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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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.

Adam brought his own dish over, setting it in the sink to let Ronan wash it. He liked this, too. He liked cooking and knowing that Ronan would do the dishes. He didn't want to take it for granted just yet, but the tentative possibility of it was lovely. Adam put the saucepan into the sink, too.

He wanted very much to kiss the back of Ronan's neck, to hug his arms around Ronan's waist as he did the dishes. He didn't. Hovering instead, he chewed his lower lip as he thought.

"I'm going to go run some errands. I'll be back for dinner."

As Adam expected, Ronan began washing the dishes put in the sink without a word. Sure, he was a monster, a ghost, but he wasn't entirely without his own sort of manners. Adam cooked and for that, Ronan was grateful. Even when Greerish used to cook, back before he got too old to really go up and down the stairs much, as long as he didn't make comments, Ronan would wash the dishes. Or even cook, when things became too difficult.

Not that he'd ever admit as much.

"Okay." He spared Adam only a glance, not questioning what he was going to do. All that mattered was that he was coming back.

A thought that made him pause as he was drying the dishes. He wanted Adam to come back.

Restless, he went back out into the yard to do more cleaning, needing to do something as an outlet for all of the conflicting emotions running around his head and heart. Ronan wasn't a liar. Sure, he held his secrets, but he didn't consider himself to be dishonest. Right now, he was fighting with himself—and trying to be dishonest. Which was why he was struggling.

He wanted Adam to come back. He wanted Adam. It was a thought that he really couldn't try to deny. No wonder Chainsaw had been giving him so many stinkeyes.

Ronan worked out in the yard and didn't go back into the house. Sweating, working his muscles, cleaning away the old debris and rocks was a good way to not think about Adam. It was a good way to not think about anything. Working dirt under his hands, weeding, propping up the fixtures that had once been fencing. Even the old patio chairs, he could drag those out and clean them up.

None of it was for him, outside of the physical exercise. Everything he did was done for Adam.

Adam was gone for hours.

He went to the hardware store first, getting the things Ronan had requested. Soil, supplies, tools, and seeds. He picked up a bouquet of them; fruits and vegetables, herbs, salad greens, flowers. Anything he thought Ronan might like. Except radishes. Adam was pretty sure that no one in their right mind liked radishes.

He arranged for internet service at the house and bought himself a laptop. A laptop. He ran his hands over it a few times in the car, awed by it.

Looking up a few simple recipes on the internet, Adam went back to the grocery and got more food. His purchases previously had been with the thought of feeding one person, low-effort, and he'd always eaten as little as possible. Now he was thinking about feeding two boys doing a lot of physical work and a greedy raven.

It was after dark when he got back, but he was feeling proud of himself. He grinned a little, hoping that Ronan would like the things that he'd gotten for him, and started carrying in the bags.

"Ronan?" he called from the front hall, then went into the kitchen with the first load of bags, heading back out to the car for more.

When Adam returned, Ronan was still out working in the yard. There was one shitty light out back that still worked and that was all he really needed. The bed was completely cleared out and the random junk that had flown into the yard over the years had mostly been cleared away. Some scuffed up patio furniture sat out on the back patio, and the shed doors were open.

Did he hear his name? Ronan poked his head out of the shed, glancing toward the house. Hours went by fast for him—he'd done a good job distracting himself. Sweaty again and streaked with dirt, he washed his hands with the hose and headed into the kitchen to see what was up. There were bags.

What was all this? Curious, he padded to the front of the house and looked out. Adam—bought a lot stuff.

Wordlessly, he stepped out to help, grabbing some bags from Adam and bringing them into the kitchen.

"All of the garden stuff is for you. Can you get the bags of soil by yourself okay? Those things are massive." Adam grinned at him, pleased by the sight of Ronan dirt-streaked and sweaty again. It was a wonderful feeling, to come home and have someone waiting for him, someone who had spent the entire day working to make their home a better place to live. Or, at least, their garden. Ronan seemed to have some weird opposition to changing the interior of the house, but he at least seemed willing to tolerate Adam doing it.

"I can put away the kitchen stuff. I don't know what you like to eat so I got some of everything." Adam dropped the next bags on the table and tossed Ronan his car keys. "Grab the rest? I'll get dinner ready."

Ronan watched with hawkish eyes as Adam spoke, quietly dragging in bags and tossing the bags of soil out onto the patio for later. They were heavy, but nothing he couldn't handle.

"... Some of everything?"

His eyebrow arched and scanning the sea of bags, it really did seem like Adam had gotten a little bit of everything from the store. And there was still more in the car. Greerish only shopped what he could carry, which was two bags a week at best.

"You weirdo." But it was said with a smirk as Ronan stepped out of the house again, grabbing the rest of the bags. Not because Adam told him to or anything—just. He was stronger, probably, and would do it faster. They didn't need to attract that woman who wanted to buy the house by accident by letting her see outside activity.

When he was out by the car, Ronan checked it out. A monster could appreciate other monsters, and cars? Were beasts. Metal, growling, fast, dangerous beasts.

Adam's was... a little less jaguar and a little more Frankenstein. But it had its own, unique charm to it. No wonder Adam liked the house. Maybe he just liked shitty things.

Once all the bags were inside Ronan locked the car and headed back to the kitchen, tossing the keys onto the table. Chainsaw's there too, picking through bags with curiosity.

"Jesus, were you starving when you went to the store?"

"I guess I kind of was," Adam said. He kind of liked being called a weirdo, if it was by Ronan.

He set out a container of guacamole and some chips for them both, crunching on one while he got out ingredients for sandwiches and started putting them together. "Will you put away the rest? I'll help as soon as--Chainsaw, get out of there. Have a corn chip."

He set one on the counter for her, letting her happily destroy the corn chip before consuming the crumbs. He gave her one with guacamole, but she didn't seem to like that at all.

Setting sandwiches and sodas on the table for them, Adam helped put away the last few things, smiling contentedly at how pleasantly domestic their new life was. "Thanks, Charlotte," he said, with a hint of a playful smirk.

He gave Adam the side-eye, "Don't get used to it."

Even if it was pretty much an assured thing for Adam to get used to. Chainsaw seemed to be amused with the way she fluffed her feathers and leered at Ronan, and he leered right back with an expression that clearly read shut up, you.

Once everything was away Ronan dropped into the chair he was becoming accustomed to taking, helping himself to a healthy swig of soda. Shit, he'd been outside for a while, huh?

"Why Charlotte?" he asked, leaning back in his chair lazily, chewing on the top of the soda can. "That the name of your first girlfriend or something?"

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