through the years we will be together (if the fates allow)
a/n this is a gift for @mletart for @pynchpromptweek Secret Santa! I hope you like it!
summary: The Lynch brothers do Christmas caroling together to uphold the brotherly bond after their parents passed away. It so happens to be that Adam lives at the church they frequent at. The Myth of the Brothers Lynch become a reality when Adam finally meets the middle one.
word count: 2571
ao3
Adam had never seen them, he had tried many times to catch as much as a glimpse but his job at Boyd’s lined up with the mass times and he was always a little too late. Once, he thought he saw the edge of a BMW turn around the corner but he had waved that off. “Good boys” as the attendees had said, didn’t drive cars that were shark-nosed, all edges and brute force.
“They sing like angels,” one old lady told Adam. She attended church often, burning a candle sometimes. Adam wondered who she had lost, if she was the only one left standing. He almost wanted to ask if the angel metaphor was blasphemy but he held it in at the last moment and politely listened instead, the key to his apartment still in hand. “Especially the middle one.”
“Ronan,” Adam said helpfully, nodding his head in recognition. He had been so mystified by the brothers that he had absorbed every bit of information about them like a sponge, trying to piece everything together and create clear images of them.
He never quite succeeded.
“You must come to mass,” the lady said, her watery eyes looking up at Adam hopefully and Adam had politely declined though it cost him great hardship to do so.
“I’m not religious,” Adam said apologetically and stayed to listen to the lady’s story about the grandson she never really saw because he went to study abroad before Adam finally went up the stairs and let himself into his apartment.
The Brother’s Lynch, now a tangible subject in his mind, took residency in his thoughts for the remainder of the day, the week, until it was Sunday again and Adam was home for once.
Boyd had called Adam to him a few days before, telling him that he had to take some vacation days or he would breach the contract he had signed the year before. It so happened that one of those vacation days was that Sunday, since it wouldn’t be too busy at the shop that day anyway.
And thus, Adam was at the window on Sunday, peering through the slightly cracked glass to try and catch the eye of the brothers.
He watched as the shark-nosed BMW appeared again, followed by a much more boring car, parking next to the BMW. The first guy that got out was one that looked like he was the poster child for bad behaviour. Shaved head, tattoos that curled up from his shoulders and around his neck, peeking just above the black suit he was wearing, the tie artfully undone.
Next came another guy out of the more boring car, a displeased frown already set in his eyebrows. He wore a gray suit, everything perfectly in place. Adam wondered if the perfection was compensating for something.
Then, the last guy, which Adam expected was Ronan, the one with the nice voice, the “very kind boy” as one of the old ladies had whispered to him. Golden curls, a sweet smile on his face, an excited jump in his step as he entered the church.
Adam didn’t go down but he snuck out of his apartment and sat on the stairs, hoping to catch one of their voices. He wanted to learn the magic behind the sound, understand why everyone, including him, had been mesmerised by the brothers.
He didn’t hear a single one stand out, all of them combining too much to notice the ‘angelic’ ones the woman had told him about. Adam wished he still had his other ear in use, thinking that perhaps he would be blessed with the heavenly voices of the brothers if his father hadn’t beaten the hearing out of it.
Disappointedly, he stood again and moved upstairs to his little apartment, sitting down to study as he had done a hundred nights before and would continue to do so until the very end.
It wasn’t a half-hour later when he heard a single voice, moving below in the heart of the church, the voice echoing off the wall. Adam quietly tiptoed down and peeked around the corner. He was too entranced by the voice at first to notice the person singing. The musical notes and the quiet timber of it made Adam wonder if the church was built for the sound instead of God. But then he saw the figure and his heart momentarily stopped.
Shaved head, eyes sunken into his head, was he sleeping enough? Perhaps he was an insomniac as Adam was as well, by choice or not was the question. The suit jacket had been shrugged off and laid over one of the benches. His dress shirt had been rolled up his arms, exposing the boy’s pale forearms, scarred and vulnerable looking. Adam could distinctively see two hooks etched into the sides of his neck, the black ink a stark contrast against the whiteness of his skin.
This must be the youngest one Adam thought. He wanted to go up, introduce himself but he was too scared to. The boy was not only taller than him but significantly stronger too. Adam didn’t exactly feel fear but he didn’t want to take any chances either.
He barely noticed the singing had stopped before the boy was in front of him and Adam’s heart stilled in his chest. “Who the fuck are you?” Adam was asked who immediately went into defensive mode.
“I live here,” Adam said with an annoyed pull of his lips. He wondered why the ladies had said they were ‘good boys’. This one seemed anything but.
The boy’s mouth opened and closed, the spell on his hardened eyes momentarily broken and he looked so much younger immediately. “Oh, I didn’t know.”
Adam swallowed and nodded before his everlasting need for approval reared its ugly head. “Adam Parrish,” he said, knowing how ridiculous his name sounded in a church of all things. The boy, Matthew, Adam presumed, seemed to realise as well and smirked a little. Adam wished he didn’t find it as attractive as he did.
“Ronan Lynch,” the boy replied and…
Oh.
Oh.
“You’re not Matthew?” Adam asked and he immediately realised how stupid he sounded. He also realised his hand was still in Ronan’s, pleasantly warm under his soft skin.
“That would be my baby brother,” Ronan answered and cocked his head. Adam didn’t dare to tell him that it made him look like a confused puppy. “Why would you think I was Matthew?”
And here Adam was, standing in front of the most dangerous-looking boy with the most beautiful voice he had ever heard, tongue-tied and all. “The ladies who come here told me Ronan was the nicest of the brothers and well…”
“Matthew looks like a golden retriever personified,” Ronan helpfully added. “We’re all aware.”
Adam bit his lip and finally released Ronan’s hand. It took him everything to not immediately start running. He would have if he didn’t also want to tell Ronan how nice his voice was and, more importantly, leave a good impression for whatever reason that might be.
“Your voice…” Adam started and cleared his throat. “It’s really nice.”
He walked away after that, hating himself for coming up with ‘nice’ of all things. As if that wasn’t the lamest thing he could have said to the hottest person he had ever met in his short and sheltered life. You didn’t often find people like him in little Henrietta, Virginia and Adam blew it completely.
Adam could hear the soft laughter of Ronan echo against the walls again, following him up into his room. It was a quiet and surprising thing, fleeting like the birds’ wings on Ronan’s neck.
Adam dreamt about Ronan that night. Perhaps he truly wasn’t real but just a myth his mind had helpfully added a face to. But it couldn’t be, Ronan’s hand had felt so real in his own, warm and soft, the comforting touch of a mystical stranger.
Adam looked out the next day but Ronan was gone. It wasn’t a surprise, he didn’t think people that drove such cars actually slept in churches but he still felt a deep sense of disappointment that nobody was waiting for him downstairs, singing a beautiful song in greeting.
Adam got back to work the next Sunday and though he rushed back to catch a glimpse of the brothers, or, well, Ronan, it was to no avail. They were gone, carrying their voices with them.
The days flew by, the weather got worse. Adam was cold more often than not and in those freezing days where he could only pace up and down his small apartment to gain some warmth, he remembered the touch of Ronan’s hands, their palms pressed together, Ronan’s finger lightly touching his racing pulse.
“They have a habit of Christmas caroling,” one of the ladies, Dorothy, apparently, had told him with a wink as if she knew Adam had been looking out for them. “They do it every year, it keeps the brotherly bond alive.”
Adam thought Christmas caroling only happened in cheesy Christmas movies but he had thanked her and kept Dorothy’s words to heart. He made sure to finish all of his homework before sitting down on his bed on Christmas eve, eyeing the door with nervous anticipation. He belatedly thought of the possibility they would only carol at the door of the church, not of his apartment. Still, he held the hope that Ronan would remember their conversation and attempt to sing for him.
Though Adam had hope, he didn’t actually expect a knock on his door. He turned the doorknob with a shaky hand, his stomach fluttering with nerves.
Before him stood three brothers.
Declan, his expression stoic, his suit black this time with a tie that looked as if it was made by someone artistic, snowflakes and Christmas trees decorating the red and green background. The tie greatly contrasted what Adam had thought was his personality. Maybe he wasn’t as boring as he portrayed himself to be.
Matthew, all golden curls and happy smiles as he sang, his head bobbing a little with every note, his eyes squinted to feel the music more. He was as he seemed, cheerfulness evident in every word he sang.
And then there was Ronan. He was dressed in all black, not quite right for Christmas eve but it fit him, Adam could tell even though he didn’t truly know him. The scar on his lip pulled a little when he sang, the sole focus point of Adam’s sight until he suddenly remembered he had been staring at Ronan’s lips with fascination and looked up again. His eyes met Ronan’s pale blue ones. It reminded him of the ice he always wished he could skate on but never could afford.
Ronan smiled while he sang, he could tell from the crinkles around his eyes. Adam couldn’t help but smile back and applaud a little when they were done.
“You deserve every praise you get,” Adam told the brothers. Declan nodded in appreciation and squeezed Ronan’s shoulder.
“He really is nice,” he said, smirking a little as Ronan’s cheeks turned red, his expression affronted that his brother dared to expose him like that. “Ronan forced us to sing for you.”
This time it was Adam’s time to blush, unable to meet Ronan’s eyes so they fell on Matthew instead who looked ecstatic. “I think you’ll make a lovely brother in law.”
“Matthew!” Ronan yelled and Matthew laughed as he dragged Declan down to ‘give them some privacy’.
Adam finally looked up to Ronan again and tugged a little on the sleeve of his suit jacket so he met his eyes again. “I’m glad you came here.”
“You are?” Ronan asked, sounding as if he expected Adam to slam his door in his face. Adam could sense the hope in Ronan’s eyes and, hell, it was Christmas Eve . This was the night for miracles and taking chances, for spending time with loved ones that Adam didn’t have but if he played it right, he could have exactly that next Christmas.
Adam thus nodded and ran inside to get a pen, writing his phone number on the palm of Ronan’s hand, the light blue almost the colour of the veins that ran underneath his skin. “I want to get to know you better, maybe you become less of a myth in my head.”
Ronan’s laugh sounded like bells and Adam couldn’t help but grin back, strangely proud that he made the boy with the wonderful voice laugh like that.
“I don’t use my phone a lot,” Ronan confessed but protectively curled his fingers around the phone number anyway and Adam knew he was going to call him.
“See it as a Christmas present to me,” Adam replied and Ronan’s lips pulled in a smirk, leaning closer to him as he spoke his next words.
“And what is my present then?”
Adam rolled his eyes, somewhere between exasperated and amused, knowing that he would be walking that fine line more often with Ronan. “A date?”
Ronan’s cheeks flushed a little again and he nodded. Adam cheered inwardly. “Deal,” he replied as if they were in some kind of business meeting. He briefly frowned, having realised that himself too.
Adam wanted to tease that he was more like his brother than he was probably willing to admit but he kept his mouth shut to ensure he would still go on that date.
“Deal,” he replied softly instead and watched as Ronan finally turned to leave, looking back one last time at him before going back into the cold. Adam watched Ronan push Declan and ruffle Matthew’s hair before getting into the shark-nosed BMW and driving off, the pristine snow still lingering to its exterior.
The myth of the Lynch Brothers didn’t end there but next Christmas, Adam was in on it too. He didn’t carol, it was something for the brothers alone. Instead, he comfortably sat on the worn couch of the Barns, sipping hot chocolate with Chainsaw, Ronan’s raven, her beak comfortably pressed into his neck, waiting for the brothers to return.
With them, the Lynches brought warmth and joy, a liveliness that Adam had missed in those years alone. It wasn’t before long that they came barrelling through the door, Ronan curling up next to him, one arm around the back of his shoulders as they retold where they had been caroling, how the old ladies of the church wished Adam a happy Christmas.
And Adam did have a happy Christmas, more so than he ever experienced before. He was surrounded by people he cared for more than anything and finally understood what the true Christmas spirit was about. Love, joy, and most importantly, spending time with your family, be it born or found.
A gift for @semicolonsandsimiles who gave me the prompt “post-canon/established relationship” for the @pynchpromptweek Pynch Secret Santa 2020. Have some of Ronan and Adam being soft and going on dates with each other!
Title: Baby Animals Are Romantic
Word Count: 3301
Summary: Adam had never been to the county fair before, so when Ronan suggests they go he figures this is a farming thing. But Adam's eager to spend time with his boyfriend, even if he also has to listen to an auctioneer trying to sell steers. Or, in which Ronan just wants to take his oblivious boyfriend on a date and maybe hold hands on the Ferris wheel.
Read on AO3
Ronan approached him a couple of weeks after they had finally discussed the dream-goop. It felt like they had progressed to a new stage of their relationship, with Ronan dedicated to his dreaming again and Adam figuring out what school was going to look like. Adam was bent over one of his many lists (this one a bulleted list of all the work study opportunities on campus) when Ronan rested his shoulder on the door jam to the study where Adam had taken up residence.
He liked the large wooden desk.
“You know, the fair’s coming up,” Ronan muttered.
“The what?”
Adam looked up from his list — the best chance for steady hours was working in the campus cafeteria but the assignment at the library would let him do surreptitious homework on the job more often — and frowned at Ronan. He could remember a school fair in elementary, but Ronan wouldn’t have those same memories.
“Wait, the county fair?” Adam laid his pen down carefully on the desk and leaned back.
The county fair took place every August at the fairground, which was just another field north of Singers Falls. Aglionby never paid much attention to the county fair, with the ruckus of the Fourth of July always outshining anything else that happened during the summer up until last year. Adam vaguely remembered some of his classmates in elementary school talking about their 4H projects or art submissions with markers and crayons.
“I’ve never been to the fair,” Adam said slowly. Ronan stood up straighter, pushing himself off the door. “What’s even there?”
“Y’know, competitions and shit, who can grow the biggest pumpkin, who’s got the best pig.” Ronan slumped fully into the room to lean against Adam’s desk, like standing straight was a hassle for him. “There’s rides they set up for kids, like those tiny airplanes that you get in and spin around.”
Adam didn’t say that he had never been in those rides as a kid. He knew Ronan wasn’t bringing that up to remind Adam of what he hadn’t had. They just had different perspectives of what kids had. Adam had a mattress on the floor of the double-wide, and Ronan had a dad who created magical things from dreams.
“And the auctioneer will come by to sell off livestock and shit,” Ronan said, speaking faster. “Steers and stuff for farmers. Sometimes there’s baby animals from the stock.”
Oh, so that was a thing. Adam leaned his elbows on the desk so that he could be closer to Ronan’s downturned face.
“You wanna go?”
Ronan’s shoulders slumped so fast that Adam barely noticed how high they had been before. But Ronan’s face relaxed at the same time, and that was more fun for Adam to watch.
“Shit, Parrish, don’t act like you're doing me a favor or anything,” Ronan drawled.
Adam rolled his eyes. For everything that had happened over the summer, Ronan was still shit at asking for what he wanted. He could’ve just asked Adam to go with him to the county fair auction.
“Fine.” Adam hid his smile in his shoulder and picked up his pen again. “When’s the auction?”
“Friday afternoon,” said Ronan. “You just have the factory shift on Friday, right? You’re free after that.”
Ronan asked like he didn’t have Adam’s whole work schedule memorized. Adam looked up and didn’t bother concealing his smile at Ronan.
“Yep.”
To Adam’s delight, the tips of Ronan’s ears turned pink as he nodded as if nothing was unusual about that.
“Good.” Ronan turned on his heel and marched back out the door. “Hey, brat, what’re you doing with that?”
Adam left Ronan to manage Opal on his own, but he was still smiling when he hunched back over his lists.
…
They left Opal with the Fox Way ladies on Friday, something Opal herself had mixed feelings about, but she seemed happy enough with all the various herbs the women let her chew on. Ronan drove the two of them back through Singers Falls and up to the fairgrounds.
Adam had only ever seen it when it was an empty field, mostly mowed down grass with patches of dirt or mud, depending on the season. Ronan kept vibrating in the driver’s seat, shifting so aggressively that Adam wondered if he should’ve offered to go “driving” with him before going to the fair. Or instead of it.
When they finally got to the fair, just after lunch, the field was already half full of cars on one side of the skinny two-lane road. The field on the other side of the road was full of white tents and footpaths around the various attractions. Rows of red and yellow and green tractors stretched out from one side of the fair into the empty trimmed field. True to what Ronan had said, there were a few carnival rides for kids, including a full sized Ferris wheel near the center of the fair.
“There’s a lot of people here,” Adam noted as they parked and got out of the Beemer. Lots of people was typically not Ronan’s jam.
“Don’t be a wuss, Parrish,” Ronan said. He hurried around the car to stand close to Adam’s side. “Let’s go.”
He grabbed at Adam’s hand and jerked him towards the road. Adam went. It was hard not to follow Ronan Lynch when he was this much like Ronan Lynch, a black T-shirt covering his shoulders while the wicked curves of his tattoo peeked out at the base of his neck.
For a minute as they crossed the road, Adam wondered if he should be more careful, if he should take his hand away from Ronan’s. His parents weren’t generally fair-goers, so he didn’t expect to see them or anyone else from the trailer park here, but farmers were their own kind of people. What would they think about two boys holding hands as they ran to the admission booth? But as soon as they pulled up to the ticket window where a gray-haired lady with a straw hat sat taking money, Ronan let go of Adam’s hand to dig in his pocket.
“I could’ve got that,” Adam protested, mostly because he could.
“So, you can buy us lunch,” said Ronan as he folded his wallet and shoved it back into his jeans.
The lady gave a string of pink paper tickets to Ronan, who tore it in half and gave one half to Adam. He took them and frowned at them. They looked like raffle tickets, but Adam wasn’t sure what purpose they served here.
“C’mon,” Ronan said and walked through the gates.
Inside the fairgrounds were full of lines of people grouped and moving like pods of fish. The packed squadrons of bodies all moved the same way, like rush hour traffic with bodies instead of cars. Ignoring everyone, Ronan pulled Adam to a stop in front of a fork in the dirt path and tilted his chin up towards the open sky.
“The games are that way.” Ronan pointed to the right.
Adam saw the pointed tops of colorful booths painted in reds and oranges and mechanical spires that — sure enough — propelled tiny metal airplanes up with kids strapped in and screaming in delight.
“I wanna know if they have the stupid carnival shooting games,” said Ronan. Adam rolled his eyes, but Ronan’s eyes went yet another direction. “There’s the Ferris wheel.”
Adam followed Ronan’s finger to the large white and purple wheel at the other side of the fairgrounds, straight ahead of where they were.
“Yeah, looks kinda cheesy.” Adam had only seen those kinds of things in movies. But it wasn’t what Ronan was here for, and in lieu of a responsible farmer, Adam supposed he could nudge Ronan towards the actual prize. “Where’s the animals? You said there would be babies.”
A frown darted quickly across Ronan’s face as he turned to Adam, but then he softened into something private, something reserved for Adam and the Barns. It was the kind of look that made Adam think they could survive a few years of long-distance, as long as Ronan always looked at him like that when he came home.
“Yeah, sure, Parrish, let’s go look at the babies,” said Ronan.
Slipping his shoulder behind Adam’s back, Ronan nudged Adam forward and down the left-hand path. They navigated around the people walking the opposite direction, and Adam felt Ronan’s hand pressing against his back, just below his shoulder blades where Ronan’s body blocked anyone looking closely at the two boys. Adam’s skin felt hot under his T-shirt.
They walked together to a long barn with a shiny metal roof, and Ronan shifted to take the lead up the incline to the end of the barn where the main doors were standing wide open. Adam recognized the smell immediately: hay and warm bodies and corn. But this was different from the Barns in a way that Adam could only attribute to the dream quality of Ronan’s home. Even once everything was awake again, there was a sense of peace over the whole thing, a wildness that the cows, the deer, Opal, and Ronan himself all were a part of.
But Ronan looked happy enough to be in his natural environment. The thought of teasing Ronan that he belonged in a barn made Adam’s mouth quirk up. Ronan grabbed his hand before he could say anything and pulled Adam towards one side of the barn.
“Look,” Ronan pointed into the pen.
People were pressed up against the wood of the pen, but Ronan just elbowed a man out of the way and ignored the glare that he received in turn. Adam scoffed but walked up beside Ronan and looked inside the wooden pen. Two lambs sat in the pen next to the back wall while a third lamb walked around on spindly legs, jerking its way back and forth from the many outstretched hands of the people crowding the pen then darting back to the safety of the other lambs away from people.
Adam rested his elbows on the top of the pen and watched the lamb dance back and forth adventurously, nipping at the outstretched fingers of a kid who had climbed up the rungs of the pen and then hopping back out of reach of all the adult hands that stretched out to pet the animal. Beside him, Ronan sighed and leaned down over the closed pen, nearly folding himself in half. He let his hand dangle loosely near the fluffy bedding lining the pen and ignored the rest of the people clamoring to see the baby lamb and entice them closer. Adam watched as one of the lambs from the back of the pen got up on its own shaky legs and nosed its way closer. Ronan wiggled his fingers and let the lamb approach him and sniff cautiously.
Adam leaned harder onto Ronan and watched the lamb lick at Ronan’s fingers, wary but eager for something that Ronan had. Adam could sympathize.
Ronan glanced up.
“Wanna pet him?” he asked softly, his voice toned down from his usual boisterous shredding of the English language.
Adam scooted closer to Ronan and leaned down with him, letting his fingers dangle just like Ronan had instead of thrusting his hand out in beckoning motions like the rest of the people. The lamb moved from sniffing Ronan’s fingers to seeking out Adam’s. It’s tongue tickled the tips of his fingers, and Adam stretched his hand out a little further and gently patted the top of the lamb’s head. He turned to see Ronan grinning at him.
“C’mon,” said Ronan. “I bet there are some calves they got further down.”
…
They passed through the other end of the livestock barn, where Ronan had stopped by pretty much every pen to see the baby animals and try to entice each one closer. Every time he had gotten an animal to come close to him, he offered petting privileges to Adam, which he appreciated. But Adam liked seeing Ronan’s unique magic with barns and baby animals even more than touching them himself. For all his dangerous appearance, Ronan was most at home being soft around animals.
After the barn, Ronan dragged Adam — fairly willingly but still — down the continuing path that looped back around to the carnival games that were all grouped together, next to the mechanical toy rides. Adam beat Ronan in a game of “shoot the water gun at the target,” which won him both an oversized red foam cowboy hat and a heated look from Ronan. It was only when Ronan had a bizarrely large stuffed giraffe under his arm that Adam thought he might be missing something.
“We should get food,” Ronan said. “You’re buying, right?”
Adam glanced down at the beaten watch on his wrist, still able to tell him when he was about to be late for a shift.
“What about the auction?”
Ronan frowned at him.
“Why would you wanna see an auction?” he demanded. “It’s just a bunch of people yelling about cows.”
“You yell about cows on a regular basis, Lynch.” Adam rolled his eyes. Ronan was probably just protesting too much and didn’t want to go to something that he was being forced to.
“Those’re my cows, though,” Ronan said into Adam’s good ear. “Special breed.”
Adam felt his cheeks flush and tried to brush the blush away with the back of his hand.
“Let’s do whatever you want,” he tried. “Where d’you want to go?”
Ronan stopped in between a booth with a ring toss and the back of a food cart that smelled like hot oil and sugar.
“I brought you to have fun, Parrish,” he said. “Are you that much of a workaholic? We talked about this.”
Adam bristled. He breathed in deeply, almost matching Ronan’s smoker-inhale, and told himself to be calm.
“Excuse me for trying to make sure you get what you need outa this,” he muttered lowly.
“Excuse you?!” Ronan’s eyebrows flew up.
Adam grimaced. The words had slipped out. Fighting with Ronan was still a charged activity for the both of them. Adam was still getting used to softness, from both himself and from Ronan Lynch.
“Look, I’m trying to be considerate of you here,” Adam explained very calmly.
“Well, don’t feel like you have to spare my fucking feelings!” Ronan bit out.
Adam threw his hands into the air, funny cowboy hat and all.
“You wanted to come!”
“I wanted to go on a date with you!” snapped Ronan.
Adam blinked his way out of his sudden anger and felt his stomach sink in its absence. Ronan looked suddenly sheepish and angry that he was sheepish. His jaw ticked like he was clenching his teeth, like he was trying to hold his words back from where they could do the most damage to Adam.
“I can do better than just driving in cars,” Ronan said. “This was gonna be fun. Way to ruin the day.”
Adam’s stomach turned to lead. He hated the idea that this was all ruined because of him. Part of his mind argued that going to the county fair was a weird idea for a date, but he recognized the defensive part of himself, the part that constantly looked for ways that he could get hurt so that he knew where to protect himself.
But the larger part of him saw Ronan’s jaw clench the same way it did when he was trying not to let his lip tremble, trying not to show how much he felt.
Adam thrust his red cowboy hat into Ronan’s hands and shoved him towards a wooden table in front of the food truck.
“Wait there,” he ordered. “I’ll get us lunch.” Ronan glowered at him unconvincingly. “Just wait there—” Adam just needed a couple of minutes to get his brain in order. “—I’ll be back.”
He marched off, trying to see what looked like actual food in this place.
…
Adam returned with a paper plate damp with grease and soaked in powdered sugar. Ronan was still sitting at the wooden picnic table, his head resting on his folded arms on the table. Adam slid the fried pile of dough toward Ronan and sat next to him. Sitting across would be too far away.
“I bought a funnel cake,” he said.
Ronan lifted his head and stared at the deep fried treat. It wasn’t real food, but Adam had thought it smelled good and was the kind of thing Ronan would enjoy stuffing his face with.
“I’m sorry,” Adam said. “I didn’t know this was supposed to be a date. I thought you were just looking for more animals for the farm.”
Ronan snuffled into his bare elbow and then rested his chin on his arms.
“You’re a real romantic, Parrish.”
Adam bent his head and leaned into Ronan’s shoulder so that he could hide the small smile that threatened his mouth. Ronan was at least willing to forgive him, which made the shameful tightness in his belly abate a little.
“You like baby animals, though.” Adam pressed his head against Ronan’s stubbled skull. “I knew you wanted to come here.”
Ronan shifted beneath him like he wanted to sit up straighter but didn’t want to actually lose Adam’s touch.
“So, you didn’t wanna come?”
“I didn’t say that,” Adam said quickly. He drew his head back so that he could wrap his arm around Ronan’s waist cautiously, still aware that they were surrounded by people who had probably grown up like Adam’s parents. “I liked seeing you with the lamb. That was cute.”
Ronan’s ears turned bright pink, and he turned to hide most of his face against Adam’s neck.
“Shuddup.”
Adam grinned.
“I’m just saying.” He shifted his hand up to cover Ronan’s ribs. “I would’ve come even if I didn’t know it was a date. I like being with you.”
Ronan relaxed into him, and Adam held his breath like he always did when he had to remind himself that this was his now. He wasn’t being selfish for having this.
“So, next time I should spell things out for you,” Ronan murmured into his neck.
“Might be good.” Adam knew his own weaknesses, and he was prone to not communicating. He was working on that.
Then Adam straightened, shifting so that Ronan’s head rolled off his neck.
“Or I could ask you,” Adam said to Ronan’s confused (and slightly disappointed) look. “Ronan Lynch, do you want to ride the Ferris wheel with me?”
The brief glance of Ronan’s wide eyes made Adam smile through his heated cheeks. He knew he was blushing, but Ronan’s cheeks were fully pink now.
“I can try to bribe the guy to stop us at the top,” said Adam. “Like in the movies.”
Ronan inhaled his smoker’s breath and leaned so close that he nearly headbutted Adam.
“Thought that was cheesy.”
“I don’t need a replay of what I missed out on, Lynch.” A bit of leftover shame curled in Adam’s stomach before he smothered it entirely. He focused on softening his face, and he took Ronan’s hand tentatively. “But if you want to show me your favorite stuff, I can get behind that.”
Ronan threaded his fingers through Adam’s.
“I wanna be with you,” he said. “The rest doesn’t matter so much.”
Adam grinned.
“So, come on.” Adam pulled Ronan until he followed Adam to his feet. “Let’s go.”
“What about the funnel cake?” Ronan protested. Adam didn’t think he really meant it.
“That’s barely food, Lynch.” He rolled his eyes anyway. “I’ll buy you some real food after the Ferris wheel.”
“Fair food is a time-honored tradition, you pleb.”
Adam grinned all the way through Ronan’s complaining as they walked hand-in-hand through the fairgrounds.
Pynch // Prompt: Missing Scene // Rated: T, for discussion of intense topics
No archive warnings, exposition of bruising, demonic possession, and night terror injuries
Even the darkest night will end
AO3 Link
The Lynch Home bathroom was illuminated only by a dream on the sink counter. A sort of home grown nightlight. It looked like lightning bugs in a jar. Adam dragged Ronan into the dim bathroom and both of them collapsed against the cool tile floor, too exhausted to hold each other up any longer.
The black sludge on Ronan’s face seemed even darker and deeper in the dim and Adam had to look away or risk his stomach revolting. Again. Ronan swayed backwards and Adam barely got an arm around his waist before he fell. Adam had no idea what he was doing. His hands were shaking so badly that he couldn't keep a grip on Ronan's shirt and he'd stopped being able to feel his legs half an hour ago. Every time he caught a glimpse of his red wrists, he gagged and had to collect himself.
He didn't know how he managed to get Ronan's shirt off or how his knees were supporting him long enough to tug off his boots and socks, how his fingers could still on the clasps of Ronan's bracelets to take them off. But he did manage because that's what he fucking did. Adam Parrish figured shit out, especially in times of the worst fucking duress of his life. Jesus, less than a year ago, he was newly half deaf and alone in a hospital, and thought it'd never get worse than that.
"Come on, Lynch. Stand up again. I can’t just drop you in the shower in your jeans." He was torn between looking at Ronan's face for any sense of camaraderie and partnership and seeing the black shit that was still all over him. It was worse than Adam's wrists.
Ronan protested weakly, fingers scrabbling towards his bracelets like they were a life line he needed. And though Adam completely understood in the moment, he also knew Ronan had to get in the shower. He set them on the counter and grabbed Ronan’s hand instead. “Up, Lynch,” he ordered, hauling Ronan up with him.
A height difference that normally barely noticed was working against them as Ronan leaned heavily on Adam’s shoulder while Adam tried to undo the button and zipper of his jeans without sending them careening to the floor again.
“Move, Parrish. Got it. I got it,” Ronan finally muttered, swatting at Adam’s hands, one arm going to the counter to support himself while he got to fight with his jeans.
Adam took a shaky breath, watched him for a second, and then turned to get the shower started, stripping out of his shirt and pants too while he waited for it to warm and adjust. He wanted to bur his clothes and never look at them again and hated that it probably wasn’t a possibility since somehow they were still going to have to go to school and take classes and pretend that everything was okay because it felt like things were never going to be okay again.
“Adam,” Ronan said smally, and Adam turned in time to catch Ronan against his chest. His mind was a million miles away from the bare skin on his, his hands sliding over Ronan’s lower back and legs as he tried to half carry him into the shower. Ronan collapsed to the ground as soon as they were past the door, but that was fine, because the shower had a showerhead with a hose and Adam could bring it to Ronan. He grabbed a washcloth and kneeled in front of Ronan, smoothing a hand over Ronan’s arm until Ronan looked over at him. “Where’s Gansey?” he asked, voice weak and wrecked.
“He’s at the hospital with Blue. Remember, I drove all of us over there but you couldn’t go in because of your face. Blue’s gonna take him home. He’ll be with the psychics tonight,” Adam explained softly.
He gently wiped at Ronan’s face, scrubbing soap into the rag when he needed to. The sludge didn’t come off easy and Adam kept stopping every time Ronan’s skin turned red with scrubbing, so it was a long process. Ronan’s eyes were hazy or shut for most of it, not that he was trying to be a burden on Adam. Hell, two weeks ago, he was losing his fucking mind over Adam maybe wanting to hold his hand and now he had Adam piled into a shower with him.
But it was all wrong. Adam’s wrists were bruised and he was covered in dirt and rain and sweat and his eyes, usually so unbelievably bright and knowing and sharp, were red rimmed and exhausted. “I’m so sorry, Parrish,” he eventually said, eating an edge of the wash rag unintentionally.
Adam physically jolted in front of him and looked up at Ronan. “What? What could you possibly be sorry for? You didn't do anything If anything I should..." Adam’s words choked off and Ronan saw him look to the bruises around his throat before glancing away. Ronan had been going to let Adam kill him, without a second’s hesitation. It wasn’t even a question. And he knew he should be sorry for that. Sorry that Adam, who needed to control every single damn part of his life and his narrative, was taken over by something that Ronan and all this Greywarren bullshit had brought on him. Without Ronan, Adam would be safe working too late and sleeping too little and half living in an auto shop. Without Ronan, Adam would’ve never found a dream forest, would’ve never had a dream forest, to give himself over to.
Jesus, from the very beginning, Adam had been giving up his control for Ronan. To Ronan, if he wanted to read too deeply into the connection between him and Cabeswater.
And now it was missing from his head like a physical ache and he could tell by the way Adam’s fingers twitched towards a solution, a spirit that wasn’t there anymore, he felt it too. And it was all Ronan’s fucking fault.
“I should’ve done more,” he eventually said.
“"Ronan, you're...bleeding, or whatever, from your literal eyes. If you'd done anymore..." Adam cut himself off when he realized he was about to say 'I wouldn't still have you.' Instead, he pressed his hand over Ronan's ribs and then stood so quickly he almost fell over. Ronan reached for him, selfishly wanted to keep him there, keep him close.
But Adam just reached out of the shower to flick on the heater and then kneeled back down in front of him.
“Why are you wearing boxers if I have to be naked?” Ronan asked, going for anything to get Adam out of his own head, even though he was exhausted himself and wanted silence and Adam pressed up against him.
But it seemed to work because Adam blushed furiously and pointedly kept his eyes at Ronan’s chest and above. “My boxers cost a dollar a pair. Yours are designer.”
“They still go into the wash, Parrish. Calvin Klein made them with water in mind.”
Adam glared at him, but it was half hearted. Then he shifted and laid across the shower floor and Ronan followed, resting his head on Adam’s shoulder. The water pooled around them and they were both freezing in the cool air and their wet skin, but neither of them moved to get the hose put somewhere useful.
“You’re the first person to ever touch me like I’m in danger,” Ronan muttered softly. “And not the dangerous thing that needed to be controlled.”
“A demon crawled into my head and liked what it found, Lynch,” Adam muttered. “You’re not the dangerous one here.”
And wasn’t that the fucking kicker? Since the night terror and his wrists, everyone in his life--Gansey and Declan, really. That made his whole life--treated him like he was about to explode and hurt everyone around him. But that hadn’t ever been his goal. Hurting himself, fine. But not the people around him. (Except maybe Declan every now and then in a fist fight) But then the demon from his own quests and magical abilities decided Adam Parrish, unassuming and kind and smart and beautiful Adam Parrish, was the most dangerous player on the board.
And Ronan had seen why. It didn’t have anything to do with the biting comments and rash decisions Adam was so good at, or the quick temper he was slowly, so fucking slowly, learning to control, or the diabolical way his mind worked when he had a goal in mind. It was that everyone around Adam loved him and no one wanted to hurt him. The demon that undid all the light and goodness that Ronan made, saw Adam Parrish as the brightest light in his life and tried to snuff it out.
“I need to get your neck,” Adam said and sounded fucking terrified at the idea, so Ronan reached for his hand and worked the cloth free to scrub at his own neck. He could feel enough of the black shit to know when he was making progress and when he wasn’t and he kept the cloth between his skin and Adam’s eyeline so he couldn’t see the bruises.
“Done,” he said and his throat hurt even worse. He just wanted this night to be over. He doubted he’d feel any better tomorrow, but at least they’d have put time between themselves and the demon and the...loss. Jesus, it felt like insurmountable loss. His mother, Adam, Matthew, Cabeswater. Gansey.
“Where’s Gansey?” he asked and felt Adam turn his head to look over at him.
“He’s with Blue,” Adam said softly, worrying tinging his voice. He held onto Ronan’s hand tightly and moved them over his own chest so Ronan could feel his heartbeat. “We can call her if you want.”
Ronan shook his head roughly. “I want to go to bed,” he muttered.
It took several minutes for either one of them to think about sit up. It was too easy to just lay with each other on the cold tile and know that they were alive and as safe as could be.
“Your eyelashes are so long,” Adam muttered eventually.
Ronan’s eyes fluttered open--he hadn’t even realized he’d shut them--and he looked at Adam intently. “They’re not that long,” he muttered. “Your eyes are so fuckin’ blue.”
“They’re not that blue,” Adam teased, leaning his forehead against Ronan’s temple. Ronan could feel him grow more serious in the next seconds. “I’m so sorry about what happened.”
“I am too, Parrish. But...it’s not on either of us. And I know it don’t feel true right now and maybe we don’t want to hear it, but it’s not our fault.”
Adam nodded softly and rubbed his hand over Ronan’s chest gently. “It's not our fault," he agreed. "It's not any of ours fault. It was fated from the beginning. We were meant to all be there. Gansey in Henry's coat and Blue with her curse and me and you there to sway Cabeswater's sacrifice. It had to happen like this. Nothing we did would've changed it. Blue and I saw it in Cabeswater, in that tree.”
Ronan swallowed and held his hand over Adam’s, clumsily lacing their fingers. “This shit in my mouth tastes like literal fucking death,” he said, and a second later, Adam was passing over the shower head for him to rinse his mouth out with.
They had to awkwardly sit up, slick skin sliding on the wet floor, feet and knees and elbows finding body parts along the way. Ronan washed out his mouth and then hosed himself down again, just in case they’d missed something that had dripped into his clothes, even tried to clean his ears out, though that may have to wait until tomorrow.
He turned off the water and shakily got to his feet, pulling Adam up with him. Without saying anything, they crashed into each other, hugging each other tight enough that their ribs ached.
Adam reached for the towel on the door of the shower and dried them off, moving between their bodies like they were the same person. He dried off his own hair last and then kicked his soaking boxers off. Ronan stayed as modest as Adam had, but only because there were dark bruises along Adam’s waist and thighs, from the demon thrashing Adam’s body around in the car, that kept him distracted.
They stayed wrapped around each other as they made their way to the bedroom, pulled on some of Ronan’s boxers, and fell into bed together.
“Where’s…” Ronan started, before he relaxed in the warm blankets. Hospital. Blue. Psychics. They were all alive and okay. He’d call Declan tomorrow, give him a more in depth explanation than what Adam got out in broken pants and choked off sobs earlier on the drive home. “It’s over,” he muttered. Glendower, Noah’s painful fits, the demon, Cabeswater. “It’s all really over.”
“It can only get better,” Adam pointed out a little drily.
Ronan curled an arm around Adam’s waist and pulled him close. He was never letting go.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Jordeclan fic for day three of TRC/CDTH Prompt Week 2020
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I have an idea that might make this easier for you.” Jordan popped the first button of her shirt. “Mutual nudity.” She dazzled him with a devious smile. “Artist and subject.”- aka, Jordan comes up with a creative way to convince Declan to do some nude modeling for some figure drawing practice.
Happy holidays!! Here’s my Pynch Secret Santa for @literallylen! Some soft wintery fluff set between The Raven King and Call Down The Hawk. Hope you like it, Len!
And a special thank you to @pynchpromptweek for hosting! You guys rock!
hello! here is my gift to @two-of-swords-621 for @pynchpromptweek secret santa! they asked for dream-barn-chore shenanigans so here’s some of that, christmas themed. :) enjoooyyy.
pairing: adam parrish/ronan lynch
words: 3599
summary:
Ronan has shanghaied Adam into helping get the Lynch Christmas decorations out of storage and there are endless boxes to go through, and likely a number of dreamthings within reach. He’s currently peering down into a scuffed plastic tub on the floor, apprehension and uncertainty laced through his fair eyebrows. He gives it a wary, gentle kick with the toe of his boot, the contents making a disgruntled clattering sound.
