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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"I'm not either," Adam admitted, nuzzling at Ronan's jaw. "I'm not used to being wanted. I don't know what it's like to be loved. All of this is new, and I'm desperate for it. For you."

He let go, flipping over a pancake and returning his attention to cooking so that the pancakes didn't get burned. Badly. Again.

Ronan opened his month, ready to say something, when there was a knock on the door. Instantly his expression soured, "Why the hell are you so popular?"

But he knew why. The same thing had happened with Greerish. Even if Adam had threatened to sue the real estate agent if she came back Ronan was willing to bet she'd be back. If not her? Her husband. If not them? It could be the neighborhood teens that bet on staying in the house for five minutes as a fear game.

"I try to avoid people seeing me," he explained, "because I've been around a while. Some of the older people have seen me before. They'd be suspicious since I never age." Sure, he could look like another person, but he was never fond of doing that. It made him feel like more of a monster than he really was.

With a glance to the door he padded over to the dining room where he could change into Charlotte. While he didn't care much about changing in front of Adam anymore, he usually took his pants off first, and it probably wasn't the time for Adam to see his dick.

At the door were a couple of girls, giggling and batting their eyelashes. "We heard someone our age moved in here! Unless you're the ghost," one teased, "because then I should have visited earlier!" They laughed again.

Ronan was already nauseated, hovering around Adam's ankles.

Adam had no idea how to react to a duo of giggling girls flirting with him. The situation had never previously occurred. Blinking and blushing, he leaned against the door frame and gave them a polite smile. "Yeah, my boyfriend and I just moved in."

"Oh!" One of the girls blushed and went went wide-eyed, while her friend giggled. "Oh. All the good ones, huh?"

Adam shrugged one shoulder and gave her a thin smile.

"Is your boyfriend cute?" the giggling one asked. Her friend elbowed her.

"I mean," Adam said, "he's really handsome, but he scowls all the time. So it depends on whether you find grumpy scowling to be cute, like I do."

They laughed at that, though this time it sounded a little forced.

"We were just about to have breakfast," Adam said, hoping it would encourage them to leave.

"Oh! Can we come in? You don't have to feed us, but we've just always wanted to see the old house. Is it haunted?"

"Sorry, but," Adam said, picking up the cat and kissing the top of his head. "My boyfriend hasn't got a stitch of clothing on at the moment, and while the sight is very impressive, it's my sight, and I'm very possessive."

Ronan was relieved when Adam turned the girls down so quickly; they were pretty, that he could tell, even if he had never been attracted to girls. And Adam had said he had a girlfriend, once. Even if they never kissed.

When they wanted to come inside his eyes narrowed into slits. Everyone wanted to see the haunted house. Thankful again, Ronan nuzzled against Adam as he was swept up into his boyfriend's arms, still shooting the girls looks. Which were much less scathing and unimpressed when he was an adorable cat. Adam was his and the house was his. They could fuck off, with the rest of the town.

One of the girls laughed again, a little weakly, and the other peeked around Adam to try to see if she could steal a look at this handsome, supposedly naked man. "Oh! Sorry to interrupt. We just really wanted to meet you. Mrs. Murphy was saying that a young man had moved in. Uhm, she also said that you threatened to sue her if she came back. We don't want that! Honest." They looked properly apologetic, since they hadn't had any ill will.

The one that had peeked around Adam perked up a bit, "My, what a pretty little sweetheart! Look at those blue eyes, Claire. Have you ever seen a cat with such pretty eyes?" The one called Claire shook her head and cooed, "Aww, can we hold him? ...Her? Just for a sec? Then we'll get out of your hair! We love cats."

Ronan looked affronted at the notion, which only made them giggle and coo some more.

"Him," Adam said, still holding Ronan tight against his chest. "And it's not a good idea. He hates strangers and will claw and bite anyone who tries to touch him if he's not used to you. Once he warms up a bit, he's an affectionate softy, but that takes a while."

He remained blocking the door, hugging Ronan tight to reassure them both. "I don't mind Mrs. Murphy if she respects that I'm not interested in selling the house. If she can't respect that, then yeah, I'll look into a restraining order or something. Now if there isn't anything else, my pancakes are getting cold."

Ronan hissed to emphasize Adam's warning, eyes narrowed once more and ears slick back against his head. The girls looked nervous and nodded, sharing a quick glance before backing up.

"Okay, um! Sorry for bothering you. Bye bye." The hopped down off the porch and hurried down the pathway, not looking back. Which was for the best considering they would be looking at one very smugly pleased feline.

"They're going to start thinking you're the ghost," Ronan teased, glancing up at Adam with big blue eyes. "Watch out for a priest come visiting next."

Edited (typos yikes) 2016-11-18 00:53 (UTC)

"Didn't mean to scare them off," Adam said, kissing Ronan's nose. "Can't say I mind, though. Don't like people much more than you do."

Setting Ronan down so he could change if he wanted, Adam returned to the kitchen and the cooling pancakes. He put one of the plates in the microwave, then got out the strawberries, glad that Chainsaw had been too occupied with hiding from the girls to create any crisis.

It was easier to be around Adam while he was a cat so Ronan decided not to change back. Slinking around the kitchen, he watched Adam, gracefully jumping onto the kitchen table for a better vantage point from which to stare.

Chainsaw clicked her beak and also watched, though she was more interested in the strawberries.

"You really are weird," Ronan said, tilting his head. "It's too bad you never got to see the old man. You would have gotten along great. He was weird, too."

"I wish I had been able to meet him. Not counting when I smiled at him as a baby, I guess. To really know him."

Adam placed one plate in front of Ronan, then sat down to eat. "It's kind of weird to think that I'm dating a cat."

Although, he thought, Ronan isn't really a cat.

The thought quickly followed that Ronan was something else, something as yet unrevealed. It wasn't a pleasant thought, because neither of them could be certain of how Adam was going to react to it, and it was a lingering secret between them.

It wasn't a thought lost on Ronan, either. Adam had been right. Not showing him was proving to be a trial in anxiety. The cat stared at his plate, quietly, not touching the food.

"I'm a Greywaren," he said, touching his paw against the edge of the plate. "Not a cat. Not a boy. A Greywaren." It was only fair to tell him. Even if Ronan kept secrets, not telling him felt like a lie. It was a feeling Ronan hated. Dishonesty.

"I don't think I need to explain that I can change shape."

Adam had seen him do it enough times. Glancing up, Ronan studied Adam's face.

"I've never met another like me. I've been alone for a very long time."

"I like the term Greywaren better than monster," Adam said, gently. He reached across the table, scratching Ronan's head. "Stop worrying and eat your pancakes, Charlotte. They're going to get cold, and they'll just get gross if we keep microwaving them. I'm not going anywhere. You're my Greywaren now. My gardening, grumpy, shape-changing Greywaren."

Smiling fondly, Adam dug into his own pancakes. After they ate, they'd go try the lock. And if it worked, Ronan would show him his shape. Adam couldn't help but feel nervous about that, but if they were both nervous and not eating, they'd just end up making themselves sick, and Adam wasn't in the habit of letting food go to waste, when he didn't always know if he could get more.

Ronan grunted, ears still flat against his head despite trying to pretend that he wasn't worrying. Of course he was fucking worrying. He'd never had this much before. Sure, he had things. Money. Food. Having Adam was something entirely different. Between the fact that he was a monster possibly fucking up their relationship and his own terrible personality, there was a lot to worry about.

Somehow he managed to eat some food. Chainsaw eyed his pancakes and he hissed at her, swiping the air with his paw, and she cawed. "You're really going to get fat," he accused. She cawed again and flapped over to Adam to perch on his shoulder, giving Ronan a displeased look. No young lady liked to being told that she was going to get fat.

Once Ronan finished his pancakes (or what he could eat of them, anyway) he wiped his whiskers with his paw.

Hopping off the table, he went to get his pants from the dining room, and returned to the kitchen in his usual human form so that he could wash the dishes. Silently he scrubbed and dried, looking out the window somewhat absently as he did. Ever since Adam came he'd been thinking about a lot of things he tried so hard to ignore. His father. The murder. His own self.

"I never found out who murdered him, you know," he said. "My father."

Adam's eyes lingered on the tattoo along Ronan's back, taking a few moments to study it while Ronan worked. That, he suspected, was the Greywaren. Frightening. Beautiful.

He came up behind Ronan, hugging his arms around Ronan's waist. Holding him tight, Adam nuzzled close to enjoy the warmth of him, the affection, the pleasure of having someone who belonged to him.

"We can look into it, if you want. I'll help you. I'll be by your side. If you want to study something, I'll study it with you. If you want to go somewhere, I'll go with you. If we're lovers, then our lives are going to be entwined."

He kissed between Ronan's shoulder blades, resting his head against the back of Ronan's neck and closing his eyes. "I'm glad I met you, Greywaren."

Ronan stiffened when Adam came up behind him, but slowly relaxed into the other boy's arms. Having someone touch him like this was like nothing he'd ever experienced before. Blissful. A thing he'd been yearning for, missing, without realizing until he had it.

One of Ronan's hands dropped to Adam's, rubbing the tips of his fingers along his knuckles.

"—Hnn." He nearly whimpered when he felt Adam's kiss against his back. I'm glad I met you, Greywaren. It was almost enough to make him cry. Eyes stinging, he closed them, leaning back into Adam's touch.

"I want to know. Why he was killed, who did it. It's always bothered me."

"We'll find out," Adam promised, lips murmuring against Ronan's skin. "We'll keep looking until we do. My friends will help. Gansey has a gift for finding things. Blue and Henry have gifts of their own. I'll introduce you, whenever they come back, and when you trust them, they can help us. Until then, you'll have me."

Adam hugged tight to him, nuzzling briefly and then letting go so that Ronan could dry his hands. "Ready to go downstairs?"

"I only want you," Ronan said, distracted by the way Adam's lips felt against his skin. Fuck, it was good. Despite knowing better, he wanted more. Wanted everything Adam could give him and then more.

But not now. With a soft noise he nodded, aching from the loss of Adam's warmth the moment the boy pulled away. "Yeah, let's do this." Setting his jaw, Ronan headed toward the basement stairs, hands balled into fists.

The stairs creaked under his weight. It was with steady focus that he approached the trunk. Kneeling, he took the lock into his hands and felt along its smooth shape.

"... I'm nervous. God, I'm such an asshole."

"Good thing I've got a thing for assholes," Adam flirted, sitting cross-legged next to him and reaching out to catch one of Ronan's hands so that they could entwine their fingers. "Relax. I'm right here and we have all the time in the world. Breathe."

He leaned over, giving Ronan's cheek a quick peck. As nervous as Ronan quite obviously was, Adam was excited. Everything in this house--mostly Ronan--was magic. He wanted to learn everything about it. "Go on. Ask it to open."

Ronan stared at the lock. It sat in his palm blankly, like a hunk of metal, and not at all like a thing that would respond if he spoke to it.

But Adam was reassuring. Giving the other boy's hand a squeeze, Ronan sighed and allowed his shoulders to relax. "Okay. Okay." Bowing his head, he studied the lock some more, before grumbling out his request, "Can you open."

The lock stayed quiet and Ronan sighed, mouth twisting up in a grimace. Not good enough, huh?

"Can you open, please?"

The lock thumped to the ground. Ronan stared.

"Holy fuck."

Adam grinned wide. He'd never doubted, not really. Even if this hadn't worked, Ronan would have figured it out eventually.

Squeezing Ronan's hand, Adam leaned against his shoulder, grin wide and happy. "You're magic." Nudging him gently, Adam kept hold of his hand. "Go on. It's waiting for you."

Ronan nodded his head. Yeah. He was magic. His father had been magic. Somehow, finding out Niall's little trick didn't really satisfy him. Not as much as he'd expected.

Reaching out, he pushed the lid of the trunk up to reveal what was inside. There were books and albums stacked on top of each other. Papers. Notes. Drawings. And, on the very top, was a note in sprawling letters, So my boy finally learned some manners.

Ronan held that piece of paper in his hands and stared at it for a long while.

"I miss him." Closing his eyes, he dropped back onto his ass so that he could stretch his legs out. "After he died, I didn't want to see anyone ever again. It still hurts."

Adam stifled a laugh at the sight of the note, turning it into a cough and rubbing at his mouth to hide the smirk. He liked Ronan's father immediately, liked the relationship implied by the note, liked especially the idea of Ronan being required against his will to say please.

He sat next to Ronan, quiet and patient, staring with him at the note and not daring to touch any of Ronan's things inside the trunk. "I'm sorry. That's tough," Adam said, leaning his shoulder against Ronan's. "Is any part of him left inside your dreams?"

"No," he said, "which is probably a good thing."

It wasn't like he hadn't thought of dreaming up his parents. Only, he knew, it wouldn't be the same. And then he risked accidentally pulling them out of his dreams and making them real. He knows it probably isn't what Adam means, but all the same, the answer applies.

Ronan folded the note and put it to the side. Beginning to flip through books, he was mostly quiet, scanning scribbles and mad ravings. Ideas. Trade agreements. Plans. His father had apparently done business with a lot of people, trading away the things he dreamed as rare items found abroad. Which was why he'd made quite a lot of money and had been able to purchase the great expanse of property that he did.

"I always figured he did something like this," Ronan mumbled with a fine line running between his brows. "Probably what got him in trouble. People get greedy, and he wouldn't share where he picked up his rare items."

Shaking his head, Ronan moved onto another thing. "Are you fucking kidding me?" It was his baby book. The first page was his mother, golden and utterly beautiful, cradling the wad of baby in thick blankets in her arms. He looked like a human baby in that picture. Probably because he managed to imitate the first thing he saw: Niall Lynch. His mother looked kind and delighted. It was obvious that she had fair hair even in the old black and white photo.

"She probably made this book. He wouldn't have."

Adam grinned with delight, hugging his arms around Ronan's waist as he watched. "Aww. Look, you were grumpy and adorable even as a child," he teased. "Your mother is lovely. She looks like she loves you very much."

Adam hugged tighter, protective of his vulnerable, damaged boyfriend, who felt so strongly and tried so stubbornly to hide it. Adam wanted to keep him safe and help him heal. His Ronan, who was everything he'd ever wanted and more.

He kept his arms around Ronan's waist, careful not to touch anything. It wasn't his to touch, and he'd seen enough of Ronan to understand that magic was dangerous.

Ronan snorted, "I guess. She was made that way."

He flipped a few of the pages in the book until it opened itself to a page of a strikingly handsome man, one Ronan nearly shared all his features with. They could have been the same man if the one on the photo wasn't older (thirties, perhaps), had slightly narrower eyes, and an impish grin that spoke of mischief rather than barbed wire. If there was anything Ronan had more in common with his mother, it was the bright shade of his eyes. Niall's were blue, but in the black and white photo, looked more gray than silver, like Aurora's.

"And there he is." It hurt, to see Niall looking so alive, and Ronan was silent. Had he not had Adam's arms around his waist he may have jerked away from the trunk in his thick emotions. It was hard to pretend like it didn't still hurt as much as the day it happened. Pure stubbornness kept him from shedding tears; he didn't want Adam to see him so weak.

"Stupid, huh? I should be over this by now."

"Not stupid," Adam said, resting his head on Ronan's shoulder and keeping his arms tight around Ronan's waist. He wasn't going to let go. He wanted Ronan to understand that he wasn't alone. Not anymore. "I don't think people ever really get over something like that."

Adam studied the picture, fascinated by it. Ronan's father. "He looks like you. Very handsome."

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