coven she lives with. Blue is like an amplifier. Any kind of supernatural power can build off her energy, like a backup boost, a speaker. He's so smart. I never would have thought of that. He went to Lindenmere with Blue." 

"He went to your psychopomp to guide and ground him and brought your amplifier to give him the boost he needed to find you," Bryde summarized. His grip had eased on the wheel, and Ronan thought his heart might beat right out of his chest. "Clever."

"Well," said Hennessy, both elbows on the console between them, "so much for leaving him in the rearview mirror. All this panic over a dropped phone." 

"I can't believe I didn't think of that." Ronan laughed, breathless. "He was so... he left after the Lace, he was so rattled. It's so stupidly simple—he dropped the fucking phone. Of course he did. God, it's so like Adam." He turned to Bryde and punched him in the shoulder, hard. "I told you he cared," he accused angrily. His voice came out shakier than he liked. He realized that he was shaking a beat too late, before the tears came flowing back to his eyes. "I told you. He's going to die for us and never even know you thought he abandoned me. He's—we have to get to him. You have to take me home." 

"You were right," Bryde said gently, and reached over to squeeze his hand. Ronan sniffled. "I'm sorry. I underestimated your family. I underestimated how invested he is." He paused, then cleared his throat. "You might have mentioned that you were dating a seer." 

"He wasn't one," Ronan said, "when we met. He was just Adam. Worked three jobs and lived in a double-wide with a drunk dad who beat the shit out of him, head down, grades high, always in the shadows. I noticed him because—because he had the most beautiful hands. You should see him fix a car. It's its own kind of magic, the way he coaxes broken things back to life." He kept talking, because if he didn't talk he was going to scream, and if he started screaming he would never stop. 

"Is that how he got you?" Hennessy asked, leaning her cheek against his shoulder. She was crying too, and shaking. Ronan decided to blame it on the falling adrenaline so he didn't have to confront the image of Adam bent backwards with spikes of shifting lace impaling his beautiful blue eyes, blood running down his body, still desperately holding on to the fragments of the ley line long enough to get them out.  

"Maybe," he said, tilting his head against hers. "His dad hit him in front of me. I beat the shit out of him. I think I was the first person he ever really trusted. Gansey and Blue, later, but I think I was the first. When I got sober, he locked himself in my room with me and stayed through the detox. He gave himself up to protect my forest when I couldn't, let it talk through him, feel through him, see and think through him, anything. I felt it when it did. His thoughts, his feelings. I fell in love with everything he was in there. He's always been strong. His whole life, he's been stronger than he gives himself credit for. He found out about the dreaming and just loved me more. I love him. I love him." 

"And you never suspected that he might be using you?" Bryde asked. Ronan shook his head. 

"Never. He would never." 

"Why?" 

"Because there were a hundred times he could have, and every time he chose to help me instead even when it hurt him. Because he just faced something that wanted him dead and sat there while it blinded him to save me." 

"Even when he left you for school, even knowing you were being hunted?" 

"That is not fair," Hennessy fired off, smacking him on the shoulder right where Ronan had punched him. Bryde winced. "He came. You saw him for yourself! Ronan said he goes to Harvard and he grew up in a trailer. Trailer park kids don't end up at Harvard by way of daddy's money, so that means he worked hard, and you don't abandon years of hard work to go and do nothing helpful for a loved one who's got much more capable help." 

"When I needed help, he trusted you," Ronan said. "He drove eight hours after class and scryed, got hurt, to vet you. He told me to be careful and he trusted you, because he can't help with my dreaming. When the ley line broke, he felt it, and he came. You saw him with your own eyes. He came for me. You saw what it did to him. You saw him," he whispered. "I called for help, and he came. I have no phone, no way to contact him, no message, no map, and he saved us. He didn't know what was going on and he doesn't understand what we're up against. He's never fixed a ley line that broke before. He's strengthened weakening ones, but never one that snapped like that. He doesn't know where we are and he doesn't know if intervening has put a target on his back and he can't dream a diversion or a defense if it did and it just tried to kill him, painfully, and he came anyway. You think he's using me? That's a pretty shit plan for personal gain." 

Bryde was quiet. Then, "you're right. I've grown too cynical, I think." He inhaled and held it for a beat. "The Lace may have been tricking you, playing with your mind. Adam is more than likely just fine, back in Virginia, safe and sound." 

"He's strong," Hennessy murmured. "Your boy. He loves you. He loves you. I felt it. The way he kissed you while the strands were burning into his fingers. It was hurting him, badly, but he held it longer than he needed to just so he could kiss you goodbye. He held it even when the Lace..." She shuddered. "Just to save you. All to keep you safe." 

"I need to find him," Ronan whispered. "I need to go home. I need to check on Opal. I need to know he's okay. Take me home, or I will jump out of this fucking car right now and find my own fucking way back to him." 

"Your house," Hennessy said slowly. "Does it still have that thing you made? The mind-fuck fence?" 

"The security system I dreamt up," Ronan said, nodding. "We'd be safe there. We should go. Bryde, we have to go. I need to see him. He'll go there if he needs to recover—time works differently in Lindenmere. He won't stay there. Opal and Blue will take him to the Barns, and I made the Barns safe. Please. We don't have to stay long. Declan is there, and Matthew, my brothers. Jordan is there, too. Please. Please!" 

"Alright." Bryde's hands were tight on the wheel again, and his mouth was set in that disapproving line, but his eyes had softened and Ronan knew he'd won, like a child begging a treat off his father after a bad day. "Alright. We won't stay, though. Can you promise me you'll be able to leave again, even if he's not well?" 

"Yes," Ronan said, and he meant it. "He'll be safe there. Blue will take care of him. The Barns will take care of him. He'll be okay." 

"Hennessy, if something is wrong with Jordan because of your episode in the dream, will you be able to leave her?" 

"I can if Ronan's brother is there," she said. "He loves her. Inadvisably, in my opinion, but he does." 

"It's true, he does." Ronan grimaced, leaning back in the car. Tears ran down his cheeks when he closed his eyes. "I've never been this tired. I need to get to Adam. Take me home." 

"Me second," Hennessy groaned, stretching out over the console.

"I'll take us to the Barns, then," Bryde said. He didn't even sound particularly displeased. "Maybe it's time to learn more about the dreamer who made you, anyway." 

Ronan knew they had arrived when the wave of dread and loneliness overcame him. Somehow, it was half as effective knowing what might be waiting on the other side. He groaned and behind them he heard Hennessy whimper. Bryde sucked in a breath and hit the gas a little harder, revving the engine. 

"Nice work, Ronan," he approved. The pride wasn't as important as the crushing despair. Ronan ground his cheek into the car window and breathed, and just like that, they were through it. 

The Barns came into view. The car coasted to a stop next to a flashy motorbike and a Volvo. The front door opened, and suddenly the three of them found themselves staring down the barrel of a shotgun with narrow blue eyes on the other side. For half a second, Ronan thought it was a copy of his father, or even a copy of himself. Then the narrow-eyed rage died down, the challenge vanishing into shock, and he exhaled. 

"Declan," he croaked, throwing the door open. He stumbled getting out, having not used his legs in ten to fifteen hours. Declan wrapped him in a crushing hug, the kind he would usually fight tooth and nail. Ronan let his head fall to his shoulder and reveled in the safety of a big brother for the first time in his life. 

"You're okay," Declan breathed. "You're really okay. Jesus—your face. Ronan. Hennessy!" He spotted her getting out of the car behind Ronan, groaning. "And you must be Bryde." Declan grimaced. "I've been hearing your name for quite some time." 

"Yes," Bryde said. "Well, I have made some waves for these two delinquents." 

"I'll say." Declan released Ronan, who stumbled again before standing on his own, and moved to shake his hand. "I owe you a thank you. More than a thank you, actually, but I don't think I can ever repay the debt I owe you for keeping them alive." 

"Declan," Ronan said sharply, solemn-faced. "Where's Adam?" 

Declan grimaced, and Ronan's heart dropped. "Inside," he answered softly. 

Ronan pushed past his brother and shoved the door open, not bothering to kick off his shoes. He glanced around the living room just long enough to see Jordan—awake, thank god—and Matthew in the kitchen, holding knives. Their faces dropped in shock, but Ronan paid them no mind. He thundered up the stairs three or four at a time, tripping and banging his knee, until he hit the landing and sprinted to his room. 

He threw the door open. Blue knelt by his bed, shaking, staring at nothing. She looked up when he entered and, as soon as she laid eyes on him, began to cry. Ronan stumbled into the room, closer, until he could see Adam lying on the bed. 

He looked almost peaceful, eyes serenely closed, except for the trails of dried blood running from them, clearly wiped off a few times, and the leaking redness still trailing like tears down the sides. 

"It ripped his eyes out," Blue sobbed, clutching Adam's hand. "It stabbed them and ripped them out right there, right in front of us. Opal barely brought him back and he—he came back screaming, without his eyes. I've never heard him scream like that. His eyes, Ronan—I couldn't do anything. What was that thing!?" 

Ronan dropped to the edge of the bed, one hand hovering over Adam's face, shaking. "No," he whispered. "No, no, no, no, no. No, no. Adam. Adam, please—please, no, no, no." 

"Opal put him to sleep," Blue said, sniffling. Ronan reached down and took her hand, squeezing. He didn't know which of them was shaking worse. He didn't think it mattered. "She says she won't wake him up until you fix it." 

"Fix..." 

"It's inside him," she whispered, burying her face in his thigh. "She said you could get it out." 

Ronan froze. Slowly, he stood. 

"Bryde." 

"Yes?" The voice came from the doorway, but also from Ronan's mind. He held out his hand. 

"Mask." 

A slip of fabric landed in his hand and he climbed carefully over Adam into the bed, lowering himself down. "I'm coming," he whispered. He pressed a long, firm kiss to Adam's forehead and pulled the mask over his eyes. Within seconds, he dropped into sleep. 

The dream space was dark. Ronan didn't like that, so he stretched out his hand and called a light to his palm. It flared. 

"Find me Adam," he told it. It floated off into the darkness. Ronan followed, concentrating until the familiar trees of Lindenmere began to take shape around him. He followed the light deeper into the forest until he heard the soft sounds of crying. 

He found Adam curled up in the tightest ball he could get into, back pressed to a tree, curled into a small gap in the roots that overflowed with soft moss. Ronan knelt down next to him. 

"Ronan, is that you?" Adam called. Ronan reached out and took his hand. 

"I'm here," he whispered. Adam swallowed hard, face buried in his knees. 

"It hurt me," he whispered back. "It didn't like that I saw it. It took my eyes." 

"Blind and half deaf," Ronan joked weakly. "You're three quarters of the way to Helen Keller." 

Adam's shoulders shook. "It hurts, Ronan," he said. His voice trembled and he shivered, looking every bit as small as the boy Ronan had first met four or five years ago, bruised and battered. "I didn't think things were supposed to hurt in the dreams." 

"That wasn't a dream," Ronan said. "You've seen what nightmares can do." He stretched out along his boyfriend's form and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close. The roots parted, shifting to accommodate his body. Adam went, uncurling so he could shove his head into Ronan's neck. 

"It hurts," he choked out. "I'm scared. I don't want that to be the last thing I ever see. I don't wanna never be able to see you again. I don't know how I'm going to make it through school without my eyes. I'm so scared, Ronan. It hurts so much." 

"I know," Ronan whispered. He pushed his face into Adam's curls, soft and dusty brown. "I'm gonna fix it, Adam. I'm gonna fix it." 

"Can you?" he asked. "It's not worth getting yourself killed." 

"You're worth so much more than getting myself killed," Ronan said warmly, hugging him tightly, "but it'll be fine. I'm home with you right now. We're lying in the same bed." 

"We are?" Adam looked up and Ronan froze in horror. His eyes were just... gone. Where before there had been two beautiful pools of summer-sky cerulean, ringed in dusty gold lashes, now only empty, bloody sockets stared up at him. Adam's hands flew to his face. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. "Do I look as awful as... as I feel?" 

"Yeah," Ronan choked, kissing his forehead and temple. "It's okay. It'll be okay. Let me fix it for you, okay?" Adam nodded and let Ronan tuck his head back into his neck. 

"Wake me up when it's over," he whispered. Ronan hummed, kissing his hair. 

"Tamquam," he mumbled. 

"Alter idem," Adam whispered back. Ronan adjusted him to sit propped against his chest, arms around him, and closed his eyes. 

Adam, he thought. A hundred images were called to mind, a hundred days of studying the exact shade of blue his eyes were, the way they shifted, the length and colour and shade of his eyelashes, the way they fit into his expressions, the way he looked when he read or watched TV, the way he looked at Ronan. He exhaled softly, pulling gently at one of his favorite images, and popped the eyes out of the photo's head. It was easier when it wasn't real Adam. 

"I heard a pop," Adam said. 

"I just yanked the eyes out of an image of you watching me wake up last summer," Ronan said flatly. Adam managed a soft laugh that didn't sound like himself. 

"Horrific," he complimented. 

"This is going to suck," Ronan told him. Adam grimaced. 

"How bad?" he asked. 

"Bad," Ronan told him honestly. "The eyes will work, but I'll have to force them into your head in the outside world, and before we do that, I have to get the rest of the Lace out of you." 

"Fuck," Adam said. "What are you thinking?" 

"I don't know," Ronan confessed. Adam exhaled. 

"Can you reach inside me?" he whispered. Ronan blinked, then snorted, caught off guard. Adam hit him weakly, blindly. He turned enough that Ronan caught an unwanted glimpse of those awful, gaping bloody sockets again. He shuddered. Adam turned his face away. 

"Yes," Ronan whispered. 

"Weave it," Adam told him. "Like I did the ley line. Weave the residue into something solid and make me throw it up out there." 

"You always were the smart one." Ronan shifted his grip and gently laid Adam down on the moss. "I'm so sorry, Adam. This is going to hurt." 

"It already hurts," Adam told him, his voice shaking. "I have no eyes."  

"And I'm going to fix that," Ronan promised. "I swear. Try and lie still, okay? I might have to hold you down. I'll be as fast as I can." 

"Do it," Adam said, and swallowed hard, curling his fingers into the moss to stabilize himself. Ronan pressed a hand against Adam's stomach and, with a whispered command, peeled back the skin, fascia and muscle until he exposed the inside of his organs. Adam made a noise that shouldn't have been human, convulsing beneath him. The roots crept around his wrists and hips to hold him down. Ronan exhaled sharply. The Lace was there—a sticky black residue coating Adam's organs, all around his intestines and squirming at his lungs. He brushed it, gathering three strands up in his fingers, and began to weave. 

Ease the pain, he ordered, and the moss began to secrete some kind of liquid that made Adam relax when it came in contact with his skin. 

"I have it," he said, just to keep his lover updated. Adam nodded, dazed and distracted, and held on tighter to the moss. Ronan refocused his efforts, remembering the way Adam's fingers had woven together the strands of ley line. He braided quickly, precisely, pulling more and more of the foul liquid until it formed a five-strand braid in his hands. He curled it up and pushed it gently into Adam's stomach once he was sure the residue was gone. 

"You have to bring it back?" Adam asked, uneasy. 

"That or leave it wild to roam here," Ronan answered with a grimace Adam couldn't see, on account of most of his face being taken up by two pits of gore. Ronan sealed him back up layer by layer, and the roots retracted. 

"That wasn't so bad," Adam joked. 

"I had magical forest anesthetic," Ronan said, grimacing harder. "The hard part will be keeping you under long enough to get the new eyes in." 

"I wonder if they'll be as pretty as mine," Adam mused. "You better not make me need glasses, you fuck." 

"They're as pretty as yours," Ronan assured him. "They're an exact copy." 

"Are you sure? Exact?" 

"I've been looking into your eyes for years," Ronan said, stroking his curls lovingly. "I could literally do it in my sleep." 

"Corny," Adam murmured, and fell back against the moss. "I don't feel good." 

"You're gonna throw up a rope of thick black lace when you wake up," Ronan informed him. "I'll try and pull it out before I wake you." 

"Thank you, my love." There was something about the way Adam said that, like he was holding back tears but still warm and exasperated, that made Ronan want to cry. He thought about the gloves on the counter and leaned over, pressing his lips softly to Adam's, cupping his face between his shaking hands. 

"Whatever happens," he whispered, "we're together. I'm with you until we're dust and bones, no matter what that looks like." 

"Caring for the infirm?" Adam drawled. "What a boring life for a dreamer to waste away." 

"My life can't be wasted if I spend it with you," Ronan told him firmly. "I love you. All I want out of my life is to live it with you. I don't care how hard it is or what it looks like or how scary or boring it all turns out, as long as I'm with you." 

Adam squeezed his hand, resting them together on the forest floor with their fingers entwined. "God," he murmured. "You always turn into such a poet when I'm trying to spiral and be miserable." He leaned up, and Ronan obliged, kissing him hard. Adam smiled a little. "Go fix me, dreamer," he murmured.

"Yes, dear," Ronan said, and kissed him one last time before dragging himself back to the waking world. 

He woke with two squishy, wet orbs in his hand. When the paralysis passed, he sat up, startling Blue, and leaned over Adam's sleeping body. 

"Open his eyelids," he said. Blue shuddered, but did as she was asked, wincing, tears in her eyes. Slowly, Ronan stretched the sockets and slipped the eyes into place. He turned to the doorway, where Bryde was already waiting with some sort of contact-solution looking bottle. Ronan took it and unscrewed the cap, squeezing a few drops into each eyeball before capping it and closing Adam's eyes again. 

It took a while to find the counterspell for Adam's deep sleep, but thankfully the smelling salts weren't quite depleted. Ronan cracked one and waved it under Adam's nose, snapping him out of it. Adam shot upright with a gasp, then screamed, hands clapped over his eyes. Halfway through, he began to choke, and Ronan rubbed his back as a wave of black bile spewed from his mouth and all over the bed before a rope of lace-hair-something protruded from his mouth. Ronan grabbed it and pulled hard, causing Adam to vomit violently all over the blankets and himself. Some of it got on Ronan, black and sticky. He didn't care. 

At last, he drew the end of the Lace from Adam's throat. Adam collapsed off the side of the bed into Blue's arms, convulsing once or twice more before his fit ceased. 

"My eyes," he wailed, tinny and high. "They burn." 

"It will wear off in a minute or two," Ronan promised. "It will, baby, it's okay—will somebody get me a fucking bag for this thing? Maybe, like, a titanium or galvanized steel box?" 

"I have Ziploc," Declan suggested. 

"That'll work," Ronan allowed, and deposited the thing into a baggie the minute he was able. "Put that thing in the freezer and somebody start the shower," he ordered. "We both need it." 

"Is somebody going to explain?" Jordan asked from the doorway, gripping the frame so tightly her knuckles looked almost white. Declan's arm found her waist and touched briefly before falling to his side. 

"It's a long fucking story," Ronan said. "Adam saved our asses and got his eyes ripped out by some kind of very powerful demon. But he held the ley line long enough to release us from our dream and saved our lives." 

"It's busted," Adam told him wearily, laying on the floor, shivering in Blue's arms. "I can't fix that. It looked like it was ripped in two." 

"Kind of was," Ronan informed him, and crawled closer, until he could pull Adam into his arms. "Open your eyes and let's see, now." 

Adam obeyed. Ronan exhaled, relieved. They were a perfect match to the ones from before, down to the tiniest cone and rod, and Adam was searching his face in concern. 

"You've been crying," he whispered, reaching up to cup Ronan's cheek. Ronan ducked his head against Adam's hair. "Nightwash. Don't cry, Ronan. Baby. Don't cry. It's okay. They're just like before. Thank you, I love them." 

"I'm not gonna cry again," Ronan said in a petulant tone that meant he was already crying. 

Blue ran them a very hot bath while Ronan helped Adam brush his teeth and put his eye drops in again now that his eyes were open. They wiped each other down with wet cloths, clearing away nightwash, tear tracks, blood, dirt and whatever else. 

"You're okay," Adam murmured to himself, pressing a palm to Ronan's pectoral, right over his heartbeat. Ronan kissed his forehead and nodded. 

"You're okay now," he murmured back, and they stripped down naked to climb into the bath together, where they spent a good portion of the afternoon lying still and coming to terms with the fact that they had almost died today. 

"Don't let me do that shit again," Adam told him at length. "That's the worst pain I've ever felt in my entire life. I felt my eyes pop before they got suctioned out of my skull, nerves and all." 

"Stop," Ronan said, wincing. "I won't let it happen again. We'll be more careful. I love you. You can see okay?" 

"Perfect," Adam told him, kissing him full on the lips. "I can see just like before." 

"I got it right," Ronan marveled, looking down at him. "You're beautiful." 

"Thank you," Adam said, sighing. "God. I missed you. There was a solid week in there where I thought I would never see you again." 

"I'm too selfish for that," Ronan mumbled, nuzzling into the hollow of Adam's neck. Their fingers were beginning to prune. He didn't care. He reached for the shampoo and scrubbed at Adam's scalp gently, lovingly. Adam sighed. "I can't physically bear the thought of you moving on and finding someone else after me. Need to hang on until at least eighty to make sure that doesn't happen." 

"It won't," Adam breathed. "It won't ever. We've been through too much—learned too much, seen too much, experienced things together no one else ever has. There's no one else for me after you. I'm one and done." 

"Oh," Ronan said, and kissed the corner of his mouth. "I should get you a ring, probably." 

Adam grinned and caught his lips, kissing him soundly as he found the soap and used blunt nails and then a washcloth to drag it over Ronan's body, clearing him of the sweat and stress of the day. "Probably," he said, and kissed him again. "Tell you something?" 

"Mmhm?" Ronan responded, lost in the sinking pleasure of Adam's sweet kisses and the way he tasted like home. 

"I think about marrying you more than I'd like to admit," Adam whispered. "I loved every second of the summer we spent together. I want to spend the rest of our lives like that, once we're past all this." 

"I don't know if there will be a 'past all this,'" Ronan mumbled. He hadn't given voice to the sentiment before, but now that he did, it scared him how much he believed it. Adam cupped his face and kissed him, rinsing him off with a handful of water before pulling the drain. He ran the tap for a minute to rinse his own hair in cleaner water than they were sitting in and accepted the towel Ronan handed him. They dried off separately and dressed in the clothes Declan had brought—soft t-shirts and sweatpants, perfectly sized. 

"It's kind of nice, having my own clothes here," Adam mused. "I was kinda hoping he'd bring one of your shirts, but it's equally nice having mine in your drawer." 

"This is your home, too," Ronan told him softly. Adam smiled and kissed him. 

"And we'll come back to it together," he said. "There will be a past all this. You'll see. We'll figure it out the way we always do, and once we manage it, we'll have proved we can do anything. Then nothing can scare us ever again for the rest of our long, happy lives." 

"When did you turn into such an optimist?" Ronan asked. 

"When I almost killed myself and went through with it anyway hoping you'd come, knowing you couldn't, and then you came anyway." Adam pulled him in by the waist, tongue dipping into his mouth. They made out lazily against the counter for a while until someone's stomach rumbled and they paused before breaking apart. Adam laughed softly. "Weird how our bodies are still human with everything else going on," he remarked. 

"Too human," Ronan complained, rocking his hips gently against Adam's. "I want you naked again." 

"Well," Adam said, "if you can convince Bryde and Hennessy to get out of our house for a few hours, you can have me. I'm not fucking you with two other dreamers in the house who can peek into your head at any time." 

"That's fair," Ronan acknowledged. 

"And food first," Adam added. Ronan sighed. His stomach rumbled again. 

"Fine," he relented. "Food first." 

They found the others in the kitchen anyway. Blue jumped out of her chair with a shriek and plummeted into Adam's chest, wrapping her arms vice-tight around his waist. He hugged her back, burying his face in her choppy hair. She was crying again, but when she pulled back, she cupped his face and turned him side to side, sniffling and shaking. 

"Oh God," she whimpered. "Oh, God, they look just like your old ones. It looks like you never got hurt at all. Oh, God, thank you, Ronan. Thank you. Thank God you exist. I can't believe you're real, you beautiful, beautiful man." She released Adam and hauled Ronan over a foot straight down to plant a smacking kiss directly on his lips. Ronan spluttered. Adam laughed as Hennessy and Jordan exchanged shocked glances. 

"I don't know what you're testing out, Maggot, but I'm still gay for Parrish," Ronan said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Gross. How long has it been since you brushed your teeth?" 

"You'll kiss black vomit-mouth over there but not me?" Blue teased, aiming a well-placed kick to his shin. She scrubbed the last of her tears away and hugged him, too, and Ronan plopped his chin on her tiny head even though he had to fold himself down to do it. They stayed there for a minute or two, until Adam leaned his chin on Ronan's shoulder and asked if he was interrupting. 

"Vomit-mouth brushed his teeth before I kissed him, by the way," Ronan said, releasing her to grab for Adam's hand like he'd disappear if Ronan wasn't touching him. 

"So... has vomit-mouth's stomach been cleared of hair-fabric-whatever?" Declan asked from the stove. "And would either of you like something to eat?" 

"Can we stop calling me vomit-mouth?" Adam requested. "Yes, we're starving, thanks, Declan." 

"Hook me up with some eggs," said Matthew from the table. "Adam, how you feeling? You aren't as pretty without the eyes." 

"Ronan did a pretty bang-up job, I think," Adam said, blinking a few times experimentally. "I'm not 100%, but I'd call this a solid 89. Still an A." 

"Highest grade I ever got," Ronan said through a mouthful of peach sourced from god knew where. 

"You'd have been top of every class if you'd tried," Declan argued. "You're a lot smarter than you give yourself credit for." 

"It's generally considered bad boyfriend etiquette to beat your guy out of valedictorian and top marks when you're not planning on going to college," Ronan said back, mouth full of food. 

"Mother Mary, Ronan, don't talk with your mouth full. Mom taught you better manners when you were three." 

"You don't actually think you could have beaten me out of top of the class?" Adam said, arching an eyebrow. "Let's not forget that your essays were always more than 200 words short of the word count even when you did try." 

"Except that one I wrote for you that got an A+," Ronan reminded him, pointing a peach-juice sticky finger at him. Adam wrinkled his nose and took the finger in his mouth to suck the juice off before it dripped on the floor. 

"Woah, woah, woah," Hennessy said from the table, where she sat with dark circles under her eyes, hands around a coffee mug. "Let's keep it PG in here, gentlemen." 

"I'm performing what we call preventative maintenance," Adam drawled. Ronan noted, pleased, a hint of his old accent in the words. "So that we don't have to hear Declan bitching and moaning about cleaning the floor later." 

"Performing is certainly one way to put it," Hennessy snarked. Adam flushed and Ronan tagged in. 

"You should see me do it," he joked with a feral grin. "Way more tongue, and a lot tighter on—hey!" 

He looked automatically at Declan to find him standing passively, leaning on Jordan's thighs where she sat on the counter, watching him with an unimpressed look. Ronan rubbed the back of his head where he'd been struck and found a peach pit on the floor behind him. 

"That's enough of that for one dinner table conversation." 

"Where did you come from?" Ronan complained, bending to swipe the pit off the ground. "When did you even eat this?" 

Bryde stepped away from his spot against the refrigerator, hands in his pockets. He looked perfectly recovered now, but Ronan still had trouble looking at him after seeing him afraid for the first time in his life. 

"We can't stay," he said, glancing between Ronan and Hennessy. "It's time we were off." 

"Not yet," Ronan begged. 

"You told me that if we came here, you would be able to leave. Even if he wasn't alright, you said. You made me a promise and I expect you to uphold it." Ronan wilted like a scolded child. 

"So you're as pretentious in our world as you are in theirs." The voice took all the air out of the room. Ronan and Hennessy gasped, exchanging a look before fixing on Adam, who mirrored Bryde's easy confidence, hands in his pockets. "Ronan's security system is sound," he said calmly. "You are being watched, yes, but what happened in the dream world happened outside in New York, not in Virginia. No one outside the dream world could have known about my involvement, which means they wouldn't expect you to go running back here." 

"He's right," Declan said, taking the pot off the stove. Jordan shifted so he could put it down on a trivet next to her. "They'd expect DC, if anything—Jordan and Hennessy were living and working there, and they know about the townhouse. If they do suspect the Barns, it'll be hard to find." 

"Ronan's security system is sound if you're not used to it," Adam continued. "It's safer for the three of you to lay low here for a day or two, until the people hunting you down out there realize that your trail is cold and start casting a wider net. That'll spread their resources and get the hounds off your scent. Once they've scattered or turned elsewhere, you can go back. It'll buy you time in the long run." 

The kitchen was quiet for a long moment. Adam pressed on. "Ronan and Hennessy need rest," he said firmly. "This is the safest place to do it. There are safeguards here to contain dreams. Opal and Chainsaw are here, which makes it one of the only spaces in the waking world that you can have two psychopomps to help two dreamers. Lindenmere is too volatile. The Barns was built to be a halfway house for Niall Lynch, and he was even more reckless than his son. Give them two, maybe three days. Let them rest. Let them eat and sleep and breathe for a little while, and take them back out there fresh once you've unnerved your pursuers. Hunting hounds get antsy when they lose a trail, and when they get antsy, they get desperate. That makes them sloppy. You'll have the advantage." 

Bryde removed his hands from his pockets and placed one on Adam's shoulder. Adam allowed it, with a straight posture and direct eye contact that made it very clear that he was allowing it, and that he could stop allowing it if he wanted. 

"I've severely underestimated your choice in partner, Ronan," said the tall man. "Perhaps you're right. We'll stay, and we'll rest. I'd like to meet this Opal properly, when you have the time, and I'd like to speak more with Adam." 

Ronan and Hennessy cheered together, prompting a glare from Matthew. 

"You two are more like siblings than you used to be," he said. "I'm supposed to be the sibling and I'm just the dream." 

"I feel your pain," Jordan sighed from the counter, now idly playing with Declan's curls, "but isn't it nice that they have someone equally reckless to bounce off of?" 

Ronan crossed the kitchen to put his little brother in a headlock. "Nobody's replacing you, little man," he said. "You're the first little sibling." 

"I'm also older," Hennessy pointed out. "By, like, several years." 

"You're not replacing me, either," Declan said. "You people need to come get some stew before it gets cold. Matthew, set the table, please." 

Matthew opened his mouth to protest until he saw Adam sliding wordlessly towards the silverware drawer, taking the part he hated most off his plate. He sighed, stood, and set the table. Ronan found napkins and bread and cut a loaf into slices to set out. The girls sat beside each other, identical but for one missing flower on Jordan's neck, and Declan sat to the right of the head of the table. Bryde waited. Adam regarded him and the table for a long moment before seating himself at the left hand, between Ronan at the immediate left of the head and Matthew on the other end. 

Ronan admired the easy way Adam permitted Bryde to take authority, as if he had any say otherwise. He admired the way he made it look so natural that even Bryde was interested in waiting for approval. 

They prayed, joined hands, Hennessy and Adam staring at each other across the table. 

"I never understood how the three of you were Catholic, of all things," Blue said from the other end of the table, raising an eyebrow. Adam hummed, pausing in his reach for the stew as Ronan snatched up his bowl to get it for him. 

"Declan likes the routine of church and the stained glass and it's become a force of habit, Matthew likes anything that makes his brothers stop fighting for five consecutive seconds and enjoys the singing, and Ronan has to believe in God because if there isn't one, he's the closest thing there is, and that's a lot of responsibility to put on a nineteen-year-old." 

Ronan snorted. "Eighteen. Good job, boyfriend." 

Adam turned to stare at him. "No. Nineteen. This shit all started on your birthday, don't you remember? I visited the day before." 

Ronan paused, blinking. "Shit." 

Adam kissed his shoulder. There was something regretful in his eyes. Ronan had learned to see the difference between regret and pity. He'd come to rely on it, actually, because as much as dreams could be sad or confused or frustrated or even have identity crises, one thing they weren't particularly good at was regret. That was how he always knew the difference between real and dream Adam. 

"We were going to go to the zoo, but I walked off a ledge with your bird and had to get ferried back to town," Matthew prompted. 

"And I was saving Hennessy from drowning in nightwash," Ronan recalled, nodding. Declan rolled his eyes. 

"Is that what you were doing? You could have told us. I was furious when you didn't pick up the phone." 

"I did pick up!" 

"After I'd handled it! Would a text be too much to ask?" 

"Ronan had other concerns," Bryde interrupted patiently. "This is good stew." None of the others had even seen him eat, but his bowl was scraped clean. "We're together now for the next couple of days. Ronan, what would you like to do for your birthday?" 

Ronan's mouth opened and shut, teeth clicking sharply. "Nothing, really." 

"Nothing he can say at the table," Hennessy muttered into her coffee, "but I sure hope his room is soundproof." 

"It's not," Matthew said cheerfully. Declan snorted into his own mug before he caught himself and cleared his throat. Jordan grinned. 

"How about we watch that horse movie Opal likes?" Blue suggested. "And take your car out to your back field." 

"Can we start with a nap?" Ronan requested balefully. "I'm exhausted. No offense to any of you, but I need rest before we hang out." 

"I second that," Hennessy said with a long sigh. "We almost died about thirteen hours ago and spent ten driving back here while Ronan had a series of increasingly concerning panic attacks about the state of his darling there." 

Adam kissed his shoulder again between bites. "Yeah, a nap sounds good," he said. "Sleep isn't really that restful when you're awake, drugged and still eyeless in the dream world." 

"There are no two worlds; they are all the same," Bryde started, only to be cut off by two agonized groans from Hennessy and Ronan. 

"Here we go again," he muttered. 

"Silly of me to think we'd get through a single meal without another lecture," she followed. Bryde rolled his eyes and held up his hands. 

"A nap would be great, then," he said. Ronan thought it was suspicious, how agreeable he was being. "Perhaps Adam and I can take a walk while you two get your beauty sleep." Ah, there it was. 

"Adam and Opal are sleeping with me," Ronan said. He wasn't sure why he felt so protective over them. Bryde wouldn't hurt them, he was a hundred percent sure, and there wasn't much risk of them feeling threatened or outmanned on their own turf. 

"Ronan," Bryde admonished, raising his eyebrows like a tested parent, "I am not going to threaten, experiment on, or recruit your lover and your... child. They're going to stay here—or, I suppose, return to Harvard—as soon we leave, and until then they'll come to no harm. I am a man who prefers to learn about things he doesn't understand when he encounters them. I have met precious few seers in my life, and never one quite so connected to a dreamer. It's almost like there is a reserve of power stretched between you like its own ley line, siphoned out of your Lindenmere and through him whenever you call for it. I would like to speak with him and investigate this property." 

"Fine," Ronan said, relaxing. Recruiting, he realized, was his true worry. He didn't want Adam involved again. It was too much and he didn't have the abilities that the dreamers did to protect himself. If it happened again, he wouldn't be able to guarantee that he could fix it. "Opal bites, just so you know." 

"She is half goat," Bryde acknowledged. 

"She's more like... 40% goat and 60% whatever she decides to be," Adam said thoughtfully, tilting his head. "But she's a sweetheart." 

"You're soft on her," Ronan said, kicking him under the table. Adam shrugged. 

"So?" He asked. "She's probably the closest thing to a daughter we'll ever have. Let me love the girl. She's sweet." 

The smile spread across Ronan's face before he could stop it and he shook his head, reaching for the ladle to give his hands something to do that wasn't Adam, on the table, in front of everyone. 

"Kindly control your thoughts," Bryde said with a long-suffering tone. 

"Or don't," Hennessy added cheerfully. "I didn't know that position was possible. Have you done that, or is this a hypothetical?" 

"Not funny," Ronan said, pointing his spoon at her. 

"You wouldn't know humour if it hit you with a baseball bat," she countered. 

"Last time you said that, you did hit me with a baseball bat!" 

"And you didn't see the humour in it then, either, so my point stands. Anyway, it's a little funny." 

Ronan turned to Adam. "Just so you know, that's not what I was thinking." He paused. "Not like that." 

"I just assumed she was reading my mind," Adam said calmly, taking a bite of stew. Declan spat out his coffee, splashing it back into his face, and both Blue and Hennessy dissolved into howling hyena laughter, clutching their bellies. Hennessy fell out of her chair. Bryde sighed again. Matthew tried and failed to contain his giggles behind a hand while Jordan put her head down on the table, shoulders shaking. 

"Christ, Parrish, you're worse than I am." 

"You knew that, and it is one of the factors in your decision to date me," Adam said, patting his hand on the table. "Let me know when I get you to myself and I'll remind you." 

"Okay, woah," Declan interrupted, sounding much like Hennessy had earlier. "For someone who just had his eyes poked out, you're awfully ready to go." 

"You're telling me," Adam said after scraping up the last of his stew, "that if someone you loved came running across three states to get to your side, followed you into a dream, restored your sight, cleared a poison from inside your body and then broke down crying and kissing you as soon as you woke up, your instinct wouldn't be to fuck them on the nearest surface?" 

"I'm beginning to have a plan for my birthday," Ronan piped up. 

"Plan it in your head," Declan said drily. 

"In another room," Bryde added. They exchanged a look, and Ronan thought maybe his family could come to an agreement about Bryde. 

"You are a strange combination of factors I never considered fitting together in a person," Bryde told Adam, and he nodded, taking the compliment for what it was. Bryde pushed away from the table. "I am going to go for a walk around the perimeter and set up some detection systems of my own for added security," he said. "And hopefully, in the process, get as far from you as possible for a few hours." 

"I have to head back to Monmouth," Blue said apologetically. "I need to catch Gansey up on all this and I think we have to give Mr. Gray another call. Clearly, he's been withholding some important information." 

"We'll clean up," Declan said. He meant him and Matthew, but Jordan nodded and started gathering up dishes. Declan caught her wrist. 

"Do you want to catch up with your sister?" He asked, blue eyes all soft on her face. "Matty and I can handle this. I know you've been worried." 

She smiled, a secret little thing, and ruffled his curls. She seemed to like doing that, Ronan noticed; at least three times now, he'd caught her hands in his hair. Declan smiled up at her as she poked his cheek. 

"I'll wash some dishes and then maybe she and I can crash in your room, if that's okay with you?" she asked. 

"Sure," Declan said. "Matty, do you wanna tackle the kitchen or the bedroom first?" 

"Why is it always me who has to do chores?" Matthew whined. Declan rolled his eyes. 

"Because Ronan, Bryde and Hennessy just survived a murder attempt and drove eleven hours to get here, Adam got his eyes stabbed out by something he had to throw up—which is still in the freezer, if you wanna deal with that by tomorrow, Ronan—Blue dragged him back draped over a motorcycle with a goat child clinging to her back after witnessing the gouging of his eyes, Ronan had to do more work to fix him after that drive, and Jordan is just seeing confirmation that her sister is alive for the first time in weeks." 

"We knew she was alive," Matthew argued. "If Hennessy were dead, Jordan would go to sleep. Like me and Ronan. That's how we knew they were in trouble. It's stressful for dreams when the dreamers are in trouble." 

"You're not getting out of the chores," Declan said flatly, and Matthew cursed under his breath. "Fine, I'll go change your dingy sheets," he sighed. Declan rolled his eyes. 

"They're not dingy," he argued. "I change them weekly. Just make up the bed and maybe close the window so it doesn't get too chilly." 

Matthew elbowed Ronan on his way by. "Your dream creatures have been waking Declan up every day by sitting on him and scaring him," he muttered, grinning. "He screams like a little girl. Unless Jordan's around, in which case he screams like a little girl and then catches himself and starts swearing like a sailor." 

Ronan snorted, pressing a hand to his mouth so his brother didn't hear him. "Little shits," he said fondly. 

"That boar is the worst," Matthew told him. 

"Oh, Gasoline," Ronan said, nodding. "Yeah... he's a dick. He's fine outside, but he is a dick." 

Adam slipped his arm into Ronan's and pulled him back upstairs, out of the commotion. They paused just long enough to say goodbye to Blue, hugging her tightly again, and then they ascended the stairs to the landing. 

"Kerah." Ronan turned and finally located his second psychopomp, clinging to the bannister. She was on her hands and knees the way she did when she was trying to be quiet, and her black eyes were huge. Ronan crouched down and held out a hand. She took it, allowing him to draw her to her feet. Ronan picked her up, letting her snuggle into his neck. "Missed you." 

"Sorry," he said, shouldering the bedroom door open. Adam closed and locked it behind them, careful to make sure the thing clicked properly. He checked the sheets for blood and black, and, upon finding some, changed them out for a set in the closet and a warm, fluffy blanket from the box in the corner. 

"Adam is okay," Opal reported. "He was not okay, but you came." 

"I'll always come," Ronan told her. Opal nodded seriously and squirmed to be put down, so he obliged. 

"Do you want to stay and nap with us, or do you want to run around?" He asked. 

"Speak to Bryde," she said. Ronan nodded. 

"Okay," he said. "Don't go far. Send Chainsaw if you need me." She pouted and kicked the floor with one hoof. Ronan narrowed his eyes. "Opal. Chainsaw. Not Gasoline. Do you understand me?" 

"Yes," she said sullenly. Adam hugged her before she left, ruffling her white-blond hair. 

"Thanks for the help, kiddo," he said, and kissed her forehead. "Couldn't have done it without you." 

"I know," she said, and bolted out the window. Ronan watched long enough to be sure she made it down okay before shutting that, too, and drawing the curtains, leaving them in warm darkness. 

"I missed you," Adam whispered, and Ronan found himself suddenly flat on his back as Adam's quick, clever hands pushed down his sweatpants and slid wickedly to the hot skin inside. 

It was over embarrassingly fast. He was stressed and pent up, and Adam smelled so good, and there had always been something about his hands that drove Ronan wild, and... well. He loved Adam. Adam was beautiful. 

He returned the favor by flipping Adam onto his back, kissing down the line of his stomach and navel, and then proceeding to make good on his earlier brag about more tongue and tighter, until Adam was scratching at the back of his neck and gasping through an orgasm. Ronan swallowed and ditched his shirt on the ground. Adam ditched everything but his briefs, and they climbed under the covers. 

"I missed my bed," Ronan mumbled. Adam smiled and drew him into his chest. 

"I missed your bed too," he said. "Mostly you being in it." 

They slept quickly and deeply, and if Ronan dreamed, he didn't remember. 

Three days weren't long enough, Ronan thought as he folded himself into Adam's arms and tucked his head into his neck. Adam's hand came up to clasp the back of his, the same way it always had, and he exhaled softly. 

"Tamquam," he said. 

"Alter idem," Adam answered. Ronan got in the backseat. 

"Are we ready?" asked Bryde. The dreamers nodded. He put the car in gear and, without so much as a glance back, they drove back into the real world; the one they were meant to save.