ronan is familiar enough with nightmares to know what they look like, what they sound like. and even if he wasn’t, he’d still be familiar enough with gansey to know that he was having a nightmare. ronan’s voice and touch are gentle, softer than they should be by the light of day. softer than he’d let them be if gansey was awake. still, he whispers gansey’s name, hands on the sleeping boy’s shoulders aim to bring him back from whatever horror haunts his mind behind his eyelids.
there is no transition from sleeping gansey to awake gansey. suddenly, he is sitting up, holding ronan by his shirt, pulling him close. too close. ronan is still. he’s never before been more aware of another person in his entire life, not even of gansey himself. he notices the way gansey’s chest rises and falls with every breath, the warmth radiating from him, the scent of mint is both overwhelming and reassuring.
ronan isn’t quite sure what gansey is apologizing for, but he has a feeling. maybe gansey knows, he’s always fucking known. eyes close at the feeling of gansey’s hand at the back of his neck. this isn’t the middle of the darkness, this isn’t a safe place on aimless nights. this is dangerous, camp fires left unattended, driving full-speed with faulty breaks.
of fucking course gansey knows and, really, ronan shouldn’t even be surprised. that gansey knows what those nights have always meant to him. that gansey knows that with every kiss he’s burying the knife and twisting it inside ronan’s chest.but does gansey know that exactly what ronan wants? he wants gansey to be selfish. if gansey lets himself be greedy, ronan can do the same. for the brief moments when their lips meet, ronan can claim gansey as his, as much as he is gansey’s always.
gansey kisses him, and ronan has been STARVING since he came to seattle. finally, the hunger in him is gone. his mouth is easily persuaded to play along, his entire body responds to gansey almost embarrassingly fast. he shifts his weight, pushing without meaning to until gansey is on his back, ronan’s hands at each side of gansey’s head, keeping most of his weight off the other boy.
kavinsky’s voice echoes in his head. he is never going to be with you. — you really are just his lapdog. it makes ronan’s insides in a completely different way from gansey’s kiss. ronan’s mouth becomes more insistent, almost aggressive. his lips abandon gansey’s, travelling down to his jaw, his neck, his collarbone. ronan wants more, more, MORE. until he doesn’t know what the word means anymore, or what he’s even referring to.
he wants to claim gansey, to bruise and leave marks that will let everyone know he is ronan’s. he does once, small an easy to conceal, near his collarbone. then he tracers kisses up gansey’s neck again. teeth graze at gansey’s earlobe, pulling softly, before their mouths meet again.
he pulls back slightly, breathing hard. ronan lets his forhead rest against gansey’s, eyes closed. ronan’s voice is soft, almost like he doesn’t want to be heard. “what the fuck are we doing, gansey?”
ninety nine out of every one hundred times ronan had ever slammed someone against a wall it had been because of a fight. there were few things as satisfying as letting all his anger out on somebody. he’d fought people based on the most ridiculous shit. because they’d looked at him a second too long, because they walked too close to his car, because they’d muttered something under their breath, because they thought it was weird that he had chainsaw with him. ronan didn’t need a reason.
this isn’t a fight, but still, there is fire burning every molecule in his body, there’s blood rushing through his veins, and every beat of his heart is vicious. seattle has made his heart duller, but he doesn’t blame the city so much as the lack of satisfying company, which is real fucking gay. but true all the same. adam parrish could shoot a single look ronan’s way, and that would be enough to make ronan’s heart beat again. and it had been.
ronan had done the impossible to find gansey, to bring him to seattle or to go back to henrietta with him. either would work. ronan hadn’t been looking for adam. because he doubted whatever magical force had dragged him to seattle would be able to drag adam here, unless he wanted it to.
ronan woke up to chainsaw’s worried cawing. as whatever magical portal-making shit sally had given him started to glow, transforming his room into a fucking rave. ronan didn’t know how, but something inside him just knew. noah or adam. it HAD to be. he threw some pants on, slipped into his boots, and sprinted out of the room, barely remembering to lock the door so chainsaw wouldn’t get out and shit all over the apartment.
when ronan found him, adam looked dazed and confused but, most importantly, he looked REAL. he felt real, even from the safe distance ronan was watching him from. ronan's fingers twitched, hungry to reach out and touch adam. to make sure he was real, to satisfy a quiet need that had been starving since long before ronan had ever come to seattle.
"hey, parrish! the fuck are you standing there like an idiot for?" he called out, finally. he approached adam, hands in his pockets, he was the picture of nonchalance, even disinterest if he were to try a little bit harder. yet what he meant to say was i missed you. adam’s eyes locked on ronan as he approached. lynch forced his legs to keep moving forward.
adam's eyes were a different shade of blue from ronan's. ronan's eyes were just blue, adam's were the kind of blue that people wrote long ass poems about. they were deep oceans, and bright skies, and precious stones. they made ronan weak at the knees and hot in the face. not that he would admit it. but as he stared into them, there was a warmth spreading through the crevices in his heart.
parrish started asking questions almost immediately. ronan had no answers to most of them. he didn’t know, or he didn’t care to know, at least not now that both gansey and adam (and blue) were in seattle. noah was the missing piece in their little five-pieced puzzle. fingers wrapped around adam’s wrist, lynch pulled the smaller boy to his apartment. it wasn’t too long a walk, and they were there in only a few minutes.
adam did all the talking on their way there, ronan was mostly concerned with how slow they were going. faster, faster, FASTER.
the house was dark when they barged in, and ronan didn’t bother turning on a light before not-so-gently shoving adam against the nearest wall. he couldn’t recall the fist time he’d thought about adam parrish’s lips, or his eyes, his hands. but he was here now, dangerously close, igniting ronan’s entire body.
one hand at heach side of adam’s head, ronan pressed himself close to the other boy, stared into his eyes for a moment. adam had gone quiet from the impact against the wall. self-control was for pussies. welcome to seattle, parrish. ronan’s intentions were much more violent than his actions. he pressed a tentative kiss to the spot right beneath adam’s ear, shoulders tense and arms ready to push away if adam wanted him to.
but there was no rejection nor resistance. instead, adam’s fingers were at ronan’s neck, pulling him closer. ronan’s lips travelled along adam’s jawline, much softer than he meant them to be. there was a wicked sort of smile on ronan’s lips as he savored every inch of adam’s skin. his jaw, his neck. lips coming close to lips, but never quite close enough.
he gives adam some answers, those he knows for sure. he gives updates, names. familiar faces he’s seen around. he hesitates before kavinsky’s name slips out. but adam doesn’t know, and ronan is NOT going to tell him. or gansey. hands travel down adam’s arms, to his hips, bringing them even closer together. and ronan doesn’t think he’ll ever willingly stop kissing adam. they’ll have to pry them apart.
and noah? a different type of chill runs down ronan’s spine, it makes him freeze, body and blood. noah czerny haunts him more now than he ever did as a ghost. ànd ronan aches to see noah again. it’s almost enough to make ronan want to push away, ideas are already running through his mind, if he was able to find gansey and adam, ronan could bring noah. seattle must have ley lines too, noah could be with them.
adam pulls him closer, and ronan is reminded of whose skin his lips rest against. noah is there, somewhere, in his mind. a problem to solve later. adam burns too bright for ronan to be able to focus on anyone else. we’ll find him. ronan knew adam had to be right. if anyone could find noah, it was them. and gansey. and blue.
slowly, ronan straightens a bit, narrowed eyes piercing as they gaze at adam. he takes his time examining every detail of the other’s face. he’s never seen adam this close, so close that he can make out every feature in the dark.
“it’s good to see you again, parrish.” his voice is rough, his smile is sharp. and for the briefest of moments, ronan brushes his lips softly to adam’s.
she’s upset, of course. she never did like being yelled at, as she assumed very few did. but something in his TONE reminded her of the doctor just a little too much. just a little too cruel. she knew it was RONAN, of course, though she hadn’t seen him in longer than she would have liked. “ it would be disrespectful regardless. “ she finally states, voice small. but no. she thinks. she’s getting BETTER at fighting back with her words, she’s growing tougher skin. “ no need to be so grumpy. especially in a place of worship. “
he takes in the small frame, the familiar face. admittedly, she’s not someone whose ass he would kick. for now. “really? i gotta disagree with you. you ran into me. that is disrespectul. i would just be... returning the favor, or whatever. seems fair to me.” ronan could probably count the times he had been not grumpy, in the last few years in one hand. his only response to her was simply, “hm. thanks for the input.”
“jesus! – magpie; crow – whatever. i’m not a fucking ornithologist. i know her goddamn name, isn’t that enough? — so you’re into autofellatio too? guess i shouldn’t be SURPRISED. i’ll add it to the list.”
“so you know what an ornithologist is, but you can’t tell one bird from another — have you never seen a fucking horror movie? when was the last time a fucking magpie was used? never, that’s when.” though, ronan had to admit, he was slightly surprised that K knew chainsaw’s name. “you keep a list? never knew i was so damn special to you.”
“Excuse me? Can you help me out here?” Despite what people thought about her, Carol wasn’t invincible. She wasn’t some force of nature with the strength of a woman half her age. Stronger than she looked, maybe, but not enough to get this hot cross bun stand up by herself. “I just need help to pull this cover up then move the table underneath.”
ronan’s first instinct was to scowl, then proceed to flip off whoever had asked for his help. but his expression froze mid-scowl when he turned his head. reluctantly, he went to stand near the woman, arms crossed over his chest. his pet raven, chansaw, pecked at his ear, anxious to be near someone new. “what exactly do you need me to do?”
ronan’s footsteps were heavy as he walked through the wooden doors, but he felt lighter as his feet went from marble to concrete. there was that familiar comfort that came from sitting through mass, though it still hadn’t gotten any easier to do it without his brothers at his side. especially on a holiday. he hadn’t made it far befora someone ran into him. he looked up, glaring. “i’d kick your ass, but that would be disrespectful, given our current location. better watch your fucking step.”
“and when you told all that to the staff i’m sure they took it super-well, which is why you’re now BANNED from the senior centre. because there is a DISTINCT difference between frail eighty-seven year old larry – even if his aim is scarily good – and YOU. hardly a fair fight, ronan.”
“the staff are fucking idiots, anyway. just last week fucking karen tried to get me kicked out. all because i ate betty’s jell-o. it’s not my fault betty hates jell-o and thinks i’m a ‘charming young man’ her words, not mine. — have you met larry? he’s this 6′4 beast. and if he didn’t have that hip, you’d swear he’s fifty, at most. the little shit laughed when karen dragged me out of the room.”
ronan didn’t want joseph kavinsky. he didn’t care whether he came or went or who he did it with. that much had been made clear already. when ronan had been too busy to pay attention, too distracted to CARE. to realize that maybe all kavinsky wanted was that same thing ronan longed for. the thing missing since niall lynch ’s death.
that something ronan found sometimes, when nights became too heavy on his shoulders and he crawled into gansey’s bed; or gansey slid under ronan’s covers, looking for a moment of peace for his mind. that same thing, ronan had realized too late, he had found (however briefly) in the passenger seat of kavinsky’s dreamed up white mitsubishi.
not quite a sense of belonging, but understanding. ronan could look at kavinsky and think you’re as fucked up as me. even better, he could look at kavinsky and know joseph was the most fucked up out of the two of them. it both disturbed and comforted him at the same time.
running into kavinsky had felt like a dream. though his body and mind told him otherwise, it still took longer than ronan would like to admit to realize that he was, in fact, NOT dreaming. the realization came somewhere between breaths, pauses in-between kisses. those moments when their lips parted. acceptance, though, had come much later. it wasn’t until ronan was back at this new place he was now supposed to call home, that he’d taken a step back to let himsel fthink about it.
joseph kavinsky was alive, and there was nothing ronan had to feel guilty about anymore.
still, he found himself meeting k whenever he called, or texted. over and over, his back was pressed to the cool leather of the mitsubishi’s backseat, his lips dragged across the pale skin of kavinsky’s throat. and even then, he didn’t want joseph kavinsky.
last time ronan had ignored K, matthew had been locked in the trunk of a car. ronan had almost lost his brother, and probably gansey and blue as well. he’d seen kavinsky fall to his knees, lifeless. so, without really meaning to, he’d made it his priority to keep K entertained enough so that no one else would get hurt.
it was no secret that ronan needed gansey. without gansey, it felt like half of ronan had gone numb. or maybe it was just lost. and there were only two things ronan knew would make the feeling disappear. alcohol, or kavinsky. or alcohol AND kavinsky.sometimes, he went to K, sometimes he got drunk. sometimes, he got both.
and ronan kept finding excuses. excuses that would never be about ronan wanting to spend time with K. because ronan’s need was driven by the simple fact that kavinsky made him numb, in a good way. with kavinsky, ronan could forget. he didn’t think of adam parrish when he was in the backseat.
the idea came to ronan out of nowhere. a blurry thought, an idea without a beginning or an end. in fact, it was more a manifestation of his desire to see gansey, adam, noah, and even blue again. slowly, his mind settled on a theory. maybe, he could find them again. whatever magic brought him and kavinsky here, could bring the others. and so, ronan dove into his research. finding books, websites, even a girl to help.
kavinsky’s texts started going unanswered more and more often. theit meetings became few and far between. and ronan couldn’t find it in himself to be concerned. because once more, he’d found a sense of purpose. because he was no longer drifting, aimless. he was still lost, but now he had a light a t the end of the tunnel, or whichever cheesy metaphor works best.
but then — THEN, kavinsky had found michael munroe. because he was joseph kavinsky, and he never lacked shiny new toys to play with. ronan lynch had been no more than a fad. and really, ronan couldn’t help but assume that kavinsky was doing it to piss him off. parading michael in front of him, sending the pretty face ronan’s way to brag about being K’s new boy toy. because of course that was what they’d been doing. making ronan jealous.
and ronan hated himself for falling for it. for texting K first, for pinning K’s arms above his head, and attacking K’s throat with his mouth once again. hated himself, and hated K as they stumbled from car to bed, a tangled mess of gasping breaths and breathless moans. K’s bed was foreign and, was this really the first time ronan had been to his house? probably, because it was the weirdest fucking place he had ever seen.
fingers wrapped around K’s throat, teeth biting down on lips. they groaned into each other’s mouths as their hips pressed together. it wasn’t anything they hadn’t done before, but thistime there was a thought at the back of ronan’s head. and as he tried to ignore that thought, he could feel kavinksy’s smile against his mouth. like he knew exactly what ronan was thinking, like ignoring it made it even more obvious for K. ronan’s grip tightened around K’s throat, while his other hand found it’s way to the front of kavinsky’s jeans.
“the fuck are you smiling about, asshole?” under normal circumstances, he would deliver a punch straight to kaninsky’s nose. insteand, he presses another hungry kiss to k’s lips, his hand loosening, letting go of kavinsky’s throat. ronan isn’t sure who bites who, but somehow he can taste blood in k’s mouth.
eager hands pull down the fabric from k’s hips. mouth travels down, to k’s jaw, through his neck and chest, all the way to his hips. he takes his time, making sure every place he’s kissed will display a mark in the morning. he stops after attacking k’s hipbone, head lifting to meet k’s gaze. that fucking smile is still there, and ronan can almost feel the corners of his mouth curling up to mirror it, before his lips wrap around kavinsky’s dick.
ronan hadn’t meant to fall asleep, so it’s a surprise when he wakes in k’s bed, warm arms wrapped around him. it’s still dark out and kavinsky’s still asleep, and ronan surprises himself even more by not pulling away. instead, he presses a s o f t kiss to k’s temple, his cheeks. lips meet for a brief moment. ronan lets the thought from the previous night roam freely through his mind. it wanders through his body, making his skin prickle where it meets k’s.
at first, it was about matthew. then it was gansey, and michael, and ronan’s own need to forget. but finally, and just for this one stolen moment, it was about kavinsky. ronan wanted joseph kavinsky, and he’d wanted him for longer than he’d care to admit.
ronan doesn’t leave a note, let k think he’s an asshole who doesn’t care. that’s what he should be, anyway.
