marlowemuses | who could ever learn to love a...

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who could ever learn to love a...

39 Excelsior Place was the oldest house on the road.

In fact, 39 Excelsior Place was the oldest house in the neighborhood. Through the years Henrietta, Virginia had mostly kept up with the times. Old, decrepit homes were replaced with bright white houses and wooden fences. The convenience store went from locally owned to a chain. The schools got better. Wifi was available in almost every pubic place.

39 Excelsior Place did not keep up with the times. Crouching darkly at the end of the road, squatting fiercely in its dead end, the house was every bit the past it came from. Tall with gothic architecture, unwelcoming pointed gates, and black bricks the hollow eyes on its gray and white face. Huge windows were long covered with sheets, as had been most of the furniture. Once upon a time the house had been beautiful. Once upon a time, however, was a long time ago. In 2016, most people stayed away from 39 Excelsior Place. Smartly so. Its resident monster hated everyone.

Everyone except for its sole resident, elderly Mr. Greerish. Greerish said he had a family. Nobody ever game to visit so the monster called him a liar. Greerish placidly made excuses, such as They’re very busy and It’s been a while since we’ve caught up. Apparently Greerish had a favorite nephew: a baby when they last met. It had smiled at him once. No one else in the family smiled at him.

The monster called him an idiot. Greerish laughed and returned to his books. That was how they found the old man dead. With a pleasant smile and a book in his lap.

Fine. The monster didn’t care about Greerish anyway. It had only just begun to tolerate him. With his death, 39 Excelsior Place would be free of pests and the monster could hide away from the rest of the world until it eventually died. That was what happened to monsters. He’d read the old books Greerish kept so neat in the bookcase. They all ended the same. The monster was killed, burned, staked. The handsome prince got the princess. Or, in the monster’s personal interests, prince. Not that it mattered.

What the monster did not know was that there was a Will. A thing that had been executed by the local priest out of pity for old man Greerish. There was only one stipulation.

Everything I own, including 39 Excelsior Place, will be so inherited by my nephew, Adam Parrish.

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Ronan laughed suddenly, grinning a wide, boyish grin at Adam.

"What the fuck? Of course I sleep. Is there anything alive that doesn't?" Then again, he supposed, Adam had no idea what he was. But he still had a heartbeat and a pulse.

"Yeah, it was fine, I guess."

Shrugging, he took a sip of coffee and Chainsaw glided into the kitchen from the hall, cawing and landing on the back of a free chair.

"Even monsters have to sleep."

He stepped toward the window again, looking out at the yard.

Adam's heart stuttered at that laugh and that grin. It made sharp-edged, sharp-tempered Ronan into another creature entirely. Something beautiful and wild.

"Plants don't sleep," Adam said, because he had asked. "Jellyfish don't either, because they don't have brains."

He offered a strawberry to Chainsaw, already fond of her. "I don't know. You're an apparently immortal shapeshifter of some kind. How am I supposed to know what's normal for you?"

"You wouldn't," Ronan agreed, still looking out the window. There were a few birds picking at things in the grass and the sun was just above the trees, making the leaves sparkle.

Pressing the mug to his lips again, he took a few more sips of coffee. Ronan didn't care for idle chatter either. He didn't ask how Adam had slept, because he had watched Adam sleep, for some time. It had seemed restful.

"What are you planning to do here?" he finally asked, turning his gaze back on Adam. "So you're going to clean it up. That's what you want. What then? You gonna sell? She'd want to buy it, you know. The woman who came yesterday."

"No," Adam said, aghast at the suggestion. "It's mine. It's..." He frowned, scowling down at the uneven floor. "It's the only thing of any significance I've ever owned," he explained. "I don't know if that makes sense to you. I don't know if it means anything to you. But it's mine. I'm not letting go of something that belongs to me. I'm going to fix it, and make it beautiful, and then it's going to be even more mine, because it's going to be filled with my memories, and my sweat and blood and time and love."

His jaw tensed, eyes alight with determination.

"Besides," he said, holding up his arm to serve as a perch for Chainsaw, by way of invitation. When he looked up, he looked at her, not at Ronan. "It's clear that I'm not the only one that this house belongs to. It's not just mine to sell."

Chainsaw opened her wings and flew to Adam's arm. Perching, she made a few kraas of approval with Adam's answer. Ronan's face remained largely impassive.

"That's what you say now," he said, "but what happens when they offer you a huge chunk of cash? You could move anywhere. Own anything. Nobody out there cares about what a monster wants. Why do you?"

It didn't make sense to him. The house was a mess. Adam hadn't even discovered the clusterfuck the basement was. Greerish kept most of his old things down there. Trunks of letters, books, clothes, knickknacks... and then there was the one trunk of things Ronan's father left. Ronan hadn't even tried to open that. Too painful.

"You don't get it," Adam said. There wasn't any point in arguing further, if Ronan didn't get it.

He kissed Chainsaw's beak, and then stroked her feathers fondly. It was wonderful to have an animal companion like this. Two, sort of, when Ronan was being a cat. "She's smart. I know crows are smart--ravens?--but she's... really smart. Is she magic, kind of like you are?"

He didn't. He understood holding into something of importance—but he couldn't see why this house was important, when Adam had just gotten here. Most people would be enticed by a huge amount of money. Dreams could be fulfilled. He wouldn't have to stay in backwater Virginia.

Ronan wrinkled his nose but didn't press the issue. What really mattered were Adam's actions. She'd come back waving around her fat wallet, toting her checkbook. They'd see then.

"Raven," he confirmed, and she clicked her beak in agreement. "Ravens are smart." He avoided explaining if she was magic or not, because that was complicated. "I raised her since she was a baby. And now look at her. She's a traitor."

She made a soft kerahhh, coaxing him, but he turned his face.

Adam laughed at that, at how Ronan pretended to be more mad than he was with the raven.

"Kerahhh," Adam echoed, more playfully. His eyes lingered on Ronan for a moment with a smile, and then his attention flicked back to Chainsaw. "He called you a traitor," Adam told Chainsaw. "You gonna just take that?"

Jerking his chin toward Ronan, Adam lifted his arm quickly to help her take off, encouraging the bird to go to him.

Taking the hint, she flapped, gliding over to Ronan to grab onto his shoulder.

He turned his face toward her when she landed on him, and she rubbed her beak against his cheek, feathers fluffing and eyes closed. It made him smile. A soft, genuine thing without barbs, and he nodded his chin up to plant a kiss on her beak. She clicked and made a noise of pleasure.

"Fine," he said. "I guess I can't stay mad at you."

Turning her head, she winked at Adam and then pushed off Ronan's shoulder, off in pursuit of mice in the backyard.

He went to the sink to wash his mug now that he'd had all the coffee. This morning he was wearing a tank top so Adam wasn't afforded a full view of his tattoo, but the inked feathers and knots were visible on the parts of skin that the tank top didn't cover.

"She winked at me," Adam argued, pleased that Ronan was demonstrating the ability to wash his own dishes. He got to his feet, bringing his own mug over. "Ravens are not naturally that smart."

Setting his mug in the sink, Adam leaned his elbows on the counter, looking up at Ronan. "Will you help me?" he asked, as a gesture of alliance. "You should have input on any improvements I make to the house, and I'd appreciate your judgement."

The idea of cleaning up the house and actually making it livable again still unsettled him a great deal. As he scrubbed his mug clean, he didn't look up at Adam, simply took his mug and began to clean that one as well.

"I don't want anything to do with it," he said, grabbing something to dry the mugs with and stepping away to shove them back into the cabinet. "Do whatever you want. Just ... leave the attic alone."

Adam wasn't going to leave. Not unless he was pushed, and Ronan didn't want to hurt him. It was better if he never saw the nightmare that Ronan really was.

"Okay," Adam said, and left him alone.

He went and got a broom, starting to sweep out the years of dust and leaves and detritus accumulated in the corners of the house. Diligently focused on his task, he glanced occasionally in the direction that he'd last seen Ronan. He felt lonely without his housemate glowering in the corner of the room.

This was definitely a crush. There was no denying that. Ronan's human form was gorgeous, and Adam was finding that he definitely had a thing for tall, dark, and broody.

This, especially, was interesting to him. He knew that, contrary to expectations, quirky young women were not actually his type. He knew that he had a bit of a thing for confident and charismatic leader-types, but he knew just as clearly that he didn't actually want to date a Gansey.

Tall, dark, and broody was a new option. A very interesting option, though he didn't actually know if monsters were into young men. For all he knew, Ronan's natural form was cat and his type was other cats.

Ronan, for his part, found himself to be very into young men. He'd always known that he'd been attracted to them; pictures, books, even the occasional handsome young man that would come to help Greerish fix something had piqued his interest. Women simply did nothing for him.

More and more, he was finding himself particularly distracted by Adam. He would be sitting in a corner and glowering if he didn't think he might say something stupid, so he had went out to the yard to otherwise keep himself entertained. Adam was dangerously attractive. If he was going to be near him, he needed Chainsaw to be near, so that she could stop him from getting too... weird.

But Chainsaw was off hunting.

Petering around the weeds, he found the spot where his mother used to grow vegetables. There were a few tomatoes growing; those always came back. Otherwise, there wasn't much. Having nothing else to do and not wanting to be in the house, he began to clear out the spot after years of neglect. Cleaning some of the yard wasn't the same as cleaning the house. Ronan didn't sleep in the yard.

It didn't take him long to clear the strip that was used for growing vegetables. They'd need some fresh mulch and soil and some fresh seeds, but they could...

He stopped himself. They? Face coloring red, he stared blankly into the bed of dirt. There was no they.

Ronan rubbed his hands on his tank top without thinking. Then, he headed back into the kitchen, stripping it off since he'd gone and dirtied it like an idiot. Folding it in his hands, he stared out the window again, not quite knowing what to do with... whatever he was feeling. Whatever it was, it was like an oil spill. The few drops had spread and he could feel himself dangerously close to dropping a match into the whole thing.

Adam's breath hitched audibly as he stepped into the kitchen and encountered Ronan, dirt-streaked and sweaty, with that incredible tattoo sprawling over his back. He could see most of the details now. Some sort of monstrous creature, all feathers and claws, knots and thorns. It was enthralling. Frightening, like the good kind of nightmare. Like the kind of foreign horror films that were as beautiful as they were chilling.

Mouth half-open, he stared, brain stalling at the sight. Handsome young man in his kitchen, shirtless. Adam added "sweaty from manual labor" to his list of things he was definitely into.

He had a type, and it was Ronan.

Edited 2016-11-04 03:39 (UTC)

Ronan didn't register Adam's presence right away. He was too busy staring out the window, trying to sort out his feelings, lost in wondering just what the hell was happening to him. Never before had he experienced anything close. It was confusing. Alarming.

Absentmindedly, he used the tank top to wipe the sweat from his brow.

Then he turned, ready to head upstairs to clean off, when he saw Adam staring at him. He looked startled, confused, and then grumpy.

"What?"

Adam's mouth opened and closed before he managed to remember how words worked. "I like your tattoo."

He liked Ronan's back. He liked Ronan's muscles. He liked Ronan's waist, and those two dimples at the small of his back that Adam suddenly urgently wanted to know the scientific term for.

"It's really impressive." Adam dropped his eyes. "I didn't mean to stare."

"My..."

For a moment, Ronan was at a loss for words. Tattoo. He meant ... his back. A human would consider it a regular tattoo. That was the point; it was clever, and no one would ever know otherwise.

To have Adam say he liked it sent a chill through his body. A chill that wasn't stemmed in dread but rather... made his skin feel clammy, face warm. It wasn't bad.

"You don't think it's hideous?" he asked, trying to be nonchalant. Like he didn't care. Ronan hung the tank around his shoulders and watched Adam, trying to read his face.

Edited 2016-11-04 18:05 (UTC)

"Hideous?" Adam repeated, perplexed. "No, it's... it's awesome. I mean, it's frightening, sort of, like a really cool horror movie. But it's beautiful, too. Did you design it yourself?"

He took a hesitant step closer, though there was still half the kitchen between them. Ronan was watching him like he was searching for something, like it was a test that he expected Adam to fail but desperately wanted him to succeed. Adam didn't have any idea what the right answer was, with Ronan. So he just offered honesty and hoped that he himself was enough.

Ronan pressed his lips together and glanced away.

"No. My father did."

It wasn't outright disgust, which was what he normally expected. There was more he wanted to say but reminded himself that a tattoo was a hugely different thing from a live creature. Adam wouldn't be calling him beautiful if he saw the real, breathing, living thing. He'd think him just a horror movie, a nightmare. Not awesome.

"I need mulch," he interjected, "and seeds. Soil. I'm fucking around in the yard, so. If you could get that." Ronan could, but rarely left the house, and that wasn't anything he could get from the convenience store.

Confusion flickered over Adam's face, not expecting the request and struggling a moment to make sense of it in conjunction with what he knew of Ronan.

Mulch. Seeds.

Eyelashes fluttering as it dawned on him, Adam's face lit with hope and pleasure. Ronan wanted to garden.

"Course," he said, nodding. "Whatever you need."

Ronan, who had brought him fruit. Ronan was going to grow them a garden.

Ronan glanced at Adam from the corner of his eye and—damn. A blush broke out over his face at that expression, cheeks and the tips of his ears turning pink. That was a beautiful look and Adam was wearing it because of something he was doing?

"Okay," he said, having to glance away again, rubbing the back of his head. "Order whatever you like. It doesn't matter to me."

The only thing he planned on getting himself were the seeds for fruit trees. There were plenty of those out by the wild trees. Once he had the soft soil and mulch, he could start growing those. Maybe even uproot some of the baby saplings that were growing already and move them into the yard. That wouldn't be too hard, and Adam would be able to help himself to fruit whenever he wanted.

"I'm going to go... clean up," he said, heading toward the stairs. Any excuse to not stand there and have Adam see his house's monster fucking blushing.

Was Ronan actually blushing? Oh, that was adorable. That needed to happen on a regular basis.

He watched Ronan go with a fond grin on his face, and then he washed his hands and started making mac and cheese. If it would make Ronan smile, Adam thought he might make an effort to learn how to cook meals other than grilled cheese and eggs.

He made two boxes worth of mac and cheese, pouring a couple of glasses of apple juice. It was an embarrassing little meal. Adam wanted to do better.

While Adam was cooking, Chainsaw swept back into the kitchen and perched on the back of one of the chairs, watching him with interest.

Upstairs, Ronan washed off his hands and face in the bathroom. Something smelled good from downstairs—Adam was cooking again. Taking his meals with someone else (someone that wasn't Chainsaw) was... weird. But he didn't dislike it.

Once he swapped out for a fresh tank, he headed back downstairs, curious. So Adam really had cooked again... and there was enough for all of them.

Quietly, Ronan dropped into the chair Chainsaw was perched on, watching Adam once again with rapt fascination.

Adam put the bowl down in front of Ronan, and put a few spoonfuls in a saucer for Chainsaw. He just assumed that they would take meals together now, and that he would do the cooking. While Ronan grew him a garden.

He knew that it wasn't particularly for him, but he felt it kind of was. Ronan hadn't bothered with a garden before. That was obvious from the state of the back yard. The fact that he was doing it now felt like a gift. Like the fruit.

Adam ate quietly, glancing occasionally at Ronan. He smiled to himself, thinking of the garden and making plans for the house.

Chainsaw fluffed her feathers and then fluttered onto the table to better reach the saucer. Right away she dug in, but Ronan spent a few moments just watching Adam again. It was something he didn't even realize he was doing half the time. He simply ... wanted to watch him. How his hands moved, his lips, the way his eyelids fluttered. Remembering everything because—because it was all he would ever had. Monsters never even got so much.

Eventually he begins to eat. Even if Adam thinks it's embarrassing, Ronan thinks it's good.

It's all very... domestic. That's what Ronan thinks, looking at the bowl, his heart pounding slowly in his chest. Some people wanted to travel the world. Some people wanted fame, money. Ronan... this was all he ever wanted. What he'd read about in books. Families. Love—the unconditional sort.

Once he finished he picked up his dish and Chainsaw's empty saucer and began to wash both. At war with himself still; desperately, he wanted to believe that this was something he could really have, but the knowledge of how monsters never got a happily ever after was heavy in his heart.

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