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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"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.

Adam worked for hours, and there was plenty to do. It was clear that Greerish had only used a few rooms of the house, and had left the rest to molder. He lifted off all the sheets again from the furniture and put them away, letting in light and cleaning the spiderwebs.

He'd been working for hours and was just starting to think of lunch when he recognized the sound of a car. His heart stuttered with fear and he stepped carefully to the window, peering out.

Fuck. Fuck.

His parents. And he could just imagine what they would have to say. They were here for a cut of his inheritance, probably with some argument about how he owed it to them, for years of food and shelter.

Adam ran for the back door. "Ronan! Ronan, please."

He sounded scared, and young.

Ronan stood when he heard how panicked Adam sounded. It didn't sound like the kind of thing to make fun of, like finding a giant spider, or discovering some of Greerish's old dirty books.

Making his way through the back door, "Adam? What's wrong?"

Grabbing onto Adam's shoulders, Ronan studied his face.

"What's the matter?" He didn't like when Adam sounded genuinely terrified.

"My parents are here." Ronan's presence made him feel immediately more stable. With Ronan by his side, he could face his parents. Ronan wouldn't let anyone touch him, he was sure of it.

Someone knocked at the front door. Adam winced. "We'll have to talk to them, or they won't go away. They'll keep coming back. Come with me. Please."

He wanted to burrow into Ronan's arms and not deal with this. Preferably ever.

His parents.

Ronan's mouth hardened into a line. They clearly hadn't been fucking invited, not with the way Adam was acting. While Ronan had zero desire to interact with more humans there was no way he could leave Adam to face those people on his own. Not after what he had learned.

So, quietly, he gave a sharp nod of his head. He'd have to be human for it; a cat wasn't a threatening presence.

"I can make them leave." He offered it, quietly.

"No," Adam said, shaking his head. "I need to do this. Just stay with me, okay?"

Swallowing, Adam tensed his jaw, determined to face down his own personal demons.

Going to the door with Ronan by his side, Adam opened it. "What are you doing here?"

"We're your parents," his mother snapped, scolding. "Haven't we a right to see our son?"

"No," Adam said, arms folded and shoulders tense. "Not necessarily. You're not welcome here."

"Oh, that's rich," his father said, taking a step forward. Adam tensed, breath quickening. "You get a house and suddenly you're too good for us, is that it?"

Ronan frowned but didn't argue. It was Adam's fight. If he wanted support, Ronan would give it.

So he loomed behind Adam when the man answered the door, instantly giving his parents an unwelcoming stinkeye. Wordless with his arms at his sides, raising a hand and pressing it against Adam's back when his shoulders tensed.

And when Adam's father took a step forward, so did Ronan, brushing up against Adam's arm.

The touch made Adam feel steady. Safe. Strong. He loved having Ronan at his side like this. He loved having an ally, someone who would fight for him. Not like Gansey did, buying away his problems.

"It's my house. You're not entitled to anything, and I don't want you here."

Robert Parrish sneered at Ronan. "Oh, is that how it is? Should've figured you were a faggot."

Adam winced, face flushing with humiliation. "Guess so. Now leave."

"You might give us something," his mother said. "After all we gave you. Ungrateful brat. How much did you get?"

"Please leave," Adam said.

Ronan was near growling, though he kept quiet for Adam's sake. So they were really here to get something. Money-grubbers. Not that it was surprising; Greerish had been well off despite his questionable living choices. The house, while shitty, was on an impressive piece of property.

"You heard him," Ronan muttered, giving both of Adam's parents a dirty look.

He wanted to do more to protect Adam. But what? He didn't know what Adam would want.

Adam's hands were shaking, vision blurring as fear filled him.

"Now see here, you little shit," his father said, stepping forward threateningly and pushing up one of his sleeves. "I won't be spoken to in that manner. You and your filthy boyfriend..."

Adam took a fast step back, panic rising, feeling like he needed to run and hide, preferably under the bed.

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