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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"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.

Robert Parrish stepped forward and Ronan stepped between him and Adam. Fluidly, not taking any of this shit. He wasn't afraid of Adam's father. Not of any threats or sleeve-pushing.

"Leave," he snarled, standing directly in front of Adam now, so that he didn't have to see his father.

"I won't ask you again." His eyes were slits. This was the guy that had left Adam half deaf. Motherfucker.

Robert Parrish balked, because while he was a bully, made up of hot air, Ronan wasn't.

"It's unnatural," he said, blustering. "It's sick, that's what it is. Ungrateful, unhealthy." But he was backing down, and the two of them were going.

Adam reached for Ronan, one hand pressing against his back, forehead up against Ronan's spine, using him as a shield as he tried to breathe through the panic.

Ronan didn't budge. Not when Robert Parrish balked and not when he blustered. Ronan was unnatural and sick—that was the very essence of a monster. But Adam wasn't. Adam was good. Adam was the kind of boy who could meet a talking cat and be kind to it.

"That's not true," he said, once Adam's parents were out of earshot. "You're not anything of the sort."

He meant it. And he stood there, waiting for Adam to pass through his panic, willing to be his pillar.

Gently, Ronan turned, resting his hand on top of Adam's head.

Adam curled his hands tentatively around Ronan's hips, resting his head on Ronan's shoulder. He winced as the car doors slammed, not lifting his head until the car drove away.

"Thanks," he said, briefly sliding his arms around Ronan to hug him properly, and then detaching, feeling like he'd taken enough. Ronan had already done enough for him. "Guess you're stuck with me," he teased, giving Ronan a tentative smile.

"You weren't going to leave anyway," Ronan accused, but it was without any sort of heat. Rather, a quiet fondness. The warmth of Adam's hands and the feeling of his head against Ronan's shoulder lingered and Ronan wanted to reach out. Touch him again. A hug was a marvelous thing; he had never truly known that, before.

No... maybe he did, a long time ago. When soft, warm arms wrapped around him and long blond hair fell across his vision.

Reaching out, Ronan closed the front door. Might as well let Adam's parents see how very much they weren't welcome.

"Show me what you cleaned," he said, wanting to get Adam's mind off of what happened, "and I'll show you what I did."

Adam smiled a little, pleased by the request. "Are we friends now?" he teased. He felt safer with Ronan than he ever had. He belonged here.

He showed Ronan what he'd done, wanting his approval, wanting him to be pleased by the improvement to their shared space. "My priority is just making everything more livable. Fortunately I haven't found any mice, and just that one dead rat. I guess you and Chainsaw have done a pretty good job hunting them."

Hovering closer to Ronan than he had before, Adam glanced occasionally toward the door, but after a few minutes he forgot. "Show me your garden?"

Ronan merely grunted at the friends comment. Really, he didn't know what they were. Friends was probably the closest to whatever it was.

When Adam showed him what he'd done, Ronan didn't emote much. Just looked around and, for a few moments, looked a little far away before grunting again. Mice had never really been much of a problem for them with how often Chainsaw would hunt. It wasn't always for food; half the time it was for sport.

Still, the cleaning of the house made Ronan uneasy.

"Come on." He grabbed Adam's hand and lead the way to the garden. The yard itself was looking more tidy, but the patches of earth off to the side were lovely. Carefully measured out and squared off with wire for some minor fencing, kept in neat boxes with strips of wood, with scribbled words every so often saying what the box was.

Realizing he was still holding Adam's hand, Ronan let go.

"Nothing interesting yet. Maybe in a few weeks. I dunno."

Ronan was holding his hand.

Tingles went through Adam's body, making his heart pound with pleasure. When Ronan took his hand away, he felt bereft.

"Ronan, it's fantastic," Adam said, grinning wide as he looked around. "You cleaned the yard! The fence isn't sagging like it was, and your garden... it's going to be wonderful."

Admiring all of it, Adam explored, reading the boxes to find out what Ronan had decided to plant. "I'm going to have to learn how to cook so I can make us food from the things you grow."

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