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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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?"

"Nah. My first--and only--girlfriend was named Blue. We didn't even kiss." He shrugged, taking a bite of his sandwich and chewing as he thought it over. "I don't know. I guess I just like the name Charlotte. Especially for a boy cat. I was going to call him--you--Charlie for short sometimes. It was going to be cute. Why not Charlotte, anyway? At least before we were properly introduced."

He watched Ronan, enjoying the thud of his heart. He wanted, but it didn't feel urgent. The pleasure of wanting was worth savoring. It had never been like this with anyone else. He'd thought Blue was interesting. Pretty. This felt intense. Like his gut was chewing itself up with want every time he saw Ronan. He felt his cock start to fill with blood and he almost choked on his sandwich, trying to will it down and cursing the fact that he was still young enough and had a libido eager enough that a light breeze could get him hard. Being in a room with Ronan was a lot more distracting than any breeze.

Adam blushed, scowled, and continued stubbornly eating his sandwich.

Ronan's grunted, raising a brow, not sure why Adam was getting all flustered about having his weird naming choices picked on.

"Because it reminds me of the goddamn spider. I read that stupid book. It sucked."

So... he'd had a girlfriend, huh? Who the fuck was named Blue? That was worse than Charlotte. Ronan was tempted to snarl about that but sucked it back by shoving his sandwich in his face, almost ravenously, since he was hungry. Whatever. At least they never kissed.

... Not that it would matter if they did kiss? Annoyed with himself, he chewed, and Chainsaw kraaa'd at the both of them.

"There're a lot of books in the old man's room. A ton in the basement, too. That was his thing."

"Yeah?" Adam said, grinning a little. He liked Ronan's scowling. It was really endearing. "I'll have to take a look at them. I'll probably bring in a few books of my own. I'm a frequent patron of the library, and now that I have money I'll probably spend some of it on books that I've always wanted a copy of. It's... nice to have money. And a house. And a cat." Adam smirked a little, licking mayo off his fingers and setting his dish in the sink. "I'm going to go take a shower and then sleep, if that's okay. Unless you wanted to go first in the shower?"

Ronan gave him another scowl, trying very hard not to think about Adam in the shower. He'd already forgotten about having scribbled that message on the mirror.

"No, go. I'll just hose off in the back."

Ronan finished his own sandwich and went to wash the dishes, thinking on what Adam's words meant. So he hadn't had a house before. Or money. Or, apparently, a cat. With how he was so intent on keeping every piece of shit he found, some puzzle pieces started to fit together. Adam hadn't been well-off before Greerish died. And, apparently, his dad was the only piece of shit he didn't want to keep, for good reason.

Once the dishes were clean he dried them and unbuttoned his jeans, pulling down the zipper and leaving them hanging low on his hips.

Shooting Adam one last look over his shoulder before he padded out back to hose off and wash down in the shed, "Sweet dreams."

And he closed the door behind him. It was better for him to not be in the house while Adam showered—he would listen to every sound, and wonder, and want. That was too much. Too dangerous.

Adam's mouth went dry at the sight and sound of Ronan opening his jeans, letting them hang loose and dangerously low on his hips. "Thanks," he said, shooting him a polite grin and then fleeing. Part of him wanted to argue against Ronan washing off with just a hose. Part of him wondered if there was any angle at which he could watch from a dark window without being seen.

He went upstairs to the bathroom, stripping down and turning on the water. It took a long time to warm up, and the only towels were old, stiff, and ratty. It was becoming a little nerve-wracking how many things he needed to buy. Decent towels. Those could wait, at least a little while.

Adam stepped into the shower, scrubbing off the dust and grime of the day. The water felt good, even though the shower head was crappy and sputtered sometimes. The hot water ran out much sooner than he would have liked. New hot water heater, too?

When he stepped out, he was only just drying himself off when he saw the message in the mirror. It stung. Even though he knew that it probably was a day or two old and now they'd come to a sort of truce, it still hurt. It felt like another rejection.

Wrapping the towel around his waist, Adam headed to bed.

Washing down in the shed was fine for a monster. It was cold but he didn't mind. The night wind felt good, and he'd always been comfortable surrounded by grass and trees. He scrubbed off the dirt and shook himself dry, turning into a cat and slinking his way back upstairs. He didn't want to disturb Adam if he was asleep.

That didn't stop Ronan from stopping at the other boy's door and peeking inside. Creeping, pressing his little face against the side of Adam's bed to watch him as he had the night before, tail swishing behind him as he did. It was like he was a guardian. Something good, instead of a nightmare. It was tempting to reach out and touch Adam, but he kept himself back, turning and headed up the stairs into the attic and locking the door behind him.

Even though he had wisely stayed out of the house while Adam bathed, the dreams came anyway.

Ronan was in his human form. Bare naked, in a nondescript place, and seemingly alone—until a pair of magnificent arms wrapped around him from behind, beautiful fingers splaying up on his chest. His heart stopped beating for that second, but was forced into working overtime when he felt the press of lips against his back. Against his tattoo. Licking, kissing, along the dark shape of feathers. Every roll of tongue made him shiver and he gripped the hands pressed against his chest, gasping, as feathers ripped up his arms in response.

When he finally turned Adam's lips and chin were stained black with ink. The image made Ronan flush hot and cold at the same time, and then Adam smiled, leaning in to kiss him. That made both of their mouths sloppy with ink, and Ronan was left gasping again, trying to keep up with the steamroll of emotions that were running him down.

I like you. That was all the dream Adam said before Ronan woke up.

And when he woke up, he was in a cold sweat, head to toe. Guilt and shame hit him instantly and, when he sat up, here was a sharp jab between his legs. He was—Jesus Christ. That made him hotter, and made him feel even guiltier. Fuck. Holy fuck.

... Adam deserved better than this.

That didn't stop him from stroking himself until he came, still thinking about the way those dream lips felt against his back, how feathers had broken through his self-discipline because of how Adam made him feel. He'd taught himself never to break his shape. To lose is grip like that... it was bad.

Adam's dreams were more slippery, sliding away as he woke up. All he remembered was the image of Ronan's tattoo shifting, watching him.

He had left the door and the window both open a few inches, in case either of his house mates wanted access during the night. All his life, he'd guarded his privacy jealously. He didn't let people in. Not even Gansey, who had been his best friend.

But with Ronan and Chainsaw, it was easy and comfortable to assume that they would let themselves into his room as they pleased. Everything that was his was theirs. He knew it was strange to feel such a rapport with a boy and a bird that he'd only just met, but it felt right. He belonged here, with them.

Not bothering to close door or window, he slid his hand down under the covers, stroking him. He thought about the way Ronan's jeans had slipped a little bit. He thought about that tall, powerful frame, that handsome face in the scowl that Adam found so charming. He thought about dropping to his knees in front of Ronan...

Coming with a stifled little groan, Adam licked his hand clean, as was his habit, and then got up to go downstairs and make coffee and breakfast.

Ronan was too guilty and flustered after coming to go downstairs. Chainsaw went down first, looking around for Adam and kraaaing once she found him. Landing on his shoulder, she nuzzled up to his face for a moment with affection before watching what he was doing.

It took Ronan much longer to come downstairs. When he finally did, it was as a cat, and he silently curled up on his usual chair and watched Adam with sharp, inquisitive eyes. He was too embarrassed to face Adam as a human after his dream.

"God, Chainsaw," Adam grumbled, blushing deeply and pausing for a moment before just accepting it. "Do you have to watch?"

He made pancakes.

He'd never made pancakes before, so they came out burnt. All of them were more or less burnt, and Adam couldn't figure out why, because they were either underdone or burnt. But they were good enough to be edible, so he stacked them on plates and covered them with strawberries and whipped cream. He set a plate out for Ronan, trusting that he would show up soon, lured by food and coffee, and poured maple syrup over his pancakes. Real maple syrup, not just the flavored corn syrup stuff.

He ate reverently, wanting to make every bite last. All of this was his. He could have pancakes anytime he wanted, with berries and real syrup.

"Hey, Charlotte," Adam said, getting up to get himself more coffee and ruffling Ronan's ears on the way past. He liked it when Ronan was a cat. It was easier to be casual around him. It was easier to be affectionate, and Adam earnestly wanted to be able to be affectionate toward something. "Can you tell your bird that it's rude to watch people wank. Because it is. Chainsaw." He gave her a stern look, without much heat.

If Ronan could blush as a cat, he would. Adam touching him instantly reminded him of his dream. Hell, just seeing Adam reminded him of his dream. But cats didn't blush—at least, they hid it very well if they did.

When Adam spoke, Ronan sneezed into his cup of coffee and then shot Chainsaw a look. Chainsaw clicked her beak and cocked her head.

God. Was that a joke or had Adam seriously been—? His face felt hot. Thinking about this after his dream was bad.

"Lock the door next time," he said into his pancakes, having stuffed his face into the whipped cream.

Adam was amused by watching the cat eat pancakes.

He kept quiet for most of the meal, ruffling Ronan's ears again and scratching his neck on his way to put his dish in the sink. "How old are you, anyway? Decades? Centuries? Do you even know?"

Adam stretched lazily, looking around the house as he considered what part of the house he wanted to attack next.

His face was covered with whipped cream.

"I don't know," he said, honestly, wiping his whiskers with his paw. "Probably decades. Maybe centuries. Time doesn't work the same for me as it does for you humans."

Gracefully, Ronan jumped up on the counter beside the sink, looking down into the sink.

"How old are you? You're not baby-aged. Eighteen?"

"Eighteen," Adam confirmed. "I'm an adult. Just barely, but still." He smiled fondly, reaching over to pet Ronan. "You look really cute like that," he teased, bending over and kissing the top of the cat's head.

"I'm going to work on cleaning and fixing what I can. How's the roof, is it in good condition or does it need patching?" Adam brought over the rest of the dishes, giving Chainsaw a pet and a kiss also.

When Adam kissed him, Ronan thought he was going to erupt into flame. Flame from the way his heart burned, the way the blood running through his veins felt like fire, the way his body felt a thousand degrees warmer than it should have.

Which was why it took him a good minute to answer, voice just a touch strained.

"Dunno. It's probably shit. The attic doesn't leak, though."

He had to turn into a human to wash the dishes. So he padded out of the room to fetch a pair of pants and turned, dragging on a pair of sweatpants this time as he headed back over to the sink.

"What're you gonna clean?"

Adam was pretty sure that Ronan wasn't accustomed to any sort of affection, which made it all the more fun to pour it on him.

"Not sure yet. If the roof's not leaking, let's not worry about it yet. A couple of the windows are broken, but as long as the duct tape holds, that can wait. I guess I'm probably just going to pick stuff up and throw some of the big and broken stuff out. Or put it in the woodpile out back and we can burn it in the fireplace come winter."

Adam shrugged, eyes lingering on Ronan's bare chest and his striking tattoo. "I'll call if I need any help or have any questions."

Ronan washed the dishes. He still didn't approve of Adam cleaning the house but he wasn't going to stop him. Scrubbing the plates clean, he merely grunted.

Once the dishes were clean and put away Ronan headed to the back again to work on the garden now that he had supplies. Soil, tools, seeds. He worked hard, putting thoughts of Adam behind him as he smoothed down dirt and worked with his hands. There were plenty of vegetables. Zucchini, pumpkin, eggplant, tomatoes, corn, cucumber... he made squares for each.

By the time he took a break the sun was high in the sky. Sitting down on one of the chairs, he rubbed his hands together, looking through the window to see if he could catch a glimpse of Adam.

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