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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"It's a big deal to me," Adam said. With anyone else, it would have been hard to admit something like that, but with Ronan, honesty was easy.

He was ridiculously cute when he was blushing like that. Adam couldn't resist. Leaning over, he quickly pecked Ronan's cheek.

"Come on. I'll make us lunch."

When Ronan felt Adam's lips against his cheek, he froze, feeling the blood in his ears pounding. It was different from when Adam had given him a kiss when he was a cat. This was skin to skin, no fur in the way, and no way to argue that Adam just really liked being affectionate to animals.

Staring, Ronan's couldn't look away from the other man. His mouth felt dry. No, he couldn't have... whatever it was that he was aching for, but was it okay to at least look? Want?

"Okay." Kicking his way through some weeds he hadn't yet gotten rid of, he paused at the back door and made a face.

"Oh, what the fuck, Chainsaw?"

Chainsaw had somehow managed to find the peanut butter and get it open. What's more, she was covered in it, and globs were all over the kitchen.

"Chainsaw!" Adam groaned, rubbing at his face. "I just cleaned this kitchen."

He grabbed a rag, starting to clean up globs of peanut butter from the floor, leaving Ronan to actually handle the bird. "You can just ask when you want something, you know. You feathered jerk."

He smirked, admiring how Ronan looked as he juggled peanut-butter-covered bird. Adam felt a warm rush of love for the two of them. They felt more like family than his family ever had.

He cursed as he wrestled her. She did not care for being covered in peanut butter in the slightest, so she flapped wildly, making unhappy noises. Eventually Ronan managed to calm her by cradling her against his chest and planting a big kiss on her beak, but that also meant that Ronan was likewise covered in peanut butter.

"She's going to get fat at this rate," he grinned, hugging the bird with tender care. His affection for her was obvious.

Glancing up at Adam, he caught the other boy's eye.

"I'll help you clean it up."

"And then you're going to need a shower," Adam said, his heart skipping a beat at Ronan's grin. He was hopelessly besotted with Ronan. No denying that now.

He laughed a little as they worked together to get everything clean. He felt happy. Was this what happiness was like? "You go wash up. I'll make us food. Salads okay? Pizza for dinner."

It was strange, how something so frightening could feel so good. Being with Adam, living simply with him, doing things like wiping down counters and gardening...

It all felt dangerously like a dream. A dream he so desperately wanted to be real.

"As long as there's meat in it," he grinned, eyebrows raised. "I'm not gonna last on no dainty salad." Chainsaw squawked and stared at Ronan, clearly expecting some help with the peanut butter covering her feathers.

"All right, all right. I'm taking Chainsaw in the shower with me." She landed on his shoulder and they headed upstairs.

It felt good to take a hot shower after working out in the yard and then being covered in sticky peanut butter. He scrubbed himself down and, when he got a whiff of Adam's shampoo, a chill ran all over his body. Jesus Christ.

When boy and bird emerged from the bathroom they were both clean and smelled of soap. Entering the kitchen again, Ronan scrubbed his head with a towel, paired with another pair of comfortable sweatpants. And, if Adam were the kind of notice, he would notice that Ronan wasn't wearing underwear with them.

"You both look civilized again," Adam said, greeting them with a smile. He set out two salads--he'd had to look up recommendations on how to make salad--for them, along with a little dish of fruit and nuts for Chainsaw.

Adam did notice that Ronan wasn't wearing underwear. He blushed, brain stuttering as it registered the shape of Ronan's cock against the fabric. Big. Oh, fuck, Adam wanted him.

Swallowing hard, Adam focused on his salad, trying not to look at Ronan. "You pleased with yourself, Chainsaw? You're still a feathered jerk."

Chainsaw dropped herself down onto the table and picked happily at what Adam had left for her. At the comment, however, she cocked her head and gave him a sad look.

Ronan dropped down into his own chair with legs spread wide. Now that he was done scrubbing his head he left the towel around his neck.

"She was probably trying to make lunch for you," Ronan shrugged, helping himself to some of the salad. It was good. "Since you won't eat dead rats, right?"

"I don't know, if it was fresh I'd be willing to make stewed rat for her. Maybe. Roasted rabbit." Adam smirked a little.

His own cock throbbed. He could see a stray drop of water on Ronan's shoulder and he wanted to lick it off. He wanted to slide into Ronan's lap, or to kneel in front of him and learn how to suck his cock.

Adam squirmed in his chair, heart pounding. He tried harder to focus on his salad.

Chainsaw's look went from sad to knowing. She cocked her head again and stared at Adam, eyes big as she made a low, coaxing kraaaaa.

As for Ronan, he remained unaware of any struggles on Adam's end in relation to himself. But he did watch him. There was no such thing as not watching Adam, for Ronan. His eyes were always drawn to the man.

"What's the matter?" he asked, leaning forward and staring at Adam more blatantly. Chainsaw made the coaxing noise again.

"Nothing is the matter. I'm distracted, that's all," Adam insisted, glaring at Chainsaw for her meddling. He pointed a fork at her. "Whatever you're thinking, stop thinking it at once."

Being the determined focus of both of them was unnerving, while he was trying desperately to stop being aroused. Ronan's intense stare made his heart pound.

Ronan looked back and forth between Chainsaw and Adam before rolling his eyes and dropping back into his chair to much on his salad.

Chainsaw didn't blink, giving Adam the leer she gave Ronan when she was unimpressed with his blustering. Ronan recognized it but since it wasn't directed at him, it didn't feel as scathing as it normally did.

"She's stubborn. And nosy." Ronan glanced back up at Adam. "Did you promise her a snack or something?"

"No," Adam said, continuing to point the fork warningly at Chainsaw. "Though I'd be willing to consider raven stew."

The distraction helped a little, at least. Scowling at Chainsaw, he resumed eating. "There's ice cream for dessert. Or popsicles. None of them for feathered jerks, though."

Chainsaw clicked her beak and turned it up before returning to munching on her lunch. Ronan had no fucking clue as to what that was about, so he continued to eat his salad until there was nothing left, heading over to the sink to wash and dry.

As he washed he looked out the window. From the sink, there was an excellent view of the garden that was really beginning to form. Idly, he wondered if his father would be happy that the plots were no longer going to be bare.

"Which fruit was your favorite?"

"The strawberries," Adam said, smiling a little and bringing his plate over. He walked slightly stiffly, but was determined to act as normal as he could.

Getting out popsicles for them both, Adam sucked on his, shooting glares at Chainsaw every so often, not really meaning any of them but kind of enjoying the play fight.

"Okay."

Those were probably the easiest to wrangle out of the woods, actually.

When Adam offered him the popsicle, rather than take it with his hand, he bent and wrapped his lips around the end, tugging it up with his teeth. A piece broke off and he sucked as he washed the rest of the dishes.

"S'good."

Adam felt dizzy with arousal, unable to look away as he watched Ronan bend his head over the popsicle, biting off a piece to suck on. His eyes lingered on Ronan's lips, and he stayed right where he was, holding the popsicle for him whenever he wanted another bite. He couldn't look away, utterly enraptured by everything Ronan did.

A knock on the door distracted him and he swore, sticking his popsicle in his mouth and setting Ronan's down on a clean plate.

"Why can't people leave us alone?" he sighed, rhetorical. He went to the door, opening it to find the real estate lady again. He gave her a half-hearted polite smile in greeting.

As soon as Ronan heard the knock he scowled. It wasn't likely to be anyone else. So, once Adam was out of the kitchen and heading to the door Ronan changed into the cat, leaving his sweatpants on the floor of the kitchen as he trailed after.

Like she had the first time, she looked right over Adam's shoulder, measuring the space of the house and its condition in her mind. Then she turned her smile on him.

"Sweetie, hello! I wanted to check in on you, such a young thing all alone in this big house. I expect you plan on selling it? If you want help with that, I certainly know a thing or two!" She had brought real estate brochures and papers with her.

Ronan gave an agitated meow and brushed around Adam's ankles.

"No," Adam said, folding his arms. "This is my house. I have no interest in selling it, not ever, not at any price. And I'm not here alone. My partner lives with me. He's half owner of the house. If you want to hear him say no as well, I'm sure I can arrange that."

He met her eyes stubbornly, plenty practiced at saying no to people. "You're welcome to drop by as a neighbor, as long as you understand and respect that I will never sell this house."

She opened and closed her mouth several times, like a fish, face turning red at his frankness.

"I don't think you understand how big of a job restoring this house is going to be," she tried, clutching her booklets. "Even for two... men... pulling this place out of the gutter is going to take a lot of time and money! Not to mention the terrible history. Why on earth would you want to live in a house where a murder took place? Not to mention your own poor uncle, but at least he went peacefully."

When she said murder Ronan stilled and, from that point on, was very quiet.

She looked down. "Is your cat all right? Poor sweetheart looks a bit sick."

"He's just ill-tempered. Dislikes strangers, and he's very protective of me. I assure you, I'm very happy with my haunted house, and I want a house that's a project. What is it, ma'am, that makes you so very interested in a house that would be such a lot of time and money to renovate?"

Adam picked up Ronan, worried about him after his reaction, and wanting the emotional comfort of him. He hugged the cat close, kissing his forehead once.

Ronan's ears were slick against his skull. The kiss was somewhat reassuring, but he still closed his eyes and curled into Adam, remembering too much that he didn't want to remember.

"Well, my husband would have it knocked down and then we would sell the property," she admitted. "There's enough space on this lot for seven or more townhouses! Really, we can pay you a very handsome amount. More than you've ever seen, maybe. You could travel. Go to a good college. Live in a city. Isn't that worth it?"

"No," Adam said, hugging Ronan protectively. "What I want is this house, and my partner, and this life. I've told you no repeatedly now, ma'am. Since you aren't willing to accept that answer, then I'm going to have to ask you to leave my property. If you return here, I will consider it trespassing, and I will prosecute. Is that quite clear?"

Scowling, Adam went to shut the door without waiting for an answer.

She gaped again and stood there, blinking at the door before turning and walking down the pathway in a huff. Not that she was finished. Oh no. Far from it.

Ronan loved Adam's arms, too. His hands. His arms. How warm he was. When Adam closed the door he didn't say anything right away. Murder. She was right. A cursed house. Ronan could picture the beads of blood spreading across the hardwood floors perfectly. The memories made him ache.

"You have weird taste," he finally breathed, ears still slicked back against his head.

"Uh-huh," Adam agreed, going to curl up on the couch with Ronan hugged to his chest. "Don't care. This house is mine, and I like it just the way it is. Monster and raven and all. Meant what I said, too. It's not just mine. I want to live here with you."

He stroked Ronan gently, scratching at his head and stroking his back. "I want to see your garden in bloom."

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