for @clotpolesonly who prompted me with hair petting - ship dealer’s choice. hope you enjoy some noah/matty unedited 😅
also on ao3
Noah was a tactile friend. He would touch constantly. Headlocks with Ronan, looped pinkies on a stroll with Gansey, long hugs in greeting with Henry, and spinning Blue under his arm, dragging her into a messy waltz that always ended up with them giggling breathless on the floor. He liked to think it made people at ease, but then he never thought twice about it.
Sitting in the back of The Pig with Matthew, slumped over, fast asleep, drooling on his shoulder, Noah's touch drifted to his curls. A golden nest of soft tufts all twisting in different directions. It fanned out in a perfect halo, framing his cherubic face, angelic and effortless in its innocence. Noah had seen Matthew fresh out of the shower, over hours letting it air dry, he knew it always ended up like this with no fuss or effort at all.
He hummed along to a story Gansey was telling in the front seat, excitedly glancing back through the rear view to gauge his audience. Absently, Noah let his fingertips pull gently at one coil, stretch it taught, and let it spring back. He did it again, twisting the ringlet around his finger, then letting it go and smoothing down the fluffy mess of gold.
They were on their way home from Jordan's gallery opening. Ronan and Adam were in their own car, Noah and Matthew hitched a ride with Gansey and Blue back to their place where they'd share the pullout couch and hit the road for New York in the morning.
Gansey laughed and Noah glanced up to try and fill in the gaps. He hadn't been listening, but he was normally good at context clues, getting up to speed, faking it. He caught Blue's eye from the passenger seat.
Knowing gaze.
Drifting to Matthew, then back to Noah's hand hovering above his head.
A Blue Sargent sort of look that spoke volumes. One that he was used to being on the other end of.
The problem was…
The problem.
Was.
No one knew about them. Noah was nearly ten years older and it wasn't supposed to turn into anything serious. He'd known Matty forever solely as his best friend's younger brother. They fell out of touch for a few years and reconnected recently. After Gansey graduated college and Ronan dropped out of college, they moved to Boston, which was closer than DC had been to Noah in Brooklyn. Matthew went up to Boston to visit Ronan for Halloween and his birthday and he was… different.
Even just thinking this way, he had Blue in the back of his mind berating him about objectifying any human being, but… Matty was hot.
He was wider than before, joined a rugby team and was suddenly a gym enthusiast. Thankfully it wasn't in a steroid induced coma kind of way, but more a means to an end for a hobby he loved. He was taller, a bit taller than Ronan, and he still had those fucking dimples. When Matthew turned that thousand-watt smile Noah's way, how was he meant to cope?
The entire night, Noah was cursing the universe as the cards fell into place.
Matthew was going to school in New York.
Matthew's dorm was in Brooklyn.
Then Ronan was asking him to look out for Matthew when he rarely asked anyone for anything.
He was strategic in their first meeting. They met for brunch—a public place—and Noah had plans to see his sister that afternoon so he had an excuse to leave after an hour or two. It was a good plan, but then the hostess sat them on the back patio and the sun back lit Matty's hair into this halo bullshit and…
Noah was a weak man, he could admit it.
Matty kissed like a motherfucking dream.
Soon enough, Matty was at his apartment nonstop. First under the guise of not knowing the city very well, but then he was bringing over laundry to do because apparently Noah's creepy basement laundry was better than NYU dorm laundry. Then he was staying through the weekend. In Noah's bed.
Late one night, tangled in Noah's sheets, sharing Noah's pillow, smelling like Noah's shampoo, Matthew confessed he had always had a crush on Noah.
Look, he didn't ever claim to be perfect or moral or whatever. He just… Matthew brought the sunshine with him wherever he fucking went and Noah was lucky to be in the light for a bit.
They didn't talk about telling Ronan or Declan—Noah shuddered at the thought of that Lynch brother—but it was an unspoken understanding that it was easier if they didn't. He wasn't sure when that tipping point would be, but he knew it was coming. Matthew adored his brothers and held their opinion in high regard. He would want to tell them, hell he would want to tell their friends too.
And it's not that Noah didn't. He did, of course he did, but he felt guilty. It was wrong… wasn't it? Dating his best friend's brother, someone nearly ten years younger than Noah. Someone who said they had a crush on Noah for nearly a decade, who confessed he felt so much happier having Noah close by, who—red-faced and giggling—told Noah he loved him after a month of seeing each other. Noah had smothered that confession with a kiss and rushed to the bar to get another round of drinks and put some space between them to get his heart under control.
Noah hadn't felt like this before. Ever maybe? He didn't realize this was the romcom movie type shit they talked about. It had to be. This was the real long-haul shit. The Blue-Gansey shit, the Ronan-Adam shit, the ride-or-die, googly eyes, can't help but blush when you look at them shit.
He was a little terrified.
Point being - he should not be petting Matty's hair in the back seat of Gansey's car when there were witnesses to clock his googly eyes and blush and shit.
Noah clicked his tongue at Blue and doubled down on petting Matty's hair. "What?"
Blue narrowed her gaze, lips tilted in a smirk. "I didn't say anything."
"C'mere, baby Blue!" Noah reached out his other hand to her. "D'you want me to give you a pat too?"
Blue laughed and swatted his hand away.
"I'll sing you a lullaby," Noah promised, his hand now over his heart. "Are you sleepy, baby Blue? I know just the trick—"
"Please, don't," Blue gasped through laughter.
"Squash one—"
"Jesus Christ," Gansey bemoaned. "Not that song again, Noah, please. We had peace from it for six months before youbrought it up again."
"Squash twoooooooo," Noah crooned.
Matthew shifted in his stupor, but did not wake. He slept like the dead. Anywhere and everywhere he could fall asleep and even a plane taking off beside him wouldn't wake him.
"Stop, I'm serious!" Blue whined.
Noah mimed zipping up his lip and tossing the key out the closed window. He was silent for a beat before he continued the melody in a hum, biting back a smile. He watched Blue reach down in her handmade purple crochet purse to find something to throw at him.
"Truce, truce!" He immediately stopped humming and held up his hand to block any incoming ammo. "I've got precious cargo back here."
He caught Gansey's eyes in the rear view mirror. Then Blue's. Both knowing. Both not saying a word about what they all knew. Noah helplessly looked back down at Matthew, snuffling against his shoulder, fair eyelashes fluttering, freckles spattered across high cheekbones.
"Precious, huh?" Blue poked just a bit.
Noah didn't look up, ducking his head a bit more and resuming his ministrations of Matty's hair. Tugging a curl, watching it spring back, repeat.
Ronan left Opal and Hennessy in one of the safer grottos within Lindenmere, knowing that the spiny vines and three headed corvids would protect until he returned. This was the third night he’d dreamed of something different, the third night the trees had whispered about an old friend. All of his friends had been to Lindenmere before; all of them were out in the world doing whatever it is that non-dreamers dreamed of doing while they were awake. He tread carefully over treacherous roots threatening to trip the careless adventurer, he felt the air shift and change around him, whispering amidst the leaves. He’d dreamt Lindenmere this shape, so none of it was unfamiliar to his heart, but patches of it had remained mostly unexplored, a mystery even to him. It was in one such direction he headed now, Opal’s shrill voice fading behind him.
It was easy to lose track of time here, he’d always known that, but all too quickly the vague sense of time slipping plucked at his senses. Ronan didn’t really know if he’d been away from Hennessy for ten minutes or for hours. The forest kept its own time, and it wrapped him up in it like a blanket. Some of his steps were sluggish, dreamy. He was being led, but he couldn’t make himself fear Lindenmere. Nor could he let his intentions get away from him. Lindenmere listened very closely to his intentions.
He stepped into a clearing that looked like the Barns in gentle winter. The rock slopes caught the silver grey daylight like the facets of a gem. His boots had already gathered snow on them and it clung to the thick treads desperately. But Ronan wasn’t cold, far from it, in fact. Some of the snow dusted down from the limbs of the trees, and he turned his palm up to catch it. On closer inspection, he realized it wasn’t snow. It was glitter, fine and smooth against his skin, argent when he turned his hand one way, but prismatic when he tipped it the other. Ronan’s breath caught.
All at once, he remembered exuberant laughter, crazy schemes and slouched shoulders. A perpetually smudgy face with eyes even paler than Ronan’s, full of life even when there was no life to be had. A touch like ice and a seemingly warm cowardly heart. Ronan felt like his ribs collapsed, and his breath whooshed out of him, scattering the dust to the leaves in a cloud. He choked on a lump in his throat, and the lump had a name.
“Noah.”
“Hey, Lynch.”
One minute, Ronan had been alone, and the next, Noah stood before him. It had been months, nearly a year, maybe more than a year. Memory of this boy had completely vanished from Ronan’s mind, but looking at him now brought it all back to him as if it had never been gone. The differences between the ghost he’d lived with in Monmouth and this apparent resident of Lindenmere were startling. Everything about Noah was warm in a way that felt as unfamiliar to Ronan as the unexplored parts of this place he’d dreamt. And in the same way, they meant everything. Ronan knew in a heartbeat that he loved Noah Czerny, and had missed him like a limb.
“The hell, man. Pay rent or something, fuck.”
Noah offered his fist, and they engaged in a complicated movement of hands that was theirs and no one else’s. God, Ronan thought, Noah’s eyes were beautiful. Not the slate blue of death, but a vibrant green-blue that made Ronan’s heart skip a beat. He’d never known Noah in life, and thus never knew what he’d been like alive, but gun to his head he would have said it was like this. This was how Noah deserved to be. Even his pale blond hair had streaks of gold in it, wildly tousled. Ronan remained rooted where he stood, letting Noah reach up and cup his face in his hands. The shiver running down Ronan’s spine had nothing to do with being cold. He ducked his head and kissed Noah before he could lose the nerve.
“Come home,” Ronan said against his mouth, and he knew how desperate he sounded. He could feel it in the way he grasped at Noah’s sleeves, tugging him closer.
Noah pulled back enough so he could smile and rub his palm against the back of Ronan’s head. He’d done that before, similar to the way he would pet Blue’s wild hair. Like always, Ronan let him. Something about that smile told him coming home wasn’t as easy as either of them wanted to believe it was.
“I haven’t figured out how,” Noah replied, and his shrug was apologetic. He’d shrugged like that as a spectre too, wordlessly apologizing for the space he took up. No mistaking the apology now was for not being able to follow Ronan out of Lindenmere.
Ronan felt it like a punch in the gut. Nothing could ever be simple. He’d known that before, and yet… he’d claimed this kiss, and all the ones before it, with the sense that it would have to end always dogging his desires. He didn’t say anything; he couldn’t. He also couldn’t bear that smile anymore, so since he couldn’t set something on fire, he opted to crush Noah to him again, until his ribs hurt with the solid feel of their bodies. Noah had never felt this alive; Ronan hadn’t ached this wretchedly since his parents died.
“I’m not saying I can’t ever. But right now…asking that’s like me telling you don’t leave,” Noah reasoned. He sounded so vibrant, so hopeful in direct contrast to Ronan’s misery.
Ronan curled himself around Noah, tucking his face into the side of his neck. “This is bullshit.”
Noah laughed. Mother Mary, Ronan would tear something down for the sound of it. No longer paper thin, fragile, this Noah wasn’t restricted by the confines of an undead shell. Though he was here because of the ley line, he wasn’t dependent on it to be who he was meant to be. Ronan felt he had so much to learn, so much more of Noah to love. And it wasn’t allowed to be easy. It never was.
“It’s what we’ve got. I’m happy to see you. I like it here.”
“Is it snowing fuckin’ glitter because of you or me?”
“Mmm…” Noah tipped his head back, and some of the glitter caught on the strands of his hair. “Not sure, but I should probably say thank you anyway.”
“No, you shouldn’t.”
Ronan’s blood raced in his veins. He needed to know more, he needed to understand how this was possible. He needed Adam and the others, and most of all, he’d needed this. Discovering Noah, remembering him, had filled a toothy chasm inside of him that he hadn’t even realized until coming her. How did one understand loss without remembering it? Then again, how did one create life from dreams? How did one die but live? Ronan’s world just kept getting bigger, just like Bryde had said. Ronan took a deep breath of Noah’s expensive cologne, something impossibly bright and musky floral.
“Your friend will get worried,” Noah told him gently, kissing the spot under Ronan’s ear.
Ronan recalled Noah doing that to get a rise out of him, getting him to shout and throw something at him. He hadn’t forgotten and Ronan suddenly remembered.
“I’ll come back for you,” he promised.
Noah kissed him one last time. They were both covered in glitter.
If you get the chance, could I request #57 (Breaking The Kiss To Say Something, Staying So Close That You’re Murmuring Into Each Other’s Mouths) for Roah?
Kiss Prompts | still accepting
Ronan/Noah - #57 Breaking The Kiss To Say Something
~*~
“You know,” Ronan grumbled, but with a smile on his face, “you’re pretty heavy for a ghost.”
Noah huffed from his perch on Ronan’s hips, crossing his arms. “Rude. What if I was sensitive about my weight?”
“You’d be shit out of luck, wouldn’t you?”
Noah did a little side-to-side cock of his head. “Yeah, I guess that’s true.”
He smiled reassuringly, studying Ronan’s face. It was a perfect presentation of being concerned about what he said while pretending he didn’t care at all. Despite how convincing it looked, Noah had seen too much of Ronan in the middle of the night to really believe he didn’t care. Something told him if it really mattered to Noah, he would never say it again. There was something very cool about knowing Ronan Lynch that way. Noah tried not to regret he hadn’t known someone like him in life and settled for knowing the real Ronan now.
“Hey, c’mere.”
Ronan tangled his fingers in the front of Noah’s sweater, tugging him down so he was laying on Ronan’s chest like a phantom blanket. Noah relented, though he considered being stubborn. Part of that was his distraction over how much of him was real when Ronan’s hands were on him, when they shared such close quarters together. It was a funny thing, dying. He was wearing clothes he could never take off, so when Ronan grasped at them, it felt like Noah were actually being grabbed by his skin, his nerve endings. A marvel of magic and time that raised more questions than it answered. What would he even do with his sweater if he could take it off? Would it be another ghost? A pile of non-corporeal fabric on the floor next to Ronan’s dirty laundry? Noah giggled at the thought.
“What’s so funny?” Ronan asked, wrinkling his scarred brow.
“What happens when you try to do a ghost’s laundry?”
“Is this an actual joke?”
“About as much as anything else I’ve got going on here.” He made a half-hearted gesture at all of himself and laughed again.
Ronan’s face scrunched up further, like he was trying to figure out how serious Noah was being, and it was enough to make Noah kiss at his pursed lips. He could feel Ronan’s arms circling up around his shoulders, holding him a willing captive so he wouldn’t pull away anytime soon. That was just fine with Noah; he would stay here as long as he could. By now, Noah had no doubt Ronan was connected to the ley line to the essence of what allowed him to exist in this moment. He tried not to take advantage of it very often, especially when he knew he was cold on Ronan’s skin and not always real enough for kisses like these. There was a weird sort of give and take with them, one they kept coming back to in the tenuous late-to-early darkness. Times when Ronan felt safer to be awake and Noah couldn’t truly sleep.
Times when they asked what am I, and the only possible answer was, yours.
They kissed lazily, Ronan’s hand at the back of his head, Noah distantly wondering what his hair felt like between Ronan’s fingers. He pulled back, aware of Ronan’s breath so close to his lips.
“I think you’re good for me,” he said before he could stop himself.
Ronan kissed him to cut off the bark of laughter that almost escaped. Against Noah’s mouth, he said, “I think I threw you off the roof yesterday.”
“You did, but it’s not like you did it to hurt me.” Another kiss. “You knew it wouldn’t.”
“Dunno that makes it any better.” The words were muffled while Ronan tugged at Noah’s lower lip with his teeth.
“Sure it does.” Noah didn’t let himself elaborate. Not when he’d known someone in life who hurt him in more significant ways. Ronan did what he did and said what he said not to rub Noah’s death in his face, though that was often what it sounded like to anyone who heard it. No, he did it because if Noah couldn’t be alive, at least he could live. Tossing things out of windows for fun, sitting in the passenger seat while Ronan raced the dark Henrietta streets, and even being thrown off a roof — all things Noah couldn’t have done in his life for one reason or another, but Ronan encouraged him to do now. “It’s better to me, anyway.” Another kiss. “That’s what matters.”
“You matter,” Ronan growled forcefully. In contrast, the next press of his mouth was as gentle as could be.
They would be at it all night. Neither of them had to be alone.
