burnyoudown | Open RP Post

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Open RP Post

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🔥 General squick/trigger list.
🔥 m/m for anything shippy.
🔥 General headcanon for Kavinsky. If you've got different headcanon/ideas for a psl, hit me with 'em; I'm flexible.
🔥 Kavinsky's kink list.
🔥 This is open to everyone who wants to thread with me!

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[ooc: from here.]

[He thought about texting back while he waited, but it took a lot of effort to coordinate his fingers right now, so he didn't. He pocketed his phone and leaned his head back instead.

When Adam approached, Kavinsky struggled to sit up better, mostly so he wouldn't make a fool of himself by spilling water everywhere whenever he got around to opening the bottle that he accepted.]

No. [He hadn't asked. He didn't usually need to ask. Maybe that had been a mistake on his part.

But, despite how off he felt, he still smirked.]

Why, worried I'm gonna kick it?

No.

[It's an easy answer, with only a brief flicker of something sharp in his expression. But Adam softens it after only a moment, turns it into a curl of an uneven smile, something different than he wears around his friends.]

You're too stubborn to just die, aren't you?

[He arches an eyebrow at Kavinsky, almost rhetorical. He doesn't open the bottle in his hands, but lets his fingers leech the cool perspiration on the glass neck.

Not long ago, he said he hated Kavinsky, but the truth was more like this: Kavinsky was everything Adam wasn't, couldn't be. Rich and gorgeously exotic and with a car made for racing, that could do a quarter mile in thirteen seconds on factory specs. It would have been jealousy if he let himself admit that he wanted things.

Adam should feel out of place here, with a cellphone in his pocket and a bottle in his hands. Instead the colored lights and music he doesn't speak the language to are almost a strange sort of balm to all the open wounds.]

But I'm not sure you'll be able to drive me home.

[Kavinsky grinned, opening the water bottle and taking a sip.]

Damn right.

[It'd take more than this to put him in the grave.

On the subject of being able to drive Adam home though... he shrugged a shoulder, grin only dimming just a little.]

Probably not. Guess that means you'll have to spend the night with me.

[He'd be lying if he said he wasn't hitting on Adam. Kavinsky saw opportunities and he took them, simple as that. Of course, he might have been hitting on him from the start, since inviting him to a party in the first place.]

[Adam considers, a slight tilt of his head. His blue eyes slide over Kavinsky's face. He means it to be casual, but it's something a little bit more than that. A touch of intent, almost appreciation where his gaze catches on his jaw, the curl of his mouth.

Part of him almost wants to say okay, because Adam craves so badly to be wanted. But Adam is bad at letting himself have the things he wants. And he doesn't really know what the other boy sees in him. If this is a performance, or if he thinks Adam is just this needy-- even if he is, he doesn't much like the idea of someone being able to see it. Especially Kavinsky.

He steps in closer, sits against the edge of the coffee table, most of his weight in his legs so he can lean into his space. He closes the distance with intention, so it makes the air tense, so the music dims as he watches K and his blown pupils, the way his pulse races in his throat.

Adam was not the saint Gansey liked to pretend he was, that teachers saw him as. But then Gansey was a teacher for lessons he had yet to catch. And Adam had known he liked both boys and girls for basically as long as he'd known he wanted to kiss someone. But this was rural-nowhere fucking Henrietta, Virginia. So he didn't say it too loud. But he doesn't flinch like this says something about himself, like it's a crisis he needs to work through.

It just is. K's hitting on him, and Adam doesn't want him to stop. He doesn't trust him enough to be sure it's not just to get a rise out of the trailer trash kid, not just for the punchline. So he flirts back, but it's all sharp edges. Kavinsky isn't someone like Declan or one of the other boys- someone charming enough to sell can you believe he thought I was serious?- and that makes it a little bit safer.]

Or maybe I'll just take your car and drive myself. You can just buy another, right?

[There's something to how he says it- like buy was something else, only switched in at the last moment. The very idea of the words are daring in the worst way. What if someone saw, what if he didn't want to give it back?]

[He wasn't bothered in the slightest when Adam got into his space. In fact, he leaned forward a little, his grin fading down to a smirk. Adam had a nice everything as far as he was concerned, from his eyelashes to his ass, and everything in between. Sometimes, he wondered why more people didn't flirt with Adam. Maybe it had something to do with Adam coming across as aloof, usually.

Kavinsky himself was many things, cruel included, but not quite as cruel as people thought sometimes. He didn't get any fun out of stringing people along. He liked his intentions to be pretty clear, most of the time.]

Go ahead. I don't give a shit.

[He actually did, sort of, but not enough to put up a big fuss about it. He could just get another car, pluck one out of his head.]

But you'd have to fight me for the keys.

[Not literally. Probably. Maybe. But they were in his pocket and he wouldn't just hand them over.]

[Usually he was aloof, honestly. He didn't have the time or the effort to spare, between the jobs he worked and classwork. Most people didn't understand why he lived on his own or why he used to miss school only to come back with bruises. Typically he liked it better when people didn't understand, when he could smudge out the truth, but it meant he was always invisible.

Kavinsky had made an effort, invited him, and hasn't seemed to get bored of him. He still has his focus, and Adam doesn't want to give it up. And sure, he's a jerk and a ]

And Evo's use transponder keys. Even if I wanted to spend the rest of the night disassembling the steering column to get to the pin, it wont run power to the engine without them.

[Which is a fancy way of saying that Kavinsky is right, and he really would need the keys. His Henrietta accent creeps into the edge of his voice, and he might be talking about the other boy's car, but the words still sound like flirting. Or maybe a little bit more. Adam's fond enough of that car he wouldn't actually take it apart just to hotwire it - but it makes a sweet sort of threat to breathe into the space between them.

He leaves the bottle on the table, and his eyes flick over the other boy. What do you want, Adam? Physical contact is always charged for him. So often it meant pain and hurt and that numb feeling where he pulled every piece of himself into a ball where his father couldn't touch it. But it also made him vulnerable to the opposite: pleasure, contact, heat- anything that felt good, that meant something.

He reaches out, carefully splays fingers against Kavinsky's shoulder like he's anchoring himself, pressing against fabric. It's a terrible idea, of course, and Adam has no excuses. He skipped all the intoxicants except for Kavinsky himself. But there's no school and he doesn't have work until late afternoon, and technically it's been his birthday since midnight. He's close enough he could shift and press knees into his hips, or press up next to him, but he doesn't. Just that one touch, fingers soaking up the heat, pressed against his too-bony shoulder, leaning in close.]

Uh-huh.

[He didn't give a flying fuck if Adam could hotwire his car or not, but he appreciated a man who knew cars. It was hot, if he was being honest.]

Sounds like you're stuck, then.

[But he didn't say it like it was a bad thing, because he wasn't thinking of it as one.

He took another sip from his water bottle before putting the cap back on so he could set it...somewhere. The floor, the table, whatever he could reach without actually moving. Not just because he didn't feel like moving but because Adam was touching him and it felt like something. Something he didn't want to disturb.

Sighing, fighting the urge to let his head lean back and close his eyes, he reached up--slowly, so Adam wouldn't spook--and cupped the side of the other boy's face. Because he wanted to, and because Adam had a fine face.]

Has anyone ever told you you're hot?

[He had a feeling the answer was no, which was a shame. Everyone was probably too busy forgetting Adam even existed, but not Kavinsky.]

Sure does look that way.

[Adam doesn't sound particularly broken-up about it, either. He didn't want to go back to 300 Fox Way, and he doesn't want to go home alone- he hadn't wanted to be anywhere, if he was honest. He should argue the point more, but he feels like Kavinsky has already seen through him to the point that he can't bring himself to mind.

He's certain enough that if this was a punchline that Kavinsky would have backed out by now. Because instead he's carefully setting down the water bottle and letting his fingers cup against the side of his face, slowly. Like he's noticed the way Adam tensed at fast movements, loud noises, contact he didn't expect. And it's that hint of care that undoes the last of his paranoia. He trembles, tilts into the touch like he's greedy for it, blue eyes watching the other boy as heat slides through his veins.]

No. You have very distinctive features, Mister Parrish, is about the closest I've got.

[Blue had called him pretty once, but the last thing he wants to do is talk about her. He can still hear it if he lets himself: it's not going to be you and me. He'd felt colorless and ugly, angry, untethered. Now he felt-- he didn't quite know. But it feels like Kavinsky wants him- wants Adam Parrish- when no one else does, and that's good enough. And maybe it should be impossible, but he can't bring himself to care.

He reaches out and lets his other hand slide up against the line of the other boy's jaw, gentle at the back of his neck and then curling fingers in the dark strands of Kavinsky's hair. Even with the hand clinging to his shoulder, Adam feels unsteady, like he's coming undone just from fingers searing against his skin.]

Fucking- [He shook his head.] Blind. They're blind.

[Distinctive was one way to put it, he guessed, but Kavinsky preferred 'hot'. Were people intimidated by Adam? Did they think he wanted to be ignored? If he hadn't already been snapped up by Gansey and Ronan, he was exactly the type Kavinsky would take under his wing. A lonely boy who needed someone to empower him. Maybe it wasn't too late.

Normally, he would hatch a plan. Right now, he was so high he just wanted to indulge himself--and Adam, if the other boy was willing. Kavinsky wasn't touch starved by any means, but he was hyper-aware of Adam's hands on him, feeling his fingers against his skin. Maybe it was the drugs. Maybe it was just the moment, his own desire. He also didn't think Adam touched just anyone like this. That meant it wasn't something to be wasted.

He slid his hand around to the back of Adam's neck, tugging him closer, close enough to nudge their mouths together, to kiss him, assuming Adam didn't pull away. Kavinsky might not have liked taking no for an answer, but he was softer right now, edges not as sharp from the drugs he'd taken. He'd let Adam pull away if he wanted to, but he hoped he wouldn't.]

[Kavinsky's words get under his skin, make him feel heated in a way that curls under his ribs. The idea that someone- anyone- thought he was attractive, would call people blind for not seeing it.. Adam didn't know how to put words to it, but it was a feeling he wanted to hold onto. He was greedy, even if he'd never say that outloud- not where Blue or Gansey could hear it. Neither of whom seemed to understand what it was like to have want eating you alive.

But when Kavinsky tugs him closer, fingers at the back of his neck, until they're close, so close he can feel his breath on his lips, and then touching... Adam doesn't pull away. He leans into him, into the contact of lips on lips until they're kissing, all heat and want. And for a moment, he doesn't feel alone, doesn't feel angry and ugly and unknowable.

The idea that Kavinsky of all people might think he was hot, might want Adam Parrish-- But with heat on his skin and the other boy's mouth against his, it's hard to think of anything except for this, how it feels. It's not his first kiss, but it's also been a while since there was someone that wanted him enough for it. It had been back before Aglionby, when everyone around him spoke with that Henrietta curl to their words.

Adam's fingers tremble against Kavinsky's shoulder, and there's a desperation in how he melts into the kiss, his heartbeat racing. It's not just that he wants to be wanted, but Kavinsky is gorgeous and as much as parties have never been something he's been attracted to, it's the first time in a while he's felt awake in his own skin.]

[Kavinsky sighed softly, content with the kiss. He could feel Adam's fingers trembling on his shoulder and brushed his thumb gently against the back of the other boy's neck, soothing.

Reaching out with his other hand, he pressed his fingers against Adam's hip, coaxing him closer, into Kavinsky's lap if he could. He wasn't as pushy as he could have been, which had more to do with the drugs than not wanting to spook Adam. He could pull away if he wanted; Kavinsky wouldn't stop him. But he wanted to feel the warmth of his body, curl his arms around his waist.

He was feeling needy, greedy, and cuddly. There was also the foolish hope that Adam's closeness would help with the aching in his head. Maybe he'd be a distraction. He was already distracting, but- things could be better.]

You could be one of my boys. [He murmured.]

[He murmured softly against the other boy's mouth, something about the way that his fingers brushed against the back of his neck soothing an ache that Adam didn't even really want to admit to.

There's something intoxicating about this, about being close to someone, about feeling- he doesn't quite know. Feeling wanted, desired. Like Kavinsky- untouchable dark king of Henrietta- thought that Adam Parrish was worth wanting. Maybe this is a bad idea, but it's one that he can't resist. Letting the other boy's fingers on his hips urge him closer until he's in his lap, knees pressing to K's hips.

They're pressed so close and it somehow feels almost more intimate than kissing. His fingers slide against his ribs through his shirt, his other hand shifting to cup the side of his face and then trail down against the side of his neck. This felt illicit; but Adam couldn't help wanting to hold onto it anyway. The words Kavinsky says seem almost impossible; he's not like them. Doesn't have a car for street racing, has far too contentious a relationship with alcohol and violence for these things to ever be easy.

The idea of belonging to someone isn't easy for him, either- the desire to not be alone, warring with his need to stand on his own feet. But it feels less like control, less like being a thing that Kavinsky would owns than the sentiment does when it's coming from Gansey. Or maybe that's just how he justifies it to himself. So he's wary but he doesn't flinch, doesn't pull away.

Instead he traces fingers against his skin, his eyes sharp and intense with hardly any space between them. He's already in over his head, but he tries to pretend he has a handle on this, on his own desires.]

And what would that look like? What do you want?

[He leaned into Adam's touch, making a soft sound, barely audible over everything else. Looping his arms around Adam's waist, he settled his hands on his back, thumbs brushing up and down.

It was a good question and he took a moment to consider it, doing his best to string thoughts together when he was high like this. He probably should've been sipping on the water Adam had brought him, but that required moving and effort and just ugh. He pulled his thoughts back to the matter at hand, the questions Adam had asked.]

I want your loyalty. [And in exchange he would give Adam everything. Kavinsky didn't think he'd take it, though.] I want you at my parties and in my car. [And maybe in his bed, but that was a different hurdle.]

I'm saying-- be a good friend.

[It sounded a little silly when he said it like that, but it was still true.]

All of my boys struggled, you know. They were all lonely and broken, and I- [He broke off, hesitated, tried to find the right way to word things.] -I know what it's like. I could make sure no one ever lays hands on you again. We're like a family.

['Family' might not have been entirely accurate, considering Skov and Swan were dating and his own sexual relationship with Prokopenko, but. They relied on each other, trusted each other.

He wanted Adam at his side, too. It was partly out of spite, if he was being honest, but there was so much more to it than that. He wanted to take what Gansey had, bit by bit, but he wouldn't stop Adam from being friends with the other boy, either. He wasn't going to cut him off from people.]

[Adam can't help the way that he sighs as Kavinsky's arms curl around his waist, the repetitive slide of his fingertips a reassuring touch. He asks for loyalty, for friendship, for family. Maybe it should feel possessive. Maybe he should flinch at being called broken. But there's something in the way that he frames it- not that Adam is a broken thing for Kavinsky to play savior for, the way it always felt with Gansey. But instead he says it like Kavinsky and his boys were all lonely and broken, and they could save each other.

And that's something that Adam thinks that even his pride could live with. Because it sounds like Kavinsky isn't asking for anything that he's not willing to give.]

Maybe. Which isn't.. I'm not saying no, okay? You should ask me again when you're a little more coherent.

[His tone isn't cruel, and he doesn't stop touching him, doesn't lean away from the other boy. He knew that Kavinsky was more or less always at least a little bit high, but twenty minutes ago he'd been texting him about how he didn't know what he took, but not to let him have any more. And this was complicated for Adam. It wasn't the sort of thing that he could just say yes to.

And right now he really wanted him to kiss him again.

Kavinsky felt... he didn't know how to put it in words exactly, but he's not in the other boy's lap just because he knows that it will scorch Blue and Gansey to their bones. But the other boy is fiercely attractive and captivating, and he can't help the feeling that he is more than the rumors, more than he seems. The ways that he makes such an effort not to spook Adam, to make sure he feels safe, when everyone else in his life had to be taught.

He can't resist wanting to know him better, to see what he hides.]

But maybe.

Edited 2022-01-31 03:57 (UTC)

[Kavinsky sure as hell wasn't anyone's savior. He liked to think that he gave his boys the tools to save themselves, instead. A social safety net, a support system, a safe place. People they could lean on when they needed someone. Or just someone to get high with.

Adam didn't look like he needed a savior, maybe just a shoulder to lean on sometimes, people who understood what it was like when things were hard. Kavinsky and his boys might have been rich but money didn't eliminate all of their problems. Money didn't stop abuse or bullying or being alone.

He nodded slowly when Adam said maybe. He wasn't disappointed; he hadn't expected a yes right away. In fact, a 'maybe' was promising.]

Okay.

[That was it. He wasn't going to argue about it or push the subject. He'd presented his offer and Adam probably needed time to think about it. Alongside that, Kavinsky probably needed someplace quiet to make his head stop aching. The living room in the middle of a party wasn't really the right place for it.]

I should probably lie down. You gonna keep me company?

[He was absolutely asking Adam to climb into bed with him in his room, but he wasn't asking for sex. It wasn't like he could drive Adam home right now, anyway, so what would it hurt if he stayed the night in Kavinsky's room? As far as the party went- he'd just have to find Proko and tell him to make sure everyone was kicked out after a certain time. And that they didn't trash the house too much.]

[Most people seemed to think Dimitri and Kavinsky should be rivals, but he doesn't get close enough to him for that, and actually tries to avoid getting on K's bad side. They were both drug dealers, but Dimitri actually had a certain sort of manners where Kavinsky was concerned-- he never tried to sell at K's parties, and just generally kept his head down where the other boy was concerned.

Dimitri's father had been Russian mafia, wealthy with a successful life of crime that had long run in the family. And then one night he never came home. A man with a smile like death told the blond that his father had disgraced himself, and he's been in over his head ever since. He's a scholarship student like Parrish, although he lives in the dorms rather than a trailer. His family had gone from living in luxury in a house in St. Petersburg, and now rented an apartment on the rough side of NYC. Dimitri only attended prep school out of his mother's hope that it would make it so that he could give her back her life of expensive dresses and weekend spa trips.

So the rumor about K's father being mafia is enough to keep him playing nice, to not get too close, and to keep him out of the other boy's dreams.

The rumor that circles about Dimitri is this: he should be dead. The summer before he transferred to Aglionby he crashed during a race, and the airbag didn't deploy. Blood and broken glass and the scream of warped metal. There was nearly a funeral -- or so the story goes. He grins like a joke he isn't telling and shows off the inked sleeves of his tattoos, shows off where he says it covers up scars, lets people feel for them. But it's still a lie.

So he never tells the Dreamer that for Dimitri even reality is colored by dreams, that he walks in the dreamforest, shapes castles and impossible racetracks, every desire that kindles in his heart. He couldn't see any reason to say it-- Kavinsky seemed to be fine, even if he had enough of his own sort of trouble.

But the other boy looks at Ronan the way that he used to look at Elijah: like the only fucking thing that matters. Like he would burn the world just for his attention, and he knows it'll end in flames. Dimitri remembers the feeling, and he knows how losing that can turn you inside out, how it burns. It sparks something in him, maybe even empathy. Or maybe it's just thinking that Kavinsky deserves better than being left alone with the bitterness.

Which is how they get to this moment right here: Dimitri pulling up in his bright red Mustang, all after-market parts and LED lights amidst a hundred white Mitsubishis. He doesn't so much as bat an eye at the dreamt cars, just gets out and pockets his keys in his cargo shorts. His tee-shirt on the other hand declares "my sexual preference is often" because he's seventeen and thinks shitty tee shirts are amusing.

He figures anyone that actually knows Kavinsky probably is smart enough to avoid him in the mood he's in. Instead here he is, playing the world's biggest idiot. He wouldn't be entirely surprised if the other teen started off by punching him in the face. But well, there's a certain familiarity, a certain catharsis in violence, and Dima's never turned down a fist fight. And he figures that even a fight might be better for K's mood than just leaving him alone with it.]

Hey. Kavinsky?

[He calls his name and there's an urgency to it. After a pause, he curses under his breath as he drags a hand through his blonde hair, because he doesn't really have a plan. He isn't even entirely sure which of the cars he's in, and there's too much here for him to feel it out. So he looks for him the old-fashioned way: walking among the cars, letting his fingertips drag against the spoiler of the cars he passes, that jolt of dream on dream at every touch.]

[Kavinsky was not in a good mood. His mood was so sour, in fact, that he hadn't even mustered up the energy to leave the dreaming field yet. Just a little while ago, things had been good, hadn't they? He'd had Ronan. He'd had everything. It hadn't even been like he'd wanted to turn Ronan against Gansey, he'd just wanted to feel like he mattered to him, too. He'd wanted to feel important to Ronan, for Ronan to choose him. Instead, Ronan had tossed him aside the moment he wasn't useful anymore.

He'd always figured that Ronan would take a newly dreamed Pig back to Gansey, but he'd thought-- He'd thought Ronan would come back to him, too. It was all he'd wanted and it didn't feel like it'd been much to ask for. Ronan wasn't that much different than him, really, and yet...

He turned his head to the side when he heard his name, a familiar voice that broke the silence hanging over the field. He didn't know how he felt about Dimitri being here--here, of all places. Despite knowing that Dimitri was looking for him, Kavinsky didn't budge from where he sat in the passenger seat of one of the Mitsubishis, window rolled down and pale arm hanging out.

He felt dead inside but this shit was far from over. He'd get Ronan, one way or another. He just had to figure out how. Unfortunately, his brain was running on empty, chasing itself in circles going over and over again how Ronan had left him.

Drumming his fingers on the outside of the car door, he sighed, then heaved himself over enough to lean out the window, squinting despite his sunglasses.]

What. [He said slowly, loud enough to be heard even though the other boy was still a few rows of cars away.] The fuck. Are you doing here?

[He wanted a smoke. He wished he was high. Anything to dull the pain. But both of those things required getting out of this car and going to his other car and that felt like far too much effort right now.]

Here to put me out of my misery?

[He was going for joking but his tone fell short and there wasn't even a hint of a smile on his face.]

Looking for you, of course.

[He follows the sound of the other boy's voice, and seems rather unconcerned by the tone that Kavinsky takes. He'd known that he would be in a black mood- the fact that he's only mildly snapped at him feels like a better result than he was expecting. He looks him over; assessing for damage, even if he tries to hide it under something casual and only mildly interested. He leans against the passenger side of his car, rests his left arm lightly against the roof.]

Nothing like that- not even if you said please. Just thought I'd make sure you weren't going to set yourself on fire.

[It's what the dream felt like, but he doesn't say that- dreams were liars sometimes too, anyway.

Dmitri means for it to come off as a joke in return, but his tone is a little strained as well. Tinged with a flicker of something genuine; like somehow he knows that Kavinsky might be more serious about that then he wants to admit to. And he's willing to not point it out, but he's also not here to put a gun to his head. So. Subject change.]

Oh. You meant how I found this place?

[He shrugs his shoulders, rakes fingers through the messy strands of his blond hair. It's a brief pause, the reflexive instinct to lie, to shape the truth into something easier for people to swallow, easier to sell. Of course, Kavinsky is a Dreamer, so maybe that didn't mean normal in the first place. He hadn't exactly planned on giving away something as complicated as an honest answer to that question, though. The one that at its heart asks: what are you? The temptation is to slip away from the subject, dodge the question, as reflexive as a kneejerk.

Instead he slips his cigarette case from the back pocket of his jeans-- something to do with his mouth that isn't saying shit he doesn't really want to talk about. Or that he might want to talk about, but doesn't quite trust. Despite the case, he smokes shitty Marlboros; he has it mostly so he can tuck a few pills, a small baggie of coke, and a few joints in it too. He holds it out to K along with the lighter, and it's at least not the one that says if you want to get lucky smile.

The silence hangs for a few moments, a tension in what Dimitri isn't saying. But Kavinsky is a Dreamer, and the point in coming here wasn't to lie to him, even if that's who he is. Lies and smiles, stories -- he's a Dream that normal people can understand. A secret given skin once, and then dreamt back to life. He sees dreams when he's awake, too, so he's sensitive to them.]

Fuck it. This place- there's so many dreams here, I can feel it from just about anywhere in Henrietta.

[Kavinsky's face scrunched up. He was torn between wondering why the fuck anyone would be looking for him and semi-disappointed that he was going to have to stay alive and miserable like this.]

Why? What's it to you if I did?

[Setting himself on fire...alright, it sounded like a bad idea. A bad way to go about things if only because it'd hurt like a bitch. There were better ways to go, and he wasn't a stranger to trying them, if the faint scar on the inside of his left wrist said anything.]

Yeah, no shit that's what I meant.

[He wasn't patient, not today, but he waited without fussing all the same, if only because he was being offered exactly what he'd just wished he had. It took him a moment to decide what he wanted, hand outstretched, before he plucked a joint and the lighter, leaning back into the car. He was just about to light up when Dimitri spoke again, and he froze.

He didn't need this shit today, he didn't need...whatever this was. He was assuming it meant bad news for him; it usually did. There weren't a lot of bright points in his life that weren't chemical.]

The fuck's that mean?

[He leaned forward again so he could peer out the window. He wasn't playing stupid, but he wanted to know what the other boy knew before he potentially damned himself. He'd only brought Ronan to this place, a place for dreamers, a secret for the two of them. But apparently, it wasn't secret at all. He didn't know how he felt about that just yet; he was still deciding.]

If you weren't around this place would suck even more.

[Which is honest, without being vulnerable. It's saying that K matters without saying it in words he probably wouldn't know how to explain anyway. Because they might not be close, but Kavinsky is still worth it. Worth more than being left alone. In truth something about him caught Dimitri's interest- distance had felt safer, but he's always been reckless and now it feels like there's a reason for it.

He lets Kavinsky take the joint and the lighter easily, and doesn't even comment when he pauses at the blond's answer. Instead Dimitri just considers a moment before plucking out a cigarette and tucking the case back into his pocket, banking on the fact that he'll get the lighter back eventually.

Things like empathy aren't exactly his strong suit; kind is probably at the bottom of how people might describe him. But Dimitri gives a bit more for the right sort of person. And Kavinsky is a complicated mix of abrasive and brittle he finds interesting, despite everything. So he's actually making an effort here- and that's probably why he actually tells him. Because he's one of the few people that might understand what it's like.]

I can feel dreams, even when I'm awake. I'm sort of... [His voice is soft and he hesitates. The other teen can probably tell that he doesn't say this shit often, if ever. There's a wobble to his breath, a certain sort of vulnerability in the space before he smooths it over and picks up the words again.]

Fuck. I dunno how to explain this shit. I'm one foot still in dreams even when my eyes are open. So even like this, dreams are--

[Instead, he drags his fingers against the attractive line of the Mitsubishi to make the point that he can't quite put into words. He can feel it even like this, even when he's awake. He doesn't say: yes, it sucks every bit as much as you think it does, but there's a touch of it to the tone of his voice.]

You're too good at it to be subtle.

[Kavinsky snorted. He was pretty sure a lot of people would breathe a sigh of relief if he wasn't around. The rich boys would get by just fine without him. The addicts would get by just fine. The people who looked down their noses at him would be happy. The number of people who actually wanted him around felt like it got smaller every day.

He listened quietly to Dimitri's explanation, rolling the joint back and forth between his fingers before sighing heavily. He didn't know what he'd been expecting. Something terrible, probably, for someone else to have another reason to be against him. After a moment, he lit the joint and held the lighter out to Dimitri.]

You're a flatterer. [Normally, he'd make a joke. 'Go on, don't stop now' or 'compliment me some more', but he wasn't in a joking mood. This didn't feel like a joking matter. And yet-] And you're a freak. Just like me.

[Did he really think of himself as a freak? It depended on the day. He was either a freak or a god; there was no in-between when it came to his moods. Right now was the former, where not even someone else like him had wanted to be around him once he was done being useful.

What did he say to someone who could feel dreams all the time? What had he wanted someone to say to him, once upon a time? He'd already blown that; he'd wanted to not be called a freak. To be accepted. To know he wasn't alone.

He had questions--of course, he did--but he hardly felt like asking any of them. He wanted to know more, to know if Dimitri had been born this way too, to know what else he could do except feel dreams.]

So, that explains the how you found me, but- [He made a frustrated noise.] What, does half of Henrietta already know Lynch left me high and dry?

[Or did he radiate some kind of sad dream energy bullshit or something? In a way, he was touched that Dimitri seemed to care, but it also felt almost too good to be true--having someone care.]

[He took the lighter back, lighting his cigarette and inhaling the smoke before he slipped the zippo back into his worn jeans. But he watches Kavinsky, looking to see how he takes it all. He's a Dreamer, so it's not disbelief, at least. The only time he'd ever told someone like this they'd been in a dream, so this felt like a different thing altogether. But he takes a drag off his cigarette and tries to look nonchalant about the whole thing, even if he isn't.]

Oh, c'mon. We're surrounded by cars you pulled from your dreams. It's not just flattery, Ioska.

[He thought there were probably exactly two people in Henrietta that would understand what he meant, but Kavinsky was one of them. It's the familiar version of the way you say Joseph in Russian, but easy enough to understand for most of the Slavic languages.

There's a slight tilt of his head, a twitch of his expression as he watches him. He's more accepting of the way that Kavinsky says you're a freak like me than he'd like to be- the way that it touches against his worst insecurities. He'd been alone for so long, struggling to fit into a world he wasn't made for any more than Kavinsky was. Before he met Elijah he hadn't known anyone else that could touch dreams like he could. And Elijah had known so little about dreams, and Dmitri had been so glad to show him.

But the rejection broke pieces of him- because it was a rejection of who he was, too. Those are things he doesn't say out loud, but they're there- the sharp parts he hides behind his green eyes.]

If you're gonna go there, might as well go all the way-- say we're monsters.

[There's a touch of vulgar innuendo to the way he says the words- reflexively coarse. His teeth flash white as he exhales the smoke of his cigarette, but it's a complicated thing. Something that speaks to brittle bitterness and suffering as much as it does to edges that cut like a weapon. A fight against the world.

They were strange, dangerous creatures. But they were similar: they were the same, in the ways that mattered. Boys tangled in dreams, in the crushing weight of the world around them. It's part of why he's here, if he's being honest. Selfishness. Because without Kavinsky, who does he have? Ronan and Eli? Boys who it seemed like were made for ruin? He might not have taken the risk of saying it before, but he'd known since he saw him. And it might not be good enough, but it was something to just know that someone else like him existed.]

Nah. It's just me, I think.

[He knows what Kavinsky is really asking, but he takes a breath off his cigarette, all acrid smoke. Through his eyes the world echoes with dreams- and right now it burns. But he doesn't really know how to explain that with his feet on solid ground, so he doesn't.]

Dreams are bad at keeping secrets. But I saw the way you looked at him for months.

[He almost says: I always knew he'd burn you, but he doesn't, because it sounds like jealousy. Instead his voice softens just a little, because it's empathy, not judgement. They might not have ever been close before, but he does care that Ronan doesn't break Kavinsky with carelessness.]

I thought you deserved better than being alone.

[Ioska. There was something about it that made him latch onto it. It felt... he wasn't sure, but there was something about it, something that made his pulse flare. People called him a variety of things, but usually nothing so simple and yet so almost-intimate. Out loud, he'd only ever fess up to being pleased with the compliment, though. He was good at what he did, and he took pride in it. Most of the time, anyway.]

You're not a monster. [He took a hit, pausing for a moment more to put thoughts together than to appreciate his joint.] I might be, but not because of what I am.

[But rather who he was. He wasn't ashamed of it, either. He was awful and he knew it and the only way to not be swallowed alive by guilt or depression or self-hatred was to own it. But he'd never think of anybody as a monster for what they were, especially not if they dealt in dreams.

He almost bristled when Dimitri said he'd seen the way Kavinsky'd been looking at Ronan. It wasn't like it was a secret, but clearly, it'd been a surprise to Lynch. Clearly, he'd missed the memo where Kavinsky was a complete and utter fool for him. He still didn't think he'd asked for much from Ronan, yet here he was, sitting in his dreaming field with Dimitri instead of the other boy.

There were a lot of things he could have said, snide comments he could have made, jokes, something to deflect, but he didn't say any of the things that initially came to mind. His brow furrowed and, very earnestly, asked-]

Why?

[Why did Dimitri care? Why did he think Kavinsky didn't deserve to be alone? Most people didn't care and he'd gotten used to that.]

[He can't entirely help being affected by it when Kavinsky says that he's not a monster. Dimitri laughs it off, his gaze sliding off to the side, a curve of his mouth in something that isn't quite a smile. There's something to how he holds himself that says he's heard it too often on other peoples' tongues. He's learned to own it too, but it's not as flawless as it is with Kavinsky. It's a sharper thing, still a little raw, still holds pieces of how cruel reality is to a boy that doesn't live in it.

Dimitri doesn't know what he's expecting Kavinsky to say, but it's not what he gets- that question of why, the way that he looks at him so earnest that he doesn't know how to misdirect or push the truth to the side. He'd stupidly thought he could do this without having to expose himself, to give away his own vulnerability.]

Selfishness, I guess. I mean-- even if I was too chickenshit to say something to you about it, I still needed you.

[He doesn't look at Kavinsky as he says it, just kicks his foot against the dirt, sighs through the smoke his cigarette leaves in the air. These are the sort of words they could cut each other with- but Dimitri at least doesn't seem inclined to use the vulnerability of the moment like a weapon. He lets his shoulders curl, and when he looks at the other boy it's a quiet thing. A look that's soft and genuine in a way he never lets most people see.

And sure, Ronan's a Dreamer too. But he has his brothers and his Gansey-- he's sure that his whole life, he's never felt what it's like to really be alone. And that's a different death than the one that ate at Dimitri. But then maybe that's why he's here and Ronan isn't.]

Without you, what am I? I'm just- alone again.

[Last time it had killed him, but he doesn't say that part out loud.]

[Kavinsky was well acquainted with thinking of yourself as a monster. No one deserved to be called one just because of what they were. Some things couldn't be changed or controlled, and what you were was one of them. Who you were was a different matter entirely, and he was much more willing to judge people based on it.]

You need me?

[He was about to ask 'why' again when Dimitri continued. Oh. Being alone and not wanting to be alone was something that resonated with him. It was--it was why he was so determined to bend Ronan to his side, why his rejection hurt so much. Maybe Ronan didn't need to be around another dreamer but Kavinsky did. He was a freak of nature, he didn't know where he came from, what had caused him to be born the way he was, and he just... he was so tired of being alone. So tired he could feel it in his bones.

He'd struggled for so many years with the feeling, grappled with depression that stemmed from it. He felt alone even when he was surrounded by people, in the middle of a party, in the middle of class. He only felt like he wasn't really alone in certain moments. Sharing a bed with Prokopenko or the rest of his boys, racing with Ronan, dreaming with Ronan...doing anything with the other dreamer, really. More than that, Ronan had made him feel alive. But Ronan wasn't here right now and Dimitri was.

There was something intimate about their vulnerability, the fact that either of them could easily ruin the moment with sharp words. Kavinsky didn't like feeling vulnerable, but he was already raw, almost to his core. Ronan had hurt him, left him feeling unbalanced.

Fuck it.]

Let's not be alone, then. You and me, we could be... fuck.

[He pushed a hand under his sunglasses, pressing his fingers against one eye while he sucked in a breath.]

Stick with me, you'll never have to be alone again.

[He didn't know exactly what he was suggesting. Some sort of friendship, some kind of bond. He wasn't sure if Dimitri needed to be pulled under his wing, if he was as damaged as the rest of Kavinsky's boys were, but... The offer was there, if Dimitri wanted to take it. There was only one drawback, besides the fact Kavinsky didn't handle rejection well; he didn't accept social breakups. If you were in, you were in for the long haul.]

[The truth is this: every fiber of him wants to say fuck it all and just tell Kavinsky yes, tell him just how much he needs it. But it's vulnerable in a way that makes it harder than it should be.

And Dimitri isn't a person particularly predisposed to the truth anyway, and this is a difficult thing. Eli had burned him in ways that he tried his best not to think about, not to focus on. He knows what it's like to love a boy like that and be left raw, cut apart in the aftermath -- because he still is. But he doesn't know how to put that into words, to prevent it from seeming like he's just giving Kavinsky the setup for something about how he doesn't know him.

He's not sure he could get his feet back after something like that.

The easy thing here, would be to just pounce on the sex joke implicit in how Kavinsky curses halfway through his line about how they could be something. But that would wreck the possibilities here, and Dimitri isn't willing to do that, even when it's tempting to just laugh it off. But it's in his eyes how much he wants it. Not that he hadn't had friends back in NYC, that he didn't have acquaintances at Aglionby that could be called friendly. But-- it wasn't the same. It wasn't enough.

He shifts, more overtly leaning in against the car's window so that he can look at Kavinsky properly, despite the other boy's sunglasses. Dimitri's body language becoming something less casual, not like halfway feigned disinterest. More honest, more something raw as he exhales, his breath a little rough. He was damaged, broken pieces held together with lies and a smile. But fuck, he was so alone. There was never a real possibility he'd say no.]

Never's a long time, Ioska. But yeah. If you want... fuck. If you're serious then I'm in. Might even be able to make your dreams less messy, unless you like playing rough.

I don't fuck around about this kind of shit.

[He'd made this offer only a handful of times, and only one person had ever rejected him. The other four...he might tease them and joke around and act careless, but he wouldn't give them up for the world. They were all he had and he needed them as much as they needed him. But there was always room for more, to expand the family a little. It was like the saying went; the more the merrier.

Dropping his hand away from his face, he took a deep breath. He wasn't sure his boys would be enough to pull him back from the edge this time, but maybe Dimitri could. He already knew his biggest secret, that he was a dreamer. His obsession with Lynch was only a secret if you were completely deaf and blind.

Everybody needed someone.]

Who says my dreams are messy?

[He didn't take his sunglasses off, but they'd slid down his nose far enough to let him look up at Dimitri above the rims.

He handled his dreams just fine, though he guessed keeping them on a leash wasn't always the solution to things. He controlled them to the best of his ability, made them his instead of the other way around. He had to, for his own safety and sanity. But, he wouldn't turn down ways to get better at handling his dreams, either. There'd just never been anyone who could teach him.

He couldn't stop himself from throwing in an innuendo though, smirking even if it didn't reach his eyes.]

But I always play rough.

Okay. Then I'll stay.

[He doesn't say it like it's an easy thing, but like he means it, a quiet sort of earnestness as he looks at the other boy like there's an always in there somewhere.

It's not like it's a hard choice for him to make, anyway. Not with Kavinsky of all people. And he really was lonely, had been always different, kept apart from most people by how he saw the world. Elijah had been the first time he'd really thought that someone might want him like that, but maybe he should have known better. The only person so far that seemed to be able to enjoy his company on a consistent basis was his younger sister, which didn't say much. But Kavinsky was- the first. When he'd still been figuring it out himself. Just once but he remembered him.

He doesn't blame him. Not for Ronan, and not for anything else. And Dimitri was mostly a dream these days, and he'd always spoken the language better than Elijah. He couldn't bring them back like a Dreamer could, but he understood how it worked, how things fit together in ways that the other boy hadn't seemed to understand until he'd started to show him. The things he brings back are the feeling of the dream itself.

He imagines its similar for Kavinsky-- although he's far better than Elijah had been when they'd met.

He can't help smiling, something that's almost suggestive, almost a tease that he doesn't actually say outloud when Kavinsky says that he always plays rough. It's the sort of banter that he enjoys, even if the mood isn't quite right. But more than that, he doesn't want to get pulled away from the question that he wants to ask.]

I can find you in your dreams, if you want me to. Do it together.

[He's learned to ask permission, even if he figures Kavinsky might be less worried about those sort of particulars than Elijah had been.]

Good.

[He couldn't say, exactly, what it meant to him, especially here and now, in the aftermath of Ronan's rejection. It meant more than he would have thought and it gave him someone to latch onto instead of the abyss of anger and loneliness in his chest. All he wanted-- all he'd ever wanted-- was to have someone like him at his side. He wanted to not feel alone no matter how many parties he went to. No matter how many boys slept in his bed with him.]

I'll make sure you don't regret it.

[Pushing his sunglasses back up, he regarded Dimitri for a moment. He'd never shared his dreams with anyone before. He wasn't even sure he could, but the idea alone was enough to spark his curiosity, to have him feeling something besides bitterness.]

You can do that?

[He hesitated for a moment. He wasn't worried about someone else in his head, seeing his darkest secrets or potentially endangering themselves so much as he was... he didn't know, actually. He felt some sort of way about it but couldn't quite pin it down.]

I've never been able to share this with anyone.

[Ronan was the first time he'd tried, and they both knew how that had gone.]

Yeah, I can. When it's you- I'll show you, if you want to let me in.

[He says it like it's not a big deal, a shrug of his shoulders. Like the question doesn't mean anything more than whether Kavinsky is going to let him into the Mitsubishi or leave him with his hip leaning against the body frame, watching Kavinsky through the window. But his voice is soft, and there's that bit where he trips on his words. This matters, but there's that hint that more than that, it matters that it's Kavinsky.

Dimitri understands that desire to have someone like you at your side, because it was a desire he'd had ever since he realized that he was different. That he was alone. And then he'd found a Dreamer in a dream accidentally, and he'd realized that there were others, people that might understand.

Elijah had seemed like everything he needed, but he was-- scared, angry, still fighting himself. Dimitri liked playing with fire enough to think they could work it out, but that had ended in one fucking carwreck after another.

But now he was here.

And Kavinsky-- he didn't know. Maybe it was that he sort of thought that neither of them could afford to push someone away like that again. They both wanted the same thing, didn't they? That K had already held his hand out and not flinched when he said yes.

And Dimitri wanted to show him that it could be better than Ronan. Prove to himself that the world wasn't totally fucked. That there was more than just the boy that had walked away from him, too.]

I can't bring things back. But in dreams- I can make worlds.

[Maybe it should sound like bragging, but instead it's almost tentative, more of a confession. A truth that says how painful reality can be.]

Let you in what, my head or my car?

[One option was a lot less daunting than the other. He knew his head could be a fucked up place, though he'd worked hard to make it as less dangerous as possible, so he could dream without being assaulted with the things that hated him. There was a reason his dreamscape before moving here was a neighborhood on fire. Before the forest had become his other dreamscape.

Speaking of cars and letting people in though, Kavinsky clocked what Dimitri said about making worlds, but also gestured for him to move before opening the car door. If he didn't move in time, he'd just have to deal with getting smacked. Kavinsky cared little about that as he slid out. The backseat would be more comfortable, more shadowed, too.

The cars were parked close enough together that he used that as an excuse to press Dimitri up against the side of the car as he reached for the back door handle. He wasn't even trying to make Dimitri uncomfortable; he was just gauging his reaction, how he handled Kavinsky in his personal space, nearly chest to chest.

Pulling the door open a little, he said-]

Get in. And then you can tell me more about making worlds.

Whichever you're comfortable with.

[Which he means honestly, even if his tone is just a touch teasing. Dimitri is still a shitty teenage boy and he doesn't know how to care about someone else's comfort without making it at least a little bit of a joke. But he knew that dreams weren't always pleasant, knew that nightmares didn't always follow the rules, so he wasn't going to push. Especially after the mess the other boy had been through with Ronan.

But then Kavinsky is stepping out of the car, and Dimitri manages to get out of the way of the car door- but only just barely. He grins sharply, but then he was pushing him up against the side of the car as he reached for the door to the backseat and the smooth assurance fractured, betrays his longing for a moment. He couldn't help it, not with the proximity, the way that they're almost chest to chest, and he leans into it just a touch. It's just a moment where his eyes linger on the way his collarbone shows under the collar of his shirt, on his mouth- then he gets his shit together and he smirks when Kavinsky tells him to get in.

Under normal circumstances he would probably have made a sly comment about the backseat of K's car. But since he'd just flustered and was pretty sure Kavinsky had caught it, Dimitri was pretty sure it would be at his own expense. So he just slides into the backseat without a snarky comment to say about it.

He's been trying to pretend he had better reasons for trying to catch him than jealousy. Which he did. But it didn't mean that he wasn't.]

[Oh. He saw how Dimitri reacted when he had him pressed up against the car. It was the kind of thing that made Kavinsky want to kiss him. He couldn't say he didn't usually kiss people he barely knew because he usually did, but... This probably had more to do with being lonely and recently rejected than anything else. Though Dimitri was easy on the eyes and he'd just told Kavinsky he could enter his dreams. He was just desperate not to be alone, to have someone he could really connect with.

After Dimitri was in the backseat, Kavinsky slid in with him, crowding against him a little, bumping his knee against the other boy's because he still had no concept of personal space. He left the door hanging open for now, slouching down and leaning his head back.]

So how do we do this? If I wanted to let you into my dreams?

[He hadn't shared a dreamspace with anyone before, and he was too relaxed and broken right now to get upset over admitting he didn't know something about dreaming. He imagined it was probably as easy as going to sleep and seeing what happened, but for a surprising change he figured it was better to ask first.]

[It runs a shiver down his spine when Kavinsky slides in after him, the other boy's body crowding in against him. Knees bumping together through the fabric of their jeans, but Dimitri isn't as obvious about it this time, at least. It wasn't quite as intimate as Kavinsky having him pressed between his body and his dreamt car, the way it made a riot of his nerves. Instead he just smiles, warm and easy as he looks him over in the contained space.]

Easy. We dream like usual, and I'll come find you.

[Really, even if Dimitri hadn't been biased toward Kavinsky in the first place, it wasn't like he was a difficult boy to be attracted to. He was gorgeous in that shadowed way that he had about him, but with something almost delicate in the line of his cheekbones that made him want to trace them with his fingertips. But those were not the sort of thoughts he wanted to bring into the dreams with them, so he tried to clear his thoughts.]

I'll show you how after.

That easy, huh?

[He shifted a bit, digging into one of his pockets for a few green pills. They didn't have anything to wash them down with, but it wouldn't be the first time he'd taken pills dry. It wouldn't be perfect and it wasn't exactly pleasant, but it would work. He eyed them for a moment, then tipped his hand towards Dimitri.]

You need a sleep aid?

[He didn't figure that everybody could fall asleep on command, but he didn't know what someone else who also dealt in dreams was capable of. He didn't want to make assumptions, just this once. He was making assumptions in other cases though, like assuming that Dimitri was attracted to him. Or maybe it was wishful thinking, after being rejected by Lynch.]

hey dickbag
is it cool if i bring some stuff over?

[The text could be innocuous, but it's the fastest that Ronan has probably ever sent messages in a row like that in his life. That slight edge of his nerves betray him, give away the hint of vulnerability. Not to mention that he brings stuff over all the time, and has probably never bothered to fucking ask about it -- if Kavinsky protested he'd probably just laugh. But it didn't matter, because everything left with him in the shark-silhouette of the BMW however many days later, when he eventually defeated the magnet of attraction. No matter if it was a small dragon or blooming plants that grew chocolate peanuts, or something else that had caught his interest -- either dreams or a joke or occasionally even something that meant something.

But the truth was that was a pain in the ass. If he stayed for more than a night, he'd end up stealing shirts and pajama pants- which was fine. The prospect of stealing Kavinsky's toothbrush or having to drive down to the corner store when all he wanted was pancakes and to look like he wasn't affected by how K looked first thing in the morning- it was a lot less charming than kissing him. He could try and dream it, but he didn't trust his own dreams to give him something so mundane. The idea of asking K to help him was fucking demeaning.

So eventually, Ronan broke down, and it looked like this: a small innocuous black bag with necessities and a few pieces of clothes. Things he could leave there. Ronan sitting on the edge of his bed, teeth scraping his lip raw. He's been letting Kavinsky pull him in closer but this was -- he didn't know. New. The sort of thing he doesn't talk about, but that he couldn't not talk about.

It felt like something concrete, like a choice. Something concrete. He knows Declan would disagree, but it doesn't feel like he's making the wrong choice.]

[The fact Ronan was asking made Kavinsky pause. He always brought shit with him and K never minded. Why did he suddenly have to ask? What exactly was he planning on bringing?]

yeah y wouldn't it be?

[And then, a few moments later, because Kavinsky couldn't help himself, he added;]

should I clear out a drawer for you?

[He was joking but he wasn't. Did Ronan want to make staying over a more permanent thing? Did he want... fuck, just the idea of Ronan wanting something more made Kavinsky's pulse spike. He tried to tell himself not to jump to conclusions. Maybe this was nothing and Ronan had just finally found some manners. Not that his lack of them would ever bother K--it was one of Ronan's charms.]

yeah

[Somehow, it doesn't feel like a good enough answer to the question that Kavinsky had asked, but he doesn't really know how to explain or justify it. He types and erases words a few times and bites the inside of his cheek just to repress the urge to throw his fucking phone, to throw something just to release the tension that feels like it'll explode from his ribcage. He's never done this. He doesn't know what he's fucking doing, and for as much shit as he gets from Gansey and Declan, he actually does give a shit once in a while.]

maybe just part of one?
its just a few things really

your shirts are a bit tight on me sweetheart

[Ronan had found some manners, but Kavinsky also wasn't wrong. It was tentative, a footstep into standing on the same ground, into the idea that they could be an us, two dreamer Kings, Kavinsky-and-Ronan. But the asking is nerve-wracking, and K can probably read the tension in between the lines. Even if Ronan tries to make it sound casual, for him it's anything but.]

u deserve an entire drawer doll

[Ronan deserved more than a single drawer if Kavinsky was being honest. Ronan deserved the world, the moon and stars in the sky, and a dozen other sappy things he wouldn't be inclined to say out loud. He also deserved to feel comfortable and welcome.]

yeah but they look good on u

[Ronan was right though; Kavinsky was so much skinnier than the other boy. He could easily wear Ronan's shirts but the other way around was a little harder. Not that he'd ever complain.

After a moment, he texted again-]

u could have an entire room if u wanted

[He knew the appeal was sharing a bed, a room, but he was willing to give Ronan space, too.]

ill still wear them for you if you want

[It's an easy flirtation, stealing the opening to try and lighten the tension -- at least for himself. Kavinsky seems pretty okay about the whole thing, which is actually reassuring. If he was as uncertain as Ronan, it'd probably just have exacerbated his uncertainty about asking in the first place. But he knows him well enough by now to know that smooth answers aren't always the truth.

And then Kavinsky says u could have an entire room if u wanted, and Ronan has to take a moment to catch his breath, gnawing teeth into his leather bands, just for the tactile feeling of it. Something to vent the feelings in his chest when Kavinsky wasn't actually here with him to take it. And the answer feels easy even if he struggles to wrap himself around it; easier than it should be.]

are you asking me to move in josey?

[He really was the best thief in Henrietta.

And maybe his text sounded a bit eager, but he was trying to make sure the question didn't have edges. He knew that sometimes Kavinsky backed off when Ronan flinched. So he didn't want it to sound like he was flinching. He doesn't really know how to say I still want to be in your bed when just the idea of all this nearly overwhelms him, but he thinks that the other boy knows anyway. Maybe it would be nice if the easier of Ronan's sullen storms meant retreating across the hallway, and not to the Barns.]

I like seeing u in my clothes

[Both because it was cute and sexy and because of possessive reasons. But as far as asking Ronan to move in with him went-

Was he? Was that what he was asking? It wasn't a scary thought, not really. His boys stayed over all the time and they had specific rooms they usually stayed in--when they weren't all piled into Kavinsky's room. Asking Ronan to move in or giving him a room so he could have some space of his own when he needed it...it was probably a big step. He wasn't asking Ronan to give up his own home, though--that would have been a big step. This was... it was still a step, he could admit to that much.

But it still didn't feel scary. The only scary part was worrying Ronan would back away from it. There was no pressure on the suggestion, it wasn't a make-or-break kind of thing. He hoped Ronan knew that.]

I think I am
do u want to?

yeah? i dont mind as long as youre watching

[In honesty, his reasons were about the same. There was a thrill to wearing K's clothes, even if the only reason his tee-shirts fit Ronan in the first place was because Kavinsky wore them loose on his thin frame. But they still smelled like him, felt a little like his fingertips on his skin in a way that made his face warm.

But then there was that question, and in truth- Ronan already knew the answer. It was just saying it, typing it and sending it to Kavinsky that felt difficult. Like something that he couldn't take back, even if he didn't really think that he would want to.]

fuck. yeah.
yeah, i think that i do.
long as i still get to sleep with you.

[It comes out softer than he really intends to allow, but it's too honest to take it back, so- he just leaves it like that. How much pretense can he really hang onto when they're talking about Ronan moving in with him, anyway?]

I'm always watching

[Okay, maybe that didn't quite come out the way he'd intended when he'd thought it. He didn't mean for it to sound stalker-y, just...how could he not watch Ronan when they were together? He was breathtaking.

He'd been half-worried Ronan would pull away from the subject, change his mind--if he'd made it up in the first place--or just...say he didn't want to. But Kavinsky felt warm as he read Ronan's reply.]

of course, sweetheart
sleep in my bed
have ur own room when u need or want it

[He just...he wanted Ronan to feel welcome and know that he deserved his own space, to know that Kavinsky was willing to give him his space when he needed it.]

yeah?
if you like watching
then maybe ill wear one of your shirts for you later

[He didn't mind giving Kavinsky an excuse to watch him, after all. And yeah, maybe it had come out a bit stalker-ish, but Ronan was in a good mood and didn't mind being kind enough to run with his intention.. in part because teasing him about it seemed like it would be more fun if he saved it for later.

And, well- there's something about the text that Kavinsky sends next that disarms him. He can't help feeling not just welcome, but wanted, and it warms him inside out. He swallows for a moment, smiling in part because he knows that Kavinsky can't see it.]

id like that a lot.
ill bring some stuff with me
and we can see how long it takes you to get sick of me

[More things than he'd originally planned on. Including probably a raven; not just things to stay overnight but like their lives might really fit together. He didn't know how to say how much he wanted that, but it's in between the lines of that almost-joke about Kavinsky getting sick of him.]

maybe u could give me a show too

[Wink, nudge. Trust Kavinsky to be able to make any moment perverted. But to be fair it'd already been leaning that way anyway. Or had it just been cute? Either way, he'd seen an opportunity and he'd taken it.]

sounds good
I doubt I'll get sick of u

[He couldn't say the same about Ronan getting sick of him though. It was always something he worried about.]

maybe if you say pretty please

[Whether things had been leaning towards cute or filthy was a matter of interpretation, and things were comfortable enough that Ronan didn't mind when Kavinsky started to push things in that direction. He didn't even really mind the fact that he was looking for a strip tease -- he didn't think he'd be particularly good at it, but he trusted him to appreciate it anyway.]

youre gonna have to put up with me for a while then

[Ronan hasn't shaken that part worried about pushing people away- even people like K, like Jiang and Skov and the rest of his boys.]

[Oh, he was talking about a different kind of show, but he'd accept a striptease, too. It'd be endearing if nothing else. And hot even if Ronan was bad at it.]

I don't say please for anybody
except maybe for u

[He'd probably make an exception for Ronan. Good thing he had some time to think about it and wrestle with the matter before he faced the other boy.]

I'll do better than put up with u

[With Ronan around, the house might actually feel like a home. Kavinsky might feel like he wasn't alone for a change.]

youre gonna make me feel all special

[Ronan wasn't thinking quite so explicit- at least not yet- but it wasn't like there was much he wouldn't do if Kavinsky actually did ask for it. He was half-teasing, though; he could probably get Ronan to play along even without saying please.]

yeah? be still my heart.

[It's flippant, but the truth is that the reassurance means more than Ronan really knows how to own up to in the moment. But- he wants it. He wants... he wants all the stupid shit. He wants a place where Kavinsky feels like he really has a home, a place that wont be as empty for Ronan as the Barns. The familiarity means a lot to him, but he misses the stories, the barefoot mornings, the constant sound of other peoples' lives close enough to touch his own.

He wants to admit that he loves a boy and wants that boy to touch him without feeling guilty. But he's still working on it.]

do u usually not feel special?

[If the answer was 'no', Kavinsky was going to have a lot of work ahead of him. He usually didn't care if someone felt special or not, even if they were special to him, but it was different with Ronan. Ronan deserved everything good.]

might be the only time ur heart gets a break
I plan on giving it a workout

just with you usually

[It's honest, almost shockingly so. That flicker of vulnerability, but somehow after talking about moving in, and coming to terms with the fact that he was one of Kavinsky's boys, it didn't feel like as much of a stretch. Letting Kavinsky in beyond the pretense and bravado to the softer spaces.]

yeah?
could maybe use the workout

[This time he gets the implication, but he's in a good mood, so he's willing to flirt in response. And he means it, even if the translation is more like could maybe use your hands on me.]

[That was...sad. Ronan should have more people in his life who made him feel special. He was special, and not just because of what he was. Kavinsky'd always thought he was, even before he'd found out he was a dreamer.]

if I'm the only one I guess I've gotta work harder

[So that Ronan would, hopefully, feel special with him all the time. He deserved it.]

uh-huh
stick around and u'll be in gr8 shape

well can't say I mind when you spoil me

[Maybe it was sad.

Kavinsky was different from Gansey, made him feel-- he still didn't quite know how to put it into words. But he made his chest feel light, made him feel alive, almost electric. Special.

Sometimes he even felt that way just hanging out with the other boys, Jiang and Skov and Swan and even Proko. Not that he didn't want to help Gansey find his King, but it had never mattered to him the way it did the others. He didn't need the favor, didn't need anyone to prove to him that magic was real. He had wanted to find Glendower because Gansey wanted it, and there was something charming about following him. But Kavinsky was--

This was what Ronan needed.]

yeah?
well let me finish getting my stuff together and then you can prove it

and maybe I'll put on that show for you

good
cause I like spoiling you

[It was his love language. He might have been shitty about expressing himself with words sometimes, but giving people things? He could do that easily and expect nothing in return except affection.]

okay
I'll be waiting

I wont let you get too impatient

[And it doesn't take Ronan too long to finish getting his things together, although the drive from Singer Falls back to Henrietta feels like it takes forever this time, and his fingers are twitchy on the steering wheel. He brings Chainsaw, and her cage, because if he's planning to stay for a while he's not leaving her alone at the Barns, even if he knows she's smart enough to be okay.

She'd be bored though, and angry at him when he got back. And who knows what trouble she'd cause just to make sure he knew she was cross.

Thus, she comes with him. Even if he's a little horrified at the thought of her picking up Kavinsky's language. He'll just pray she's curious enough about the new surroundings to avoid any interest in his colorful phrases. He hasn't caught her attempting Gansey's excelsior or anything, so he might be lucky.

So he parks the BMW, and then he's knocking on the door with what's clearly an overnight bag, a raven on his shoulders, and her cage sitting on the front steps by his feet. His heart raced in his chest.]

[Kavinsky wasted time around the house until Ronan was at the front door. At some point or another, he got bored but it was more or less entirely forgotten about as soon as he opened the door. Leaning against the doorframe, barefoot and dressed in old, slightly ratty clothes, he grinned.]

Hey, good looking.

[Opening the door wider, he stepped to the side to make room. He almost asked if Ronan needed help with anything, but it didn't look like he had much and he did have two hands.]

[After ghosting Kavinsky for the better part of a week, the first contact he gets is this:]

ive kidnapped skov & swan
& were gonna have a party without you

hope youre prepared to pay ransom
else im not giving them back

[It's a good sign, even if it is an odd way to say hey ive missed you. But the sentiment is there, behind the threat that's a joke and true all at the same time. Kavinsky can probably tell that he's certainly high.

But it means that Ronan is with Skov and Swan, by his own choice, and apparently enjoying their company enough that it somehow has him in a pleasant mood. Enough so that he actually texted Kavinsky first without provocation, in what might be a brand new turn for their relationship. Ronan's mood always skews dark when he stays away, which usually means he's sharp as a blade when he slides back to Kavinsky's side. Even after their worst fights, eventually he's so miserable he can't help himself, can't keep denying what he wants. So he ends up responding when the other boy baits him with cars or drinks or the prospect of something on fire.

Ronan's even polite enough to pull this when there's still an hour or so before the earliest of party-goers starts showing up for Kavinsky's revelries. Although, that's probably just fortune rather than Ronan developing a sudden affliction of good behavior.

He isn't seem at all inclined to admit to what it was that scared him off in the first place. But that's just Ronan; no matter the day or the hour. He never acknowledges it without pressure, without some clever application of charm. It's easier for them both to just let it fade away into the night. Just accept that he's as mercurial as Irish weather, but that he always finds his way back.]

[Kavinsky went through a couple of emotions upon first reading Ronan's text. First was surprise--Ronan never texted him out of the blue without some kind of push. Next was confusion over the idea of Ronan willingly hanging out with Skov and Swan--maybe he should have had Skov wedge his way into Ronan's life in the first place. He'd always had a gentler touch than Kavinsky, though not as gentle as Jiang. Last came amusement. It was startlingly easy to imagine the three of them somewhere, getting high and having a good time. Kavinsky almost felt jealous that he wasn't there.]

thank fuck
it's about time someone kidnapped Skov
you can keep him
just remember to take him for walks

[Ronan wasn't the only one who had to deal with Kavinsky's dog jokes.]

what do I have to do to get Swan back?

sorry its a package deal
if you want swan you gotta take skov
im not enough of a dick to split them up like that
cmon

[In honesty, he sort of wants Kavinsky to be there with them, but doesn't quite know how to put that into words, even when he's high. Maybe especially because he's high. ]

and why dont you surprise me?
something thatll make me smile.

damn
I guess I'll take Skov too if I've gotta

[He knew Skov would be offended by the joke, even if he was just as important to Kavinsky as any of his boys were, but that'd never stopped him before.]

first, r u coming to my party tonite?
I cud drop off something before then
wherever ur at

dont lie
you care about him like the rest of your boys

[The tone is lighter than it might have been on another night. Kinder, maybe. Maybe it was understanding that he was one of Kavinsky's boys too, even if the tone was a little bit different.]

i was planning on it yeah
and if youre gonna stop by
maybe ill even let you give me a ride

[He sends him the location, and tries to not seem too enthusiastic about it. He doesn't say that this is a certain sort of gift, but it is.]

u got me there

[He could still remember when they'd practically been kids, when Swan had introduced him to Skov. Some memories stuck out more than others, like Skov puking in the hall of the mansion, but there were good things, too.]

sounds like a date

[He was teasing but also he wasn't. He and his boys ride shared all the time, especially if one of them was planning on getting really fucked up and needed a more responsible driver. As if any of them could be called responsible.

But the important part was, he had a present for Ronan and he was already on his way out the door. He just hoped it wasn't too...romantic? Sappy? It was easier when his gifts were hats or scars or almost gag gifts like dildos. This was something a little more serious.]

[The gps ping he left for Kavinsky leads to the sort of place you probably wouldn't associate with Ronan Lynch. Which is to say, it's the sort of place that Ronan did his best to keep people from associating with him. A small country road just outside Henrietta, shaded by sleepy trees, leading to a strange little farm with a house and various oddly-shaped barns that dotted the too vibrant hills. Niall's sleeping fairy cows in one of the paddocks, and the gravel driveway where Ronan's BMW and Swan's VW Golf currently sat.

There's a small bonfire and loud music and what is probably the shadow of three boys and too many bottles in a not-too-distant field.

This is Ronan's home. But more than that, it's a dreamer's home. There's no hundred white Mitsubishi's, but Kavinsky of all people can probably pick up on the secrets left in plain sight, tell that this is a little like his dreaming field. By the time he parks his car, Ronan's there with a soft sort of smile, holding a beer bottle out in offer.]

Took you long enough. You drive under the speed limit and everything?

[Which translated for his particular vocabulary, says something like I missed you.]

[Kavinsky wasn't expecting the Barns. He didn't know what, exactly, he had been expecting. Maybe something like Monmouth. Something more industrial. This was...homely, comfortable. Suddenly, he felt a little better about the surprise he'd brought with him; it'd fit in just fine here.

He looked pained at the mere suggestion that he'd driven under the speed limit, though.]

Does that sound like something I'd do?

[He took the beer all the same though, circling around to the passenger side and popping open the door. From the seat, he picked up a small rose bush. It looked mostly normal, except the roses themselves were as black as night. There was one or two in bloom and the others were furled buds. It had thorns, of course; they were large and noticeable. The whole thing looked like it'd been dumped in a pot and then had more dirt packed around it, like either it'd been dug up or hadn't been in the ground to start with. It was healthy though; Kavinsky was sure of it.]

You like plants, right?

[Potted rose in one hand and beer in the other, he nudged the car door closed with his hip.]

[Ronan laughs it off as Kavinsky looks pained at the easy ribbing about how slow he may or may not have been driving. Mostly it was just because otherwise he sounded too needy, like he wanted the other boy more than he knew how to put into words, even if he was getting better. Learning to let his walls down a little and let Kavinsky and his boys in.

He wasn't expecting the roses, though, and that catches him a little off-guard. Affects him a little bit as he can tell that they're something more than real -- they're black as night, and blooming against green leaves, with obvious thorns. It looked like a real rosebush, not like something dyed or engineered, but like they bloomed like that. And he knew how Kavinsky had done it, of course, but it was still... It was for him, and it caught his breath in his throat for a moment, and he shook his head a little bit wryly at the question.]

Fuck, K. Yeah, yeah I do. C'mon- bring it in the house and I'll find a place for it. I'm sure Swan and Skov can find a way to entertain themselves for a while.

[There's a vaguely suggestive curl of his voice that says that he has an idea of just how they might manage that, but not like he particularly objects. It's just a rosebush, but at the same time, it's more than that. It's something that says Kavinsky sees more of Ronan than he thought he allowed for. He leans in close for a moment, almost like an embrace but not quite- tugging against his shirt with a soft sort of urging.]

Great.

[Because he didn't know what the hell else he would've done with this rose bush. He handled it gingerly, bandaids on a few of his fingers saying he'd learned the hard way how sharp the thorns were. Potting it had been a little bit of a fight, but maybe that just made it all the more perfect for Ronan.

He glanced in the direction of the distant fire, snorting in amusement.]

Give them any sort of time to themselves and they'll find entertainment.

[Or even with an audience. He knew Skov might have had shame at one point but didn't anymore. Besides, this place was kind of...romantic.

His hands were occupied, carefully balancing the rose in one and holding the beer in the other, but that didn't stop him from leaning in quick to kiss Ronan on the cheek. Because he could and he didn't think Ronan was going to object.]

[Ronan wasn't blind to the parallel, to the fact that he had thorns too, that he tended to bite as well, when Kavinsky wasn't careful. He loved the flowers anyway, though. More than himself, it reminded him of the other dreamer, of the fact that he cared enough, thought of Ronan like this to dream them for him.]

Well, I guess they can have that for a little while, anyway.

[He grins, a little bit wicked at Kavinsky's teasing about his friends. He hums softly as the other boy leans in and kisses him on the cheek, a soft affection about him for a moment that he doesn't give to most people. He pauses for just a moment, almost wants to stop and kiss him properly- but he doesn't want to risk what might happen to the rose blooms.

So he leads Kavinsky into the house, a crooked sort of smile as he opens the door and steps inside. It's clearly the place where Ronan grew up, but it also clearly is the house of a dreamer. It's luxury but with a worn sort of comfort to it, the sort of place to grow up with brothers and a dreamt fairy-bride mother. Ronan didn't know how to bare his heart in words, but as far as gestures went, this was pretty close.]

My room is just down the hall.

[There was a weight to this place, somehow-- that even empty of his parents and brothers, there was something about the Barns that was like another piece of his childhood. They did not talk about the dreams, and yet they were hidden in plain sight; so ubiquitous that Ronan hadn't known the difference. Or maybe it was just that he'd always been a bit oblivious.]

[They would have plenty of time to kiss; Kavinsky was sure of it. Either here or later at his party. For now, he was content to follow Ronan into the house, sipping his beer as they went. Ronan's house was the kind of place that made you feel bad about wearing your shoes inside. Not because it was particularly spotless or anything, but because it had that barefoot-mornings kind of feel to it.

It was homier than any place Kavinsky had ever lived. He felt envious, maybe a little jealous, but he didn't say a word about it. He just kept his shoes on and followed Ronan.

It was just the two of them inside and his hands were full, but he'd never wanted to hug Ronan more.]

What was it like? Growing up here?

It was...

[It was a harder question to answer than Ronan had really anticipated, so he's quiet for a moment as he leads the way into his bedroom. There's a plant in the window, although it's more pedestrian. At first glance, at least- until you notice that instead of flowers it offers chocolate-covered peanuts. Also dreamt, of course. If anything it just speaks to how well Kavinsky's black rosebush fits him.]

Growing up here, this was a place-- I didn't think I needed anything else.

[He takes the rosebush from Kavinsky, moving his plant with its chocolate peanuts to his desk, next to a model car, so he could put it by the window. He stroked a finger carefully against one of the blooms, still taken with the gift as he turns to look at Kavinsky. His blue eyes warmer than usual, tinged with affection as he looks at the other boy.

He crosses to him so he can lean in, not quite kissing him but promising it in the air between them. The way the distance between them is almost magnetic. But instead he brushes fingertips against his jaw, letting his fingers linger.]

I was wrong, though.

[If anything, he was amused by the sight of the plant and its chocolate-covered peanuts. He wondered how many other things were dreamt, as he looked around Ronan's bedroom. It felt intimate being here, but not in a sexual sort of way, more like-- like a vulnerability. It was exactly the opposite of Kavinsky inviting anyone into his home.

Glad to have a free hand when Ronan took the rosebush, Kavinsky combed his fingers through his hair, looking around again. Quickly, his attention returned to the other boy, and he swore he was going to kiss him. But he didn't. They were close enough that Kavinsky could have taken the kiss himself, but he paused.]

You're lucky. I've never felt that way about any place I've grown up in.

[There was so much of the Barns that was a dream. Sometimes Ronan wondered if the buildings themselves had been sprung from his father's head. They probably had. There was something about having Kavinsky here, about having the other boys here.

He ghosts a kiss against his mouth with a low sigh and a touch of a smile.]

I know. And that's fucked. But.. this is a place for dreams and dreamers.

[He wasn't asking him to move in; wouldn't take him away from his kingdom, from his parties to live out in the fields and trees. Couldn't take him away from the rest of his pack. But he couldn't look at him and not feel like Kavinsky belonged here, or could- if he wanted to. A place where they could dream, where they could fill the barns and fields with wonders.

Although he felt sort of like the way Kavinsky made him feel was a wonder all its own.]

[Kavinsky chased Ronan's mouth, giving him a proper kiss before making a thoughtful noise.]

Does that mean I'm welcome here?

[He didn't mean just today, because of course he was welcome right now, but. If he wanted to visit in the future, if he wanted to spend time here... Just the idea made him feel- not quite nostalgic, because that would imply he'd been in a place that felt like home before, but more like belonging. If this was a place for dreams and dreamers, if Ronan made him welcome...then maybe he did belong here.]

What if I want to surprise you some time, just show up?

[Or spend the night, maybe. That sounded nice, too.]

[Elijah might come off as sharp and uninterested in the people around him, but it was more complicated than that. So when the 4th of July party went to Hell, he wasn't one of the people just standing there like a moron, praying it was all a trick. And he'd watched a boy die in flames not too long before, and like fuck was he going to do it again.

Somehow a dragon made of flames and a car crash that had been all wrong didn't seem so different, really.

He didn't get there in time to help, having to fight his way through the crowd, and by the time that he made it to the white Mitsubishi, Skov had already dragged the boy down. So he did what he could- offered a couple pills and a silver flask that looked like the sort half the boys at Aglionby hid in their lockers. But it tasted like warmth, like sunsets, something that healed you from the inside out. It tasted like dreams. It was enough to make the sort of questions the paramedics asked about fire safety and not what the fuck happened here? It was enough to make sure that Kavinsky was okay, whether or not he really wanted to be.

And then he vanished back into the crowd, growling something about take care of him yeah? to Skov before he walked away. Elijah had no interest in sticking around to see what the authorities made of it all. Last time he'd punched a cop, and he didn't have any friends here that could quiet that sort of thing.

It's still summer, so there's no easy way to track him down, find his face in classes, his name on the dorm list. Even the flask he left behind doesn't have his initials on it like most Aglionby assholes, instead it just bears a Latin quote:

"Extraneus hic ego sum
quia non intellegor ulli."

Which translates to I am a stranger here, because I don't understand anyone, a variant on Ovid, for anyone that's kept up on their classes. Instead, the first time they actually meet is at Kavinsky's substance party -- his first after the shitfest of the 4th. Elijah is a couple drinks in, bruised knuckles from a scuffle that wasn't quite a fight, his brown eyes still a little red-rimmed from the joint he'd smoked at the beginning of the night. He seems to hold it well, though: not his first time, surely.

He isn't the sort of boy that's good at making friends, but he slips between the clusters of people, hangs out for a while. The alcohol and the drugs help, makes it a little less obvious that he's different, makes him a little less cruel. But he still has to duck away with the excuse of finding another drink or something when he boils too hot, wants to punch people in the face because they've spent the last twenty fucking minutes talking about some reality tv bullshit. So he's standing alone by the last of a smoldering fire, kicks the embers just to see the sparks glitter red on the air.

That's when he catches a glimpse of Kavinsky sitting on the hood of the same white car he'd watched a boy haul him down off of. He doesn't walk over to him, even if he wants to, even if something skips in his chest. There's still a misery that lingers in his veins that he doesn't know how to wash off. He almost wants to leave, climb into his car and drive too fast until he remembers how to breathe. He looks away, sudden, busies himself drinking from the red plastic cup someone had pushed into his hand.

He wasn't about to get caught watching when he didn't know what the fuck to say anyway.]

[The 4th of July had been a rough night. Kavinsky wasn't sure who it was worse on; himself or Skov. He'd been rougher on Skov than he deserved considering he'd saved Kavinsky's life, but maybe K hadn't wanted to be saved. He'd only started to quiet down when the nameless boy had approached. Things had been less rough after that, somehow. The worst part had been when Kavinsky went to look for him to talk to him, he was nowhere around. All he'd been left with was the flask--he held onto it for the moment when he'd see the boy again.

Kavinsky withdrew into himself for days after the 4th, wallowing in his misery, only coaxed out of it by his boys. They weren't always gentle with their coaxing, but it worked out in the end. Eventually, he started to feel like himself again, enough where he felt like throwing another party. He tried to tell himself he didn't care if he ever spoke to Lynch again, but that was a lie. Kavinsky had almost died because of him, or maybe it was K's fault and not Lynch's. It was a lot easier to blame someone else instead of himself for a change, though. It lifted a little of the weight off his shoulders.

He still wasn't quite one-hundred-percent when his substance party rolled around, but getting high helped. Anything that kicked him out of his head even a little made dealing with shit easier. He still wore his sunglasses even though it was night, but that didn't stop him from thinking he recognized someone. He could have been wrong, but he hadn't stopped thinking about the contents of the abandoned flask since that night. It wasn't normal, and he'd consumed enough dreams to know one when he encountered it. He was grasping at straws, hoping to not be let down again because he didn't think he'd be able to handle it-

Sliding down off the hood of his car, he made his way over to the boy at the nearly burned-out fire. The closer he got, the more certain he was that he was right. His pulse picked up a little, and he took a deep breath when he stopped a few feet from the other boy, exhaling on a sigh.]

I don't think I got your name before.

[He knew he hadn't, but he didn't want to frame it in an accusatory way for a change. He was rough around the edges, sure, but he also remembered how this boy had fled after helping. Kavinsky didn't want him to feel like he had to run again before he got some answers.]

[There's a tension in his body at first, but when he turns to face the other boy and recognizes his face despite the sunglasses, he relaxes. His mouth curling into an uneven sort of smile as he looks him over- more or less in one piece, as far as he can tell. The realization that he's actually glad this boy is some sort of okay is a strange sort of feeling, one he doesn't want to put into words, even if he knew how.

So he just shrugs his shoulders, drags fingers through his hair as he looks up to meet the other boy's eyes. Eli's are green, but a little too bright given the low light of summer night- how he's lit only by fading embers and the distant flare of headlights.]

Elijah. I'm glad you're still breathing.

[There's something a touch awkward to how he says it- like he half expects Kavinsky to mock him for saying it, and chooses to voice the words anyway. He doesn't know if the other boy needs to hear it, but- there are a lot of things he didn't say before whatever the fuck it was that happened to Dimitri on New Years.

Of course, Dimitri wouldn't have pulled a fucking fire dragon from his dreams, or the strange white horror of wings and claws it had been fighting with. No, nightmares that slipped from his dreams were distinctly Elijah's sort of problem. He'd say that's why he'd been drawn to help that night on the 4th, but in truth it was more basic than that. It was just-- he'd needed to do something, to not be helpless this time. To change it when it looked like things were going to shit.]

You're Kavinsky, right? Everyone here says your name.

[Depending on how much attention the dreamer had been paying to the strange boy in the leather jacket amidst the chaos of the 4th of July, Kavinsky might notice that most of Elijah's tattoos are different this time. Except for the sword hilt on his wrist.]

[He didn't notice anything different about Elijah's tattoos, but that might have been because he was captivated by his eyes. Something didn't seem entirely right about them, but Kavinsky had seen far, far stranger things than bright eyes.]

Yeah. Thanks.

[Kavinsky had been at odds with the whole still breathing thing since the 4th, on and off, but in the end, he guessed he was glad, too. He'd come so close to throwing everything away because of a boy, someone who clearly didn't seem to need him the same way he needed someone else like him. But maybe he could still have that--not with Lynch, but. Maybe, if he played his cards right (and he usually did).]

That's me. Guess you could say I'm kind of like royalty around here.

[He grinned, just for a moment. He was like Henrietta's dark king though, his kingdom the shadows and darkness. This place wouldn't be the same without him but he also wasn't stupid enough to think that anyone would genuinely miss him--they'd just miss what he could do for them.]

Do you want your flask back? I've been holding onto it.

[And usually, when something was left with him, he kept it. Like coats left behind at a party. But this was different, and he wanted to ask about more than just the flask. He wanted to ask what was in it, why it tasted like dreams--and he knew what they tasted like. He wanted to know what Elijah was, assuming he was anything at all and not just normal and powerless.]

Whatever's in it's got a kick.

[It had been the last day before winter break, when Dimitri had realized that Kavinsky was going to be left for the holidays without most of the pack. The words you should come with me were out of his mouth before he could think better of it, but he's realized he doesn't regret them. He'd just shrugged like it wasn't a big deal, like this isn't choosing to let Kavinsky in closer than he's let anyone else.

He warned his mother he's bringing company, but mostly just so that she could get being a bitch about it out of her system beforehand. His sister is almost as excited to meet one of his friends as she is to know what her presents are going to be.

And having Kavinsky along actually helps out, since it means they don't take his Mustang. Six hours isn't bad, but Dimitri drives a red, second-hand Mustang not overly fond of the winter months. And he's not about to complain about being in the passenger seat when it's Kavinsky. But the fact that he's attracted to K isn't any sort of secret, even if he hasn't specifically said it in words- just in dreams.

Although calling it attraction is starting to feel like underselling it.]

Thanks for coming with me. Christmas isn't usually my favorite holiday.

[He didn't usually go home with anybody for Christmas, except the year he'd gone with Prokopenko. Usually, he went with his mom up to Jersey to visit his father, but that never ended well. Having plans meant he didn't need to worry about his own shitty family. It meant he didn't have to hang around the mansion alone either while his mom went out to Jersey by herself, if he declined to go. It meant...he had someone he actually liked to share it with.

Glancing over, he patted Dimitri on the knee, hand lingering for a moment.]

I'm just glad you invited me in the first place.

[Which was his way of saying thanks.]

What happened with you and Christmas?

[True, it wasn't one of Kavinsky's favorite holidays either, but that was only because people were usually busy visiting their friends and loved ones and less interested in getting blackout drunk or high out of their minds at a party. Which meant it was usually just him. Alone.]

[When Kavinsky trails fingers against his tattoo it isn't in a dream. It's a touch mapping out the shifting edges of shapes that are dreams and aren't curled in black ink.

Ronan flinches, burning as he arches into his touch with a choked sound and heat in his veins. He still leaves, but not before he kisses him, desperate and aching and fingers sliding into his hair. Ronan's knees hitching to his hips on the hood of the car as they press chest-to-chest. Wasted on dreams, on desire. Staying is still impossible.

But coming back isn't.

So he still leaves. Still ghosts him for a few days to get his fucking head on straight. But it's not cruel as it could be, even if it's a messy thing. Kavinsky isn't the only boy that catches his eye, and Ronan doesn't really know how to handle the ways that they bleed into one another in his dreams. Adam also isn't oblivious the way Gansey tends to be, so Ronan doesn't think that his struggles or his attractions are as invisible as he wishes they were.

Ronan doesn't mean to be selfish. He hasn't kissed Adam, but there was a moment with the two of them standing in Cabeswater where he could feel his pulse racing in his throat, feel his face heat. It felt like an almost. He feels like he ought to say something to Kavinsky, but that would mean talking about what the kissing means in the first place.

He really doesn't mean to be selfish. But he's looking at Adam and the words you should come with me are off his mouth before he thinks better of it. Because Adam hadn't believed he could beat Kavinsky in a streetrace -- and clearly that's the sort of thing that needs proof.

Or maybe Adam realizes its Ronan's clumsy way of trying to invite him into his world and not just Gansey's. A world that includes Kavinsky, for better or worse.

So there's a car race.

And then in the aftermath there's three boys; two drinking beers and Ronan trying to decide if this is a good night or not. Or if he's one wrong word from being strangled to death by both of the boys he likes.]

[Kavinsky couldn't help but wonder who the third wheel was supposed to be. Was it him or Adam? Had Ronan kissed Adam too or was it just him? Not that Kavinsky had kissed Adam, ever, but- The thought was there, sometimes, but not as real as the day Ronan had kissed him. It had felt like a dream, like something better than a dream, and then Ronan had fucking ghosted him. Because of course, he had. But things didn't end as poorly as they could have, and now here they were.

He couldn't remember ever saying more than two words to Adam and he wasn't exactly making too much of an effort right now, but he wasn't ignoring him, either. He just...didn't know what to say without being a jerk, though that was sort of his default setting. And then, out of nowhere-]

So have you kissed Parrish too, or just me?

[It was a good thing Adam hadn't been drinking anything (he wasn't a fan of beer or any other alcohol, really) because if he had he likely would have choked on it.]

Excuse me?

[He defaulted to polite when he was caught off guard, Henrietta accent slipping out a little stronger than usual. He hadn't known-- he hadn't thought-- Ronan and Kavinsky? That was something difficult to wrap his head around and yet not that difficult at all, at the same time. They were more alike than most people, especially Gansey, seemed to realize. It wasn't even that they were opposites, they were- it made Adam feel some sort of way if he thought about it too hard.

So instead, he turned inquisitive eyes to Ronan. Not accusing, just questioning. What was going on?]

[Suddenly Ronan realizes that having K and Adam both punch him had apparently been an optimistic view of the situation. Jesus.]

Fuck K, you can be an ass, you know that?

[But Ronan's tone is annoyed and not furious, which it easily could have been. His face is flushed with heat at being confronted with the fact that he's attracted to both of them, pink against his cheeks by the firelight.

He's not outright angry about it, mostly based on the fact that Adam hasn't left. Somehow he doesn't seem outright upset at him, or like Ronan had done something wrong just by the suggestion that he might have kissed Kavinsky. And the truth is that Ronan hadn't known how to approach the subject with either of them. How was he supposed to try and ask the question, or admit to how he felt about them? So even if Kavinsky's question was frustratingly blunt, it at least got it out on the air in a way that Ronan would have never managed if left to his own devices.

He sighs, dragging a hand against the stubble of his shaved head as he looks to Kavinsky, and then back at Adam. He'd never thought that he'd be this sort of boy- but this isn't like Declan's cheap and transient girlfriends. He'd meant it when he kissed Kavinsky, and Adam was- he wanted him. They both meant something. He cared, fucked as that was.]

I kissed Kavinsky. I mean, despite appearances, he can be charming when he thinks no one will notice. But I.. I wanted to kiss you the other day. I just didn't know if that would fuck everything.

[He looks at Kavinsky at the last sentiment- because that's what he means, of course. That he didn't want to ruin whatever it was they'd started. Shifting uncomfortably, his shoulders drawn up in his discomfort, and he slugs back the last of his beer with a snarl of temper on his mouth. But he doesn't walk away, and his eyes slip between them, hopeful but worried he's doing everything wrong.

God help him. He doesn't know how to talk about this shit. But he refrains from saying that outloud since he'd pretty sure both of them are aware of that about Ronan.]

[Kavinsky tried to hide a smirk behind his beer bottle but wasn't very successful.]

Someone had to say it.

[And knowing Ronan, he could have danced around the subject for ages. He was also a little touched when Ronan said he could be charming, though he didn't show it. He didn't know what Ronan saw in Adam--they weren't friends, K didn't know much about him--beyond the physical. Adam had a nice everything. In a different lifetime, from the little that Kavinsky knew of him, he thought they could have been friends.

Adam, on the other hand, was conflicted. There was a little voice in his head that was already telling him he was second best, second choice to Kavinsky, of all people. He was always second best, never anyone's first choice. He tried to push that voice down, drown it out among better thoughts.

Thoughts like Ronan wants me, which made him blush when he gave it real consideration, the tips of his ears going pink. He didn't think anyone had ever wanted him before, romantically. And Ronan could probably have whoever he wanted--if they could put up with him--but he wanted Adam--and Kavinsky.]

I don't know...

[It was all very sudden, thanks to K, but was it really though? If Adam thought about it hard enough, hadn't he noticed the way Ronan had been looking at him? It was different than friendship, it was... He swallowed.]

I can play well with others. [Kavinsky said, by which he meant he could let go of his jealousy when it came to Ronan and other people, if Ronan really wanted both of them. It wasn't like Kavinsky hadn't shared before, but that was arguably different.

Adam took a deep breath, scrubbing his fingers through his hair, wrinkle between his eyebrows as he frowned.]

What do you want? Besides kissing?

[He had to know the shape of this thing, no assumptions, before he could start to decide what he thought about it. Did Ronan really want him--them--as his boyfriend(s), or did he just- Adam took another breath.]

[Ronan stays quiet at first, more than a little tense when Adam says that he doesn't know- but the last thing that he wants to do is to push. Surprisingly, it's Kavinsky who almost seems to try and reassure him. He's grateful for it, since at the moment Ronan hardly has the words to even try and express how he feels about all of this. And he knows that it would be easy for him to use this to put distance between Ronan and Adam, and he isn't.

He still struggles a little bit when Adam asks him what he wants. But he takes a breath, and looks at the other boy. Looks at him like he wants him, like he's not hiding it- even if he's never been particularly good at it.]

I want- all of it. It just felt.. selfish and greedy, and I didn't know if I was allowed to want it. But I want more than kissing. I want to watch you when you're studying and make you laugh and- I dunno, man. All of it.

[He wants to care about him, to keep him safe... to go see a movie he doesn't actually care about just for the opportunity to make out in a dark theater. He wants to be someone that Adam can let himself trust. He frowns and scuffs his one of his boots into the gravel, awkward and a little uncertain, his face still flushed.

Ronan meets Adam's eyes, and then looks at Kavinsky- like he can say in a look that he wants that with him, too. Checking to make sure that this is okay, that he isn't saying the wrong fucking thing. Part of why he hadn't said anything, hadn't kissed him, hadn't tried was that he was scared he'd fuck it up.

He thought that both boys were easy to want, even if they both hid it. Kavinsky behind sharp edges and Adam with invisibility. But once you really looked, you were fucked. Or at least Ronan was.]

[Adam's stomach twisted, or maybe it was a flutter, like butterflies. He didn't think anyone had ever looked at him the way Ronan was looking at him right now. Had he been looking at him like that before? Had Adam just not realized? He swallowed.

It wasn't just a physical attraction, it was more than that. Ronan wanted a proper relationship. The idea made Adam's cheeks heat again. But could he share him with Kavinsky? He already had been, in a way, hadn't he? He'd been sharing Ronan's time with the other boy, maybe he could share his love, too--if it was love.]

I didn't know you were a romantic, man. [Kavinsky said.

But it was sweet. Ronan was sweet. He wasn't just all sharp edges and hard fists and venom. There was more to him than that. There was more to Kavinsky, too, and he desperately wanted to show Ronan. He didn't want to scare Adam away, either, mostly for Ronan's sake.

Tentatively, Adam moved closer to Ronan, reaching out to gently slide his hand in the other boy's.]

And you're sure you want us both?

[He wasn't doubting Ronan, exactly. It was more like he was doubting himself. What did he have to offer compared to Kavinsky? Not that he thought Kavinsky was better than him, but Adam was...plain and boring where the other boy was loud and wild and handsome.]

[Ronan had always tried to avoid looking at Adam like this- like he wanted him, but like it was more than that. Like his feelings were bigger than desire, a fire in his chest, eating him on the inside. The worse truth, was that his feelings for Kavinsky weren't really all that different. He hasn't quite said the word love to himself just yet, but that doesn't mean it isn't what he feels.

He flushes and shrugs his shoulders a little bit sheepishly when Kavinsky says he didn't know he was a romantic. He tries to make it careless, like it doesn't matter- but then he hesitates, curses on an exhale of breath. Venom was easier. This-- this was hard. But he's trying. With both of these boys that he can't resist.]

Fuck, I just.. I dunno, man. I always thought you'd laugh if I filled your car with roses or that sort of stupid shit.

[It was maybe an exaggeration, but the point was there, buried in the words- Kavinsky didn't seem like the romantic type, either. And the idea of having the other boy laugh at him for expressing how he felt was a horror worse than the ones from his dreams. He didn't know if Kavinsky wanted him without his sharp edges, if he wanted the soft affection that went with kisses against the Mitsubishi. But Adam- Adam seemed to accept the worst of him because he knew that Ronan was more than that.

So here he was, admitting that he was softer than he seemed, even a romantic. It steadies him from how off-balance he feels as Adam slides his hand into his own, and he curls his fingers against him, although it sets his heart racing. Almost overwhelmed, aching with want, and equally terrified. Not that he'd ever admit that outloud. But Ronan knew what a mess he was, how he was better at breaking things than anything else. But he swallows, nodding at the question, squeezing Adam's hand slightly- like he's proving to himself this is real.]

Yeah. I mean- if I could choose I would. But I can't help it. I- you're both important to me.

[He looks at Adam with that same intensity of before, wanting without his walls up.]

You don't have to fill my car with them. Just give me a couple. I wouldn't laugh.

[No one had given him flowers before, probably because most people thought receiving flowers was for girls and that guys needed manlier things. Kavinsky was pretty fond of roses, though. Flowers in general, though he'd never admitted it. Was this an admission right now? Besides, who said roses couldn't be manly? With or without thorns.

Adam's heart fluttered. There was a lump in his throat. He kept having to remind himself that Ronan was choosing both of them, not one over the other, and that meant they were equally important to him. Adam was equal. He didn't usually feel that way. He usually felt like he was less than other people, a fake, a liar. He always worried someone would see right through him and now where he'd come from. But Ronan already knew and he was still standing here saying he wanted him.

He glanced over at Kavinsky, then back at Ronan.]

You are choosing. You're choosing both of us and that still counts.

[Maybe somebody else would have called Ronan greedy but Adam thought- maybe a relationship didn't always have to be just two people. Maybe it could be more. If the three of them didn't tear each other apart, at least.]

I like flowers, too.

[Adam's Henrietta accent crept out into his words; he was feeling a little shy, a little unsure. But he was doing his best to be open and honest about all of this--and accepting. He had a chance with Ronan and he didn't want to lose that.

He glanced at Kavinsky again.]

I'm- I'm okay with this if you are.

[Kavinsky considered it for a moment and then shrugged. Would he get jealous at some point or another? Probably. Would he get over it eventually? Also probably. Was he already wondering if he could lure Adam Parrish into bed with him someday? Most definitely.]

Yeah, sure.

[Maybe that didn't sound as enthusiastic as he intended it to- let him try again. After a second, he added-]

I've wanted Ronan for a long time. [For a lot of reasons, in a lot of different ways. Both sexually and nonsexually.] I'm not just- I can't just walk away.

[He was trying to say that he cared about Ronan too much to just up and leave. He wanted him, a chance at an actual relationship.]

[Torn between want and fear, Ronan doesn't bring back Gansey's Camaro, perfect as memory. All he brings back is a pair of white sunglasses, clutched in his fingers. He swallows, tries not to think of what it means, if Kavinsky can read what Ronan was dreaming.

Once he has his body back, once he can move his fingers again, he unfolds them and with a sly smile that's full of razors, Ronan slides them onto the bridge of his nose. His heart pounding in his chest, leaning into the other boy's space, grinning something wicked, kicking his legs playfully. Wouldn't take much to be close enough to kiss, and Ronan can't help being painfully aware of it.

But he doesn't say it.]

Now we can both look like douchebags.

[What do you want, Ronan Lynch?

Knowing was almost worse. He almost wanted to punch Kavinsky just to prove something to himself or whatever God was watching. But maybe God didn't care, or didn't matter. And maybe that was okay because he did. Care. Kavinsky might be a Bulgarian Jersey Trash piece of shit, but Ronan cared about him, wanted him in every way he'd been trying to convince himself he didn't want anyone. Or at least not other boys.

Running feels too much like cowardice so he stays. Instead he laughs, shoves against K's bare chest in a way that could almost have been starting a fight if they weren't too close for comfort, a cocktail of sweat and cocaine and wanting. Two boys topless on the sizzling hood of a car under the summer's morning light, with the same stupid fucking sunglasses.]

[Kavinsky eyed him for a long moment, considering Ronan and then the sunglasses. They were even better than his previous attempt at them, he thought, but that wasn't what Ronan was supposed to be dreaming.]

Good job, man.

[He said slowly, reaching out to flick his fingertips against the side of Ronan's sunglasses. He was more or less unfazed by the shove, was instead much more interested in how close the other boy was. Kavinsky leaned in closer, nearly nose-to-nose with Ronan as he smirked.]

What the fuck are you doing dreaming about me?

[It was a tease and a taunt and a challenge all in one. Ronan was supposed to be dreaming Gansey's balls back for him, but apparently dreaming K's sunglasses was more important. Or more enticing, either way. Of course, Kavinsky also liked to believe the sunglasses weren't just fashionable, they were functional, too. The light hurt when he was high; wearing them had become a habit, even when he was sober.]

[They were better than his last attempt; more attentive, even the tint was the right shade. But they were not what he was supposed to be bringing back from his dreams, and they both knew it. What do you want? There was something about Kavinsky's approval that made him shiver despite the warmth of the day, and the humidity that would be drowning by mid-afternoon.

He doesn't flinch when the other boy's fingers brush against the side of his dreamt shades. Kavinsky needling against the proximity that Ronan had started, almost nose-to-nose, and his heartbeat skips, twists in his chest. His pulse is racing, rabbit-fast in his veins. But he looks at the other boy like he's steady, eye to eye through the sunglasses. He laughs like it's something sharp at the question, a flash of teeth that settles into a curve of his lips that looks shockingly like a smile.]

I don't know, man. Fuck you.

[But it's not a tone meant to cut. They're so close it feels like he almost has to kiss him, like the pull is magnetic- he can't escape the draw. He hovers on the edge. And then he falls, closing the slight gap between them. Clumsily pressing their mouths together so lightly it might be a dream. Conflicted and caught in this senseless attraction, but he lets the touch linger, offering something he doesn't have words for.

It almost feels too soft, too drenched in longing to be real. But they never kiss in his dreams, not even with Kavinsky's hands on his skin so hot that it leaves him feeling molten when he wakes. But it has that same feeling- being sharper and brighter and more than the real world has to offer.]

[Kavinsky had been two seconds away from saying something like don't tempt me or only in my dreams when Ronan kissed him. He went completely still for a moment, surprise and hope flaring through him. All of the times he'd dreamed about the other boy, touching, kissing, fucking--he'd never thought any of them would really become reality. He wanted more than just the physical things though, he wanted to not be alone, to have Ronan at his side.

As dream-like as the moment felt, he knew he had to be awake right now because Ronan kissed him way more gently than he ever did in Kavinsky's dreams. It made his heart stutter.

Without hesitation, he reached up to grab onto Ronan's shoulder, fingers pressing against his skin, and kissed him back. He took care not to be too aggressive, but he clearly knew what he was doing. He wanted to kiss Ronan forever, to make out until their mouths were sore, but he drew back after a moment or two-]

I guess we've been dreaming the same things.

[Ronan gasped softly against the other boy's mouth as he touched him, kissing him back. Kavinsky was good at it, even if he didn't kiss Ronan nearly as hard as he'd imagined. Somehow, the way they kissed like this, almost sweetly- it felt real. Dream-like only for how he hadn't dared to believe that this was something that he could have.

His skin felt hot, like he was burning, and not because of the heat or the sunlight, or anything except the boy he was pressed against. Ronan didn't know how to want someone in pieces, how to have restraint when it came to feeling things. He wouldn't have kissed him if he didn't want everything. He wanted it all, but K had never seemed... Ronan hadn't either, if he's being fair. Not in fucking Henrietta, Virginia. Not when it would mean being vulnerable.

He'd half expected Kavinsky to punch him, somehow. The fact that he wanted him was almost more difficult. But he doesn't pull away, just leans into the pressure of K's fingers against his shoulder. His voice is soft, almost fond.]

Yeah, it seems like it.

[He pulls back, but lest Kavinsky think that Ronan's pulling away from him, he just takes his dreamt sunglasses off, folding them and setting them on the hood of the car, before flicking his fingertips against the temple of K's shades, a slight hint of laughter to his voice.]

I'm not fucking making out with you with your shades on, asshole.

[Which was a way of saying- Ronan would kiss him again. If he wanted to. He just wanted to see his eyes when he did it.]

[Ugh. He would have gladly made out with his sunglasses on, mostly because he was high and the light was bright, but- there wasn't much he wouldn't suffer through for Ronan.]

Gonna make me suffer for the pleasure of kissing you, huh?

[It sounded more like a joke than like he really minded. And really, he didn't mind that much. Even if he squinted after he took off his sunglasses, setting them to the side.

His fingers drifted across Ronan's shoulder, up the side of his neck, to brush along the back of his head. His touch was almost feather-light, and not because he was worried about breaking Ronan. More like he was worried about spooking him and sending him running. He didn't want to ruin this moment.

He leaned in closer-]

Lucky for you, you're worth it.

[-and then kissed Ronan again.]

Just a little.

[Ronan grins, leaning in a little bit in anticipation. Fuck but he's beautiful. It makes his heartbeat hitch just to look at him, just thinking about-- And then he shivers with the way that Kavinsky's fingers trail from his shoulders up against his neck. It's feather-light, gentle in a way that makes his skin feel hyperaware of the contact.

Ronan reaches up to brush fingers against the side of Kavinsky's face, looking into his eyes. Touching just because he can, just because he doesn't have to hide it anymore. He's not running, even if his heart races in his chest and he knows there are all sorts of reasons why this is a bad idea.

But he's tipsy on beer and dreams and the proximity of the other boy. And he just doesn't care.

He flushes a little when Kavinsky tells him that he's worth it. And then the other dreamer kisses him, and Ronan kisses him back without hesitation. It's not as soft and sweet as the first time, it's want-want-want, even if he's not as good at it as K is, there's heat and enthusiasm. And Ronan is a fast learner.

But for the moment he just gives Kavinsky everything that he can, fingers curling into the short strands of his hair, his other hand splaying against the side of his ribs, clinging with all the desperation he's been hiding behind fists and clenched teeth and venom.]

[Kavinsky didn't give a single flying fuck how good or bad Ronan was at kissing. Inexperience was endearing in this case and he would gladly teach the other boy through practice. Really, it would just be an excuse to kiss even more.

He wanted more than kissing, and for a change he didn't mean sex, though he wanted that, too. He wanted to be able to call Ronan his, to know that even if they fought or Ronan ghosted him or whatever, he'd still have the other boy. At the same time, he was a little afraid that Ronan might not want that, that this was just kissing in the heat of the moment, figuratively and literally.]

I want you- [Kavinsky murmured in between kisses.] As in- [Not how Ronan would probably take it. It was easy to default to sex when Kavinsky was that kind of person, but.] -I want you to be my boyfriend.

[He'd never had a boyfriend before, not really, but he wanted Ronan more than he wanted to live. He needed him like he needed to breathe. And maybe he was in love but he was keeping that card close to his chest for now. He was sure talking about something like that would scare Ronan away.]

[Aidan was not the sort of boy that attended K's substance parties.

Except here he was on a Friday night, his old Toyota Corolla parked far away from the scene of the disaster he was about to walk into. Aidan didn't want someone to mistake it for another pile of junk to set on fire; it wasn't like he could afford another.

He doesn't really have street clothes, so he sticks out from the boys in everything from fishnets to tee-shirts. He's in a subtly striped button-down, rolled up to the elbows, and unbuttoned at the throat. But his hair is gelled back, and he looks more or less like any other Aglionby boy, if a bit over-dressed. He probably could have borrowed something if he'd asked someone. But if he were to talk to any of his friends, he would have had to admit to where he was going, talk about his mother or Elijah, and he doesn't want to do any of that. He doesn't know what he does want, either- not really.

Maybe he wants to see something burn.

The only thing out of place about him is that his knuckles are bruised and scabbed over. He'd found a construction site with a block of cement slats and punched them until they broke, but it just left him feeling empty, not better. He did manage not to break his hands, though. Aidan's a broken boy, alone and hurting, and this might not be someplace that he belongs, but it's .. something, at least. It feels less awful than doing his homework or trying to figure out his magic by himself on a Friday night.

Elijah is off at one of Dimitri's gatherings of his questionable friends, and Iris has her ghost-girlfriend, and so Aidan is just-- alone. So he comes here, instead. Not like he hadn't heard the rumors before. So when Kavinsky had told him to come at the end of their shared math class he'd said maybe, for some reason he still doesn't really understand.

He hadn't known if he'd do it or not.

But he ends up here once he got in his car, almost without really thinking about it. So now he's trying to keep the leather of his shoes out of the spilled beer and possibly more questionable drying liquids on the fields of the neglected fairgrounds. They almost seem to glitter under the summer heat and the bonfires. He sees Kavinsky on the hood of his car, and he walks over, hooking his thumbs into his pockets.]

You throw quite the party.

[It took him a second to recognize Aidan, but Kavinsky was pretty good with faces. Especially when he'd personally invited someone to one of his parties. He grinned, tipping his sunglasses down his nose a little as he looked the other boy up and down. He was a little overdressed for a party, but Kavinsky didn't really care about what people wore. He cared about the attitudes they brought and that they had fun.

Sitting up from where he was lounging, beer bottle in hand, he scooted over a little and patted the empty space next to him on the hood.]

It's one of my specialties.

[He knew what made a party fun. He knew what people wanted to see and do. He knew what he wanted out of a party. They were always more fun when something exploded or at least caught fire.

This guy though--Kavinsky couldn't tell if he was having fun or not. He planned on finding out. It was a good excuse to talk to him instead of 'you're hot'.]

Are you having a good time?

[Aidan's face flushes a little at the way that the other boy looks him over, eyes sliding up and down his body like he's worth looking at. He can't help wondering if Kavinsky can see through him. If out of his carefully pressed uniform he's transparent, backlit by bonfires and decadence, if it gives him away as just middle class nothing. But instead the other boy sits and pats a space next to him on the hood of the car.

Aidan hesitates for a moment, but no- Kavinsky's intentions are pretty clear, so he carefully climbs up onto the hood of the car, taking a seat next to the other boy. Legs pulled up so he can gently brace his heels on the bumper, hands braced behind him to keep his fingers from fidgeting. He tries not to sit too close, but their shoulders brush just a little as he settles next to the other boy. It's impossible not to realize that Kavinsky is fiercely attractive, but somehow it feels worse when they're this close, so he looks out at the other faces, the flames.

Aidan is all fire and light himself, so while he's never been to one of these before-- well, there's something about the bonfires, the pulse of the music. They have similar tastes, even if few people would expect it from Aidan. But then people are always shocked when his temper flares and he punches them in the face, too.

He hums thoughtfully at the question, a slight tilt of his head as he looks at Kavinsky.]

Well, I just got here. But I figure it's definitely better than if I'd stayed home.

[He's not sure if there's a way to admit he'd never been to something like this before that didn't make him sound sad.]

[Kavinsky had no real concept of personal space, so he didn't mind how close Aidan sat to him. In fact, he leaned over a little to nudge him with his shoulder after he spoke.]

I'm glad you decided to show. A party's always better than staying at home.

[Especially if it was one of Kavinsky's parties. But also if Aidan had just gotten here, that meant he hadn't had anything to drink yet. That would change if Kavinsky had anything to say about it.]

Do you want a drink? I could get one for you.

[By which he meant he could get someone else to get it, but that was close enough. Drinking was more or less a party staple, even if someone had driven here. Drugs were an added bonus, but he wouldn't press that subject.]

[Ronan isn't alone when he brings Gansey the Camaro.

There's Henrietta's dark king, all sharp grin and white-rimmed sunglasses. Gansey bristles, but it's hard not to soften a little when Ronan admits that Kavinsky had helped him dream back his Camaro. Hard not to flush a little thinking about the fact that he was forever acquainted with what the other boy's dick looked like, too. He palmed a hand across his face and then busied himself trailing his hands against the lines of the Pig, like he was either looking for a fault, or just reacquainting himself with his car.

It had been a mistake to leave it at all. He should have known better, truly.

So it comes out that K is a dreamer too. And Gansey tells him about Cabeswater. Ronan's afraid that it's the dreaming that's eating at it, but it's Adam and Persephone that bring the ley line back to life. It sizzles back into being, powerful as a tidal wave, in the middle of the night on the 4th of July.

But Gansey and Kavinsky aren't friends.

He's just- he's someone that happens to show up at Monmouth on occasion. That comes with them to Cabeswater on occasion. That Gansey has even allowed to ride in the Pig once or twice. That he has had painful conversations with Declan about. So he supposes they're more than acquaintances. And he's come to accept that the other boy isn't nearly as soulless as he had assumed. He was dangerously handsome when he wasn't being horrible, and his aversion to wearing a shirt in the summer months while Gansey sweltered in his polo shirts didn't help him avoid that awareness.

Of course, the truth had always been that his cruelty was a mask over his jealousy. The fact that Kavinsky could steal Ronan's attention, seemed capable of offering him something that Gansey couldn't got under his skin, made him want to push him out of Ronan's life. He didn't quite understand how he'd ended up tangled in Gansey's, too.

Except Kavinsky isn't the reason that Monmouth is empty.

It's one in the morning- just before Halloween- and Monmouth is empty because Ronan is spending the weekend at a little apartment above St. Agnes. And Gansey, best-friend to both boys, has to smile about it. Kavinsky might have misjudged Ronan's affections, but he hadn't misjudged Gansey. Not even his model Henrietta holds his attention tonight. He'd had a crush on him when Niall had died -- how could you be close to Ronan and not be a little in love with him? But Ronan had needed a friend, a brother, needed him to be anything else. And so he had.

Texting Kavinsky was a mistake.

Because he ends up with him in his space, looking at Gansey like he knows why he texted him. And he doesn't like the idea that Joseph understands him better than his best-friends.]

I'm not used to being alone.

[He murmurs it like this doesn't feel like fishing for a bad idea. It does but Gansey is willing to ignore that voice for now.]

[Kavinsky shrugged, hands in his pockets. It was the only way he could keep them to himself, if he was being honest- and he usually was, which always seemed to surprise people.]

I am. It fucking sucks, doesn't it?

[He was used to it, but he hated it. It was why he surrounded himself with friends and threw so many parties. Speaking of, he had an epic one planned for Halloween. He was looking forward to it. It'd put a dent in his depression for a while, distract him from feeling utterly alone. He had another distraction right now though in the most unexpected form.

He wasn't sure what he had going on with Gansey, though he was pretty sure he'd been shunted to the side by Lynch. Which was- it was fine, it was whatever. They were still friends at least, and that was... well, it wasn't the dream, but it was enough to soothe some of the ache in his chest.]

What d'you expect me to do about it?

[He wasn't usually the guy people texted or called for company-unless it was sex-but he was almost flattered that Gansey had reached out to him. The other boy might not have been as bad as Kavinsky'd always figured he was, but he still wanted to take him down a peg or two sometimes.

He might have taken a chance to (gently) needle at Gansey, but Kavinsky was still there. He'd still answered and shown up. That was probably the most telling part, when he easily could've told Gansey to (literally) go fuck himself. He'd certainly told his boys the same thing plenty of times when he hadn't been in the mood for their bullshit.]

Yeah, it does.

[He'd say something about how K seemed like the center of everyone's attention, but Gansey of all people knows how transient that is. There's a difference between having people in your life and having people that know who you are. So he doesn't have to ask how Kavinsky can feel alone.

Whatever sort of strange not-quite-friends they were, it wasn't a dynamic where Gansey attended Kavinsky's parties. He knew about the Halloween party, of course. One of the costs of being popular, of maintaining his odd interests as something quirky and not social paraiah was knowing how to have the right conversations. But Aglionby parties weren't things Gansey indulged in, and Kavinsky's parties seemed even riskier.

But Halloween was one of his favorite holidays. The costumes, the illusion of getting out of your own skin, the mythology and mystery of All Hallows Eve, the Day of the Dead. The chill on the wind that rustled the brightly colored Virginia foliage. The prelude to the holiday season, samhain, magic. He was almost lonely enough to consider it.]

You're- company, at least. Ronan's spending the weekend with Adam and this place feels too quiet when there's no one around.

[If you hadn't seen Gansey outside of school, the Gansey of wild impossible quests and fervent dreams, favors and dead kings, it would be almost impossible to catch the touch of bitterness. It's that clipped edge of old Virginia money, instead of the exuberance of Gansey the scholar. He never would have allowed himself the luxury to his friends, but Kavinsky wasn't a friend. He was- something else.

Noah surely has enough power to be around when he wants, but even he's been scarce. Maybe it's because he knows what bothers him, or maybe there's more interesting things for him to spy on.

And the truth is that he does appreciate the fact that Kavinsky shows up. The other boy had a half dozen reasons to tell him to fuck off, to not bother with Gansey's troubles. But he's here. Gansey shifts a little awkwardly, looking a little too long at the other boy before focusing on the cover of one of his worn history books. The stack was mostly books pertaining to Glendower, but also unevenly spaced between superhero comics and what looked to be a playboy swimsuit issue he'd gotten bored of but hadn't thrown away.

It was one in the morning, so he hadn't had an idea, anything particular in mind once Kavinsky got here. Just- anything at all that wasn't leaving him kicking around in his own head, falling into the black hole in his heart. He was restless, his body all coiled energy and nothing to do with it. He doesn't say I can't sleep, but it's still true. Usually he'd sit on the floor and Ronan would wander out and they'd pass some of the hours in companionable insomnia.

Instead Kavinsky's here. Which feels risky for reasons Gansey doesn't want to consider too closely. And the other boy is dangerous and lovely, like holding a knife by the blade.]

--You any good at pool?

[He smiled at the other boy, but it wasn't his polished politician's smile, it was something ruffled and uneven and a little bit sharp. The side of him limited to these midnight hours, surely. The boy who gets all wound up in his own anxieties, that used to have to talk to Adam to unravel himself.]

[Being the center of attention wasn't the same thing as not being alone. People usually wanted him for what he could do for them, not who he was beyond that. He'd felt like no one else would really understand him until he'd found out Ronan was the same as him. And then that had...well, it hadn't fallen apart, really, but it wasn't what he'd imagined. Of course, he hadn't imagined he'd be standing here at one in the morning with Dick Gansey, either.

He lifted an eyebrow when Gansey said he was company, at least and held back an amused snort. Sometimes, it felt like they were still walking on eggshells around each other, still combating the whole 'I kind of used to hate you' thing.]

You really asked me over without any plan, didn't you.

[It was an amusing idea, but also a little- touching? It was nice to not always have a purpose for something or a span of time.

Making a thoughtful noise, he stepped over to brush his fingers along the edge of the pool table, and he'd be lying if he said he hadn't imagined bending Gansey over it at least once already.]

Yeah, I've played a little.

[He conceded after a moment, looking over at Gansey again.]

I didn't figure you as one for billiards, Dick.

[For a moment, he did his best impression of Gansey's southern accent. It wasn't too bad, actually, but was definitely exaggerated. He couldn't help having a little fun at the other boy's expense.]

[Gansey understood, even if he wasn't quite willing to say it. People at Aglionby liked him, but none of them knew who he was. They liked the idea they had of him, they liked his last name. Kavinsky had gotten in a little bit closer than that, so that even if they weren't friends, he was still-- Gansey could be more real with him than anyone else that he could call.

So despite everything else, Kavinsky was still better than the guys from Crew, or Tad Carruthers. He was something, even if Gansey couldn't have entirely explained the feeling.

He laughs a little at the question, ducking his head slightly as he drags a hand through his hair. He nods, shrugging his shoulders a touch awkwardly as he looks him in the eyes, his hazel eyes warm and almost sweet, although he looks a little self-conscious.]

Yeah, I guess I did. It's better with you here.

[He doesn't feel alone with Kavinsky. He doesn't really think about that too hard, about the fact that at some point this disaster of a boy started orbiting around their circle. Not one of Gansey's things, but more like- he doesn't quite understand it himself, honestly. Maybe they share Ronan, or maybe he's decided he doesn't mind if K steals his things once in a while as long as he gets them back. Maybe he steals a little bit of all of them, even Gansey. His attention, his focus, his time.

When K says he plays a little, that at least gives him some form of immediate plan. So he moves over to the pool table, about to reach for one of the cues, when he looks at Kavinsky instead. There's a smile, a flash of white teeth at the way he imitates his accent, and he pauses, leans his hip against the polished wood as he pulls the triangular wood rack from the table instead.]

Really? What did you figure me for, then?

[The question feels dangerous. He knows he probably wont like the answer. They've never been particularly kind to each other, after all. Although Gansey has had to admit that part of his ire with Kavinsky was really frustration with Ronan's behavior- K just made an easier target. It was easier to convince himself that the problem was someone else coercing Ronan into bad decisions and not the choices he was making.]

I'm flattered.

[He sounded casual, but he meant it. Who would've thought he'd be here, hanging out with Gansey like they were friends. He still didn't know what they were really. What was between acquaintances and friends? They didn't quite hold each other at arm's length but they didn't share all their darkest secrets, either.

Grinning, he considered the question. What did he figure Gansey did in his spare time?]

Golf. Crossword puzzles. Maybe sudoku. You know, whatever boring intellectuals are into.

[Pool, on the other hand, there were pool tables in bars. It was different than golf- and not just in all of the obvious ways.

He stalked closer, a big cat on the prowl, and pushed into Gansey's space, far too close. His voice was low when he spoke again.]

Used to think you spent your free time fucking Lynch. Or getting fucked. Guess I was wrong about that. Works out in your favor, though.

[Honestly, Kavinsky's assessment is neither entirely incorrect, nor as insulting as Gansey had expected. He'd imagined he was going to say things like knitting. Instead his words are fair instead of like he's pointedly trying to get a raise out of him.]

I don't care for golf, but it's one of the unfortunate hazards attached to my last name.

[Gansey pulls the pool balls out of the table two at a time, letting them roll against the green felt, only to go still when he realized that Kavinsky was suddenly too close- in his space, the sort of proximity that gave the air a charge, made his heart race.

Fishing for trouble, for sure.

He should step back, but he doesn't. The words that follow make him feel- he doesn't know. He probably would have been all sharp disapproval if Kavinsky wasn't so close, if the tone of his voice hadn't shifted into something that felt less like it usually had when he was tossing sexualized insults at the pair of boys.

And it's tonight, when Gansey is trying to not wallow in wanting things he can't have. So there's something like longing on his face, a little wounded, even if he tries to be less obvious about it.]

It was never like that.

[He says it softly, the words careful, but his breath still makes it easy to read what he doesn't say: it was never like that for Ronan. Gansey had wanted, ached with it, but he buries it now. Tries to make his feelings into something acceptable, to be able to support his friends, to be happy for them- and he is. He's always wanted Ronan to be happy, or at least have a chance at it.

But there's something about having Kavinsky this close, about having him invoke those old insults that probably wouldn't have bothered him nearly as much if he'd gone home and had his impossible best-friend in his arms. But it always reminded him of what they weren't.]

I'm glad he has Adam. Although I don't see how that's in my favor.

[He's courting trouble, or at least willing to chase it. He could just leave it be, walk away, but he doesn't. His hands braced against the pool table, but he doesn't flinch from having the other boy in his space, from the way his voice feels like a suggestion that heats his skin.]

[Knitting would have been a good one if he'd actually been trying to piss Gansey off. But he was trying to be- not charming, exactly, but not an outright asshole, either.]

So you have to play golf with boring rich people?

[He said, as a rich person himself, but he liked to think the last thing anyone would ever consider him was boring.

He nodded when Gansey said it was never like that, because yeah, he knew that now. Really, he'd just been jealous about how Gansey and Ronan had seemed joined at the hip, never one without the other. He'd wanted Ronan all to himself, but now- yeah, he was glad Ronan was happy, too. He still wished and hoped, but those things would probably never come true. That was okay. It was fine. He could set his sights elsewhere.

Laughing, low and amused, he reached out to trace one fingertip along the side of Gansey's face, feather-light.]

It's in your favor 'cause it means I don't want to beat your face in anymore. I'd rather do other things.

[Was it an innuendo? Absolutely. Was he gauging Gansey's reaction to it? Absolutely.]

Sometimes. And my father likes to point out that business deals are often decided on the golf course and only finalized in the boardroom.

[There's a slight shift in how he enunciates for a moment, like he's imitating his father, but it's honestly a bit too much like doing an impression of himself- hard to tell the difference if you've never met the man. But point being was that Gansey had to learn to play, even if he had little interest in it. It was one of those skills that was useful largely in saying you knew how, like playing the piano and crossword puzzles.

Kavinsky might be rich, but it had always seemed like he must have come from a different culture, a different set of expectations. A youth that didn't involve golf and learning the piano and lawn parties with boring politicians. But maybe he was wrong; he'd misjudged him before.

And then the entire conversion seems lost and unimportant, because there's that way that Kavinsky laughs, his voice low, and it sounds downright sultry. He almost thinks he's imagining it, but then the other boy traces a fingertip against his face, the lightest sort of touch. Gansey lets him, feels almost light-headed, like he'd forgotten to breathe. He doesn't pull away, doesn't ask him what he's doing. He leans into it, just a little, a flutter as he looks at the other boy.

You'd think the mention of wanting to beat his face in would ruin the moment, but it doesn't. Instead it's the ending, where he says that he'd rather do other things that Gansey finds himself fastening onto. His voice is neither icy nor overly polite when he finds his words.]

What sort of things?

[His voice sounds rough and flushed, even to his own ears, and he's glad that he's leaning against the pool table, because he feels unsteady. Maybe Kavinsky is just doing it for a laugh, but he's gorgeous, and he can't help letting it get under his skin. He's looking at him, a different sort of focus to it, the way that he lit up in the face of secrets and wonders.

Maybe it would be easy to say that Kavinsky was seducing him, but the truth was something more mutual. Because Gansey knew what he was doing when he asked the question, knew this was trouble and that he was following anyway. He wanted to, even if he hadn't quite admitted that to himself. But it was true anyway. His dark eyes were captivating, and he'd never had this sort of attention focused on him before.]

[He made a quiet noise in response to the first bit, more to just acknowledge that he'd heard Gansey because now he was much more interested in other things. Like the way Gansey had leaned into his touch. Kavinsky was cruel, but he wasn't cruel enough to lead someone on. When he was interested in someone, he was interested. Any leading on that happened was purely accidental, borne from obliviousness. He didn't expect there to be strings attached in most cases, and people were prone to catching feelings- himself included.

But this was- he was feeling Gansey out. They'd known each other for a few months by now but they didn't know each other. He couldn't say he was invested in changing that just yet, but he could be convinced to want to know the inner workings of Richard Gansey.

He leaned in a little closer- he had absolutely no concept of personal space (or rather, he did, but only when it suited him)- and said:]

I was thinking about kissing you.

[And then, well, he did kiss him. He assumed Gansey would stop him if he wasn't into it, and Kavinsky wouldn't try to force it beyond that.]

Oh.

[That's all the response his brain can muster when Kavinsky says that he's thinking about kissing him. Which notably isn't a no, it isn't a protest, or laughing it off, or any of the responses that he probably should have had when it came to the idea of Kavinsky kissing him. And even if what he says could be mistaken as a lack of interest, there's heat in his tone, in the way that he says it.

And he kisses him back.

It's a little bit shy at first, almost unsure, but he is into it. A slow sort of desire as he leans into him, reaching up to curl fingers against his shoulder. There's a helpless sort of sound in his throat, a shiver in his frame. It's not his first kiss or anything, but- it's been a long time since he's kissed anyone. Since anyone wanted to kiss him. He's tactile when you pull away the layers of the people he is for other people.

Gansey's been so alone. Partially his own fault, of course. Courting a dead Welsh King didn't imply a predisposition towards affection.]

[It was nicer kissing Gansey than he thought it would be. He'd never really like, daydreamed about it or anything- not until recently. It'd crossed his mind a few times over the last week or so, and he figured that if he was still thinking about it, it might be worth giving a try. Gansey didn't even push him away, which was an added bonus. Kavinsky thought for sure he would have, considering their history.

But no, there he was, kissing him back. And Kavinsky crowded ever closer into his space, resting his hands on his hips as he more or less pinned him against the side of the pool table. It wasn't even so much that Kavinsky was attempting to prevent his prey from fleeing but- he was very physical, tactile. He liked touching and being touched.

He didn't even try to push for more; it was a steady kiss that he let linger for a long moment before he pulled away to murmur-]

Thought you didn't like me.

[Gansey would never have thought of the fact that Kavinsky would make him breathless, but here they were.

There was something about the way that his hands pressed to Gansey's hips, pinning him up against the side of the pool table. He had no intention of fleeing, but somehow the way he held him in place got under his skin. He liked it, wanted it. It made his fingers cling to his shoulder just a little tighter, has him breathing ragged and uneven when they part.

There's a slight touch of amusement as he catches his breath in response to K's words and Gansey reaches up, looking into his eyes. And it feels different, like seeing him for the first time outside of who he was to Ronan. Seeing him like he could be someone to Gansey. He touches his fingers against his jaw, the slightest whisper of his fingertips as he skims against his skin.]

Mm. You're not as bad as I used to think.

[His voice is teasing, almost fond. But- there's a truth to it, too. Like Gansey knows he should apologize for having been an asshole, for blaming Kavinsky because it was easy. For knowing he was a drug dealer and thinking that was all he needed to hear about him. For the fact that if Ronan hadn't brought K back that he would never have bothered re-contextualizing any of it at all.

But Gansey wasn't great at apologies himself, and it seemed like the sort of conversation that just begged for him to find some way to say something careless and insulting. And he didn't want to chase him off.]

But you were always terribly attractive.

[He stroked his thumbs against Gansey's hips, smirking a little but also leaning into Gansey's touch.]

Neither are you. I thought you were a boring asshole. All full of yourself.

[And boring, had he mentioned boring? Gansey still wasn't like, a wild party boy, but he had his moments. Kavinsky was secretly fond of the way Gansey got excited about things, like Cabeswater. They might not have shared the same passions, but hearing him ramble about things was- oddly endearing. He wondered if that was the way the rest of Gansey's friends felt about it. If that was why they put up with him sometimes.

He preened a little when he was told he was attractive, and really, one could argue about not stroking his ego, but sometimes it needed a little stroke. He could be so hard on himself.]

And you've got a great mouth. And beautiful eyes.

[And nice hair that was just begging for fingers to run through it. And a neck that equally begged to be touched and kissed. He couldn't help but wonder if the rest of Gansey was as nice as the parts he could see.]

[He sort of was a boring asshole. He just- he wasn't nearly as full of himself as he seemed. As people chose to believe about him.

Gansey shivered a little at the way that Kavinsky's thumbs stroked against his hips. It was strangely intimate, but he leans into his hands, doesn't pull away even if he probably should. But he liked the way that the other boy leaned into his touch, warm against him, if not as heated as when they'd kissed. He made him feel like the recklessness in his veins wasn't really a bad idea.

Gansey knew what it was like to be hard on yourself, to seem like you were the last person on earth in need of praise. He flushes a little when K tells him he has a great mouth and beautiful eyes.]

Does that.. are you saying you might want to kiss me again?

[There's a bit of a glint in his hazel eyes as he looks up at Kavinsky, a touch of invitation to the words. Because he wants to. Normally Gansey isn't a boy that gives into things just because he wants to, that allows himself to be driven by wild desires. But-- he doesn't know. This isn't a wild party, it's just the two of them. And he's so lonely, unable to say that to either of his friends. And Kavinsky is here with him, warm and beautiful and captivating.

Hardly the first time he's noticed. Maybe not even the first time he's thought about him- kissing him, or maybe more. He hadn't thought about what he wanted when he'd asked him to come over, but the idea of spending the night making out with Joseph Kavinsky wasn't actually a bad thought at all. He wonders if he'd stay the night, if he'd dare to ask.]

[Kavinsky laughed, warm and delighted. He wasn't really the kind of person to just kiss someone once. Usually, there was a lot more involved after the floodgates had been opened. But if you'd told him a few months ago that he'd be standing here, this close to Gansey, about to kiss him again, he never would have believed it. Gansey had been- not his worst enemy, but he'd viewed him as competition, for sure.]

Yeah, Sherlock, I'm saying I want to kiss you again.

[And so he did, leaning in and pressing their mouths together. It was almost sweet- sweeter than he would have kissed if they'd been at a party or around other people. It was easier to feel like he didn't have to posture as much when he was alone with someone.]

[It had happened a few months ago. They'd run into each other at a party, which was nearly impossible in and of itself, as Gansey didn't typically attend Aglionby parties. But it was a Crew thing, and he'd mostly been hoping that he might find Ronan and be able to drag him home early before he got himself into too much trouble. But Ronan had apparently found another venue for drinking his feelings away.

Instead he'd ended up with a nearly empty red plastic cup, and Kavinsky making lewd comments. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe he was just tired of it but he'd told him to either do something about it or shut up.

Kavinsky had not shut up.
In truth, Gansey didn't think he'd really wanted him to.

He didn't let himself think of it, most of the time. Buried the awareness of it too deep for it to infect his conscious thoughts- most of the time. But it was there, behind his thoughts, it found him when he was alone. The fact that this was the year he was going to die.

So he lets the other boy kiss him. He kisses him back. And they fall into -- whatever this thing is that they have. They're not dating, not really. But they're something. It's a secret he keeps tucked away, even if he smiles when the other boy texts him. Finds excuses for long drives in the Camaro, and doesn't mention when they end up at Kavinsky's house in the suburbs.

And Gansey isn't stupid. He knows that Kavinsky is chaos incarnate. There's no way this ends that isn't messy, but Gansey lets himself believe that he can keep it together for just a little longer. It was only supposed to be a few kisses one night that no one would ever know about. But it's easy to draw it out, to give them another week, another month, until the end of the summer.

So Gansey knows this is going to explode in his face. He just can't help himself.

It's late when Gansey makes it back to the substance party, but that's the idea. When most of the party-goers have either drifted off or found a space on the ground to pass out on. He'd told Kavinsky earlier that he wouldn't be able to stop by before he left for DC, but he doesn't think he'll be able to sleep before Helen picks them up anyway.

So he's here. The Camaro parked far enough away so he doesn't have to worry about broken glass or stray flames, and he walks the rest of the way. He doesn't quite know what he's going to say, because earlier ignited a complicated cocktail of feelings that are still smoldering under his skin. Namely jealousy. He doesn't entirely know if it was Ronan, or the drunk girl that had been next to him in the car-- but Gansey was not supposed to be jealous about Joseph Kavinsky.

It was supposed to be a distraction, just a chance to feel something in case he never got the chance. But he was realizing that he cared, wished he could bring him with him to DC and laugh behind the back of every oil baron and political hopeful. He'd never ask, but he suspected Kavinsky could clean up nice, if he wanted to.

Gansey was in way over his head. He'd known Kavinsky was trouble, he just thought that trouble was limited to streetracing with Ronan. Not his heart.

Thankfully, Kavinsky is easy to pick out in a crowd, especially since it's mostly just embers. Just K and his dogs, leaning against Swan's Golf. There's a spark in Gansey's smile, still the hint of the boy from earlier. That quiet truth that if you dug deep enough there was a side to him that wasn't proper at all.]

Sorry I'm late.

[He's not sorry; and technically he's not even really late since he hadn't planned on coming at all. He just- he'd needed to see him. God, he's a mess.]

[His boys knew, of course. Or they knew sort of. They ribbed Kavinsky about the whole thing and usually, he laughed along with them. What was he doing kissing Dick Gansey? Gansey was handsome and charming in ways that Kavinsky wasn't--which wasn't to say K wasn't handsome or charming but his charm wasn't the same as Gansey's. Gansey's handsomeness seemed effortless, as if he could roll out of bed and go right about his day looking perfect. Besides that, he had a nice mouth and nice eyes. Kavinsky let his boys think it was all surface-level attraction. It was easier that way.

He was surprised to see Gansey there, but he didn't show it. He was riding a glorious high, shirtless, wearing his sunglasses no matter how late and dark it was. His heart tripped a little but he smirked, pushing away from Swan's car as Swan and Skov exchanged a look behind his back. Swan leaned in to say something in Skov's ear and the other boy started laughing. Knowing Skov right now it didn't even have to be funny; everything was funny when he was high.]

You know what they say; better late than never.

[What did it mean that Gansey had showed up? Did it mean anything at all? He knew, vaguely, what Gansey thought of him and most of it wasn't pretty. But he also had a smile that made Kavinsky want to set shit on fire. In a good way.]

You got something for me?

[It was a substance party, after all, but the only substance he was looking for right now was a kiss.]

[Gansey's eyes glitter in the dark, and he drinks in Kavinsky. He's gorgeous; slender but not delicate, all sharp lines and Gansey wants to trace his fingers where his jeans sit against his hips. Maybe he could stand to put on a little weight, but he still wears it well- he always looks sharp and beautiful. Especially now, when he looks in his element, like the dark king that everyone called him.

He couldn't help grinning for a moment just to see him like this. He knows that K's boys know, but he figures that Kavinsky wont let them ruin this. If anyone's going to pull this thing they have into the light, he figures it'll be K himself. Ronan will say something after a race and he'll be unable to resist pointing out that he's sleeping with his best-friend.

There's a hundred ways that Gansey can imagine Kavinsky throwing this in Ronan's face, or showing up to Monmouth with more than ID cards. And yet he didn't have the sense to get out first. He didn't want to. Normally it was that Gansey couldn't see the consequences until it was too late. With Kavinsky-- he just couldn't walk away, even knowing what he was walking into.]

A little something, yeah.

[He closes the distance between them, trying to not seem too eager, even if he is. Gansey slipping his index fingers into the loops of K's jeans, slowly leaning in to kiss him as he curls his hands against his hips. He lingers in it, but only for a few breaths, letting his lips graze against his jaw as he pulls back, murmuring words soft and low just for him.]

Maybe more without an audience.

[He should probably be more cautious, but- Kavinsky makes taking risks seem reasonable. And he really likes being near him, touching him, just... He likes how he makes him feel, how he quiets his thoughts for a while when they're together. Tethers him so he can just exist, just be here with the other boy. He can't help fantasizing for a moment about being able to spend the night or bring him back to Monmouth. To sleep curled up against him, or with his head in his lap, and just wake up next to this beautiful boy.

It felt hedonistic just to think of it.]

I couldn't sleep anyway, so I wanted to see you before I left.

[He says it like it's casual, and any other night he'd have believed it was, but tonight he knows better. Perhaps because of the odd way that things had started between them, but- when he's with Kavinsky he feels at his most honest. As if he doesn't need to pretend to be someone else, as if K takes who he is, not just who he can be for him. It's intoxicating, makes being greedy almost feel acceptable.]

[Kavinsky wouldn't have let any of his boys know even a little of what was going on if he didn't trust them to keep their mouths shut about it. They were good at keeping things quiet, even Jiang and Skov, who could talk about shit forever. When it came down to it, he knew he could rely on them.

He watched Gansey with a lazy grin, a little shiver running down his spine as the other boy touched him, kissed him. He made a soft noise, barely audible, and tried to chase Gansey's mouth when he pulled away. If there'd been other people watching, he would've never let himself look so desperate, but it was just his boys right now and they knew him better than anyone else.

For a brief moment, he thought of teasing him, asking if he was shy. K's boys had seen a lot worse than him fucking someone, but- maybe he didn't want them to see or know. Maybe he wanted some things to be private. Not a secret, just- not for prying eyes.

But there was more to it than that, he was sure. Gansey was more on the proper side, and as frustrating as that was sometimes, it was also endearing.]

Drive me home and we can do whatever you want.

[Or even just somewhere dark and secluded. He wouldn't be opposed to fucking around anywhere.]

How long are you going to be gone?

[The way that Kavinsky shivers, the sound that he makes- he almost lets him catch his mouth, but teases him just a little instead. He's still a little bit jealous, if he's honest.

And Gansey is sure that the boys know about K and Gansey, but there's something different about having an audience. He is a little bit proper, which he'd expected to push the other boy away at first. But Kavinsky has been accommodating and honestly rather understanding. So he likes their privacy, but also he likes having Kavinsky all to himself for a little while.

He reaches up and cups his face, smiling at him, his expression warm and a little softer than usual.]

I'll drive you home.

[Or well. At least get him to the car. Some place at least a little bit private. But it's not like it would be the first time they'd fooled around in the Camaro. No part of that car was made for comfort, but it was easy to forget that when Kavinsky wanted to make him feel good. He would take him home, of course- it just might be slightly delayed, depending on how handsy the other boy was feeling.]

Just a couple days. I almost wish I could take you with me.

[The words murmured low, a wistful sigh between them. The sort of fondness that felt like more than what they were supposed to be. But it felt impossible to try and pretend now that he knew better.]

Good.

[He smiled, not looking away from Gansey's eyes. Lynch might have been good at uncomfortable silences but he wasn't the only one who'd mastered the art of long eye contact. Except Kavinsky wasn't doing it to make Gansey uncomfortable. It was just- he had lovely eyes and eye contact was intimate.

There might not have been a single part of the Camaro that had been made for comfort, but Kavinsky could easily make Gansey forget all about that when it was just the two of them together.]

Who says you can't take me with you?

[He was teasing but also...what serious, real, valid reasons did Gansey have for not being able to take Kavinsky with him? ...Besides all of the ones he could think of off the top of his head.]

[Gansey smiled, couldn't help feeling a little bit helpless at the way that Kavinsky didn't look away from him. So he just- he reached out, catching the other boy's hand with his own, a slight tug as he started to lead him away from his boys and towards where he had parked the Camaro.

And then there was that question, and he laughs a little bit wryly, a slight tilt of his head as he looked at him. His heart doing something strange and unexpected. There were a half dozen reasons, but he was sure that they both knew what they were. So instead he focuses on the other parts of it. Lets himself- maybe both of them- pretend that they could. Traitorous and daring.]

Would you want to come? You'd have to drive up- Helen's picking me up in the helicopter, and I don't think there'd be room. And you'd have to let me see what you look like in a suit.

[He grins at that last part, shooting Kavinsky an almost filthy sort of look- the sort of thing that was just for him, that no one else had ever pulled out of him.]

[It didn't take much encouragement for Kavinsky to start following after Gansey, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

He thought about it, really thought, as they walked. It'd be boring, probably. But he'd also have near-infinite chances to make Gansey blush and try to corner him somewhere alone to fool around. The Kavinskys weren't exactly high society, but he did actually own a suit. Sure, it might have been for Halloween the previous year, but it was still a suit.]

On a scale of one to ten how boring do you think it's going to be?

[That was clearly the biggest concern and not everything else.

He smirked, a quick flash of teeth. He had a feeling showing Gansey how he looked in a suit would end up with his clothes on the floor.]

I'll have you know I clean up nice.

A ten, probably. I think it's insufferable.

[Kavinsky can probably pick up on the fact that Gansey doesn't really want to go. But getting out of it would be more complicated than Ronan would ever really understand. He couldn't just not go.]

But- you can whisper and tell me what you really think of all the rich assholes and political hopefuls.

[They're almost to the Camaro, but Gansey pauses, still holding onto his hand as he presses his other hand to his side, leaning up for a kiss.]

And I can maybe make it up to you.

[This was insane, ridiculous. There were a dozen reasons this was a terrible idea that he shouldn't even be considering- but he was. And more than just considering it, he wanted it. He wanted Kavinsky there, wanted to see him in a suit, wanted to steal a kiss behind a champagne flute just out of view. He felt warm just thinking about it.]

Yeah? You'll have to show me.

Sounds like more of a reason I should go. Insufferable shit's always better with someone you know, right?

[He could be moral support or...something. He wasn't sure he'd ever legitimately been moral support for anybody ever but there was always a first for everything.

Humming into the kiss when they paused, he brushed his fingers through Gansey's hair. The more they talked about this the more he legitimately wanted to go. Part of it was maybe just to spite people who thought poorly of him or his family, but the other part- he wanted to go to be with Gansey. He might even get to meet his parents.]

I'm sure you could. And I will. I'll show you.

Yeah. It is. Especially if it's you.

[He couldn't help grinning, almost humming in his throat with a flutter of his eyelashes as Kavinsky brushed his fingers through his hair. He'd wanted to ask him how he felt about maybe dating for real; which really meant, how he felt about Gansey telling Ronan. K's boys already knew, and they weren't the ones that he worried would take it badly. But all of a sudden it felt like they were talking seriously about K coming with him to DC, and it was so much more than he would have dreamed of asking for.

But he wanted it anyway. He pulls back from the kiss just a little, looking up into the other boy's dark eyes, leaning up eager and exuberant.]

You will? I want you to. I want- to have you there with me.

[He doesn't let go of him, doesn't pull away, just softly tugs Kavinsky with him the remaining distance to the Camaro. So he can lean back against the side of the car, pulling the other boy up against him. Really, he needed to get his keys out, get the car door open, get them inside... But that could wait a little bit longer.

He kisses him again, a pleased murmur on his mouth.]

[It was flattering to know that Gansey wanted him along, knowing that he thought K made things more tolerable. Kavinsky could be pretty intolerable himself, he knew. Most of the time, it was on purpose.

It did feel like they were talking about this seriously, when Kavinsky'd started out joking about it. But now he was imagining himself there with Gansey, imagining the other boy in a suit, charming people, being ridiculously attractive. Kavinsky never got invited to things like this; he couldn't blame people, really, but part of him still did. So what if he wouldn't even want to go most of the time? It was the principle of the thing.]

I want to be there with you.

[He could be civilized for a few days; he could do it.

He hummed into the kiss, nipping gently at Gansey's lower lip when he pulled back.]

I won't embarrass you.

[Probably.]

[Elijah gets pulled into Kavinsky's pack of dogs because he has nowhere else to go. Or well, nowhere else that he wants to go, at least. Because when he snarled at Kavinsky, all bared teeth and sharp eyes, he'd grinned. Not like he was mocking him, but like he could put up with him, like he didn't find him off-putting. Elijah moves through the world like he's ready to fight the whole room, which tends to make him a loner by default, but K doesn't seem to mind.

And slowly, it turns out that he doesn't have to be. Kavinsky can put up with him at his worst, and slowly Eli learns to let down his walls a little bit. Enough to show that there's good to go with it, too. That he isn't all anger, even if he's got it in spades. He gels with Skov and Jiang, and he likes Swan too. Proko- is strange. He doesn't know how he feels about him. Like they're sort of the same, somehow. He thinks he'd die for him. K and his boys are the only friends he needs, as far as he's concerned.

He loves cars, his family, and- maybe Kavinsky and his boys. They all seem to be made of the same stuff, in one way or another.

There's a shadow to him, something he doesn't talk about, but everyone has secrets, trauma. He races with them, shows up at K's parties, drinks and gets high with them, and that seems to be what matters.

One night, Eli puts someone on their ass for getting in K's face. Not really a fight- he just hauls the guy backwards and hits their knee so they tumble to the ground, sputtering in fury. He calls Eli just another one of K's dogs, and the dark-haired boy grins, wild and almost manic, green eyes glittering by the light of the bonfire.

Do you really think that's a fucking insult?

So of course Elijah ends up as part of the pack. It had felt almost inevitable. But, he doesn't sleep around them often, always wakes in a panic when he does. He'll stay over a couple nights, but he usually stays up, whether that's watching bootleg Saudi racing videos, or flirting, or just pressed up close to someone's side just for the proximity, the contact. But he usually ducks out before that can go far enough to really be called making out.

It's been a couple months. Long enough that he's close with the other boys, but not so close they've all spilled their heart veins, that they know each others' secrets and worst truths. Tonight he lets himself be talked into trying one of K's pills, not quite knowing what to expect from this one. It's just the boys at K's house, ostensibly there to watch movies, but Eli ends up in his bedroom as he places the pill on his tongue. It seems safe, even if he knows better than most what a fucking lie that is. But it's an easy high, soft and syrupy. He drifts, nuzzling into his side. K says something that he doesn't quite catch- probably checking Skov doesn't set the kitchen on fire- and he falls into sleep before he comes back.

But he's there at his side, next to him in his bed, when it all goes to shit.

Maybe K can tell the difference. The way that it's less like Elijah brings them back with him, and almost more like things fall out of his dreams. It sets Kavinsky's comforter on fire, along with the clothes Eli had been wearing. A pair of creatures of all wrong angles, shifting features that obeyed dream logic, not waking logic. It was all shadow and flame, turning the air to ashes. K goes for his gun, and Elijah is halfway through you can't-- because only dreams can kill a dream, when K puts a bullet through its face and it starts to crumble.

Eli had managed to peel himself out of his clothes before they burned him, so he's down to his boxers when he draws a sword from the air. After a brief scuffle he shoves it into the other one, accidentally up-ending Kavinsky's bedside table in the process. There's blood and strange bodies that even in death don't fit in the waking world- but then it's just blood and ashes. And if Kavinsky is paying attention, he might catch the moment when the sword climbs back onto Elijah's skin. Ink that trails up his fingers, curling around his wrist again, and slowly spelling out Latin words in a line up his arm that means: I will find a way or I will make one.

But standing there in plaid boxers and nothing else, it's hard to miss the scars on his chest. Surgery scars- around his nipples and the bottom edge of where they redefined his chest. They're healing well, but still recent- the scars are pink, rather than faded silver. His breathing is rough with the adrenaline, and he wants to ask ... there's so many things he wants to ask. But instead his shoulders curl in, and he deflates in a way he hasn't before, that seems like more than the dreams. Something in his body language, in how he looks at Kavinsky changes.]

Do you.. have a shirt I can borrow?

[He imagines the other boys will probably be checking in on K in a moment, and he doesn't want them to see him like this. He should ask about the gun, about the fact that K killed a dream like he'd done it before, but the terror clawing in his heart feels more pressing- that the only boys he'd thought of as his friends won't see him for who he is.]

[It'd been a while since he'd had to shoot a dream, but not as long as he would've liked. There was always a chance he would pull something awful from his own dreams, a dragon or a horror amalgamation that needed to be disposed of before something terrible happened. But this hadn't been his dream.

His room was something of a wreck now, but he didn't really care. Everything in it was just a thing; he could replace or fix them. People were more important, and both himself and Elijah seemed unharmed. He wasn't looking at the mess though; he was looking at Elijah. At his scars, at the tattoos on his arms, the way the sword melted back into his skin. He had so many questions; he didn't know where to start. But there was a more pressing matter to take care of first.

Nodding, he put the gun down on the top of the dresser.]

Yeah.

[He opened a drawer, rifled through the contents, and pulled out an old band t-shirt, worn and soft, and held it out to Elijah.

He couldn't help but stare again, gaze flickering to his tattoos, particularly the Latin bit. Latin wasn't his best subject, but he thought he got the gist. He couldn't get the thought out of his head; Elijah was magic. He was magic. And Kavinsky might never have found out if this accident hadn't happened. He assumed it was an accident, at least. Unless Elijah had wanted to kill him with a fire and horrible creatures. He doubted it, though. It was a complicated way to kill someone; easier to just put a bullet in their head or something.]

Thanks for ruining my bed.

[But his tone was surprisingly light, more teasing than accusing.]

[Really, Elijah is just glad that Kavinsky is okay. Even if it means that he knows what he is on so many layers, he'd rather have that than have the boy get hurt, have to face him, have to face Skov and the others and tell them it was his fault. So as exposed and naked as he feels-- he knows it's not the worst way this night could have gone.

There's something about the way that Kavinsky stares at him. He looks at the scars, sure, but largely his attention seems to be on his tattoos, the ink- dreams- on his skin. He's not looking at him like he's- less. Like he might be different from the boy that had fallen asleep in his bed, but not in a way that means scorn or rejection. The very thought of it- that K might know and not hate him for it makes his throat feel tight, his heart race unevenly.

There was a reason he'd transferred after the surgery. So far away that no one knew who he was. A boy's academy so no one would question it. It had been a mess to get all his documents in order, but his father had lawyers for things like that. They handled the court orders, and the polite and not-so-polite requests to update his name and gender on all the records that Aglionby had needed. Just a boy, just another rich asshole.

He takes the tee-shirt, murmuring a quiet thanks as he does, rubbing his fingers against the soft fabric for a moment and then awkwardly pulling it on over his head. He wants to curl up in a ball, or maybe curl up in K's lap, but he tries to look like he's okay, even if he isn't. He feels small standing there in a tee-shirt and boxers in the ruins of K's room, his heart racing.]

You needed a bigger bed anyway- this just gives you an excuse.

[It's clearly supposed to be a joke, or maybe a vague sort of flirtation, but his voice doesn't quite carry it. Uneasy, unsure, and he swallows awkwardly. There's an I'm sorry there between the words, but Elijah doesn't know how to say it outloud when he already feels so undone.]

This is why I don't sleep.

[His voice turning softer, but more honest as he says it with a sigh, rubbing a hand through his sleep-messy hair. Which is clearly an excellent solution to the problem. The fear and the sleeplessness making his dreams more prone to horrors when he finally gives in, making him less able to control what happens to his dreams when he wakes. But he was alone with his dreams, unable to control them, and he didn't know how to handle it any better.]

I'll just have to get a king, then.

[As big a fucking bed as possible. He managed a little smile. He wasn't upset about the bed or the mess. He was glad they were both in one piece. Things could have ended disastrously. They could have burned to death or been murdered or any other number of terrible things.

He wanted to reach out and touch Elijah, to reassure him, but he wasn't sure if he should. Normally, he never cared about invading someone else's space, but- Elijah was different. Not just because of the dreams but because he mattered to Kavinsky.]

I can help. You don't have to be afraid.

[And he knew what it was like to be afraid to sleep, to worry about what horrors you were going to pull with you. It'd been years and years since he'd really had to worry, but things still happened from time to time, even now. There was a reason he kept a gun close by, and it wasn't just because he worried about burglars or other nefarious situations.

But it wasn't healthy to not sleep and it wasn't like avoiding it had ever done any good. Things were just worse when you did sleep.]

You should. Big enough to fit everyone.

[K smiles, and Elijah manages to echo it. He wants to reach out and touch him, wants to reassure himself that the other boy is still here, still breathing and real and alive, but he doesn't want to imply that he needs it. So he resists the urge.

At least until Kavinsky says that he can help, that Eli doesn't have to be afraid- like he knows anyway. Like he doesn't judge him for it. His heartbeat feels erratic against his ribs, and he looks him over, a little bit flushed as he scrubs a hand over his face. Fuck. Fuck everything.]

I don't have to be afraid.. about the dreams, or- everything?

[It's a soft question, saying the thing he can't quite bring himself to put into words. He thinks it's maybe okay, though. Kavinsky isn't acting like he's an imposter, like he'd lied to him by acting like he's a boy. But he just- he needs to know.

Interestingly, even down to his boxers, Elijah's silhouette is still more masculine; the soft plaid fabric doesn't sit entirely flat against his body. It looks like there's something in his pants, anyway. And there is, but it's made of soft silicone. He'd figured out pretty early on that cis guys were way too interested in other guys' dicks to not have something in his jeans.

And well, he likes the feel of it.]

The boys would like that.

[Kavinsky would like that. He liked having his boys close, not just because he was greedy but because he was lonely.

Stepping closer, he reached out to rest a hand on Elijah's shoulder, gentle but firm, thumb brushing back and forth for a moment.]

Everything. I can help with your dreams. And you're- [Fuck, how did he put this. He wasn't good with words sometimes, but actions didn't always solve all the problems.] -you're safe here.

[It wasn't quite what he was trying to go for, but it was true all the same. He couldn't say he didn't think of Elijah differently now, but it had more to do with the dream things than anything else. He couldn't get over the idea that Elijah was magic.]

I won't tell the other guys. [He added, more quietly. He didn't out people, especially not people he cared about. It was up to the individual what they wanted to share about themselves, in his opinion.]

[Elijah would like that too, honestly. He liked being close, being cuddled up with them, feeling a little bit less alone. The only reason that he'd shied from making out with K up until now was because he hadn't wanted that moment- the one where Kavinsky realized that he didn't really have a dick in his pants and suddenly he was... not good enough.

Getting top surgery was more or less good enough for him for now. He didn't know if he wanted more than that. He has the luxury of having the money for it, and his parents' support, the ability to get on a plane to see whatever doctor could offer the best care- but he had yet to hear about a procedure that would give him a dick like any other cisguy. And if he couldn't have that, he didn't know if halfway would be better than what he had.

And so even if he was more or less okay with his body, it was other people he worried about. Impossible to tell who would be okay with who he was and who wouldn't, unless he asked, outed himself, or if he waited until his clothes came off. Needless to say, as much as he wanted, he'd never been willing to make himself that vulnerable for someone.

Except that he'd ended up like this anyway. And K's hand is a comfort on his shoulder, the way that he says he's safe- in all the ways that he's never been safe. Not outside of home. He nods slowly, murmuring a soft thank you when he says he wont tell the other guys.

And then he just gives into the urge he's been fighting and just steps in, pressing up against the other boy, one hand clutching against his ribs in the fabric of his shirt. Eli presses his face into his shoulder and he's maybe- he maybe sniffles a little bit. He's not upset, he's just a little bit overwhelmed. So many things he could say, but instead it's one of the things he'd meant to say earlier, when Kavinsky had killed one of his nightmares.]

You can make dreams too.

[Kavinsky looped his other arm around Elijah and held onto him. He couldn't imagine what it was like to go through any of the things Elijah probably had, but- he could commiserate about the dreaming, at least.]

Yeah, I can.

[He pressed a soft kiss against the side of the other boy's head, a small comfort, he hoped. A little sign of affection.

He wasn't sure their dreams worked the same way, not after he'd seen what'd happened with Elijah's tattoos, but it was close enough. Enough that Kavinsky felt a longing to understand it more, to keep Elijah in his life. It might have been a selfish desire, but he didn't want to feel alone anymore. He didn't want to be alone. He knew he had his boys, but they weren't the same, they couldn't understand.

It was part of why he'd do whatever he could to help Elijah with his dreams. The other part was just- he did like helping people, contrary to what was probably the popular belief.]

You know the odds of the two of us finding each other is probably astronomical.

[The two of them being able to bring dreams into reality. He didn't know how many others there were who were like them, but. It was probably a relatively low number.]

[Elijah just trembled, a shiver running down his spine at the feeling of how Kavinsky wrapped his arms around him. His breath caught, uneven and shaky as he pressed a kiss to the side of his head. Comfort and affection- the sort that Elijah usually flinched from, but Kavinsky knew now, so that took most of the fear out of it. The dreaming was easier to talk about, though. So even as he balled his fingers in the other boy's shirt, pressing into his body, he didn't talk about it.]

You'll really help me? I've always been on my own.

[And clearly not doing great with it, if this was any indication.

He's not good at asking for help, but he's trying to be receptive. He didn't quite know how to say please, but he hoped that was close enough. He lets his other hand press low against K's spine, like a wordless affirmation, a whisper of affection he couldn't have spelled out.]

Probably. But-- fuck. I'm glad we did. That I met you.

[The words are soft, a little muffled as he says them more into Kavinsky's shoulder than to his face. He's not good at this- being vulnerable, saying that sort of stuff that was sort of helplessly affectionate. He wouldn't say he had a crush on him, exactly, it was just- how did you orbit around Kavinsky without wanting him a little? How did you find someone whose soul was the same and not want to hold onto them? Elijah didn't know how, anyway.]

Yeah. Can't just dump you out onto the street or something, can I?

[Maybe somebody else would, but he wasn't about to.]

I know that feeling. I had to teach myself everything.

[But he'd done better with his dreaming than Elijah was. Though Elijah's also seemed to work differently so maybe that was part of it, too. But keeping your dreams from escaping your head- that shit could be hard. It was just as hard as bringing exactly what you intended out of your dream, the way you wanted it. He'd spent months, years, practicing until he'd gotten things just right. Some things were harder than others, too.

He didn't say anything about the vulnerability of the moment. He didn't even think of teasing Elijah for anything. There was nothing to tease about; they'd both had a traumatic experience that could have ended poorly but they were both alright. Secrets had been revealed and- Kavinsky knew that could be tough. He might've seemed casual about being a dreamer and killing dreams and all of that, but he felt charged with new possibilities.

There was someone like him who actually wanted to be around him. He wasn't alone. He would do what he could to teach Elijah and if they could combine their abilities...who knew what they could be capable of together.]

I'm glad we met, too.

hey
got ur # from a friend

he said u can get p much anything
true/false?

absolutely true
i can get you whatever your heart desires

what can i do for you?

i want a lot

but to start with-
can you get steroids?
you know. T?

[Well, that was a new request.]

yeah i can get that
you sure you don't want something more fun, tho?

[Skov and Elijah fighting isn't surprising; it happens all the time. But it plays out a bit different this time- because usually Eli backs off, pulls away before it was too obvious how blurred the line was between this and foreplay. But tonight he just peels off his tee-shirt, damp with sweat, tossing it on the floor as he asks Skov if he's tapping out. It's trust, and also a quiet renegotiation of where the lines used to be. Because Elijah isn't scared anymore, scared that the boys knowing who he is, what he is, will mean losing it all.

Turns out Skov isn't done, either-- or at least isn't willing to back off from the challenge. Or maybe just knows that Eli needs something tonight, and doesn't know how to say it.

Eventually, of course, the boys are spent one way or another, and K's other puppy disappears with Swan, leaving Eli all flushed and starry-eyed. He joins K on the couch, drawn in like something magnetic. Usually he wouldn't be so obvious about it, but he's high on endorphins, and the idea of being alone somehow feels like the worst thing in the world. So Eli just nuzzles in against his shoulder, half a kiss, and he'll climb into his lap if he'll let him- too punchdrunk to think better of it.

He's still, quiet in a way that he usually isn't. Which would be scary, if he didn't trust all of them. But he does. So instead he just leans into Kavinsky, feels like his feet are scarcely on the ground.]

Can I just--?

[It's not quite a question, but his words are a little slurred, like he's drunk just off the feelings. K might be able to tell that he isn't used to it, either. This is new- if he had more awareness, he might be a little embarrassed about being like this over a fistfight. But maybe pretending that was why they did it was a little dishonest, anyway. He did it for the bruises, the split lip, the way that their fingers sometimes pressed too tight against each others' throat.]

[Kavinsky thought he knew what it meant, Skov and Elijah fighting. They didn't dislike each other; it wasn't about that. It was the opposite, and he'd known Skov for long enough to know that fighting with a friend was as good as making out to him sometimes. He knew by the wounds when Skov pulled his punches and when he didn't; he was careful with Elijah.

He didn't protest when Elijah joined him on the couch or climbed into his lap. Instead, he tipped his head back a little and looped his arms around the other boy's waist.]

What is it, sweetheart?

[He had trouble denying his boys anything, Elijah included. Even if he was the newest among them, he was also something other, not quite a dreamer like Kavinsky but close enough to make him protective of him. Kavinsky wanted to be there for him because no one had been there for him when he'd needed someone.

Fuck, but he was always getting in over his head with his boys, developing feelings when he told himself he wouldn't. Doing what he could to make them happy and keep them safe. He might have fought with them sometimes, but over the years they hadn't been through a single thing that their friendship couldn't survive.]

[Elijah leaned into the warmth of the touch as Kavinsky curled his arms against his waist, a quiet murmur of want at the feel of it. He needed the contact, needed to feel-- he didn't know, but he knew this was good. He leans his cheek into the other boy's shoulder, tilting his head so that K can hear him. He doesn't quite know how to answer the question, but the endearment touches something so it feels like his skin burns even hotter.

He's clearly raw, flushed, seems almost high, but it's just the sensations overwhelming him. There's something almost vulnerable in his eyes, or maybe it's the way that he looks at the other boy. Like the violence and the attraction peeled something away, got hooks through his walls, and when mixed with his feelings for Kavinsky he can't help fraying.]

I just- I need you to- hold me down? I feel like I'm.. floating away.

[He struggles with it, and K might be able to pick up on the fact that he just doesn't have the vocabulary to really explain. He's grasping for the words to say it and coming up empty, because he hadn't really known what they were doing, even if he ached with it. There was something about fighting with Skov, about the blood and the impact of knuckles on his skin. About the way the other boy had looked at him when Eli took his shirt off. About Kavinsky.

At first he thought K and his pack of boys would be casual friends. Now, he cared about all of them like they were family. But Kavinsky was-- he didn't know. He was this complicated tangle of desire and affection and belonging, and Prokopenko was nearly as messy. He couldn't help wanting Swan and Skov sometimes too, but it wasn't the same. Not when Kavinsky was like him. They might not be exactly the same, but they were both boys that held their dreams in their hands.

He doesn't know how to say any of it. How Skov was the one that punched him, but Kavinsky was the one that made him shiver.]

Edited 2022-03-21 10:11 (UTC)

[Kavinsky made a thoughtful noise, stroking one hand along Elijah's spine slowly.]

I've got you.

[He murmured. Elijah had been playing rough with Skov- Kavinsky knew that. He knew how that usually made Skov feel, so he could imagine the effect it had on Eli. He wasn't sure Elijah had ever dealt in rough play like that before- with people other than the rest of his boys. It would explain a lot.

He didn't think anyone had ever anchored Elijah afterward before, either. Swan knew how to take care of Skov, to work out his energy and restlessness and bring him back down, but Eli- Kavinsky cupped the back of his neck, thumb stroking gently.]

How'd things go with Skov?

[His breath catches and he arches into Kavinsky's touch as his fingers dragged down along his spine. There was something about the way he said the words that buried itself between his ribs. He'd never had anyone that really had offered to catch him, to hold onto him. He's always been expected to stand on his own, and he did, most of the time.

But this was-- There were moments where he needed someone.

He made a helpless sort of sound as K's hand curled at the back of his neck. His own hands pressing softly against his chest, his eyelashes fluttering as he looks into the other boy's dark eyes. There was something magnetic about the moment, about having K catch him when he felt like flying was the same thing as falling. He murmured as he considered the question, which was at least easier to talk about.]

Good. Probably have bruises tomorrow.

[He smiles, but it's soft, a little unsure. That feeling that he can't quite explain. Desire that makes his heart beat rabbit fast.]

I mean, usually I flinch away from it. I've kept this distance from Skov- you- everyone, because I didn't want.. But now everyone knows, so if someone wants me- it's like I can trust it. So I didn't flinch. We fought until it felt like something else. Not like fighting. I couldn't think.

[His words are slow and heated and Elijah laughs a little at the end because he still can't really think straight, but he figures Kavinsky knows that. He feels almost drunk on it. It was a long way of saying that Skov had pushed him further than they usually went. Until Elijah was a mess with how it felt.]

[If Kavinsky didn't know better, he would assume Elijah was drunk. Or maybe he was anyway--you didn't always have to have alcohol involved to end up like this.

He made a thoughtful noise. Yeah, he was pretty sure Eli'd have bruises alright. He and Skov had been rough, but only as rough as both of them could handle, K figured. It was a little bit of a turn-on, knowing what his boys fighting meant, at least to Skov. Knowing that Skov was probably getting fucked by Swan right now.

But also- there was something endearing about Elijah saying he trusted it. Kavinsky wanted him to feel safe, to be safe with the rest of the pack. They were all sharp boys, rough around the edges, but they fit together like pieces of a puzzle. They all filled different voids in each other.]

You know fighting's Skov's foreplay sometimes, right?

[When his fingers had reached the bottom of Elijah's spine, he stroked back upwards, a gentle, repetitive motion.]

You like it, too.

[It wasn't a question. Elijah wouldn't be here in his arms like this if he hadn't enjoyed fighting with Skov. He wasn't sure if Eli had figured everything out yet, though--especially if this really was the first time he'd played rough. K wasn't going to judge him for it; he was going to do his best to be a safe space for Eli to talk about things.

People probably wouldn't think that Kavinsky was a 'safe space' for anyone or anything that wasn't nefarious, but- he enjoyed helping people figure out what they did and didn't like. Part of it was maybe a little selfish because the better people knew themselves the more fun he could have with them, but also- sometimes learning shit about yourself was hard. He wanted it to be easier for his pack. They were his closest friends, each and every one of them.]

[Saying he was drunk wouldn't be inaccurate, really. He felt like he was, honestly. Like he'd had a few shots too many, except that the feel of it was different, more a clear sort of thrill, high in a way that wasn't all blurred around the edges, but still left him reeling, his words a little rough. Holding onto the other boy to keep himself steady. And there was something about all of this that left him aching, his skin warm under Kavinsky's touch- the way those fingers trailed along his spine almost electric, but also strangely soothing. He'd never felt like this before. Something about Skov and Swan, and about being here with Kavinsky, body pressed close and straddled across his lap. Fingers on his skin.

A week ago this would have been unthinkable, almost more like horror. But now it was a sharp sort of pleasure. He felt like he fit here, with them. It felt like home. Not that he didn't have one back in Texas, but that was complicated. It was hard for a place to feel like home when you always knew you were going to leave it, when Eli spent more time away than walking the halls.

If he hadn't already been flushed, he would have at the question. But as it is he just nods, bites his lip for a moment, and then tries to put it into words.]

Yeah. Not the first round, but.. the second one. I used to pull away before it got.. obvious, I guess. But this time it was- different. I figured it out. And I dunno. I sort of wanted it, I guess? Even if I still don't quite know what I was looking for.

[Good is what he means when he says different, but he doesn't quite know how to say that yet. But he'd realized it was like foreplay and done it anyway. Breathless and heart racing, flirting back with Skov. But then maybe some of their sharp edges weren't really so different. He's still working it out, trying to figure out what he feels -- and why the thrill and the heat is almost more now that he's curled up here with Kavinsky, than it had been before.

He doesn't flinch or deny it when K says that he likes it. He just arches slowly into his touch, a flutter of his lashes, the way he slides up his spine making his body shift with the heat of it. It feels sort of like Kavinsky has him on a string, in a way that he likes. It makes him feel like he wont fall.]

Yeah. I like it when I'm here, anyway.

[Whether he means here with Kavinsky, or here with the pack, the only boys he could imagine doing this sort of thing with-- he doesn't clarify. But he probably doesn't really need to, when the answer is both.

Although the truth isn't just that Elijah's never played rough like this before. He's never done anything sexual with another person before, even if he'd usually die before admitting to it. He's never trusted anyone enough; either to let them that close, or to talk about it. But all of a sudden that was changing, and there were these lovely boys that he cared about more than he could spell out. And then there was Kavinsky. Beautiful and sharper than the rest. And he touched dreams. And he touched Eli in a way that felt different, made him want things he didn't yet know how to ask for.

People might not think of K as a safe space, but he feels safe to Elijah, anyway.]

You make it- even more. Better.

[Kavinsky made a thoughtful noise. It was an interesting situation when his boys fought. They could punch and kick and bite all they wanted and he'd never lift a finger, but if someone outside the pack took a swing--it'd be their funeral. It wasn't just that it was different within the pack, where fists weren't usually swung with hate or anger, but he trusted his boys to stop before they did any permanent harm. Even when Swan and Jiang sometimes fought for real, or Swan and Proko butted heads. It wasn't the same as Skov's foreplay, but there was trust there, too.]

Do you like him?

[That seemed like it should be a little obvious. You flirted when you liked someone. You engaged in rough play when you liked someone--or when you liked the play enough.

He was also glad that Elijah felt safe enough here to engage in things like that, to explore desires and boundaries and experience new things. That was one of the most important parts of the pack; giving his boys a space where they could do things like that without judgment. Well, alright- maybe there would be a little judgment, but in a friendly way.]

I wouldn't let anyone hurt you. Someone fucks with you, they fuck with all of us.

[It was a promise. He and the others would have Eli's back. But there was more to this than that- and Kavinsky might have never shied away from making assumptions before, but for some reason he didn't want to assume in this situation. He didn't want to convince himself that Elijah wanted him just because K wanted him.]

Are you saying you think I'm hot?

[It was gentle teasing.]

[It was a complicated question, do you like him. Because the answer was yes, but it was yes for all of K's boys, or else Elijah wouldn't have fallen in with them in the first place. But he knew that he meant more than that, he meant- for real. And that wasn't as simple. On the one hand, yes, he liked Skov far more than he did most people. Especially when it was like this, bruises on his skin. He got under his skin, and he wouldn't be against the idea of making out- Skov was cute but messy, which had a certain charm.

But he wasn't who Elijah liked the most, despite that. That was Kavinsky, because of course it was. And Proko was the one that came the closest for him, if it was going to be anyone else. But, Elijah couldn't imagine hitting either of them, fighting with them like he did with Skov. If K pinned him to the ground-- Eli quite suddenly doesn't quite know where he'd been intending to go with that line of thought, because the image is stupidly hot and it derails whatever he'd been trying to figure out.]

I mean, yeah. But.. well, I don't like him, like him.

[He liked Skov enough to flirt with him, but not enough to ache for the stupid shit. Like riding passenger in his car late some night when he couldn't sleep, or stupid dates, or to admit that he wanted him like he'd never wanted someone else; even if it was terrifying.

He smiles when K says that he wont let anyone hurt him. It was strange, in a way, because for so long Eli's always been the person that protected others. So that promise was... different. It meant something, even if he didn't have the words to say it. Instead he laughs softly at the question that follows, leaning up against Kavinsky so they're almost eye-to-eye, almost close enough to kiss.

But instead, Elijah just trails one of his hands up so he can slide fingers against the side of his neck, cupping against the line of his jaw in a tender sort of caress. It feels reckless, impossible, but he can't help himself. Maybe it's that he's still a little loopy from the bruises on his skin, the impact and the feel of it. From Kavinsky just- being here.]

Doesn't everyone?

[It's raw and overly honest, even if he doesn't spell it out, doesn't say I think you're hot or I want you, it's in the tone, the way that he looks at him, but still leans into his touch.]

Mmm.

[That was fair. Kavinsky liked Skov too- he liked all of his boys, of course. But he wasn't sure about romantically. Proko was different, though he might not have fully realized the extent things were different with him. Or with Eli. But he was starting to, maybe.

Especially with the way Elijah touched him. Kavinsky fought the urge to tip his face into Eli's hand, lest he give himself away as a glutton for physical contact.

Normally, he would have replied with an easily confident of course, they do, even though he knew better. He was sure there were people who didn't find him attractive at all, people who hated him. But that wasn't important right now. The important thing was how he couldn't look away from Eli's eyes, how badly he wanted to kiss him.]

So who do you like?

[It was maybe a juvenile question but he couldn't think of any better way to get to the bottom of things. Elijah had to like someone, didn't he? And he'd said- he said Kavinsky made things better. K might have played like he was doing his boys a favor by pulling them to his side but the truth was he was desperately lonely. He needed them just as much as they needed him, maybe more. He wanted someone to care about him, he wanted to feel loved and appreciated.]

I--

[It may be a juvenile question, but that didn't make it easy. And the way that Elijah dodged around being specific about how he felt about Skov was sort of immature in its own way, too. And yeah, he had the excuse that he was still a bit punch-drunk, but that wasn't the real reason, either. So he falters a little at the question, struggling as he tries to find the right words.

Lying would be easier, of course.

But the thing is that Kavinsky already knows all of his big secrets, and somehow this seems.. easier to hold between them than the dreaming, or the fact that he was trans. The harder part is figuring out what to say, how to say it to him. Eli's struck by how Kavinsky is looking at him, dark eyes focused, like the answer isn't a joke, is something that matters. It's been easy, up until now, just to tell himself that it didn't matter, this was just what it meant to be in his circle. How could you resist being half in love with him?

But suddenly, it seems like more than that. And he nods softly, a little shy, even if he tries to hide it, to smooth it over into something better than that.]

It's you. I dunno how to say it, man. I just want this.

[It wasn't that he loved him yet. But whatever it was, this thing that drew him to K felt like more than a crush. Because he wanted late-night drives in K's Mitsubishi, he wanted him to see his dreams, he wanted everything he could get. He wanted to make him smile. He wanted new things he hadn't been willing to risk with anyone else. The idea that if he was going to climb into anyone's lap when he was like this, it had to be with K.]

[He waited patiently, fingers sliding along Elijah's skin. Anyone else, he would've teased and prompted along the way, told them to spit it out or get on with it or something like that, but. Eli was one of his boys and this was- a soft moment. A moment he didn't want to ruin or break the mood of. He might not get it back if he did.

When Elijah answered, a thrill raced down Kavinsky's spine. He'd had a suspicion, more subconscious than anything, but it'd been there. He'd been especially drawn to Eli ever since the dreams, when he'd found out the other boy wasn't so different than him. He wanted kinship. He wanted to not feel or be alone.]

I like you, too, sweetheart.

[It was an easy confession and he smiled afterward, sliding a hand up into Elijah's hair, nails grazing gently against his scalp.

Someone else would've asked, maybe- someone else would've sought permission. Kavinsky didn't like asking. Instead, he leaned up, nudging his mouth against Elijah's in a soft kiss. He didn't lack confidence; he just didn't want to push Eli too much too fast.]

[He doesn't know what he expected, but somehow it wasn't this. It wasn't the easy way that he says it, the way that sweetheart rolls off his tongue like an easy endearment. This thing that he's felt since before that night, but definitely after. Definitely when they were alone in Kavinsky's bedroom, with Elijah in just boxers and his tee-shirt, whispering I'm glad I met you as he clung to him like an anchor.

Someone that was like him, or at least someone that understood what it was like. What dreaming did to you, what it was to bend the lines of real and not real.

He shivered as Kavinsky's fingers trailed up, sliding into his hair, pulling a low murmur from his mouth as he looked at him. Stripped raw, too honest, feelings too real to be put into words. And then he kisses him and Elijah leans into it, fingers in his shirt tugging him in close. The way K kisses him is soft, but Elijah is too hungry to let it stay that way.

K isn't the only one that's a glutton for contact. Between fighting with Skov, and being here with K and the knowledge that he wants him, it's impossible to do anything but melt into him. He's ached for him, and he wants- he just wants- touch. He wants to touch, to be touched, and not feel like someone will look at him like an alien in his own skin.]

[Kavinsky hadn't gone into this expecting to be told Elijah cared about him like that, either. But he didn't regret a thing. K'd wanted him, probably, since that night with the dead dreams in his bedroom. Since before that. But K had always been lonely and greedy and wanted. Was it really that greedy to want to be cared about, though? Or was it natural? He liked to think it was the latter, no matter how many times people told him it was the former.

He didn't hesitate to deepen the kiss, fingernails scratching gently at Elijah's scalp, again. A light brush of his thumb. Kissing him felt right, like he should've done it weeks ago. He'd been letting Eli find his place in the pack though, get used to all of them without anyone pushing him about something sexual. Anyone else, Kavinsky would've been pushing, himelf, but- he knew when someone shouldn't be tested, when they might bolt. He'd just- he'd been being careful. He was capable of it, contrary to popular belief.

Right now, he wanted whatever Elijah was comfortable with, whether that was some kissing or something more. Sometimes, just making out was nice. Even if K was a sexual creature. Proko had cracked jokes about him being an incubus or deity before, after all.]

[For what it was worth, Elijah didn't think it was greedy. Or at least, not a sort of greedy that he couldn't handle, because if it was, then he was greedy too. But then he'd always known that about himself, it was just that normally he didn't admit to it, didn't talk about it. Because admitting to it would mean admitting what he wanted, would mean talking about what he was, and why being greedy was uncomfortable.

But they'd already jumped that hurdle. So it wasn't scary now. Not with Kavinsky, not with the other boy's mouth on his, nails scratching against his scalp, and Eli's body leaning in to him like an ache that says more. To be honest, he appreciated the fact that Kavinsky had given him time, given him the space to find himself, to figure out where he belonged between all of them. Elijah would snarl if someone implied that he needed to be handled with a delicate touch, but the truth was that sometimes he did. Careful was what had let them get here, his fingers clutching against him, clinging to K's shirt.]

I.. I want you.

[He says it soft, gasped in between kisses. The words almost a little bit shy with how they murmur against the other boy's jaw. Because he's a sexual creature too, it's just-- complicated. Usually that means being alone behind closed doors. But with Kavinsky.. he trusts him. He wants more than that. But he's never-- it's tentative, even if it's honest, even if he means it. Something he probably couldn't have said if K had pushed him about it.

He covers it with a kiss, with an edge of something hungry and maybe wanton. It feels good, feels right, feels like Kavinsky out of anyone makes sense. Maybe that's ridiculous, but he knows and he wants Elijah anyway, has yet to look at him like it makes him different.]

[Ronan is a strange thing. Greywaren.

Dream and a dreamer. He twists time- a circle he can shift in his fingers when he's on the ley line. He keeps secrets from himself, brothers and forests, notes written in berries and blood. Lies and half-truths; but mostly to himself. Dreams aren't built on things that are true until he makes them that way, anyway.

One awake and one dreaming, dream and the dreamer. When Ronan begs for a copy of himself with filth in his hands, Cabeswater already knows the shape of his body. It gives it to him like it already knows how; like its dreamt him before. Because Ronan is not just one thing. A raven for the one that wakes, a girl with hooves for the dream.

The ley line was jagged and uneven that night, but it's not hard to twist it carefully until he finds just the right breath. This feels risky, but Ronan's always been reckless. This is bigger than the ways he's changed things before. But more than that, it feels worth it. He's not trying to change the world, really- he just wants to steal a boy. Take something for himself, this once.

It's before the dragon. Before the terrified boy meets Kavinsky in the dream and says everything wrong.

It's a moment where he thinks he might have a chance to change the way the story goes. He doesn't know if it'll work, doesn't know if he's enough. But he's here anyway, stretching a heartbeat of a moment into a world, just for Kavinsky. The forest stops tearing at the dreamer, a low murmur in the leaves and branches as Cabeswater gives him what he needs- Ronan is is a King here.

He smiles at him a little sadly, something different in how he holds himself from the boy K left back on the racetrack, scrambling for those green pills: he loves him.]

You know how this is going to end, don't you?

[Kavinsky was fire. He was hatred and anger and self-loathing. He was acid and venom and hurt. Ronan had rejected him. He'd left him standing in the dream field and he'd ghosted him and he hadn't responded about the Fourth of July until Kavinsky had taken matters into his own hands. K'd asked nicely. He'd left him a fucking car. He'd just wanted some of Ronan's time, to feel like he mattered. All right, so he'd wanted more than that, too. He'd wanted to be Ronan's boyfriend. But it felt like it was too late for that now. They were standing on the precipice. He just needed a moment to gather his thoughts, to put together what he wanted to dream to life.

And yet he hesitated. There was something about the way Ronan was looking at him. Kavinsky lifted his chin, dark eyes burning as he regarded the other dreamer.]

How this ends is on you.

[He jabbed a finger in Ronan's direction. Kavinsky wanted to give him another chance, to keep holding onto his last scrap of hope- but Ronan had made it pretty obvious how he felt.]

You made this ugly.

[He knows that he hurt him, and he hates it. He wants to fix it, to just tell him that he wants him, but he feels like that might be too much all at once. So he takes a few steps closer, bridging some of the distance between them, his blue eyes bright as he looks at Kavinsky. Like the other boy hasn't kidnapped his brother, like he wasn't confused about what he wanted. Like even if Ronan's here to stop him, this isn't a fight.]

I don't want it to end like this.

[Kavinsky was impossible not to want. He burned as bright as Ronan. They could be kings. And he was so alone. Who else burned bright enough for a dream? Who might understand the strange creature that he was? Of course he loved him. He hadn't known how to reach out to him, but he does now. So he's trying, trying to do this better. To find a way where this doesn't end in fire, in the end of a boy who should have been so much more.]

Look, I know I did. I fucked up.

[He drags a hand against his shaved head, because this isn't easy. There's no part of Ronan that's good at this sort of thing. At talking, at saying the words, at admitting where things went wrong. But he's trying, because it matters. Because he wants this to matter, to smooth his death out into something else.]

Kavinsky. Please.

Please what?

[What was Ronan saying, exactly? What did he want? Besides just to end things without violence and destruction.

Kavinsky didn't shy away from him when he stepped closer, he just watched him, equal parts curious, wary, and angry. Ronan admitting that he'd fucked up was- it was more than Kavinsky had expected right now. It was a strange step in the right direction.]

You're going to have to be a little more clear, princess.

[Or else Kavinsky would- well, he wouldn't make good on his promise to burn Ronan down because even now he didn't want to hurt him like that. The only person who'd get hurt, probably, would be Kavinsky himself. He was unstable, unsteady, playing at being put together when he really wasn't.

Ronan was going to have to spell it out for him before Kavinsky changed his mind on what he was doing. He wasn't going to back down on a whim, on hoping he understood what Ronan wanted.]

[He knows that Kavinsky is unstable right now, that he's unsteady despite appearances. But he still flushes a little when he tells him to be more clear. Kavinsky is the one that he wants to keep from getting hurt. He doesn't shy from him, faces his anger like he can take the edge off of it. He hesitates a moment, but then he says it:]

I.. want you, alright?

[It's true. He hesitates not like he's unsure of himself, or what he wants, but like he's never said the words before. Like this is unfamiliar territory between them and he doesn't quite know how this plays out. He doesn't. But fuck, he wants this. He wants him, he wants to get this right. He looks like he wants to say something else, but he cuts himself off, and instead he holds out his hand- hopeful blue eyes and softer fingertips.

He briefly thinks of dreaming them a dark night and their cars and an endless stretch of road after the glitter of the stoplight. But he didn't want to push the dream too much until Adam fixed the flow of the leyline. But he wanted this, selfish as it was. He just wanted a boy, wanted this boy, someone that could dream with him.]

Please. Don't leave.

[He waited for the punch line. 'I want you but' or something. There wasn't one. There was just Ronan, holding out his hand, expression more hopeful than Kavinsky'd ever seen. His heart lurched. He was almost too afraid to believe it. It took Ronan now, right up until the last possible moment before what Kavinsky knew would be disaster, before he changed his mind? He didn't think it was kidnapping Matthew that had caused this.

He didn't know what had caused this.

Sneering, Kavinsky looked away, but he watched Ronan out of the corner of his eye.]

You're a fucking dick.

[But- he turned his head to look at Ronan properly. After a second, he even stepped closer and reached out, sliding his hand into Ronan's. It was good to touch him, dream or not, and he hoped the other boy didn't notice the way his fingers trembled.]

If you're fucking with me, I will end you.

[He'd probably end himself first, though.]

[There's that moment where Kavinsky sneers and looks away, and it's like Ronan's heart falls. He thinks for a moment that he hasn't done enough, hasn't gotten the words right. But then he turns back to him, and it tugs a slightly sad smile to his mouth at the words.]

Yeah, I know.

[His breath catches and comes a little rough as Kavinsky steps in closer, sliding their hands together, and he squeezes his fingers softly against his hand. He shifts in closer almost on reflex, because it feels almost magnetic being close to him like this. His other hand pressed against his side, touching his ribs through his shirt.]

I'm not fucking with you. I meant what I said.

[Yes, there was an explanation that needed to happen. But Kavinsky was distracting, and he'd never actually had to explain what he was to someone before. And he was hoping he could wait until the dreamer wasn't on the edge of dying in flames. He hadn't known how to do this right, back then.

--He really wants to kiss him.]

[This felt like a dream. Not because it was a dream but because he'd thought it would have to be a dream for Ronan to want him. Kavinsky was wary, a little suspicious, but he wanted to take this for what it was. He wanted things to be easy for once in his fucking life when it came to something he really wanted.

He took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and shook his head.]

I wish you'd said this sooner.

[Before Kavinsky had done even more regrettable things than normal. But Ronan didn't seem particularly upset about what he'd done. He seemed- a little sad. Fuck if Kavinsky knew why, though.]

Figured you'd just used me, you know? You used me and then left me as soon as it was convenient for you.

[He didn't sound as angry as he could have been, though. He wanted Ronan to tell him that he hadn't used him, that he'd wanted him even then. Kavinsky knew they weren't really friends and they didn't see eye-to-eye, but fuck. He'd bared his heart to Ronan as much as he'd known how to. He'd opened up to him, shared secrets, taught him. He didn't want to take Ronan away from his friends he just wanted to be important too.]

Yeah. I wish I had, too.

[It comes out bittersweet, but he means it. He wishes that he'd been brazen enough, selfish enough, to try this the first time around. That he'd had the grace to step in between this boy and disaster, so that Kavinsky had never died, so there wasn't anything to fix. He rubs his thumb softly against the other dreamer's fingers where they're holding hands.

But then Kavinsky talks about how he'd felt like Ronan had used him, and he hesitates for a moment, with what to say, how to say it. Because he's not wrong, really. Even if Ronan hadn't meant it like that, it had still happened. He had thought he could walk away and that things would go back to the way that they had been before, mostly because he wanted them to. Because of course it couldn't-- it had meant something to the other boy, and Ronan didn't get to walk that back just because it made him uncomfortable.]

I know. Look, I'm not-- I wouldn't have.

[Kavinsky isn't wrong about there being a catch, it's just probably not the sort of catch that he expects. And it's not exactly the sort of thing that Ronan knows how to explain well. He's never had to explain this. He wouldn't even have talked about this with himself, even if he could. He doesn't let go of the other dreamer's hand, but there's a tension in how he draws up his shoulders, but he doesn't flinch from it in the same way that the other one would have. He doesn't snarl and act like this is Kavinsky's fault.]

Ronan is-- well, I think it goes sort of like this: you can't have half a dream or half a dreamer, not really... It's like in Chemistry class, right? What do you do when something would split an atom in half? You double the whole thing. So there's two. There's always been two of us.

[Which is probably a shitty way to explain what he is, but just because his fingers are deeper in dreams than Ronan's, it doesn't change the fundamental shape of who he is. He just hasn't had to deal with the world as much as Ronan, and he hasn't had Richard Gansey or Adam Parrish in the same sort of ways. So he's more raw, a little stranger, because life hasn't made his broken pieces quite so sharp. But he still burns the same.]

I meant everything that I've said. I have always wanted you.

[The problem is that he just doesn't know if that's enough to save him, but fuck he wants it to be. He looks a little bit apologetic, and more than that, there's worry in his blue eyes. That fear of losing something you want but have never really had.]

[Whatever he'd been expecting Ronan to say, this wasn't it. Kavinsky went very still. The gears in his brain turned slowly and then faster as he tried to understand what the fuck Ronan was talking about.

He wanted to pull away. He wanted to punch him. He wanted- he wanted everything to stop feeling like it was spinning. Did Ronan really want him? Was this really Ronan in front of him? Did it matter? Proko was a dream but real- he'd always been real to Kavinsky. But there was a part of him that couldn't help but be a little heartbroken.]

You want me. He doesn't.

[Was that what he was understanding here? If there were two Ronans- was one of them more real than the other? Did it matter? Was it enough to Kavinsky? It wasn't like he'd never thought about dreaming his own Ronan. Would he have done it if he would have been able to get it right?

He felt...he didn't know. Not just heartbroken but broken. Probably, it wasn't Ronan's fault. Probably, Kavinsky had been on his way to breaking for a very long time.

He took a breath. Then another. And- he leaned his forehead against Ronan's shoulder. He shuddered with his next breath.]

I don't know-

[What should he do? What did he want to do? He wanted to be wrapped up in Ronan's arms. He wanted none of this to have gotten this bad.]

[Kavinsky leans his head on his shoulder, and Ronan doesn't pull away from him. He lets his other hand slide up his back in what's clearly intended to be comfort. But it's also affection, because he loves this boy. He's loved him since the first race, the first party, the first bonfire where he could feel how much he burned. there's also the warmth of desire in his fingertips, even if he isn't acting on it, trying to keep it as quiet as he can.

But Ronan has never been good at keeping his own secrets, and neither are his dreams.]

You don't have to know. I know this is fucked.

[He doesn't push him, or he tries anyway. He doesn't push him away, but he also doesn't gather him in his arms, even if he's tempted to. He doesn't ask if he can kiss him, but god he wants to. He wants to believe that he can twist this world into something where he's enough. Where Kavinsky can be hurt without dying from it.]

I couldn't help it. I wanted to try and make a better ending.

[He likes the fire, and there's a thrill at the chaos, but losing Kavinsky.. it would never be worth it. And it wasn't like things had ended well for Ronan, or for the world, either. So fixing things-- it could only make things better. He thought that he was more important than he knew.]

[It was so fucked. But- the important part- the part he wanted to cling to- was that someone wanted him. Even now, when he was on the cusp of destruction, when he was lashing out at everyone around him and making things a horrible mess.

He didn't know what Ronan was talking about- a better ending- but he didn't want to ask. He didn't want to know. Looping his arm around Ronan, he clutched the back of his shirt, holding on like he might disappear.]

All I ever wanted was to be a part of your life.

[A part of Ronan's life. Even whatever version of Ronan he was leaning on right now.]

If it's not too late-

[It wasn't. It clearly wasn't when Ronan was here, telling him he wanted him. Kavinsky still had a chance.]

I want you, too.

[Ronan's voice hitches as the other boy's fingers clutch at the back of his shirt, gripping onto him tight, and his heartbeat skips in his chest, feels like it thuds against his ribcage. Kavinsky feels warm and alive and vibrant in his hands and he just wants to keep this for however long he can. What a fucking mess this was. If only he could have been better, or Ronan could have been better now instead of when it was all too late--]

I want you in my life, K.

[It's not an easy thing to say, but it is true. Truer than Kavinsky knows, even. Because he wants him, but he also wants the thing that goes along with it. The part where he has a life to call his own, where he gets to be more than Alice's looking glass reflection. He was a dreamer, but has he ever dreamt something for his own benefit? So maybe telling Kavinsky the truth isn't just about the fact that kissing him wouldn't seem right. Maybe it's also the fact that it's the only way for him to be something more.

He laughs softly- not at K but just because the whole situation is a mess. Maybe more of a mess than K knows. He smiles at him, and it isn't quite so sad. There's a fire in him, and he burns like Ronan does, it's just not as guarded, so there's more shine. He lets his fingers against his back trail up so that he can curl them at the back of his neck, touching softly, their hands clasped as Ronan holds onto him like he's afraid of losing him, too.]

Never too late.

[He hesitates a moment, awkward and a little unsure, before he pushes it away and leans in so their foreheads touch. He can't help himself, even if he wants to. He wants to give him space or hold onto him, or whatever he needs, but he also.. his eyes are dark and they glint with the faint light through the trees. He's lovely and he wants him, and no one has ever wanted him before.]

Can I--

[He doesn't finish the question. Not with words, anyway. It's sudden and impulsive, but he's helpless and he just can't resist the desire. Kavinsky said he wanted him, and he didn't know any way to say it better. So he kisses him.

It is Ronan's first kiss.

He knows what kisses are of course, knows what they're supposed to be like, what makes them good. Because their edges bleed, and they are one another, and Ronan has kissed Adam many, many times. But it was different, somehow impossibly different, to kiss a boy because he wanted him instead of just feeling what someone else wanted. Not quite knowing if this was okay, if the timing was right, if Kavinsky was going to kiss him back.

Where all he could do was want, and hope. But he supposed that was life.]

[He felt- there was both hope and misery in his chest. Settled in the pit of his stomach. He'd been prepared to end it all, to face his doom, and now- It had felt so easy. There would be no more fighting, no more struggling, no more misery. Just...peace. This was harder. This was the hard choice but how was he supposed to turn it down? Ronan wanted him and Kavinsky never wanted to let go of him. This was his last chance, probably. There wouldn't be any more after this. It wasn't just a stupid party with a stupid kidnapped brother and a stupid almost dragon. The only thing stupid about it, maybe, would have been throwing everything away because of a boy.

But he could live for that same boy. He was worth it. He was enough- more than enough. He was the fucking stars in the night sky and all of the romantic bullshit things Kavinsky probably wouldn't ever say.

So when Ronan asked can I, the answer was, without a doubt, absolutely yes. It was either Kavinsky's heart or stomach that lurched, but not in a bad way. It was in a way that made him hold on tighter to Ronan as he kissed him back.

He was crying but he wouldn't acknowledge it. The tears were silent and hot on his cheeks. They were unwanted, almost involuntary, but he could only build a dam so strong before it broke.]

What do I have to do to keep you?

[Because he wanted to. He was selfish and possessive and wanted someone who wanted him back.]

--Oh.

[Ronan was breathless and a little flushed along his cheekbones as they parted. But Kavinsky had kissed him back. He clung to the other boy softly, fingers curled against the back of his neck, holding onto him because he didn't want to let go. He didn't think that he wanted the world if it didn't involve the boy in his arms. He was heated and his heart was racing, and it was a belated realization that he hadn't really known what it was like to kiss someone at all, even if he'd thought that he did.

He cups Kavinsky's face in his hands- fingers catching his tears without either of them having to acknowledge that's what he's doing. He wants to say something, to make it better, but he doesn't know the right words. Maybe there aren't any. Maybe sometimes you hurt and all you can do is walk through it. But he's not alone for it, at least. So Ronan kisses him again, softer this time, light as a ghost or butterfly wings. Just a quiet reminder of warmth, of affection, trying to say that he's precious and wanted in the way he touches him, at least.

But Kavinsky asks a question, and that's easy. Or, easi-er at least. He pulls back a little, looking into his eyes, his body curling in toward Kavinsky. Want as sure as his heartbeat.]

Just- live. And help me figure out what the fuck that means. Together.

[He squeezes his hand softly, shrugging his shoulders like he's not asking to change the world.

But then he's always been a thief; everything he was felt stolen.]

[Ronan acknowledging his tears without actually saying anything about them did something to Kavinsky. It was a quiet sort of comfort, a feeling like maybe he was safe to feel these things and express them, at least in this moment. He'd never been very good at letting himself feel these kinds of things. They were frightening emotions, things that made him feel weak or not good enough. But Ronan- right here, right now, he made him feel like enough.

He took a slightly shaky deep breath.]

Okay.

[He could do that. He could live. He could keep facing the days as they came and maybe, eventually, things would get better. With Ronan at his side, things wouldn't be so hard, maybe.

He'd do anything for Ronan.]

I- we can do it.

[It felt like there wasn't anything a pair of dreamers couldn't do if they put their heads together. They could be kings. Together.

Foolishly, he almost thanked Ronan. He felt grateful. Because- he didn't know, exactly. Ronan was giving him a chance, he wanted him, but after all the shit they'd both put each other through, was there any point to saying 'thank you'? He swallowed the emotion down with a sniffle. Stood up a little straighter.]

[Emotions were frightening things, for sure. But were they any more terrifying than dreams? He is glad at the way that Kavinsky doesn't flinch when he catches his tears. The way that he takes a deep breath, shaky and flushed and Ronan smiles at him, his blue eyes glimmering as he looks at the other boy. He knows that the idea of life has to be fairly scary- he knows that it is for him anyway. But he wants it. He wants to figure it out.]

Yeah. We can.

[There was so much that he wanted to learn with him, so much that he wanted to teach Kavinsky. What couldn't they accomplish together? Just a small thing, this was. Just changing the world, changing the past to shift the future. And Ronan tosses his arms around his shoulders, leaning in to playfully nip teeth against his ear as he leans in to whisper-]

Now get out of here before things get worse, and come find me for real. It's some place to start, right?

[He presses a kiss to the point of his pulse, a slight flick of his tongue as he pulls away, but holds onto his hand.]

Do you know where to look?

[He drew in another shaky deep breath as Ronan nipped his ear, equal parts still a wreck and turned on. It didn't take much sometimes, especially not when it was his dream boy. He closed his eyes, let himself have a moment to try and put his thoughts in order. Everything was still a mess but- he owed a lot to this Ronan, already, though he wouldn't say as much.

Honestly, it took a lot for him to not make some sort of lewd joke inspired by the kiss to his neck, the kind he'd crack when he was feeling better. Ronan should be impressed; Kavinsky should get a medal.

But at the question, he hesitated, then shook his head.]

I don't.

[He didn't have the faintest clue. He figured though, that Ronan was going to tell him. This wasn't a time for games and he didn't think there was going to be one.]

[It's a Saturday night; most of the rush and the thrill of the party and the racing the night before has faded, but there's no school tomorrow, and the night still feels like freedom. He's cuddled up next to Kavinsky, a movie on the screen that neither of them are really watching. The rest of the boys are all scattered elsewhere-- Swan and Skov went to the store for snacks a while ago, but they haven't come back and he imagines they probably got distracted.

So it's just the two of them, Eli's legs across K's lap and his head on his shoulder and it's a thrill. The fact that he can do this- touch him and be close to him. They've been talking idly through the movie since no one seemed particularly captivated by rewatching Justice League, but it was noise and color in the background.

But eventually, he ends up bringing up the things he'd talked about with Swan. He's been meaning to talk about it, but he hasn't quite known how, and hasn't wanted to talk about it when there were other people around. So it's taken him a bit to actually bring it up. At first glance, with people he doesn't know, Elijah tends to seems like he's all venom and polish. And then you get him talking about something that matters and he struggles not to choke on his words.]

So-- I was talking to Swan about safewords? He seemed to think I should have one. And... I kept thinking about you.

[It's not quite a question, but it's part of one- sort of hanging in the air between the words.]

[The only thing Kavinsky was particularly captivated by was Elijah. He had one hand resting on Eli's knee, familiar and casual, and occasionally leaned his head on the other boy's. It was nice to be close and comfortable like this, any earlier tensions more or less fizzled out.

He looked over when Elijah spoke, letting the words sink in. Maybe it was something Kavinsky himself should've brought up with Eli--or maybe Skov should have, but lord knew Skov wasn't the right person to talk about it. Skov could barely handle himself, half the time.]

What about me? It's a good idea, though. Shit can get crazy sometimes; it's better to have a firm way to tap out.

[And there was no shame in tapping out, either. The boys could be cruel sometimes, but they understood boundaries and limits. If someone wasn't having a good time anymore there was nothing wrong with them taking steps to make themselves comfortable.

Some days, things could be tame. Others, Kavinsky could get high out of his mind and pull a gun on someone, feeling invincible. His boys were usually game to play along, but not always.]

Well, I mean- fuck. You know. Not like with Skov, but... something, maybe. If you're into that shit.

[Which is probably the messiest way to ask someone if they're into kink, but Elijah is always messy when it matters. Because when he gives a shit about things, about people, it's hard to know the right thing to say. It's one thing when it's an abstract construction. And different when it's figuring out how to get what he feels in his chest out into words, to translate it into something another human being can understand. But Kavinsky seems to get it, most of the time.

The fact that he's embarrassingly new to all of this probably doesn't help with articulating it, either.

But he wants it. And he wants it with Kavinsky- he'd realized that since the night he and Skov had pushed to where it had finally clicked that this was foreplay, not fighting. And after they pulled apart, when he was so high it felt like floating, he'd needed it to be Kavinsky. Not that he hadn't wanted to makeout with Skov, but.. He couldn't explain why. It was just that something about him felt right.

Something about K made him want his fingers around his throat. Which wasn't an easy desire to feel, let alone to talk about. But none of them have judged him for stumbling into this right along with Skov, so it feels- not as uneasy, or as uncomfortable, like something his skin can bear.

And Elijah sort of thought that Kavinsky with a gun in his hand was pretty fucking hot. But considering his main association was the night where he'd put down Eli's dreams that would have burned them alive, eaten them whole if given half a chance.. he might be biased. But he was a boy as damaged as the rest, anyway.]

I still haven't really figured out a safeword, though.

[Maybe it was the messiest way to ask someone if they were into kink, but Kavinsky was more amused than anything. The corner of his mouth quirked up into a smile. Elijah's awkwardness was endearing, as it always was. K could've poked fun at him for it, but... he didn't think Eli would take it the same way one of the other boys would. He didn't want to ruin anything between them. Especially not when it was just beginning.]

Yeah, I am. I'm not really vanilla.

[He could be, but making things kinky was so much more fun. And he wouldn't hurt Elijah- not on purpose. But that was part of why safewords were important in kink; to make sure no one accidentally crossed a line. Kavinsky didn't want to have to look any of his boys in the eye and know he'd hurt them sexually. That was a vastly different hurt than the fights they got into sometimes. A bruised face could be easily forgiven. But bruised trust? That was more complicated.]

Pineapple? Anchovies? Fuck, why am I thinking about food-

[Was he hungry? Maybe he was hungry. But also both of those words were definitely not going to come up normally during a sexual encounter. If they did, he'd have some questions.]

[Kavinsky died on the 4th of July.

Ronan didn't know how to save him, but then he didn't even know how to save himself, how to stop dying. It feels ugly, but Kavinsky's death is part of what saves him. The other half is this: Declan, with his things mostly moved out of his dorm room, destined for a townhouse in DC that didn't feel far enough away for them to look each other in the face.

Pleasant goodbyes weren't what Lynch boys were made of.

So they fight, of course, because they're breathing, because they don't know how else to say it. Declan grabs him by his jacket, Ronan hits him, his brother curses, spitting blood into gravel. He actually snarls- like something wounded, like a creature that lashes out, hurts because it's hurting. Something ugly in Ronan thrills at the feeling.

Don't you get it, a question hurled like bullets. And Declan pulls out Ronan's ribs so easily he knows his brother could have done it all along. Because Matthew is one of his. Always has been. And dying- it's a luxury he can't afford. He didn't realize how close he'd been to wanting it, until it was no longer an option. He exhales in a uneasy gasp, shrugs it off like he isn't bleeding from the words. Bitter words of how Ronan had dreamed himself a better brother, and it's hard to blame him, for once.

He goes back to the Barns.
He does not dream.

It starts with Adam, over headlights and tarot cards- the Devil. And he exhales a breath rich with guilt, so thick with memories he can taste it. And Ronan finds himself staring at dark eyes and white sunglasses. He shudders with shame under Adam's blue eyes, tries to laugh it off. He asks himself if he's dreaming, and he isn't.

It gets worse after that-- or maybe better. Ronan isn't sure anymore. Gansey died and came back. Cabeswater died and Ronan hasn't figured that out yet. Death seems less than it did before. He can smell Kavinsky's cologne and the slow curl of the weed he smoked in the car with him when he races Jiang. When his dreams start to crumble he knows it isn't his hands that put them back together.

Ronan doesn't just pull things from his dreams. Sometimes his dreams are a door, a space where living and dying are almost the same thing. It's someone else's fingers that put the green pills on his tongue, passes him the beer he uses to drink it down. Maybe it isn't the only thing he takes -- he stops checking. It feels like a summer he can't forget and can't fix. He told Blue and Gansey about the Camaro but he didn't go with them. He couldn't stand to see that place without Kavinsky there.

Adam checks in on him, but Ronan knows it wont last. Another month or two, he guesses. He's leaving for Harvard, because of course he is: he always has been, in his heart. There was always something he wanted more than magic.

Ronan sleeps, but he doesn't dream. But he still feels trapped when he wakes. It takes him long minutes to identify it as touch, hands on his skin, like the weight of a boy that doesn't eat enough. Like the ghost of a boy that he loved.]

[Kavinsky had always been fire. He'd been bright and burning and full of so much life no matter how poorly he'd handled it all. Just like a fire, it was hard to snuff out his embers entirely. He'd died on a ley line and now he was something else, something not living but not fully dead, either. He could move on; he'd probably see Prokopenko again. The real one. The one who'd died. But he didn't want to move on. He had unfinished business.

It went by the name of Ronan Lynch.

Kavinsky was cool to the touch. Of course, he was; it wasn't like he was going to get any warmer. His flame was burning low but it was still there. He was still there. It didn't take as much effort as he'd thought it would to touch and interact with things. Less effort than dreaming. Not that he could do that anymore. It was weird. He didn't really like it. He missed having the world at his fingertips, doing whatever he pleased, dreaming whatever he wanted.

But what he wanted more than anything else was Ronan. So, K got into his room. That took less effort than it would have before, too. He didn't have to worry about getting lost or picking locks. He was just there because he wanted to be. It was easy and yet-

He sat astride Ronan's thighs, leaning forward, hands skating down his arms. Ronan was warm- so warm. Kavinsky looked exactly like he had before he'd died- eyes dark and hungry, lips full and equally hungry. He leaned down closer, necklace brushing Ronan's skin before his lips did, mouth ghosting over his neck.]

Lynch.

[Kavinsky might have been cool to the touch, but the feel of him still made Ronan burn. Maybe it was the warmth of Virginia summer nights in early August, maybe it was that even dead, K still made his skin feel like embers strung into the shape of a boy. Maybe it was just the fact that even not quite dead and not quite alive, the other boy still burned into his body, into his heart.

He blinked his eyes, those blues with heavy lashes slowly glancing up to find the specter pressed on top of him. The gold necklace was cold on his skin and he whined softly in his throat as he gazed into those dark eyes, hungry, like the other boy might devour him whole. He shuddered with the feel of ghost-metal, but he doesn't flinch, doesn't push him away.

He gasps, his shoulders shuddering at the way that he says his name, like it's breaking some sort of spell. Ronan looks at him, somewhere between horrified and entranced- like an addiction, like something worse than the green pills. Kavinsky's mouth on his neck, lips just shy of his pulse, and he looks into his eyes, body flushed against crisp sheets.

He isn't pulling away, doesn't push K away, or try to shift his spectral form off of him. It's almost like he likes the weight, likes the way that he's almost pinned to the mattress.

Either because he's just pulling from sleep, or for a hundred other, worse reasons, Ronan seems raw, undone. He's open and affected, and his want is vibrant and hot and like it would be easy for K to ruin him. But then maybe after all the months of guilt and shame and the myriad hurts he doesn't say, maybe he needs to be ruined a little.]

--I'm not dreaming.

[The words unsteady, his heart erratic, Ronan watching him like he thinks whatever this is might evaporate. And then something seems to click and he looks at him, all heat and tenderness.]

...I haven't been dreaming, have I?

Fuck no. I was waiting for you to figure it out but you were taking too long.

[And sometimes, Kavinsky wasn't good with patience. He was dead though, what did he have to worry about when it came to time? Lynch was the one getting older, not him. Lynch was the one ever in danger of shuffling off the mortal coil. K didn't want him to though- he might have been angry and bitter and upset but he still didn't want to see Lynch dead. Despite having been used. Despite having killed himself because of the other dreamer- sure, he was pissed about those things, but there was a certain peace in being a ghost, too.

He didn't have to worry about the next time he was going to get high or what he was doing with his future or the newest insult people would sling his way. He didn't have to worry about anything anymore except getting what he wanted.]

Have you dreamt about me?

[There was something almost endearing about it if it was true, something that was almost enough to temper Kavinsky's bitterness.]

Before or after I died?

[He wanted to kiss Ronan, he really did. But he wanted to hurt him, too. But- he was torn, conflicted. Once upon a time, there hadn't been anything he'd wanted more than to curl up next to Ronan and rest his head on his chest and- but that had been before. There wasn't a world that would let him be with Ronan the way he wanted to, not anymore.]

I'm sorry. I guess I-- I'm always figuring shit out too late, aren't I?

[His words catch, choke in his throat. And if this had been before Kavinsky died, he probably would have laughed about it, said something vicious to cover it over. He doesn't. If not for K's weight against him, he probably would have sagged under the weight of the guilt. But somehow, being so close like this made it impossible for the feeling to settle on his skin.

He nods at the question, his face flushed, a little awkward as he breathes it into the air.]

Both. I guess.. probably more after. But I dreamt about you when you were alive, too.

[He notably doesn't mention what those dreams were about, but it's also not hard to figure out, either. The way his skin warms and his blue eyes dip. And there's a moment where he doesn't meet Kavinsky's dark gaze until he can't fight it anymore, can't help it from the proximity.

Ronan doesn't know what he wants anymore. Was there anything worse than realizing you wanted someone too late to stop pulling away, stop being scared of what that meant? Knowing that what happened to them was your fault in the ways that mattered? If not for Matthew he doesn't know if he'd have made it through the year-- but he supposes that's why Declan told him. The cruelest of kindness.]

You should have told me you were a ghost sooner, asshole.

[That felt safer, like something normal. He doesn't really plan on wrapping his arms around K's chest, clinging to his body that isn't flesh, the touch of him that's something other than warmth, not quite solid. Ronan presses his face into his neck, cheeks wet with hot tears. He doesn't make a sound, probably hasn't since Kavinsky died. It's not like he had anyone he thought would understand.]

Edited ("anymorer" is bad and needed to go) 2022-04-27 04:40 (UTC)

[He honestly didn't expect Ronan to apologize to him, not for anything. So hearing I'm sorry caught him by surprise. The emotion flickered through his eyes, momentary and then it was gone. Always figuring shit out too late- did that mean- Ronan had dreamt about him, but that wasn't the revelation Kavinsky was having.

He took a deep breath, held it for a moment- but while he was trying to figure out how he felt about this, Ronan was holding onto him. And Kavinsky wasn't oblivious to his tears. He sighed; how was he supposed to stay angry when Ronan was crying? He slid a hand up, cupping the back of Ronan's head, fingers gentle and cool against his skin. He'd been expecting things to go a lot differently, he hadn't thought-]

I figured you'd be a bitch about it.

[There wasn't nearly as much bite to his tone as there could have been. He didn't mean this sort of reaction right now, either. He'd thought- maybe Ronan would try to get rid of him or something if he knew he was still around as a ghost. Not that K knew how someone would even go about doing that, but...

He let himself settle against Ronan as comfortably as he could, face tucked to his shoulder. If he'd still had a pulse his heart would have been racing, being this close to the boy he'd wanted for so long.]

So what'd you figure out since I died?

[He needed to know. He needed to know exactly why Ronan was crying. He hadn't thought anyone would shed tears over his death, maybe not even his boys. This was...it made him feel a little triumphant, as petty as it was.]

[He shivers, leans into the cool touch of his fingers. It's comforting, honestly, the way he's cool when Ronan feels almost feverish, either from emotions or the night air, or that he'd always had an ember heart, too. His eyelashes flutter and he lets his head lean into his fingers, trusting. He laughs when Kavinsky says he thought he'd be a bitch about it. Because he's wrong, but he also can't blame him for the assumption given how he'd treated him.]

Fuck you. One of my best-friends is also a ghost, you know. It's great; can't bitch when I throw him out a window if he's already dead.

[There's a slight touch of wry humor in how he says it, like he might be joking. It's true, of course, but- the words aren't sharp. Not like Ronan isn't sharp, but like he isn't sharp with Kavinsky, or at least not now, like this. When Ronan's hands betray him as surely as his tears, fingers clinging to him like he's afraid of losing him again. He closes his eyes and just leans into him, not kissing, but- there's the tension of it in the air, of things lost between them, dreams and promises unkept.

Ronan is simultaneously hurt and ecstatic with Kavinsky in his arms, overwhelmed and he just- he still wants him, wants those fingertips on the ink of his tattoo. But the ghost of his bloody heart asks that question and Ronan just sighs into the air instead.]

That I'm a goddamn mess? [He smiles thinly, but doesn't stick to the deflection.] I don't know how to say this, how to-- I just fucking--

[He quiets for a moment, catches his breath. He's wounded, and a year later he's still bleeding.]

I figured out that.. I think I'm in love with you, okay?

[He swallows, hides his face in K's shoulder like that will shelter him from what he says. It doesn't, of course. The horror has been this hole in his chest, a chill in the marrow of his bones, eating him alive. He wants to say something else, but he doesn't know what. So he just-- he holds him. Probably too tight, if he was flesh and bone, Ronan's breath coming too fast, heart racing, and it's still awful and it's still overwhelming and he feels like he's choking on the empty space where they'd been supposed to make something together.

His eyes are still damp, but he's trying not to cry. Ronan didn't like to think of himself as the sort of boy prone to tears. Kavinsky might also notice the phrasing: I'm in love with you. He doesn't say was. He hadn't ever put an end date on it just because K died. How could he when he'd been dead when Ronan realized how he felt? And now he's here, and- he doesn't know what this means.]

I was scared, K. I wanted so much more than I thought I could ever have, than I was allowed to want, and so I was an asshole and I pushed you away. But I thought-- I thought that we'd go back to how things were, how they always were with us. I ghost you and we yell and we hit each other, but we never-- [His voice breaks and Ronan doesn't try to hide how he shakes, his voice dropping to a fragile murmur, guilt and shame, always. They felt thicker than blood, most days.

And he still doesn't know how to say the complicated piece of it. Something about how they'd both been dying, but Kavinsky kept him alive, too. Ronan just hadn't known how to return the favor. He hadn't understood he was supposed to, hadn't seen the steps they'd been dancing until too late. He thinks Jiang knows that the real reason Ronan still races with him is that he felt like the only part of Kavinsky that was still alive.]

--you weren't supposed to leave me for real, you dick.

[Normally this would all be anger and violence, but he's spent so much of it.]

[He exhaled. He didn't really need to breathe, but there was that saying about old habits and it was true.]

It's a little fucking late, man.

[He'd come back to Ronan having a ghost for a friend at a future date, to be determined. He filed the information away though, and there was something about not being the only one that made him feel less lonely and a little jealous at the same time. He should've figured that if he'd come back as a ghost there was nothing stopping other people from doing the same thing, but-

More important than that, Ronan had just said he thought he loved him. If he'd been alive, Kavinsky would have gone through a series of reactions. A quickened pulse, a lump in his throat, fuck, maybe even butterflies in his stomach. It had been all he'd ever wanted- was still all he wanted.]

You're the one who's a dick.

[He could have elaborated, gone into all the reasons why, but he was pretty sure they both knew why. He didn't need to dig into the wound and make it worse. Instead, he smoothed his fingers over Ronan's cheeks, soft and gentle.]

You can't get rid of me that easily.

[Because here he still was, despite the odds.]

And-

[He hesitated. It wasn't easy to say no matter how true it was. Words were hard, sometimes, depending on what was being talked about. He'd never been good at expressing his feelings verbally.]

-I love you, too.

[Ronan was going to a party with Kavinsky.

It was really something of a marvel that Ronan had agreed, if they were being honest. But it had been one of his bad night, where he couldn't stand the way that Gansey was looking at him like he was already expecting Ronan to do something that he would disapprove of. So he'd retreated to his room, but it felt like a cage more than anything. Maybe it was the humidity, the way that the Henrietta air churned like it was waiting for a thunderstorm. Maybe it was the after effects from when he'd woken that afternoon with his dreams in his hands.

His phone had chimed with a text notification, and he'd had to force himself to get a cooked hotdog from the fridge to feed to Chainsaw, just to keep himself from answering too quickly. He didn't want to come across as desperate; though whether to himself or Kavinsky was a question he remained pointedly disinterested in. So he slowly fed her, as she made sounds loud enough to bother the dead, and only afterwards flicked the screen up to see what Kavinsky had sent him this time.

It was an invitation to a party that Ronan would normally have refused out of hand. He either went to Kavinsky's parties or he went to an Aglionby party.
He did not go to an Aglionby party with Kavinsky.

But he needed to get out of Monmouth, get out of his head, and it had been a while since he'd let Kavinsky lure him out for something more than their usual Friday night races. The text he sent back was if you race me first, which was honestly about as close to just saying yes as Ronan Lynch was capable of.

He does not tell Gansey where he's going.

He gets in his car, and he meets up with Kavinsky, and they race; Ronan wins. He feels more human and more alive than he has in days. He assumes that they're going straight to the party, but instead they end up stopping at the Deering General Store, which is quite possibly one of the seediest places that Ronan has ever laid eyes on. It's worse than Nino's. But he parks the BMW and K gets out of the sleek white Mitsubishi -- which still seems the most eye-catching of all the vehicles in the parking lot to Ronan. He follows the other boy, complaining almost good-naturedly about the side-trip.

Don't worry, I'll make it up to you, Kavinsky says with a filthy sort of grin, but Ronan doesn't think much of the innuendo.

What he does think about, following along while K hands off packets of pills and powders, is that he doesn't think K had considered that he might actually say yes. This side-trip, all Kavinsky's business-dealings, was not the sort of thing that he brought Ronan along to. He'd made plans, assuming Ronan wouldn't show, because Ronan never showed to an invitation that was come somewhere with me. Without quite knowing why, Ronan couldn't help feeling guilty about the realization.

When K seems to have finished, he expects that they'll head back to the parking lot, but instead Ronan finds himself being herded back towards the public bathrooms. He clearly doesn't quite get it, but he isn't protesting, either. He follows, even lets Kavinsky push him up against the door for a moment and tries to pretend that his breath doesn't catch at the proximity, that his face doesn't flush, that he doesn't almost want-- want what?

He doesn't know, and the door swings inward under his weight, letting him regain some space, before Ronan has to risk figuring it out.]

[Ronan should feel guilty, in Kavinsky's opinion. He liked to think that both of their lives would be vastly improved if they spent more time together, for various reasons.

It was different having Ronan along for this little business detour, but the sort of different he could get used to. He wasn't even concerned about Ronan snitching; it wasn't like there weren't rumors everywhere. But Kavinsky was untouchable. Ronan, on the other hand- K couldn't wait to get his hands on him.

He grinned as he followed Ronan into the bathroom, barely glancing around to take stock of their surroundings before returning his full attention to the other boy. He'd meant what he said about making it up to Ronan. Circling around him, Kavinsky pushed him back against the door again, reaching around him to engage the lock. He wasn't worried about someone trying to force the door open, but he had a feeling it'd be a bit of a peace of mind for Ronan.

He traced his fingers along Ronan's jaw, wasting no time dropping his other hand to the front of his pants, squeezing firmly. He half expected Ronan to push him away or something- he wouldn't have been surprised, just disappointed.]

You've been so patient, sweetheart; you deserve a reward.

[Ronan's pulse was racing already, just from the way that Kavinsky was looking at him, the way that he circled around him. His focus on him in a way that was sharp and intent, and Ronan felt rather like the other boy was going to eat him alive. On another night he'd have pulled away and told him to stop fucking around, but tonight he doesn't.

There's a thrill to it, something on the air, something in the way that K looks at him like a promise.

Ronan was oblivious sometimes, but he wasn't actually stupid, unless it came to his own emotions. So when Kavinsky presses him back up against the door and turns the lock with that heavy clack as the deadbolt engages, he has a vague idea of the direction that this is going. He's flushed, somewhere between embarrassment and arousal, because on the one hand, Kavinsky is touching him, and on the other Ronan has never done anything like this before. Dreamed about it, sure, but he was in imminent danger of having Kavinsky pull apart all of his cool disinterest.

His blue eyes watch Kavinsky, helplessly attentive when they're this close and he's tracing fingers against Ronan's jaw like a tease. And then his other hand squeezes against the front of his jeans, and Ronan gasps- vocal and helpless, blue eyes wide at the way that his fingers grope against him. He's not hard yet, but there's already stirrings of interest -- and given that he's a teenager, given that it's fucking Kavinsky's fingers against him, it probably wont take long to get him there. He should have pushed him away, but his blood was already burning. He wanted this, even if he probably never would have figured that out on his own, wouldn't have been able to name it if Kavinsky wasn't here in his face with his hand on his dick.

He shivers at the words, hips twitching toward his touch despite himself. There's something about the soft, almost alluring tone, the way that he calls him sweetheart. For the first time it sounds like an endearment instead of an insult, but memory tells him that it sounds the same as it always has. But Ronan decides that's a puzzle for when he can think straight.]

Fuck, K. You don't have to. I-- [Ronan doesn't know what to say. If you didn't know Ronan, it might sound like a protest. But Ronan had never been shy about saying no before; it was yes that he didn't know how to say. And there was a big difference between telling Kavinsky that he didn't have to and saying that Ronan didn't want him to, or telling him to stop, and he pointedly isn't doing either. He's never done this, and he doesn't know what to say. And so instead of the words that he can't quite form, he ends up with a question:]

Am I dreaming?

[Kavinsky huffed out a soft laugh. He was very aware of the fact that he didn't have to do anything. He'd wanted something like this for weeks, the chance to get Ronan alone, to get his hands and mouth on him.]

I know I don't have to. I want to.

[He hardly did anything he didn't want to, especially not here in Henrietta, out from under his father's thumb. He was indulgent, hedonistic. What he wanted, he did or took. He had almost everything. Except for Ronan. Ronan was the prize, the treasure, the thing that illuded him the most. He wouldn't have been able to put it into words how much he wanted Ronan, so he wasn't going to try. He would express himself through actions.

Pressing down with the heel of his palm, he leaned in and kissed Ronan's neck, lips ghosting over his skin. He nipped at his ear, far more gentle than he would've liked, but he didn't want Ronan to spook.]

Do you dream about me often?

[His voice was low and husky. He'd seen the opportunity and pounced on it. Ronan asking if he was dreaming meant this was either a nightmare or something good that he'd had a similar dream about before. Kavinsky was going to assume it was something positive and feel flattered.]

I've dreamed about you before.

...Oh.

[It was maybe not the most glowing of approvals, but it was an awkward sort of acceptance. He knew he should be arguing, but he couldn't think of the words or the reasons. His skin crackled with want, and when was the last time that he'd felt like he knew what he wanted? This felt too precious to push away. So he doesn't, even if he knows that it's going to tip things, change things between them. That he'll think of this every time Kavinsky smiles that shark smile.

But K presses down with the heel of his palm, and the friction spikes heat into him, has his hips jerking so that his cock presses back into the other boy's hand. Fuck. He's fucked. He doesn't care. He keens softly, almost a whimper as K kisses against his neck, trailing against skin to nip at his ear, and it feels like a tease.]

I-- sometimes.

[He doesn't know why he answers. Maybe it's the way that Kavinsky's voice is silken, like liquid sex as he all but purrs the question against his ear. Maybe it's the way that it almost feels like a dream, and K hasn't entirely said that it isn't. Maybe it's that he's hard and turned on and Kavinsky is still touching him through his jeans. Ronan's a virgin and he can't help how he reacts, easy and helpless and wanton.]

What do you.. what's it like, when you dream about me?

[He had an idea, of course, what Kavinsky might dream about him, but he wanted to hear it. He shifts a little, and slowly curls his fingers in his shirt, and softly tugs him in a little bit closer, breathless and heated as he looks into K's dark eyes.]

I was going to take my jacket off, but if I let it touch the floor in here I'd have to burn it.

[Sometimes. It was a better answer than no or anything else Kavinsky might have expected. Ronan Lynch dreamed about him; it was almost more than he could have hoped for.

Smiling, confident and in control, he started working on getting Ronan's pants open. He wasn't in a rush; his motions were almost lazy, slow. He should be given a medal for not rushing through it just to get his hands in Ronan's pants.]

Usually, we're fucking. You love it, and fuck, the sounds you make.

[You love me. It was easy to talk about the filthy sex dreams he had, instead of the soft ones. The ones where he slept curled up in Ronan's arms and the dream was so vivid he could feel Ronan's body heat on his skin. Those dreams were worse because when he woke up alone, reality paled in comparison and he wanted to sleep forever so he could dream of Ronan holding him.

A thrill coursed through him when Ronan tugged him closer, and gladly, Kavinsky stepped in, not looking away from Ronan's eyes.]

What're your dreams like?

[He was genuinely curious; what happened in Ronan's dreams about him?

Without even sparing another glance around, he snorted a little, lips curling into a smirk.]

Don't take off anything; this place is filthy.

[Honestly, it was sort of difficult to focus on the conversation, on the words that Kavinsky was saying, what Ronan was supposed to be saying. Because Kavinsky's hand was popping the button to his jeans and then against the zipper, and all Ronan could do was groan. He was hard, aching, and the other boy hadn't even really gotten his hands on him yet. He trembles a little as K talks about what his dreams are like, because while it's mostly what he'd expected, it's still really hot to hear him say it.

His face is flushed, blatantly pink against his cheeks, that bright contrast against his pale skin. He's half-breathless, Kavinsky standing close, fingers in his pants, and they're talking about dreams, which feels almost illicit. It's not the sort of dreaming that matters, but it feels almost like it could be for some reason.]

They're.. messy. Stupid shit.

[He doesn't want to admit that he's never had sex, that he's barely looked at porn, that most of his knowledge about how men have sex comes from what he overhears in the locker room. But it doesn't mean that he doesn't want it. He aches and he longs for it, but it's this shapeless want in his heart, and it makes his dreams less clear and pointed than Kavinsky's.]

There was one where you're leaning over me and you're tracing my tattoo. And you talk to me, saying all sorts of filthy shit. Sometimes you say things in Latin, too. You tell me.. tell me that we're the same. That you know what I want. And then you eat my tattoos. Teeth against my skin, like you could swallow me whole if you wanted. But you- don't. You take it slow, and it doesn't hurt, but I scream anyway.

[His voice is quiet, and hushed. He tells him about his dream like a secret, like it's something embarrassing and almost shameful. Ronan clearly doesn't know that Kavinsky is a dreamer, but his dreams do. Ronan is too oblivious to put the pieces together, but K might catch the hint of it, the weight of you tell me that we're the same. He might also catch that the dream Ronan tells him is obviously a sex dream, but scrambled.

Ronan doesn't tell him all of the dream, the part where he's gone afterwards, like smoke in his fingers. Because that's always been part of his fear: that he can only hold Kavinsky's interest until the other boy gets what he wants (isn't that how the rumors go?). But tonight he was reckless, and the wanting was a better drug than even the fear of rejection. So he's here, against the door of a public bathroom with K's hand in his pants as he moaned, clung to him like he needed this.]

Yeah. Not here, anyway.

[Which almost sounds like a vague hint of a tease- like he might take his clothes off somewhere else.]

[Kavinsky stilled for a moment when Ronan told him what his dreams were like. Obviously, they were some kind of metaphor for sex, but for a change that wasn't the important part. The important part was they were the same and Kavinsky did think he knew what Ronan wanted. Ronan was- alright, not casual right now but a lot more casual than Kavinsky imagined he'd be if he knew K was a dreamer, too.

He was tempted to spill the beans, let the cat out of the bag, etcetera, and so forth, but he was sure that would ruin the mood. And he'd just gotten Ronan's pants open, so ruining the mood really wasn't something he wanted to do right now. Tugging the front of Ronan's underwear down, he wrapped his fingers around his dick. A shiver ran down Kavinsky's spine. While a dick was a dick, this was Ronan.]

I could blow your mind in so many ways. If you let me.

[Maybe Kavinsky wasn't a traditional romantic but he still thought he could sweep Ronan off his feet in his own way. He could treat him like a king, cut his leash to Dick fucking Gansey.]

Come home with me after the party.

[He barely managed to hold back from saying something about how Ronan's clothes would look good on his bedroom floor. He could make all of Ronan's dreams come true and maybe some of his own, too.]

[Ronan didn't know what sort of reaction he was expecting from Kavinsky when he told him what he dreamed about him- maybe for him to tease him, laugh and say something that was a little sharp for comfort, even if it still made Ronan want him. Still feel desired, even if he never talked about that part, let alone admitted to the fact that he liked it.

Kavinsky pulled down the front of his boxer-briefs, wrapping his fingers around Ronan's erection, and he whimpered at the contact. The touch of the other boy's fingers against his cock felt like they burned; so much better than the feel of his own hand in the shower. He says that he can blow his mind, and at the moment he can't even resist how much he wants to let him. He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to Kavinsky's shoulder, the moan on his mouth almost a sob. Right now it was just touch, not even friction, and still the tip of his dick was already slick, beading with precum from how turned on he was.]

I... okay.

[It was cheating, really, asking him when he had his fingers wound around Ronan's dick, had the dreamer pressed to his shoulder and his hands trembling as they clung to Kavinsky. Like the boy with the tattoos that most people thought was a walking threat was already starting to come apart under his hands. He was sensitive, easy to pull reactions from. No one had ever touched him like this and fuck, but he wanted it, he wanted him and as trashy a location as this might be, he couldn't help himself.]

I'll leave in the morning.

[Gansey would worry, he knew. But for once he didn't want to think about how Gansey would feel about what he wanted. He just wanted to feel it. He's been to K's house before, but this feels different. It feels like agreeing to something, like admitting that his dreams are right, that K does know what he wants.]

[Fuck but Ronan was hot. He hardly had to do anything, just exist, and he was hot. And as if that wasn't enough, he agreed to go home with Kavinsky later, like a dream come true. Like something Kavinsky never thought would happen.

He grinned, victorious, to hide the way his heart fluttered in his chest, and kissed Ronan hard.]

You won't regret it.

[It was a promise, not just because Kavinsky was confident in his ability to blow Ronan's mind but because he was invested in this. He didn't want to just fuck Ronan, though that was a long-running fantasy. He was head over heels for the other boy- had been since before he'd discovered he was a dreamer, too. Kavinsky just wasn't sure how to want something without making it sexual. It was easier than admitting there was a soft part of him that wanted romantic things.

He slid his hands to Ronan's hips, holding on to steady himself while he dropped to his knees. The current state of cleanliness of the room didn't matter much to him; his jeans had encountered worse than a bathroom floor. Besides, it wasn't every day he got an opportunity like this. It was more than worth it.

Taking a moment, he admired Ronan's dick, then glanced up with a filthy smirk. Wrapping a hand around the base of it, he swirled his tongue around the head, teasing at first but then slower and more thorough on a second pass. He'd done this before, on more than a few occasions, and normally he'd say he didn't get on his knees for just anyone but the truth was he didn't usually do it for free. Ronan was special though, in so many ways. Kavinsky liked to think they were friends but he wasn't sure the other boy would agree.]

[This wasn't the first time that Kavinsky had kissed Ronan, but somehow it felt different. It felt like a promise, felt like Ronan was wrapped around his finger. But in truth, he probably has been since the first time they'd kissed, or maybe before, maybe ever since the racing and Kavinsky became the only outlet that could take him down on his worst nights.

He knows that K will be good to his word, that he'll ruin Ronan in the best sort of ways. But Ronan is a complicated creature, and sometimes the very things that he wants are the things that he regrets.

But in this moment, it's impossible to regret anything. Not with the way that Kavinsky grips his hips and sinks down to his knees, and Ronan groans just from the promise and the proximity, the filthy smirk on his mouth and Ronan cursed mutedly under his breath, his long eyelashes fluttering over his blue eyes as he watches the other boy. He feels helpless, almost whines at the way that his tongue feels on his cock, like a tease, but also pleasure that burns through him. It's like the rest of the world shuts off, gives him a sort of quiet that's better than the drinking and the hangovers.

He reaches out, fingers shaking, but he catches them against Kavinsky's shoulder, steadying himself, gasping rough and hot.

Ronan didn't know what they were, what this boy was to him when he was under his skin and in his veins. This wasn't friendship, not for him, he didn't really understand the way that K was friends with his boys. Like it was somehow platonically sexual, like the touches didn't change their world. Ronan knew this was going to break him, but with Kavinsky's tongue swirling slow around the head of his cock, all he could do was moan and watch. He was captured by the touch and the feeling, the wet heat of it, the pleasure that had his legs unsteady.

He was pretty sure someone could be banging on the other side of the door and Ronan wouldn't hear them for all the world. Because his world was this: Joseph Kavinsky on his knees and sinful as anything he'd ever seen; like if this was sin, Ronan didn't think he wanted to be pure.]

Oh, fuck... Kavinsky-- please.

[His hand on his shoulder sliding up to brush against his hair, touching more than anything aggressive, he just needed something, needed to feel. Before he'd have probably said something tough-sounding about how he didn't beg, certainly didn't beg for Kavinsky, didn't beg like he didn't know what he was begging for except for more. The words almost punched from his chest like he's forgotten how to breathe, like he needs what K is doing to him more than air.]

[The truth was, Kavinsky might have played it off cool but emotions ate him alive every day of his life. Outwardly, he was indifferent but inwardly he cared more about his boys, about Ronan, than he was likely to admit. Which wasn't to say that he wasn't capable of engaging in casual sex without catching feelings, because he was, but it was different when it was his pack. Or Ronan. It was always different when it was Ronan and there was no way he could genuinely be casual about anything no matter how flippant he came across.

He took a few breaths to steady himself- not just because he was worked up over the fact that he had his hands and mouth on the other dreamer but because Ronan was going to be spending the night. It sounded stupid put like that but it was- it was very far from stupid. Maybe having Ronan spend the night would help Kavinsky get a foot in the door, so to speak. If Ronan gave him a chance, a real chance, maybe- maybe they could be something. The mere idea was enough to have his stomach in something of a knot. Him, the boy nobody would suspect of being nervous about anything.

Coming back to the moment at hand after a second too long, he made a thoughtful noise, almost a hum, he started steadily jerking Ronan off while sucking on the head of his cock. He briefly thought about pulling back to tell Ronan he could pull on his hair or whatever tickled his fancy, but decided it wasn't worth it. He didn't want to stop what he was doing right now, not any part of it.]

[Ronan wasn't casual about Kavinsky either, if he was honest. He did his best to pretend, admittedly, but he was in over his head every time they met- every party, every race, Kavinsky got under his skin until he couldn't help dreaming about him, aching about him. Ronan distinctly wasn't capable of casual sex, so the fact that he's letting this happen says a lot. No one's ever put hands on him like this, touched him like this. But it's terrifying, too. Because Ronan is sure that he doesn't get to keep him, even if he wants to.

It was less that Ronan didn't want to give him a chance and more that Ronan didn't think he'd hold his attention once he peeled back the layers and saw how soft he was under all the sharp edges.

But that's a worry to think about later, because-- because right now he can't think about anything. All he can do is moan, helpless as his hips stutter, twitching against K's hand as the other boy jerked him off. That sinful mouth wrapped around the head of his erection, and the sound he makes is choked on his lips. He's glad there's a locked door behind him, otherwise he's pretty sure he'd be on the floor with Kavinsky. As much as he'd tried to seem unaffected, he didn't think he was going to last long like this.

His fingers petting through the strands of his hair, not pulling, but touching, curling at the back of his neck and then catching on his dark hair again. He's never done this before, and Kavinsky is taking him apart like it's easy. Ronan doesn't want him to stop for anything. This feels.. he couldn't put it into words. Like something he's needed without knowing how to ask for it, even if he could. He can't stop watching, a memory he wants to keep forever, no matter how trashy the place around them might be. All he cared about was how he touched him.]

K--

[Ronan gasps his name like a prayer.]

[It felt like it was easy to take Ronan apart with his hands and mouth but that just- it didn't make the moment any less. It was a combination of things, probably; Ronan was putty in his hands but Kavinsky was also trying his damnedest to take him apart at the seams. It wasn't even that Kavinsky didn't usually put in the effort for this kind of thing, it was that he was trying extra hard because it was Ronan. Everything about the other boy was special and he would've been just as special even if Kavinsky didn't know he was also a dreamer.

He was Kavinsky's type, through and through, from the street racing to the barbs they flung at each other to the fact Ronan came to his parties. He was also painfully handsome and equally tragic. Kavinsky didn't want to 'fix' him or 'save' him from himself or any of those stupid cliche things, but he did want to be the flame in the dark, the thing that lit Ronan's life and sparked his desire. He wanted to spend long days with him and longer nights, drinking, getting high, racing- or just lying in bed together, touching. It didn't even have to be sexual.

Removing his hand from around Ronan's cock, Kavinsky leaned forward to take the rest of him into his mouth, confident about it, throat relaxed. His gag reflex was next to non-existent; there wasn't much he wasn't comfortable with. He rested both hands on Ronan's hips now, not holding him in place, just holding on.

The way Ronan said his name was- it made Kavinsky's skin flush with equal parts pride and desire. He wanted to hear and see and feel Ronan come apart, he wanted to know that he could take the other dreamer apart in the best ways.]

[Ronan has always been fire, a burning heart in his chest, but he felt like he was molten, melting from the inside out. That every way that Kavinsky touched him, tongue and fingers against his cock, burned away another piece of the lies that he'd used to keep them apart. It had been safer that way, but it had also been a lie. Pleasure burned through him and he didn't think that he'd ever be the same; not now that he knew what it was like to have another boy's hands on his body.

Kavinsky's hands.

It was impossible to pretend that the way that he burned wasn't because of who the boy was. It wasn't like he'd let himself be pressed up against the door of a public bathroom with anyone else. But he couldn't help wanting him, being drawn to him, even if he was sure that he'd break his heart. He knew the quiet moments where they laced their fingers together was just a dream, and not one he knew how to pull into reality.

So he lets him take him apart, tongue and mouth and fingers- slick wet heat and the pressure, slow friction. It made him forget all the reasons he hurt, a moment that just felt good. It was filthy and perfect and God, God he wanted it. He knew he wasn't going to last long, and all he could do was touch him, cupping fingers against his neck and threading through his hair. Ronan's face flushed and his fingers trembling, but he touched Kavinsky in a way that was more like affection than just desire.

And then the other boy shifted, letting his hand fall away from Ronan's cock and sliding the rest of the way down, taking him down to the base, and Ronan's eyes went unfocused. Slick and wet and hot, and Ronan was ruined. Pleasure pushing him over the edge all at once. He curses softly, words that are almost more like adoration as they slip from his mouth just before his orgasm hits him. He doesn't think to give Kavinsky a warning, can't think that clearly -- but it's not too hard to have picked up on.]

..oh, fuck.

[He puts one hand to his mouth to try and muffle the sound that he makes, but it doesn't help much. At least not with how close the other boy is, impossible to pretend he isn't affected, ruined in a way that he had no defense against. The way that his voice twists into a moan, torn from his mouth almost like a sob, betraying him. Totally unprepared, although the pleasure of it all keeps him from being embarrassed about just how fast Kavinsky had him spilling down his throat.

It was- it wasn't like the boy with a mouth like sin had fucked him or something. But this was still- a few minutes ago he hadn't known what pleasure at someone else's hands- someone he liked- felt like. Now he did. It felt like a fire in his chest, an ache he couldn't explain. He wanted more, he wanted him, and he couldn't deny it.

He looked off to the side as he pulled back from K's mouth, catching his breath with a gasp. Ronan biting his lip a little awkwardly as the embarrassment finally caught up with him, his cock damp against his boxers, and he feels like a mess. He knew he should say something, but everything felt charged. Instead he softly, almost tenderly brushed his fingers against Kavinsky's cheek. He managed to arrange his face into something a little bit less transparent, almost like a smirk as he looked into his eyes. He wanted to kiss him, but instead he just dragged his fingers against his wet lips, still undone even if he's trying to pull himself together.]

Fuck, K. I- let's say that I owe you later.

[It's a little shy, even if Ronan tries to hide it. But he also means it; heart racing in his chest. I want to suck you off. Not that he'd know what he was doing, but he wants Kavinsky to give him the chance to figure it out. It's maybe the first time that Ronan's actually voiced something that actually said this thing between them was mutual, that he wanted-- That whatever weird thing this was between them, that they were chasing it together. Even if Ronan was a mess about it.

It might not have been a particularly romantic way to say it, but he was saying it.]

[Sometimes, it was the odd things that made you feel invincible or electric. Right now, it was Ronan's orgasm, and Kavinsky felt alive, alive. He pulled back just a fraction to give himself some breathing room, so maybe he wouldn't choke (and he didn't). It was a good thing, in a way, that his mouth was occupied, or else his grin would have been savage.

He moaned even though he wasn't the one who'd just came, resisting the urge to touch himself through his jeans, though the desire was strong. His attention flickered between Ronan's face and his dick when the other dreamer pulled back, focusing finally on Ronan's face when he touched his face. Ronan's fingers brushed against his lips and Kavinsky tipped his head, tongue darting out to swipe against the pads of Ronan's fingers. A tease.]

Yeah, you do.

[He pushed himself up to his feet, brushing off the knees of his pants. He was a little breathless, skin a little flushed and warm, and fuck but he wanted more. He wanted to kiss Ronan but he wasn't sure if he should when he'd just had his mouth on his dick.]

Don't worry; I won't let you forget.

[Kavinsky licked at the tips of his fingers and Ronan gasped, hot and electric, and fuck, fuck, he was so completely fucked. Not yet, he was sure Kavinsky would tease if he said it outloud. His voice a purr and his mouth a savage sort of smirk. Or maybe that was just in his dreams. But he wanted this, he wanted him. He wanted to suck on his fingers, he wanted his dick in his mouth, he just-- he wanted it all.

He couldn't deny it, couldn't pretend that the racing had been just about the cars anymore.

When Kavinsky got to his feet, Ronan pressed up against him so that he could tuck his face into his shoulder. But he palmed his hand against the other boy's erection through his jeans, as if that would distract him from the fact that Ronan was so wrecked he couldn't resist sort of cuddling up against him while he caught his breath.]

I'm not completely selfish, if you want me to.

[His voice was uneven and heated, although he couldn't quite say the words. A bit too shy to say the specifics outloud, but he sort of wanted to do it, to feel him in his fingers. And while he wasn't up to attempting his first blowjob here, he thought he could manage jerking him off... It was similar enough to when he touched himself, at least in principal.]

[It was a pretty decent distraction, and Kavinsky was not at all opposed to looping an arm around Ronan, holding onto him. There was a part of him that wanted to ditch this awful bathroom and just head to the party. But there was a larger part of him that was utterly selfish and wanted to get off here, too.

He groaned, low in his throat, and leaned his cheek against Ronan's head, eyes fluttering shut for a moment.]

Fuck, I'm not gonna say no. Be my guest.

[It wasn't like he hadn't dreamed and daydreamed about Ronan touching him, about coming apart under his hands, in his hands. The mere idea made him a little desperate, though he was playing it cool. He wasn't sure what Ronan would do if he knew how easily affected Kavinsky was by him.]

[Ronan didn't know how to say it, but there was something about the way that Kavinsky looped an arm around him, holding him, that touched something soft and tender in him. He was ruined, twice over; no coming back from this. There's a moment where he nuzzles into his shoulder, and when Kavinsky tells him to be my guest, Ronan doesn't pull away from him. He knows that he should, because this feels-- intimate. Dangerous.

But Ronan's wrecked, and Kavinsky has his arm wrapped around him, cheek touched against his head, and it isn't difficult at all to stay like that. To just let his hand slowly palm down his chest, and then to the waist of his jeans. His fingers slowly popping the button and then tugging down the zipper. He sucks in a breath, and then he reaches in: fingers touching against the soft skin of his cock.

For a moment Ronan can't think. Because somehow touching someone else is a very different thing, and he's never done this before, hadn't expected how it would feel. But he doesn't stop- his breath just hitches for a moment as he touches the other boy's dick. And then he's slowly pulling down his underwear so that he can wrap his fingers around his cock. He feels thick in his fingers, but Ronan admittedly doesn't have much to compare it to.

Locker rooms for Ronan Lynch were generally more a challenge in trying very hard to not look at anyone's dick, more than scholarship in what to expect when someone took their pants off. Despite living with Gansey, the other boy was almost notoriously self-conscious, so it wasn't like he'd ever had an accidental eyeful trading showers in the morning or anything. So he doesn't really know how Kavinsky compares to other boys, but he knows that he likes it, likes the way that he feels in his hand. He can't help thinking about what it would be like, being stretched around him, if he could take it all. Ronan's never even had the courage to try and practice or anything like that. God he's so glad that K can't see him blush.

He's dreamed about this of course, but it wasn't- it didn't feel like this, didn't make his heart stop.

The angle's a little different. The difference between touching himself and touching someone else, touching Kavinsky. Slowly, he slides his hand up along the length of him, sliding fingers over the tip just to touch more of him. He starts to stroke him in earnest, tightening the grip of his hand a little, moving a little faster. He wants to take him apart, wants to make him come in his hand. It's inexpert, jerking him off while pressed to his side, while holding on to him, but he makes up for it with want, how much he wants not just Kavinsky, but he wants this -- he wants to make him feel good, wants to get him off, his release on his fingers.

He nips teeth against the side of his neck, not hard enough to draw blood or be actively painful, but it sure isn't gentle. Ronan sucks lightly against the mark, not quite kissing, but close- like he can't help himself.]

Is this... okay?

[The way he says it is a little unsure- maybe even insecure if you read into how his breath quivers, but maybe that's just a tease. It's anyone's guess whether he means biting him or how he's jerking him off. But his voice is heated, and it murmurs against the other boy's ear like a purr. Ronan still close against him, clinging to him with the hand that isn't sliding over Kavinsky's dick.

Getting into his car that evening he could have listed a dozen reasons for why he couldn't do this. Now he just wants to spend more time with him. He wants to go to the party and he wants to maybe even kiss him in some dark corner. Whatever he could steal.]

[Ronan might have been a novice, but Kavinsky still shivered when he touched him. Normally, he could play it off cool, like he wasn't affected, but this was Ronan and Kavinsky could never not be affected by him. He was everything K wanted, everything K dreamed about, even if a lot of those dreams were sexual in nature. Not all of them were; some were simple, wholesome, even. He doubted anyone would believe him about the last part though; 'wholesome' didn't exactly seem like Kavinsky's style, after all.

They were a pair, alright, the two of them holding onto each other like this. If he wasn't sure the door was locked, he might not have allowed himself to be so soft. But no one else could see; it was just him and Ronan.

On the subject of Kavinsky's dick, well, he wasn't small, that was for sure. He wasn't huge, either. He was- a little above average. Aesthetically pleasing in a way, long enough, thick enough. And right now, though everyone assumed Kavinsky had the power in a situation, he was putty in Ronan's hands, hips shifting slightly.

The way Ronan nipped at his neck was enough to have K moaning, unashamed but mindful of the fact they were in a public space.]

Yeah. It's more than okay. It's good.

[Ronan jerks Kavinsky off in the bathroom, tender and eager, his body tucked into the other boy's, holding each other like this meant more than words could say. His face was tucked into his shoulder and he left teeth marks against the side of his neck, sucked a hickie into his skin- marking him a little, without even really thinking about it. But Ronan Lynch was a possessive creature once you got to his heart. And that was sort of why he'd always shied from letting him in. Because he didn't think that he'd know how to take it back. But this didn't feel like something that Kavinsky was going to walk away from -- or maybe that was just how in over his head he was.

His orgasm spills on Ronan's fingers and the rest of it on the floor, which Ronan would feel bad about if he wasn't sure that it was probably not the worst thing that had ended up on the bathroom floor. He liked the size of him, how he felt in his hand, thick and with a decent length but without being intimidating. The few times he'd risked looking up gay porn he'd both been sure he wanted someone to fuck him, and also that if anyone tried it with a dick that size he'd probably chicken out.

Almost without thinking about it, Ronan ends up sucking two of his fingers into his mouth, licking the other boy's cum from his skin. Just tasting him for a moment, and it's different than he'd imagined, but it isn't bad, either, not bitter. He doesn't say the sort of filthy shit guys say in porn videos- something about you taste so good or whatever- but he sort of thinks it, anyway. And there's something in the way that he looks at Kavinsky, flushed and flustered, but he shakes it off, looks away before Kavinsky can make something out of it.

There's a moment, after he gets cleaned up and slides his damp hands against his face like that will make him seem less like Kavinsky had sucked him off in the bathroom, when they're walking back to the parking lot, and it occurs to him that he could leave. On another night, he probably would have. He'd have been too spooked by letting him in this close, by knowing that he'd just changed things, and the idea of following that up with being around him in public would have seemed ludicrous. But tonight is... he doesn't know. It's not just because he said he'd stay the night. Maybe it's that it hadn't felt like just sex. It had felt intimate, too.

So Ronan just shrugs his shoulders and gives Kavinsky a look that's equal parts fierce and filthy, his gaze lingering on the mark he'd left on his neck and fuck-- The sight of it made him so hot he almost wanted to go down on him here in the parking lot, fuck the party. But he tries to not be obvious about it, just grins with his teeth.]

I'll race you there.

[It was both for the thrill of it, and because -- well, it was an easy excuse to keep track of each other's cars. To not have Ronan's dark BMW disappear into the sea of traffic, and he was sure that Kavinsky would wonder if he'd be there or not. And somehow he wanted him to know the answer, to not have to doubt. But maybe it was easier to take that risk now that he'd started to consider that maybe K would still be there after.]

[Luckily for Ronan, Kavinsky didn't want any of this to be casual, he didn't want it to stop. He might not have been the best at talking about things, but Ronan meant something to him. He had for a long time, it was just- getting Ronan not to spook felt like it was the hard part here. Aside from the obvious.

For a few long minutes, he was utterly wrapped around Ronan's finger and it was good, so good. Casual hookups were one thing. One-night-stands could be fun, but it was always different when it meant something, when he felt like he mattered to the other person. Ronan was making him feel like he mattered and he wouldn't trade that feeling for the world. He wanted to keep it close, memorize it, like he might never get another chance.

And then Ronan licked Kavinsky's cum off his fingers and K couldn't help but stare at him. It wasn't a bad sort of stare. It was flushed and full of heat and he could almost still feel the other boy's mouth on his neck and Kavinsky feverishly wanted to kiss him or say something, but- he held back, on both counts. It was a struggle and he had to look away after a moment, focus on getting cleaned up and presentable again. He took a moment to admire the mark Ronan had left on his neck but it didn't slow his racing heart.

When they were back in the parking lot, Kavinsky might have purposely bared his neck a little upon noticing Ronan looking, showing off the mark. He'd like to say he made it look casual, like he hadn't been intending to show it off, but it was pretty obvious it was for Ronan's benefit.]

Sounds good, sweetheart.

[That wasn't quite casual, either. It was more affectionate than anything, even if his tone remained light.]

[It was that moment that did him in- the one where he was staring at the mark he'd left on Kavinsky's neck, and the other boy caught him at it only to bare his neck a little more. Ronan almost whimpered a little, because it made him want him in a way that felt like something as tangible as Kavinsky's hands on his body.

God, was this what it meant to like someone?

The way that Kavinsky calls him sweetheart feels anything but casual, feels like maybe he wants this as much as Ronan does. It definitely doesn't sound like someone that'll push him away when the night comes to a close, but maybe he's just being optimistic for once in his life. Maybe he just wanted it so badly he didn't want to see the storm clouds this time. But then again, Ronan was always the storm clouds, always the thing that turned everything wrong. But this time -- he didn't know. He wanted to try, at least.

He wanted to leave teeth marks all over Kavinsky so no one could doubt who he belonged to. As much as Ronan was wound around K's fingers, he was a greedy thing. He wanted to carve out pieces of the other boy that could be his, only his. It was why despite Kavinsky's jealousy, Ronan and Gansey could never have been a thing. There was no part of Gansey that would just belong to Ronan, and he'd played a funeral march for those feelings a long time ago. Kavinsky, on the other hand... sometimes it seemed like he was aching for Ronan to give him the chance, like he wanted to make spaces in his life just for Ronan, no matter what the rumors said.

So Ronan races him to the party. But it isn't really a race so much as just a different sort of flirtation: the way that they switch the lead back and forth, but Ronan never pulls too far ahead. He doesn't speed through intersections with the light looming yellow; he waits for him, like the fun isn't in beating him but in having him at his side. He'll pull ahead on those clear straight stretches of Henrietta country road, but he keeps the Mitsubishi in his rearview, and stays close when the Friday night traffic starts to snarl.

But finally he's parking the BMW just behind K's gorgeous Mitsubishi and the sight makes his heart flutter, like it means something. Like he wants it to.]

Hey.

[His voice feels flat to his own ears, but he doesn't know what else to say. There's a terrible part of him that wants to slide his hand into the other boy's, wants to hold his hand like something he was allowed to want, allowed to have. So he stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jacket and instead smiles at him, crooked and a little suggestive--]

You gonna show me a good time?

[It was less of an actual race than Kavinsky expected, and that was all right. He enjoyed trading the lead back and forth with Ronan, keeping him in sight and just knowing he was there. It was so much of what he wanted, sexual things aside; to have Ronan close by.

Kavinsky might have seemed complicated on the surface, but really he was a simple boy when it came to his feelings. He wanted what everyone did when they liked someone; he wanted them near, wanted to lavish affection on them and make them feel special, wanted to hold their hand and kiss their bruised knuckles. He was in so deep there was no going back; he wouldn't even know how to begin.

When they reached the party, his head was buzzing and adrenaline flooded his veins. He wanted to kiss Ronan as soon as they were both out of their cars, but he held himself back, showed a little restraint. That didn't stop him from draping an arm around Ronan's shoulders though, leaning in close until they were breathing the same air.]

Baby, I'll show you the best time.

[The stop earlier had only been the pre-game show. There was so much he wanted to share with Ronan, dazzle him with. Romancing someone wasn't usually Kavinsky's style, but he wanted to make Ronan feel wanted--because he was. He wanted him to feel special and cared about and assured that Kavinsky wasn't just going to kick him out after they had sex. He wouldn't--couldn't--do that to Ronan.]

[Ronan feels alive in a way that he wouldn't even know how to put words to, adrenaline and a nameless thrill that comes just from being close to Kavinsky. Just from the idea of being here with him, at his side, the way that he slides an arm around Ronan's shoulders and leans in close, breathing the same air like there's a secret to tell. Ronan isn't even thinking about it when his hand slips out of the pocket of his jacket so that he can curl it around Kavinsky in response.

His fingers resting on his hip, slipping through the belt loop of his jeans, like there was no one else to see them- or that he didn't care if they did. Holding onto him, keeping him close, and his blue eyes are heated and affected, no matter how much he hates to give away his disinterest, he's already in too deep. He smiles, leaning in close enough that it almost seemed like he was asking for that kiss, standing on the sidewalk outside of the distant hum of music and voices that the party promised.

Kavinsky was unraveling him, offering him the things that Ronan ached for without making him ask for it. To be wanted, to be special and cared for, someone that would stay, would be there even when Ronan was at his worst, hard to tolerate. And yet Kavinsky had never really left him, never judged him for being a difficult creature. Like they were made from the same things.]

Is that a promise? 'Cause I'll hold you to that.

Edited (when you forget the fucking dialogue) 2022-11-23 06:32 (UTC)

[Kavinsky grinned, then laughed.

Ronan was gorgeous, even more attractive than he was frustrating at times. But he wouldn't change a single thing about him. He wouldn't be Ronan anymore, then. Kavinsky would take him, all of him, the good and the bad, because nobody was perfect and everyone had flaws. There was nothing wrong with that. It wasn't 'bad' that no one was perfect; he didn't believe true perfection existed with people, just the ability to look past someone's flaws and want them all the same. And fuck, how much he wanted Ronan. It felt like it was consuming him, a desire that would eat him alive if he let it.

He took Ronan's face in his hand and leaned in the rest of the way to kiss him, slow and warm and lingering.]

I'd like it more if you held me to your body. But yeah, I won't disappoint you.

[He hoped he wouldn't, at least. He hoped Ronan wanted the same things he did. Or at least, wanted similar enough things. Kavinsky would pluck the stars out of the sky if it would make Ronan happy--and he could do it, in a way. He could dream star lights, soft, delicate things, though he'd never really tried that sort of thing before. He would for Ronan. But one step at a time, one hurdle at a time, as it was, when the other boy didn't even know he was a dreamer.]

[Ronan's on a video call with Adam up to nearly the last minute before Kavinsky arrives. He hears the Evo's engine, the crunch of tires on gravel, and his heart skips a beat, racing under his ribs. The very fact that Kavinsky is here and that he could touch him if he wants to- it's almost overwhelming.

That's not what his intention is, though. Or at least it's not what he told himself. He'd insisted that it was just supposed to be some time to acclimate to each other again, to exist in each others' space when Ronan could admit that he wanted him, when he'd tried so hard to deny it for months. Convincing himself that he could be just friends with Kavinsky, despite that the way they circled each other never really felt friendly.

Ronan steps out and waits for Kavinsky, leaning in the frame of the door. It's a nice night, just a little chilly with the leaves turning vibrant shades of red and orange. Ronan's cleaned up nice, even if something about the way he holds himself makes him seem disreputable anyway. It's subtle things; freshly shaven, no mud or scuffs on his boots and instead of a tee-shirt he has a black button-down, rolled up to the elbows and unbuttoned at his throat. It's attractively tight in his shoulders and against his biceps. He wears a warm sort of smile, just a little bit unsure as he watched Kavinsky make his way over from the car.

He's also holding three roses- they're multitoned, both red and golden, almost like the blooms are flames on thorned stems. But no, they're just flowers. But they made him think of Kavinsky when he saw them.]

[He didn't know exactly what he was expecting when he pulled up to the Barns. Not from the place itself but from Ronan. Ronan had held him at arm's length for so long and Kavinsky had told himself that was okay, it was whatever, he could live with it. But the truth was, he wanted him desperately.

He certainly wasn't expecting to see Ronan practically dressed up. Not that Kavinsky felt self-conscious in a white tank, designer distressed jeans and hi-top sneakers, but if he'd known- you know? He might've worn something else.]

Is this a date?

[They were the first words out of his mouth as he approached the porch and, by extension, Ronan. Kavinsky couldn't help it- Ronan even had flowers and no one had ever had flowers in Kavinsky's proximity with the intention of giving them to him. Unless, Ronan was expecting someone else, too. K doubted it.]

Shit, man, you should've told me. I would've brought something.

[Wine or something. Not that he was particularly fond of wine but people drank it on dates, right?]

I mean.. sort of? Is it too much? I just wanted-- you. I wanted- fuck, I don't know.

[Ronan's face falls a little, and he bites at his lip. His expression is set into something almost un-Ronan-like: worried, nervous, like this means something and he's scared he's fucked it up already. Maybe he should have told Kavinsky why he wanted to have him over tonight, but he hadn't wanted to have this sort of conversation over the phone.

He takes a breath and tries to steady himself. This was part of why he hadn't really worked out a specific plan. He just-- he hadn't known how this would go. He hadn't been sure he wouldn't fuck it all up, that they wouldn't end up fighting, because if there was one thing they were good at it was pressing each other's buttons. He stands there, awkward, fingers fidgeting with the roses.]

It's fine if you don't want them. It's just what you do when you like someone, right?

[He scrubs his free hand against his shaved head, curling his fingers against the back of his neck, self-soothing when he feels like he's doing everything wrong. Kavinsky had probably not been serious with his line about it being a date, but he also wasn't wrong. Ronan's clearly floundering. Not that he hadn't half-expected Kavinsky to laugh and ask what the fuck was going on, but he also hadn't really had a game plan for that eventuality, either.]

I wanted to make tonight different.

[Kavinsky nearly missed a step coming up the porch stairs. He hadn't thought he'd been right. His brow furrowed and he looked from Ronan's expression to the roses he held.]

No, I want them.

[But it was the gesture of them that he wanted more. He wanted Ronan to like him, to want him, but there was more to it than just that, wasn't there? It couldn't be that simple. Nothing in Kavinky's life was ever simple.

He started to reach for the flowers, then stopped.]

What made you change your mind? I thought you-

[He didn't finish. He'd kind of thought Ronan didn't want to even be friends or only wanted to be very casual friends.]

I almost kissed you. At that party last week, when I left early. It was because--

[He shrugs his shoulders, flushing just a little, and he holds the roses out to Kavinsky. Because he means the sentiment, what they represent. He still isn't sure if Kavinsky is interested in sharing, but Adam was probably right about letting K be the one to make that decision. It was just-- this felt like vulnerability, which Ronan still wasn't good with. But he was trying. Stripping down his walls to admit that he wanted him, and not being certain if the other boy still wanted him, still thought he was worth the effort.]

Keeping you at arms' length was the only way I could be friends. I wasn't doing it on purpose, but I was still doing it- pushing you away because it was safer, easier.

[He sighs softly, actually looks a little bit guilty when he admits that.]

So I wanted to talk. See if there was a way to make this work. See if you wanted to try. Because I've been lying about what you meant to me and you deserve better than that.

[He took the roses, unmindful of any thorns until one nearly pricked him. He gave them a sniff, entranced for a moment with both their beauty and what Ronan was saying. Speaking of- he wasn't entirely confident he knew what Ronan was saying. He had a hope, an assumption, but he'd been wrong before when he assumed things.]

Okay. You're going to have to be a little clearer on what we're talking about so I don't get my hopes up for nothing.

[Things had been kind of fucky in the past and maybe he'd blamed Ronan before for holding him at arm's length when all Kavinsky had wanted was to orbit around him but they were still young. There was still time. It was better late than never.

He held up a hand, the one not occupied with roses.]

I got the part where this is like a date and where you like me, but- is this gonna be a fling or something long-term?

I don't know how to say this, so just- listen for a second.

[Not that he thought that Kavinsky wouldn't listen, but-- he just wanted to make sure that he let him get to the end, say all of it before jumping to conclusions. And he knew that was probably a worrying sentiment, but he wanted to make sure he understood all of it rather than just answering the question. Because it'd be a lie if he didn't tell him about Adam.]

After the party I talked to Adam. He uh, didn't break up with me? I guess he'd realized I was still in love with you since I started dating him, and I'm just-- an idiot. He said it was okay. I didn't think sharing was your style, but Adam thought that I should let that be your choice.

So... I dunno. If I was going to ask you, then I wanted to do it for real. I wanted to show you that I wanted you, get you flowers and dress up a little. I wanted.. you to believe that I thought you were worth dating, cause I know I was a dick about it. Back then it never occurred to me that I could choose you both.

[He sighs, looks a little bit sheepish, but his eyes are still warm and he's shockingly earnest as he looks at the other dreamer. He might not have said I love you word for word, but he'd said it, let Kavinsky hear it. Part of the reason he'd wanted K to shut up and listen was because he had absolutely rehearsed that first part a few times. He'd been afraid he'd clam up, that he wouldn't say it, that he'd settle for liked you or something. Deny the fact that his heart skipped just from being in the same room.

He shifts, moves in a little bit closer, standing too close like he's allowed to let his attraction be something real, more than a secret buried in a field of dreams.]

So what this is, it's up to you. But you don't have to decide now; I mean, we've got all night.

[Kavinsky listened. Especially when Ronan said he was still in love with him. It made his heart lurch. It just- it took him a moment to catch up with the fact Ronan was dating Adam and...wanted to date Kavinsky, too? He wouldn't have figured Ronan for the type to do that. But then again, how much had he really known about Ronan beyond what he presented himself as, what he shared with other people? He hadn't even known Ronan was in love with him. Which, you know, he was still thinking about, as if there was anything else he could be thinking about right now.

Ronan was lucky. Lucky to have a boyfriend like Adam, who apparently didn't mind sharing him with someone else. Lucky because- Kavinsky could play well with others, too. And he was hopelessly attracted to Ronan, even now. He just couldn't help it. How could he not be attracted to Ronan?

The other dreamer stepped closer and Kavinsky had to resist the urge to kiss him. He thought he might be allowed, but-]

Okay. So, if I yes, of course, I want to fuckin' date you, does that mean I can kiss you now?

[Now as in right now, because Kavinsky was rarely good at restraint.]

[Ronan exhales and it's almost a laugh, helplessly giddy with the fact that Kavinsky says yes, of course. Ronan's nodding, reaching out tentatively to curl his fingertips at the back of his neck, not drawing him in but just touching because he's allowed to and it feels like a better high than almost anything. That thrill, that promise, promise racing in his veins almost like when he'd first kissed Adam.

He'd been-- fuck, he didn't know. It hadn't felt like a sure thing, Ronan hadn't been sure that Kavinsky wouldn't snarl the sort of words that he deserved.]

Yeah, it does- fuck K, I want you to kiss me.

[His heartbeat is racing in his chest, because- god, he could scarcely believe that he got to be this greedy. He's always been greedy, once you got down to it, but he hated showing it. And his experience with what being involved with multiple people looked like had been Declan and there was no part of how he treated people that Ronan had been willing to emulate.

But he'd talked with Adam- a lot- and figured out that he didn't have to. Slowly he'd figured out that they could do it different. That Ronan could shape this in a way to make sense for him. And this made sense to him. The idea of kissing Kavinsky because he wanted to, and because Adam knew that he wanted to, and because impossibly both boys were willing to let him have what he needed. Because he'd tried to fold the fact that he'd been in love with him into a secret he could hide from himself, tried to keep Kavinsky far enough away that he didn't have to face it--

And it hadn't really been good to either of them. So he he's willing to give him this, his desire and everything he's buried. Because he just wants him. He wants to be honest with the other boy for maybe the first time in all the time that they've spent together. He lets his other hand slide down and catch K's belt loop, tugging the other dreamer in towards him. His intention is to navigate them back into the house, but not just yet. Because he wants this now too.]

[Kavinsky was greedy, too. He always had been; there was so much he'd never been able to have. No one would suspect it, probably. Most people thought he was the kind of guy who had whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, but he lacked things where it really mattered. He lacked love, specifically feeling loved. So the idea that Ronan was in love with him and wanted him and that Kavinsky got to have this- it almost felt too good to be true, like he was going to wake up and this was all a dream.

He rested his unoccupied hand on Ronan's shoulder and leaned in to kiss him. It was soft, not shy or hesitant just- sweeter than someone would probably think he was capable of. It was their first kiss and while he knew the spiel about how first kisses should be special he also knew it wasn't like either of them hadn't kissed someone else before this. But still- the hungry, devouring kisses could come later. It seemed like there was going to be plenty of time.

He hoped Ronan hadn't expected him to say no to this or be unsure. Though Kavinsky was very capable of being jealous (it was the primary reason he'd taunted Ronan about Gansey so much, before), he knew enough about Adam that being jealous of him would feel sort of wrong.]

You know...reality might be better than dreams.

[At least, where Ronan was concerned and being able to kiss him.]

[Ronan actually hadn't been sure if Kavinsky would say yes. It was easy to see him as the boy that had everything -- but there was the implication of something else, too. That when he'd said no that he'd stolen something. It was enough for him to hope that Kavinsky needed this too. Because Ronan did, even if he had needed Adam to tell him that he was allowed to feel this way, had needed to have someone he could talk through the mess of his feelings and keep him from flinching. Was it any wonder that he hadn't been able to manage it on his own that summer?

But Kavinsky puts his hand on his shoulder, and he kisses him and Ronan-- he thinks that this is okay, that this good too. They've lost time because he couldn't imagine loving two boys at once, but they still got here, in the end. And Kavinsky kisses him like it's something sweet, softer than he would have expected. Ronan's mouth is sweet too; yearning, needy, and he holds onto the other boy, lingering in the kiss, like there was no rush, like they had all night.

It's not desperate and devouring, but it's still hungry for him. It's still the sort of kiss that aches for him, it's just- not overtly sexual. Because while he meant it when he said that if Kavinsky wanted just one night together, he'd give him that... What he wanted was this. Touching, kissing, the feelings that Ronan is trying to say with his mouth without the words. Because the words are hard for him, they fail him so often when he needs them. Kissing is-- it's always been better, easier.

But it had felt like it would have been cheap, would have been cheating if he had tried to kiss him without saying it first. I'm in love with you. So he tries to say it with how he kisses him, pulls Kavinsky in close so that he can curl his arms around him, hugging him just because-- because he needs it. And he thinks that maybe the two of them wouldn't have spent so many months still hurting in such different, complicated ways, if Ronan had just hugged him back on that summer's day.

He doesn't really know how to say sorry, so he just- he tries to say this instead. That it means something. That they have a future together, if Kavinsky is willing to try.]

[Kavinsky usually acted tough, sarcastic, inappropriate--the list went on. Really, deep down, he was sort of soft. Or maybe more than 'sort of'. Ronan wrapped his arms around him and K practically melted against him. It was everything he'd ever wanted, to be wrapped up in Ronan's arms and kiss him. Alright, so he wanted more than that, too, but this was just as important as everything else. Maybe more important. It was their first kiss and he didn't want it to end.

Mindful of the flower in his hand, he slid his arms around Ronan, other hand cupping the back of his neck. It was just- this moment was so important to him. It meant so much. Up until this moment, he would have given anything to experience this. Now he had it and- he pulled away for just a moment, sucking in a breath, and kissed Ronan again.

He hadn't even thought about it before saying yes. Of course, he was going to say yes. He didn't mind that Ronan was dating Adam, too. Kavinsky could share; he could play nice. Adam seemed like a decent enough guy, too, especially if he was alright with this. Ronan Lynch was in love with K and that- it meant the world to him. He didn't usually think of himself as a romantic but at the same time, he wanted almost nothing as much as he wanted to be loved. Especially by Ronan; he was Kavinsky's dream boy.

He'd always been a little envious of his boys, his pack. Proko had Swan and Skov had Jiang and Kavinsky'd had...no one. But that had changed now. Kavinsky had meant what he said; he thought that reality could be better than dreams if it involved Ronan wanting him.]

[Adam hadn't intended to end up connected with Kavinsky's boys, of course.

But he'd ended up assigned to tutor Skov, and then he'd ended up making out with Skov and Swan, and then he'd realized that he actually liked spending time with them. One thing led to another and then it was really only Kavinsky that Adam wasn't at least friends with. Not that they seemed to dislike each other, they just weren't close. Kavinsky had more defenses than the others, and Adam understood that too much to push.

He never would have considered himself the type to be involved with more than one person, but the other boys were okay with it. And Adam was greedy for contact, for affection, to feel like he was wanted. Knowing that they did... it felt like baby steps towards healing the hole in his heart. Not that he knew how to say that outloud.

It wasn't the first time he'd spent the night at Kavinsky's place instead of his room above St. Agnes. It was the summer so there was no school, and he didn't have work until the afternoon. It had been easy enough to justify as they watched questionable movies on Kavinsky's movie theater screen in the basement. But now it was the middle of the night, and something felt- off, somehow.

He thought it was Cabeswater, but when he pulled the cards he didn't get any answers.

Which was how he ended up scrying. Doing it alone was risky, but whatever this was felt close- it wasn't like he'd be going very far. He didn't know what he'd been expecting. But whatever it was, it wasn't this. It feels like a dream, like a nightmare, like anger, and Adam does what he can to settle things. He'd always been good at making things quieter. He's almost thinking that he's going to be asking Ronan what the fuck had happened, except--]

Kavinsky?

[His voice is soft, comforting- because something about the air still feels like it's hardly a breath away from going wrong. Adam didn't know he was a dreamer, of course. Not that he'd blame anyone for keeping it from him; of all people Adam understood the value of secrets. And it wasn't like he'd told anyone that Ronan was a dreamer. If he'd told someone about his own abilities, he probably wouldn't be alone staring into the water of the bathroom sink. Adam and Kavinsky just hadn't been quite close enough yet for those sort of truths.]

[It was a nightmare, and it simmered with anger and fear and heartwrenching helplessness. Kavinsky hadn't been expecting company- he'd never had company of this sort before so why would he? He was on his back on the floor of a house that wasn't his Henrietta mansion. His cheek had split. His father stood over him, menacing and aggressive.

The moment Adam tried to settle things, Mr Kavinsky disappeared in a curl of smoke and ash that scattered across the floor. It was the only way to make the nightmare a neutral space. Except Kavinsky didn't get up, not right away. He took a moment to process the sound of Adam's voice before pushing himself up. His hands were shaking, so he curled them into fists.]

What the fuck are you doing here?

[His hackles were raised but only defensively. He didn't know if his dream was taking a new turn or if Adam was really there. He felt real but so did a lot of things when you could do what Kavinsky did. He was a king, even battered and shaken, dark eyes filled with the last remnants of fear.

He couldn't say he hadn't dreamed of Adam before but it hadn't been in the sense of a nightmare. Was his mind turning against him in new ways or-]

Are you real?

[He raised a hand to touch his thumb to his cheek where the wound was already closing, leaving just a smudge of blood. He was a king.]

[Adam has been friends with Ronan Lynch for too long for the way that he lashes out a little to really even be notable. Kavinsky was a sharp boy just like Ronan was, just like Skov and Swan and Jiang and Proko, each in their own ways. Adam was too, of course. It was probably why he fit in here, with them, why he was closer with Ronan than Gansey these days.

He shrugs his shoulders, and he wars with himself between helping Kavinsky to his feet and pretending like he doesn't need it. He compromises, holding a hand out- something he can take if he wants, or ignore it if it's too much. But Adam had never really had someone to offer him kindness. Gansey offered him pity, always tried to save him when Adam had wanted to save himself, when really what he'd wanted was just someone to be there, that they cared for him anyway, that he'd be okay.

He might not have caught the specifics, but he'd caught the anger and the fear and the helplessness. And that was enough.]

Yeah, I'm real. I could feel- something felt wrong. Are you okay?

[He rather expects to get laughed at for the attempt, but he asks anyway. Because even if Kavinsky can't bring himself to acknowledge it outloud, he wants him to know that Adam cares about the answer. He wont blame him if it's too much like vulnerability. He'd known that K's mother was a bitch, which was something that Adam empathized with, but regarding his father he really just knew the rumors.

His answer about whether he's real is maybe an over-simplification, but he figures it's the part that K is really asking for -- they can talk about the details later.]

[He actually took Adam's hand, accepting the help, but didn't comment on it. It meant something to him that Adam seemed like he cared. There were very few people in his life who cared about him; he could probably count them on one hand. But Adam had fallen in with his boys and that meant something too. All Kavinsky'd ever wanted to do for his boys was offer them a safe place to be themselves, to grow and flourish.

He swallowed around the lump in his throat when Adam asked if he was okay. Did he look like he was okay? He didn't laugh, just- shrugged a little.]

I'm better now.

[It was an attempt at sounding casual but he wasn't sure if he entirely succeeded. He wasn't sure what question to ask first, either. How was Adam here? How had he felt something wrong? Was he a dreamer, too?

Kavinsky took a breath, gaze cutting away from Adam. He shouldn't have seen this, shouldn't have witnessed the nightmare, no matter how brief it'd been. There was a reason why Kavinsky tried so hard to put on a brave face and a tough facade. He didn't want people to know about his fears and weaknesses.]

So, what, I set off some kind of damsel in distress beacon or something?

[Adam helps him to his feet, but he doesn't focus on it, doesn't talk about it. It was enough that the other boy was willing to allow it; he wasn't going to press, to make him acknowledge that he'd needed it. He was just trying to help, as much as Kavinsky would allow him to.

He nods when he says that he's better, and that's- he knows it can be hard to admit that you weren't, so he doesn't take it for granted. If anything, K's walls seemed even harder than his own. But maybe it was a little different, being together here, being in his dreams.]

I'm glad.

[He knew he'd seen something that he shouldn't have, and he does what he'd have wanted- he grants Kavinsky the luxury of pretending that maybe he hadn't. He tries to keep from forcing him to acknowledge his trauma, even if he'd be willing to hold it. Adam just gives him his care, his empathy-- He might have slowly realized that the boy was human, that he had fears; he has the sort of nightmares that Adam understands so deeply it makes his heart ache. But that doesn't make him pitiable.]

You are pretty enough. But no, I didn't know it was you- no damsel alarm. It's just because I'm so close here. I'm simplifying things, but I'm connected to the ley line and you touch it when you dream. If I was in St. Agnes I'd be too far to hear you clearly, but like this I could tell that something was wrong. And I couldn't just let that happen.

[He teases him a little, even if it comes out almost like flirtation and Adam is the one that flushes. It was supposed to be an attempt to give him some sort of normalcy as he tries to explain all of this in a way that's simple enough for the moment. Make it feel a bit less like Adam had just stepped into his nightmares uninvited, and more like the night that had proceeded it.

Admittedly, he doesn't talk about Ronan, doesn't say the word Dreamer. But Adam has always been more circumspect about these things than either Ronan or Gansey. More scared of the consequences, of who else might be interested in these things. Even before it had been revealed that there were people that employed hitmen. But he was still willing to trust Kavinsky with his own secrets, at least.]

I'm not like you. But I can make it quieter for you.

[Adam wasn't a King.

He couldn't tell the dream what form to take and bring it back in his hands. But he could affect the tone, the way the energy flowed- he thought he could keep Kavinsky's nightmares away, at least. He's been practicing with Persephone, but it's not like Ronan was a willing volunteer. They'd stumbled into each other once, strangely. A quiet moment as Adam and Persephone had gone around fixing the breaks in the ley line. The places that hadn't been cared for in so long.

And standing on one of the points on the ley line, he could see into Ronan's dream, and Ronan had seen him where he stood- like bending the line between reality and dreams. Scrying when he was inside his own skin. Strange, but not something Ronan had been interested in trying to replicate. So he hasn't really done a lot of this specifically with dreams before. But Adam's always been a sharp student.]

Edited 2022-07-01 07:16 (UTC)

[Kavinsky nodded like that made perfect sense. In reality, it mostly did. He didn't know how whatever Adam could do worked and he wasn't eager for all the gritty details right now, so simplifying it was good enough. He just made mental notes to ask about things like what it was Adam was doing and what the ley line was at a later date.]

Would you have still stepped in if you'd known it was me?

[That felt more important than what Adam was doing or even his potential flirting and the way that he flushed. Under better circumstances, Kavinsky would have latched onto that, teased him about it, flirted back. Maybe he was still flirting, in his own way, though it was more serious. He wasn't smiling. He didn't even smirk. His eyes were intense and he was probably standing too close to Adam but Kavinsky had never been big about personal space.]

What does it cost you to make it quieter?

[Everything cost something, didn't it? Even the dreaming. Especially the dreaming. There was always a price. If Adam had found him in a different dream, this would probably be going completely differently. But Kavinsky was raw edges and unprepared. The cat was out of the bag and couldn't be put back in but Adam Parrish knowing he was a dreamer felt like a small thing to worry about right now.]

[Adam stepped in closer at the question, touched fingers hesitantly against the other boy's chest, like he could answer it without words. But even in a dream he knew that saying things mattered, and he wasn't as incapable as Ronan, even if he'd never have Gansey's honeyed charm.]

Of course. I know we're not close, but you're still.. You matter to me.

[And it's true, as he looks up at Kavinsky, meets his dark eyes for a moment. And not just because of this, because of seeing his hurts and raw edges. But he cared about his boys, he took in people with nowhere else to go and gave them a home, let them find that in each other. So even if Adam was not personally close to Kavinsky, he still cared about him, he still valued what he did and who he was to Swan and Skov and Jiang and Proko.

He hasn't said it, but he understood why Ronan was drawn to him.

At the question he smiles a little bit thinly, sharp and not-quite dangerous; but it's not something really aimed at Kavinsky.]

A sacrifice. My hands and eyes. At the beginning it was so much and I couldn't understand it, but it's better now. Since I'm close to you, it's almost easy. I bring seeds for the forest. I find places the ley line can't flow and find ways to bend it. I do the things it can't do for itself.

[Adam doesn't regret his choice. Of course, he was hard-headed and stubborn and would never have admitted it to Ronan or Gansey even if he had, but it's true. It's less terrifying now, less overwhelming. They can speak to each other and Adam can feel it on his skin. Kavinsky wasn't wrong about there being a price, but Adam didn't really mind the cost.

The real cost was in time; like everything in his life was.]

[Maybe Kavinsky was selfish. Maybe he was just needy. But it was good to hear that he mattered to Adam. He felt like he was nothing if he didn't matter to at least one person. Sometimes, it was easy to doubt how much his boys cared about him when they weren't prone to talking about it. He'd never admit to being a person who needed reassurances, but he was.]

We could be close.

[He was starting to feel like himself again and the words came out nearly like a purr. He rested his hands on Adam's hips, mostly for the sake of touching him. Plus, it steadied his still shaky hands.

Adam was something else. It didn't sound like he'd been born with this power but that didn't make him any less special in Kavinsky's eyes. Power always came from somewhere, though he didn't know where his own ability with dreams had originated. He might never know- but that was okay, too. He didn't have to know everything, after all.]

Not everyone would make a sacrifice like that. It takes someone who's brave. But of course, you are.

[Adam was one of Kavinsky's, and he didn't typically befriend cowards. He wouldn't consider any of his boys cowards, just misfits who'd needed space to grow into their own.]

[Adam understands needing reassurances. He'd never admit it, but he wants it, too. He understood that words were important as much from the way that he desires them himself, as from the ways that the things his father said haunted him. His breath catches a little at Kavinsky's words, and he looks at him, unsure but not uninterested. Kavinsky's hands pressed to his hips, his voice like a purr and Adam just-- god.

It felt impossible not to fall for him, at least a little. When you had his attention like this, how did you refuse it? And it wasn't like he was exclusive with Skov and Swan, even if he was still sort of figuring out how that worked. He thought anyone in the pack was okay. But Kavinsky himself?]

Do you want to be?

[The words aren't quite smooth, but there's an intensity to it, genuine and heavy with suggestion. He doesn't look away, isn't sure he could if he wanted to because Kavinsky's dark eyes feel a little bit magnetic. He cares about him, and he thinks that he wants to be closer. Both in the way that means I want to touch you and the softer one that meant something that Adam didn't quite know the words for just yet.]

It wasn't really brave. I was.. I didn't want anyone else to have it. When we're awake, I'll tell you the story, if you want to hear it.

[Not even Gansey, though he doesn't say that outloud. But for a moment, there's something in his eyes, the side of himself that he tries to keep buried, hungry and dark. Adam is a sharp thing, because he was never given the option to be anything else.

When you hit a blade a hundred times you either broke it or honed the edge.

So at school he mimicks Gansey's mannerisms and his accent, like that could make him into something softer and more acceptable. But Kavinsky and his boys, they make him feel like maybe he's okay. Like maybe he doesn't have to sculpt himself into someone else in order to get what he needs. Like he can still be desirable, even with his Henrietta drawl that curls around the edges of his words. He isn't sure if it's true or not, but he likes the way that it makes him feel.

He lets his fingers against Kavinsky's chest slide up until they brush against his shoulder, curling them at the back of his neck, drawing him in just a little closer. Close enough to kiss, though he doesn't say it. But it's in his body, in the way that he shifts in towards him.]

But I like that you think I am.

Do you want to be?

[He turned the question right around at Adam but he wasn't trying to deflect. He just wanted to know what the other boy wanted. It was easier to be open and honest when he knew what other people wanted, especially in a situation like this. But to be truthful, even if it wasn't out loud, he did want to be close with Adam.]

It still takes bravery to make a sacrifice. Not everyone's cut out for it.

[Especially if it was something that could give up any sort of autonomy. People valued that, and so did Kavinsky. His free will was everything to him.

They were close enough to kiss now, and though Kavinsky's gaze flickered down to Adam's mouth, he didn't go through with it. Instead, he wrapped his arms around the other boy, pulled him even closer, and tucked his head against his shoulder. Kavinsky'd wanted to do that since he'd realized Adam was there but he hadn't allowed himself for fear of seeming weak. Enough time had passed now, he thought, that it would be alright.

Kavinsky took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and exhaled slowly. Adam was warm and solid and real despite this being a dream and- Kavinsky was finally coming down from the adrenaline and panic of earlier.]

[Adam laughs softly, a tilt of his head and the way that he looks at Kavinsky is searing. Because he's gorgeous and popular and everything that Adam isn't. Or that was what he had thought before, anyway. Now, here- it was his eyelashes and the way he always felt dangerous despite his rough edges, despite that he was still hurting.]

Is that even a question? Everyone wants you. [A breath.] I want you. But I want more of you than you give the boys at your parties.

[It's not quite the question that Kavinsky had asked, but it feels like the one that he'd meant. And Adam.. well, he's been showing up at the other boy's parties for a while by now. He's ben watching him, in part because he watched Swan and Skov, but also just because Kavinsky was magnetic, a dark star. No one seemed to see his light, but the gravity was undeniable.

He doesn't say it like a demand, but like a fact. He hasn't let himself get close to Kavinsky because of it. Because he gives so little of himself away and Adam is greedy. Skov would tell him he wasn't, that asking for what he need isn't greed. But to Adam, love has always seemed like a privilege, and he's still unlearning the feeling. But he says it, which is probably progress, the fact that he allows to acknowledge this boy he doesn't deserve. That he lets it exist, lets himself acknowledge both that he wants him and why he's never let himself close enough before.

He doesn't quite know how to say thank you when Kavinsky insists it still takes bravery. And he's not wrong, really. When Adam's free-will, his autonomy was something that he'd suffer for. Someone's death wasn't really a sacrifice, it wasn't that simple.

Kavinsky doesn't kiss him, he wrapped his arms around the other boy, and Adam didn't know if it was a response to what he'd said about wanting more of him, but Adam pulls him into his arms anyway. Kavinsky's lovely, but he's also skinny, taller than Adam, but less muscle, less weight to him. So it's easy to draw him into his arms, to lean their temples together, to let himself feel like he could protect him.

It's easier to focus on than the secret he's keeping. The one that he has to face his father in court.]

[Of course it was even a question. Everyone might have wanted Kavinsky but they also wanted things from him. They wanted drugs or forgeries or sex or just to make out with him for a while to say they had. So when Adam said he wanted more of him than he gave to the boys at his parties, it felt like his pulse skipped a beat or two. It was one thing to be wanted for the things he could provide and another entirely to be wanted for who he was. He could give more of himself to Adam. He could open up to him, let him inside. They were already in Kavinsky's head--how much scarier could it be, to be honest with Adam?]

Okay.

[He closed his eyes, drinking in the feeling of Adam's arms around him. One could argue that Kavinsky was never hugged enough and that was why he'd turned out the way he had. They'd probably be right. It was especially hard now to keep up appearances and keep his reputation intact when there was a part of him that was desperate for this kind of contact. It was different than the way he was physical with his boys, always touching or slinging an arm around their shoulders.

He didn't think Adam was going to judge him for this.]

When we're awake- I want you in my bed.

[It wasn't an innuendo, shockingly. He wasn't asking for sex. He just wanted to curl up with Adam and talk before they fell asleep again. About what Adam could do and how he'd gotten this ability and what the shape of their relationship could be.]

[Kavinsky says okay and it spikes warmth through his veins. Because whatever he'd been expecting-- it wasn't acceptance, wasn't the way that the other boy says it as if it's something that he'd willing to give him, and his heart lurches in his chest. He hugs him just a little bit closer, brushes his cheek against him just for the contact, the warmth of his body against him, even if it is a dream. Adam was desperate for it too, if he was honest. It was how things had started with Skov and Swan, really.

He'd just been so glad that someone wanted to touch him like this.

So no, he doesn't judge Kavinsky for it. Not when he understands it so well himself. He does, however, flush at that request. Because Kavinsky might not mean it as an innuendo, but it definitely sounds like one. But it sounds like more than one, too. Adam's breath catches and he stumbles a bit when he tries to figure out how to say it.]

I-- yeah. Okay. I'd like that.

[He knew he'd have to talk to Skov and Swan about things, but he figured that could wait until morning. He wanted to cuddle with Kavinsky, he wanted to talk so that it felt real, like this was really something that he got to have, that he could wind himself up in the other boy and maybe- help ease his nightmares. He didn't know for sure, but he wanted to hug him, he wanted to be something good for him.]

[This was the kind of contact Kavinsky usually only had with Prokopenko--the only one of his boys he didn't have to posture around and be the tough guy. Proko had seen him at his worst, at his lowest, and didn't judge him for it. Adam had seen just a sliver of that and it didn't seem like he was going to judge Kavinsky for it, either. It was a comfort just as much as the physical contact.

Pulling back just a little, Kavinsky kissed Adam on the cheek. It was a lot more chaste than he was usually capable of, but he also didn't want Adam to think he only wanted him for his body--as nice as his body was there was more to it than that.]

How about we get out of here? I don't feel much like dreaming anymore.

[Another night though, another night he could show Adam so many wonderful, lovely things. They could do so many things. He was eager to share all of the possibilities and potential with the other boy but- all of his creativity had been drained from him right now and it was hard not to think about his father again. It would be easier to distract himself when they were both awake.]

[Adam smiled at the way that Kavinsky kissed his cheek. It was... sweet. Unexpectedly so, to be honest. But he shifted a little, sliding fingers into the other boy's hair, pressing a kiss to his temple. Intimate, but not quite chaste, sweet but a little suggestive. Because Adam was greedy, and he wanted everything. It was different than with Skov and Swan, where he'd always known there was a line to what he could have, and it wasn't one that he'd been interested in crossing.

Kavinsky was different. It felt riskier, but also- like there was a chance for more. He smiles at him at the question, nodding in agreement.]

Yeah, that sounds good. I'll see you soon.

[He pulls back from him slowly, holding his hands for a moment, and then he blurs into the air. For Adam it's less like waking up and more like finding his body again, fitting himself back into his skin. It's easier than usual, because he hardly went anywhere at all. But he splashes water on his face, pats his skin dry, and then... goes and knocks on Kavinsky's bedroom door.

He tries to look like his heart isn't racing, but it is.]

[Rarely did he feel as content as he did in this moment when Adam touched his hair and kissed him. 'Content' was a valuable feeling for how fleeting and difficult to obtain it was. He wanted Adam to keep touching him, to pet his hair and just- stay like this. But he was also the one who didn't want to hang around in this dream any longer. They could touch for real in Kavinsky's bedroom.

He woke with a slight start after Adam departed the dream, blinking up at the ceiling. He turned on a lamp across the room for some light that wasn't overpowering and then...he waited. When Adam knocked, Kavinsky was there a moment later, hair still sleep mussed, dressed only in boxers. He didn't bother trying to look casual as he ushered Adam into the room.]

So how long have you had tricks up your sleeve?

Can we-- talk?

[Ronan does not look like he wants to talk. He looks like he wants to hit something; judging by the state of his knuckles he probably already has. But his fists aren't clenched and he isn't going for Kavinsky's collar, isn't shoving him down on his car or up against a wall. Mostly because he isn't sure that he's allowed anymore, and that realization had sent a pang of hurt through him that he didn't understand. But despite having the appearance of a thunderstorm, he's being surprisingly civil.

It's one of Kavinsky's parties, a few weeks, or maybe months after everything changed. Ronan might be slow on the uptake, but he does catch on eventually. He'd felt it, but he hadn't known what it was. Adam was just around less, and when he was he felt sharper. He was more himself, louder, pushed Gansey in ways that Ronan wouldn't. He'd even caught the scent of weed on him, though he wasn't sure if it was from his own use or the company he kept. He'd seen the way that he looked at Swan and Skov, small touches when he thought no one was looking. Like he didn't realize Ronan was watching.

But this had been worse: Kavinsky standing with Adam by his locker, Adam's sandy head bowed towards him with a vicious smile, laughing- and Kavinsky looked almost lighter than he did when they were racing. Lacking anything to slam, anything to break, Ronan had just ditched class for the rest of the day, the rest of the week, feeling too bad for anything else. It's a bomb, just like you, and Ronan thought that he was going to fucking explode.

The summer had still been bad, even if it ended with a whimper, a gasp, not a bang. Kavinsky had told him what he was, and Ronan had flinched. He'd pushed him away and wondered why things weren't the same when he reached out later. But now it's Friday night and there's a party and Ronan's here, because he doesn't know what else to do.

Maybe it's not that he doesn't know what's happening. It's just that he doesn't know why it hurts.]

[The real question was, did Ronan ever look like he wanted to talk? Kavinsky wasn't sure what he was expecting out of this. He'd sort of figured Ronan would have punched him already but he hadn't, which meant- meant what?

Kavinsky took a sip from his cup of alcohol, watching Ronan over the rim of it. Sometimes, things were easier when they just hit each other. Talking and using actual words was a lot harder. But he was going to give the other dreamer a chance here, if he really wanted to talk.]

Sure thing, princess. What's on your mind?

[He wasn't trying to be needlessly cruel but- Ronan was the one who'd pushed him away, after everything Kavinsky had tried to do to get and keep his attention. After all of the things Kavinsky had given him. It wasn't K who'd failed in this case, he didn't think. But it was also easy to point fingers and lay the blame on someone else's shoulders. It was easy to blame Ronan.]

[Ronan flinched a little when Kavinsky called him Princess. Not because it was an insult, but because-- because he didn't fucking know. Maybe because it wasn't. Maybe because it had been so long since he'd heard it, back when Kavinsky had said it like affection. It makes him almost want to punch him, just because it would be easy. Easier than this: whatever the fuck it is than Ronan's trying to do here.

He doesn't know what it is that he expects. Kavinsky to laugh at him, probably. Maybe he throws his drink in his face. He almost wishes it was like back when he could just suck him off to say what he was trying to say. But part of the point is that he can't, because Kavinsky isn't his anymore- never was, really. Or at least Ronan had done his best to make him feel that way.

Like a fucking moron.]

You and Adam--

[He growls, but it's frustration at himself, not Kavinsky.]

--no, fuck. That's not what I'm trying to say. It's just..

[He takes a deep breath, and he tries again, tries to say the right thing, instead of the words that venom and impulse that just always slide out of his mouth.]

I fucked up, okay? Last summer. The shit I said-- you didn't deserve it. I was just confused and I was an asshole and I took it out on you.

[And it hadn't even been true, but that's the harder part to say. It's not quite an apology, he doesn't say I'm sorry, not because he isn't, but because the things he wants to say are so much more than just that. And Ronan's never liked the way that people say it when they don't mean it, say it like it makes things better.

Maybe it's shitty and messy and he's a fuck up, but he prefers making his own way through it.]

Edited 2022-07-10 02:38 (UTC)

Yeah, me and Adam.

[He held his cup between his teeth for a moment, risking disaster, all so he could free both hands to make an obscene gesture. Taking his cup back in one hand when he was done, he smirked. He wouldn't be surprised if Ronan punched him for that, but. Ronan had been there. He'd lost those privileges for now, maybe forever. It was Adam who got Kavinsky's dick and his mouth and all the rest of him.]

No shit you fucked up. You had a perfectly good thing and you ruined it.

[He lifted his chin a little, defiantly, even if he was now thinking about all of the good times he'd had with Ronan, the hot, sweaty nights, and everything else.]

Are you- trying to apologize?

[If it had just been Kavinsky affirming that yes he was with Adam, Ronan could probably have handled it. He knew, even if Adam hadn't actually told him. Which yeah, he had questions about, but that would be later. It's the way that he makes obscene gestures, the rim of the red plastic cup in his teeth just so that he can communicate in lewd shorthand, just to make it more visceral.

Ronan does not punch him, even if his hands curl. He's trying to be good here. He's trying to talk to him and actually use his words, even if it's difficult and he doesn't even know what to say. But it nothing else, he supposes that Kavinsky deserves his discomfort, too.

But he does hit his cup of alcohol, like some sort of compromise. He's mostly just aiming to knock it out of his hand, because he doesn't want to actually piss him off, doesn't want Kavinsky to decide that whatever he had to say didn't fucking matter. But it's something to sate his temper, a slight acknowledgement that Ronan's still an asshole, he just-- he's trying. Learning to be better, maybe.

Ronan doesn't even deny it when Kavinsky says that he had a good thing and that he wrecked it. Because he did, he knows that he did. But he sighs in aggravation, scrubbing a hand against his shaved head and looks at Kavinsky in a way that is more a strange sort of confusion than actually being upset with him.]

I was, yeah. [It sounds for a moment like he might have given up at the attempts, but he takes a breath and he tries again.]

I fucking-- you wanted to know what we were doing, and instead of admitting how terrifying that was, I just treated you like shit. And I lied to your face. And I somehow didn't expect it when you wouldn't hang out with me anymore.

[Ronan laughs a little, but it's clearly self-deprecating. His eyes almost look glassy, but he drags a hand against his face and lets his breath rattle through his ribs a few times, and pretends like he's fine.] I just.. I fucking miss you, okay? I'm not- I would never- I just wanted to see if maybe you were still into shit like losing miserably in street races. If maybe you could stand seeing my face once in a while.

[He'd somehow imagined a more nuanced conversation, something where he had space to try and explain, but he ends up skipping to the end instead. Because he's still chickenshit when it comes to Kavinsky, cares so much it's hard not to flinch when it comes to saying it outloud. Especially like this, when the scales are flipped. Because Ronan still wants him, has never stopped, but he knows he's already lost that fight.

And Ronan hated cheating on a moral basis, and also on the basis that it felt too much like Declan. And even if you ignored all of that, he could never do that to Parrish. But maybe they could be friends. Maybe Ronan could at least have a chance to treat him the way that he should've the first time around.]

[And there went his drink, a red solo cup flying through the air to splash all over the ground and maybe the shoes of anyone who happened to be nearby. Kavinsky didn't care about anyone who was caught in the line of fire.]

Take it easy, man. He's in good hands.

[Kavinsky's, to be precise. Speaking of hands, he held his up, open and empty, maybe as some sort of peace offering. Okay. He could do this. He could have a conversation without antagonizing Ronan, even if that was the easier route here.

He nodded in agreement that Ronan had treated him like shit and lied to him. He almost felt bad for not hanging out with the other dreamer after the shit had hit the fan, but also could he really be blamed? He didn't handle rejection well. But this- Ronan was apologizing and saying he missed him and Kavinsky's stomach clenched. He missed Ronan too, he missed everything they'd had and could have had but-]

I dunno about losing to you in races anymore, but- I've missed your stupid face. And your stupid attitude.

[He took a breath, reached out, and clapped Ronan on the shoulder. Friendly. Like they were friends. Maybe they could be.]

You'd never what? I didn't think you were proposing to me or anything, man. We can be friends. Just talk to me.

Yeah. I know he is.

[He could have said something cruel, but instead he says something honest. Because venom and rumors aside- he knew that Kavinsky would be good to Adam. He knew that Kavinsky had been good to him before he'd pushed him away. But he says it with an exhale of breath, like an acknowledgement, saying that he was trying- or willing to try. That if the other boy wouldn't specifically antagonize him, that Ronan would try to not punch him in his handsome, gorgeous face.

He makes a sound that's like a sharp cousin to laughter, shifting so that he can bump his shoulder into K's. Friendly. Like they were friends, or the could be. A match for K's own gesture.]

Shitty attitude, I think you mean. But yours sucks too, so it works.

[Now he's teasing him, almost playful, because the truth was that Kavinsky was better. Sure they'd fought and said cruel things to each other, but if he was honest, he'd always known that the other boy cared. Until he pushed too far, made him suffer beyond what he could take.]

I just- fuck. I was trying to say that I know things are different now. You're got Adam. And I want you to be good to him. So I'm not gonna-- I wont fuck shit up for you. Just because we were... you know.

[He shrugs his shoulders, scuffs one of his boots into the dirt as if you know can possibly communicate all the things that he feels for Joseph Kavinsky.]

I was a shitty boyfriend anyway. That summer- I mean, there was this other boy I liked -- not Gansey, before you say something stupid. And it wasn't like.. I don't think he knew. I didn't want to leave you for him or something. But you know, it made it worse when you wanted to put a name on what we were. It was one thing to be a fuckup when it was just... this weird thing where my sharp edges didn't cut you and you made me feel like something human. Something else when I was supposed to do it right and I was already failing.

[He takes a breath and it's rough, tenses his shoulder and rattles in his chest.]

But the shit I said about not caring, that I didn't want you like that, that I didn't want to date you- it was bullshit. I care, I want you. And I know that doesn't mean anything now. But... I dunno. If we're gonna be friends I can't just leave that where I lied to your face because I was scared. So it's just-- telling you the truth, I guess.

[To his credit, Kavinsky listened quietly, though he couldn't help the small pang he felt when Ronan said there was another boy he liked. They weren't anything anymore, they were barely friends, and he had Adam. He didn't have a right to be jealous. Either way, he shook his head slowly.]

You're wrong, man. You weren't a shitty boyfriend. If I'd thought you were, I wouldn't have tried to stick with you. I wanted you because I cared. Asshole.

[The last bit was almost fond though, a certain softness where he didn't entirely mean it as an insult. It felt better to know that Ronan did want him, did care about him, even now.]

There might be a chance we could work something out. [He wasn't going to get his hopes up, but there was a chance.] Adam said I could kiss you if the opportunity presented itself. So long as I told him about it.

[He waved a hand a little.]

I'm not saying we should kiss- [Or was he?] -but it's on the table. If you want to.

[If it wouldn't be cruel for Ronan, to kiss a boy he might not be able to date.]

I know you did. You were always good to me, you know. Even when we were fighting-- I knew you cared.

[And then he's quiet and he forgets to fucking breathe because... because what the fuck. Ronan hadn't even considered that this might be an option, a possibility. And he knows that he shouldn't get his hopes up, because it's just a chance. And Ronan-- he isn't sure what would make Adam offer that to someone he was dating. He couldn't help worrying that the idea of working something out was something Adam didn't really want.

And even Ronan can recognize that that's the sort of thing that he'd have to talk to the other boy to be certain of. But somehow, the idea of kissing him just this once, that seemed a little less.. charged, a little less like he was stepping into something that could only make things worse.]

You and Adam.. talked about me? About kissing me? And you're sure he's really okay with it?

[There's something to the question, hopeful and shy and uncertain all at once. But he reached up, letting his fingers brush against Kavinsky's dark hair and then curling against the line of his jaw. Not kissing him yet, but it was a touch that said that he would, that he wanted to. Because of course he did, he always wanted to kiss Kavinsky. Much like how he always wanted to kiss Adam, but he didn't know how to talk about that. He'd never told anyone, outside of silent prayer.

Maybe things would have been better if he had, if instead of being scared at the idea of having to be Kavinsky's boyfriend when there was this other boy he liked, he'd just talked to him about it. He had always been more understanding with Ronan than Ronan was with himself.]

I don't think you would, to be clear-- but just for the record, if you're bullshitting me, I'll punch you in the face. But.. do you still want to kiss me? 'Cause I've never stopped.

Edited (freaking typos) 2022-07-11 00:36 (UTC)

[Kavinsky laughed, a little breathless, a little dreamy just from the way Ronan touched him. It'd been so long and he'd thought Ronan would never touch him like this again.]

Yeah, we did. I asked him if he was sure, too. He said he was.

I wouldn't bullshit about this. I don't want to hurt him.

[He stepped in closer, invading Ronan's personal space until they were nearly nose to nose. He met Ronan's eyes and only looked away briefly to glance down at his mouth, his beautiful mouth, the curve of his lips.]

I definitely want to kiss you.

[It was a murmur, soft and heated, and normally it would be a promise of something more, but not this time. This time the only promise was the kiss itself, because not only did he care about Adam but he respected him, too. He wouldn't fuck around; finding out would hurt.]

I don't want to hurt him either. I-- you're gonna have to talk to me about that shit you said where I might have a chance.

[He says I don't want to hurt him maybe a bit more intently than someone might expect from Ronan, who spent a lot of his time doing his best to seem like he didn't give a fuck about anyone. Even his friends, even Kavinsky. But it was bullshit, of course, always had been. The words trail off into a brief quiet, like there's too much in that space for him to say it in words, and then he hides it in truth. He shivered a little at the way that Kavinsky invaded his personal space, and Ronan lets him, almost casual about it, when in truth his heart is racing, beating in his ribcage like a trapped animal. He can feel the way that he looks at his mouth, and he wants him like muscle memory. Like it hasn't been months.

Of course, he knows that isn't what this is. And he meant every word when he said that he wouldn't -- but it doesn't mean that he doesn't feel it, that heat doesn't simmer in his veins, that he doesn't want to push him up against a wall.

But even morals aside, Ronan doesn't want to fuck things up for them, when they look so good together. Happy. And Ronan knew how ephemeral that feeling was for boys like them. For Dreamers. He'd already hurt Kavinsky once by not being able to tell him that he cared. He wasn't going to do it again by saying it at the wrong time.

But what he was going to do, was kiss Joseph Kavinsky this once. He trusted him when he said it was okay, that he wouldn't hurt Adam. So he closes the distance between them, pressing their mouths together, his other hand going to Kavinsky's side, fisting in the fabric of his shirt and using it to pull him close. His other hand against his jaw is softer, but the way he kisses him is almost desperate -- affection and softness, but also needy, like he might devour him.

Ronan kisses him like he thinks that it might be the only chance he ever gets.

So he tries to kiss all the words he didn't say into his mouth, all the sweetness he was too scared to give him. He kisses him almost like he's trying to memorize this: the way their lips brush, how he tastes, the weight of his body against him- always lighter than he should be. He kisses him like he wants to shape it into a reflex, something that he can keep. At least in a dream.

His hand against his jaw shift so he can brush his fingertips against his cheek, just stroking soft skin and the line of his face, and it hits something in him. It's either.. too good or too much, he doesn't quite know, but he pulls back, breathless, trying to smear away the tears with the back of his fist. He coughs, trying to catch his breath, and he laughs with a shake of his head. He thinks he's ruined, all over again. But maybe he's fooling himself that he ever wasn't.]

Fuck, K-- Can we.. talk to me? Like I'm dumb.

[Ronan wasn't the only one. Kavinsky kissed him like it might be the last time he ever got to do it. Maybe it was cruel, in hindsight, to kiss a boy you cared about and might not be able to date. Maybe it hurt Ronan but- but Kavinsky couldn't help it. He cared about him and Adam had said this was okay. That was the important part of it, that Adam said he could do this.

When Ronan pulled back, Kavinsky tried to chase his mouth for a moment before realizing how emotional he was. Fuck but it made K want to kiss him again, kiss away his tears, kiss him until he smiled. He refrained though, no matter how much he wanted to.

Sucking in a breath, he nodded.]

Yeah, okay. That part's easy.

[He was teasing but it was fond and not meant to be cruel.]

Adam said I could kiss you. He said we could talk about it if I- if you wanted me back.

[He watched Ronan for a moment after he said that. Kavinsky was sharp and not just in dangerous ways. He'd picked up on how intent Ronan had been a few moments ago. He was especially serious about not hurting Adam. And there was more to it than that. Adam had told K he'd driven Ronan's car for his driver's exam.

Gently, he added.]

So, how do you feel about Adam?

[He listens as Kavinsky says it, tries to process the words and not just stare at his mouth- because god, he wants to kiss him again. He can't help being emotional; he always has been once you got down to it. And he cares about Kavinsky, and about Adam. And as much as he feels, like he's wrecked for this beautiful boy in front of him all over again, there's this part of him that twists with something maybe like hope- like maybe he could kiss Kavinsky and Adam Parrish.

Because it sounds like a chance, something real. He can't imagine why Adam would make that sort of offer when they were so good together. But agreeing to talk was something he could believe, and it was something that didn't feel like taking advantage of something he didn't even quite grasp. But agreeing to talk about it was hope without promising one way or another.

He flushes at the way that Kavinsky asks him how he feels about Adam. It's gentle, like he knows, or suspects at least. That he knows it isn't an easy question for him to answer. If he hadn't approached it quite so tenderly, Ronan might have brushed it off, but this is- he doesn't know how. He kicks at the ground, scuffing the toe of one of his boots, worrying his bottom lip as he looks at the other boy carefully.]

The other boy. The one I said I liked? It was Parrish. I mean, he's gorgeous. I wanted him but I never would've had the courage to say something. And then one day Gansey's pulling Adam's bike out of the fucking Camaro. And I wanted to try- but you know how I am with that shit. So I just.. I dunno. I just did what I could to make it so that his life didn't suck, or so it wasn't more than he could take, anyway. Like I said, I don't think he ever figured it out. And I didn't ever want to leave you, I never wanted to not have you in my life. But I.. I wanted to kiss him, too. I just didn't know what--

[He shrugged his shoulders a little bit helplessly, looking at Kavinsky like he was still almost guilty about it. But tentatively, almost shyly he reaches up, letting his fingertips cup the line of his jaw. He doesn't kiss him, he just looks into his dark eyes, feelings he's never been good at saying.]

I do want you back. But I saw you in the hall together once. You're happy together. I don't want to take away from that.

[He wanted to- he didn't know. Add to it, maybe, if that wasn't impossibly selfish. He wanted to care for them both, give them all the damaged feelings he knew how. It just wasn't until this moment when he thought that was something he could even be allowed to offer.]

[It was funny how some things worked. Kavinsky had never been worried about Ronan leaving him for someone else but now that he knew the other boy was Adam, he felt... not jealousy, exactly, but he understood. Adam was gorgeous, and more than that he was a good person. Kavinsky wanted to make Adam's life better, too. He also, maybe, wanted to spend the rest of his life being part of Adam's life. But that didn't mean there wasn't room for Ronan, too. It was up to Adam, in the end, and Kavinsky loved him enough that he'd stand by whatever decision the other boy made.]

You're- [Kavinsky started and then he huffed out a laugh. Sweet, was what he was going to say, but it felt especially soft in this moment.]

We could talk to him, see what he says. He doesn't want to lose me but I don't think he has to. The three of us could spend time together, yeah? You guys wouldn't have to fight for my attention or time. This isn't the Hunger Games.

[He knew Adam was insecure about this prospect but he thought it might help that Ronan wanted him, too. It might make it less of a competition thing and more of a trio thing. Maybe. He felt selfish for wanting both of them but when was he not greedy?]

I'd like that. Talking about it. I know I fucked things up with you before, but.. I want to do better. I want- I'd like to be good, for both of you. And yeah, I want to spend time with both of you. I'd kinda be disappointed if I couldn't.

[He didn't really have any expectations here, just the idea of it was so much more than he'd come here asking for. He'd just wanted to see Kavinsky again, to race him and not feel like he'd lost everything, like he'd always be bleeding from this wound he couldn't talk about. He wanted to hug him, he wanted to cling to him and remember what it felt like to breathe- but he didn't want to overstep the lines when he didn't even really know what they were.

He figured he could wait until after they talked, and if he managed to not fuck things up- maybe he could hug him afterwards. Maybe he was letting himself get his hopes up, but- he'd take whatever he could get, really. Just to have them in their life.]

Is Adam coming to the party?

[He hadn't seen his shitbox when he'd headed in himself.]

[Wanting to be good for someone (or multiple someones) meant a lot, Kavinsky thought. It wasn't always about whether you succeeded or not but how hard you tried and how much you wanted it. At least, that was how he saw it, as a chronic fuck up.]

Right? That's what I tried to tell him, before.

[But things were different now, knowing Ronan wanted them both.

Kavinsky pulled his phone out, scrolling through his contacts.]

Yeah. He had to work late, but he'll be here. Gimme a minute.

[He ducked away, finding someplace a little quieter to stand before he actually called Adam. He hoped he wouldn't be interrupting anything. Like work.]

[Ronan does give Kavinsky the space to talk to Adam without having him leaning over his shoulder like a hopeful puppy, but it doesn't mean that he doesn't want to. He just isn't going to be that obvious about it, so he slinks off the grab a drink for a minute.]

Hey. You get impatient?

[It's teasing, his voice easy affection.]

But you're lucky, I just got off work so I should be there in about ten or so.

[Kavinsky appreciated having a moment or two to himself.]

Hey, babe. Yeah, something like that.

But, I wanted to talk to you about something. [He took a breath, combed his fingers through his hair.] Ronan's here. I kissed him. He wants both of us. Actually, he's wanted you for a long time.

[Alright, so he wasn't the most eloquent about how he worded things, but he was trying to lighten whatever possible emotional blow this news might bring. He didn't want Adam to doubt his worth or something.]

I told him I'd talk to you about things. I love you.

[That sure is a rollercoaster ride of feelings for Adam. There's a muted curse and the sound of his keys jangling as they hit the asphalt.]

Sorry, I dropped my keys. That's-- did you say Ronan wants me? I think I need you to say all of that again. Uh- slower this time?

I love you too. It's just.. a lot.

[He felt like his head was spinning. But in a good way, maybe.]

[Well, better his keys than his heart.]

I sure did.

[Kavinsky took a breath.]

Alright, so. He told me there was a guy he liked but I had to, uh, persuade him to tell me who. And it turns out that guy is you. He was just too chickenshit--sorry, worried about fucking everything up to make a move before. But he cares about you.

[With Kavinsky 'persuade' could mean a lot of things but in this case, it just meant, surprisingly, 'ask nicely'.]

[If it had been anyone else- probably even Ronan- Adam wouldn't have believed it. But he believed the sentiments Kavinsky had managed to extract from the other boy, the fact that it involved the words chickenshit before he rephrased it to sound nicer. Even if that last sentence was still hard to accept.]

Fuck.

[The past eighteen months of their relationship slowly rearranged itself as he scrubbed a hand over his face. He gets the car door open and slides into the seat just so that he can sit and breathe for a moment.]

I can't decide if I'm oblivious or if Ronan's an idiot.

[He bites his lip.]

Is this okay?

Ronan's an idiot.

[It was his immediate reply, without hesitation. He couldn't blame Adam for being a little oblivious when Ronan's methods of flirting were what they were.]

Is what okay? That he's into you? I'm not jealous or anything.

[He didn't think Adam was just going to suddenly leave him for Ronan.]

[Adam laughed softly, a smile on the other end of the line. Kavinsky wasn't wrong, of course. But Adam still felt sort of- like he'd failed to put together half of an equation.]

I just couldn't imagine having a chance. But he- I mean, when Aglionby raised tuition prices this year he bribed the church ladies to lower my rent. Some sort of "tax adjustment" that left me with a rent credit in the exact amount of the tuition increase. And he was always doing shit like that, but-

Then the rest of the time he was Ronan Lynch.

[He figures that Kavinsky knows what he means.]

Yeah, I just- it's different, isn't it? You don't mind if we share him?

[He's teasing a little, but it's also.. willingness. Interest. He'd told Kavinsky he'd wanted to kiss Ronan since his first day at Aglionby.]

He's stupid but he's sweet when he cares.

[Ronan's heart was in the right place--most of the time--Kavinsky thought. And K would do things like that for Adam, too, if he knew he wouldn't have to fight the other boy about it. But Adam was stubborn and determined and- it was part of why Kavinsky loved him.]

I wouldn't mind.

[Was he already thinking things like watching the other two kiss or-? Absolutely. Did he also think this was something that could make Adam even happier? Definitely. He liked it when Adam was happy; he deserved more reasons to smile.]

Imagine all the potential. [The potential threesomes he meant, but he didn't want to come right out and say it and risk spooking Adam. Because, honestly, he'd take things at whatever pace the other two were comfortable with. Adam meant a lot to him and Ronan was special. And, more importantly, Adam hadn't said no yet.]

He'd be good to you. And me.

That's exactly it, isn't it?

[He says it with warmth, at least. He doesn't mean it in a cruel sort of way- Ronan could be as smart as anyone when he applied himself. And he was sweet when he cared, when he tried.

Adam is quiet while he tries to puzzle through how he feels about this, what to do with this shift. He laughs a little when Kavinsky mentions the potential. And not too long ago, it probably would have spooked him. But now he just hums thoughtfully, with something like heat in his breath.]

You think that would work, having us all in bed together?

[He wasn't saying no. After a moment he shakes his head, because he thinks that Kavinsky's right.]

We can talk about it when I get there? Because- it feels like it might work. Like this way it's gaining something instead of losing things. But we still have to figure out.. what this would mean, and where the lines are. And I'm greedy, K.

[He says it sometimes, like a joke, but with Kavinsky he can stand to say it like this- where he means it. Where he can feel like his boyfriend wont judge him for it.]

I dunno. We can figure that out when we get that far, though.

[There wasn't a rush and he didn't want to make Adam feel pressured. Hell, Kavinsky would even take just chastely sleeping in the same bed with Adam and Ronan. He had a king size; it was plenty big enough for three teenage boys. Anybody's bed would do though, really.]

Yeah, okay. We've got all the time we need to figure this thing out. And I'm greedy, too. Always have been. I think it's- it's 'cause we never had a lot when we needed it. But I want you to be happy and not feel like you've gotta lose anything.

I'm not opposed to it. But yeah, we should talk first. And then see- what everyone's interested in?

[But Adam was more of a perv than most people thought that he was. He was just also.. he needed Kavinsky. And that had been a scary realization, one that lived under his skin. Possibly even scarier, was the idea that if he let him in- he might need Ronan too.

He would be perfectly happy to cuddle with the other two, even if they didn't take their clothes off- although he absolutely had threesome thoughts swimming in his head. But really, Kavinsky's bed was the best option. Adam's bed barely fit him alone, and he wasn't sure how Ronan would feel about taking them to the Barns.]

Yeah. I mean- living with my parents nothing was ever mine. I was always.. waiting for someone to take it away or for my father to ruin it. Especially if it was something I liked, or that made me happy. And now I just- I want so much. And you make it seem like I'm allowed to.

I love you.

Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.

[Kavinsky didn't want to get ahead of himself, which he was prone to doing. If they rushed into something like this it could end messy. He'd had enough things end messy for him, he didn't need something like this to blow up in his face.]

Of course, you're allowed, sweetheart. I wish I could give you everything you need and want.

[Not just in a relationship, but things like money and cars and houses.]

I love you, too.

I mean, I'd want to. Once we know how it works. Having both of you?

[His breath gets a little rough, but it's with heat, not something negative. Not with worry. Instead- well, he's trying not to focus on the thought of being in bed with the two boys too much, or else he'll end up jerking off in his car before he leaves for the party. Adam didn't want this to blow up in their faces. He wanted- to take it slow, to make sure this was good for them.

But it feels good, knowing that Ronan wanted him. Ronan Lynch, who could have had anyone, and he wanted Adam Parrish. It wasn't a new feeling: it was the feeling he woke up with every morning, when he remembered Kavinsky loved him.]

You would if I let you. I know I've always made it... difficult for you. [He knows this is a tangent, but he knows how stubborn he is with these things is probably rough for the other boy. He only means to explain a little, but maybe everything else pushes it into something more.]

It's not just the money, you know. You have.. power. Over people, the world around you. And that's part of what scared me, part of why it was always easier to let Ronan do things for me than Gansey, why I fought you so hard at the beginning. I didn't want to be one of his things, I didn't want to be something else that he bought. And I thought that I didn't want to be one of your dogs.

[He takes a breath, like he's steadying himself, and his voice softens a little, his Henrietta accent coating his words, like this is some sort of secret.]

It's- security, safety. That's the other part. Gansey-- well, he was always gonna chase after whichever direction his dead king led. If I let him give me things, I'd rely on that, and then it'd all be gone whenever the wind carried him away. I figured you were sort of the same at first-- sorry.

[He apologizes for comparing him to Gansey, trying to put a little bit of levity into things. Ronan was tied to Henrietta the same way Adam was, with the weight of family names, but unlike Adam he didn't seem inclined to try and fight the pull. So as mercurial as he might be, Ronan would never leave taking every good thing with him.]

But you know, I thought eventually I was going to lose your interest and you'd walk away. So I could only accept what I could live without. But I-- I don't think that now. I think you're the best boyfriend that I could ever have found. More than Ronan, or Gansey, or anyone else in the world. And I want more. Because you make me feel safe. Like I could go to college and come back to you and kiss you in my dorm room and that we could-- make something together.

[For always. He isn't crying. He just-- okay, he is, but it doesn't feel like a bad thing, even if his ribs ache. He thinks it's just how big the feelings are. Bigger than I love you; even if he doesn't quite know the words to say them in.]

You still can't get me a car. But.. maybe some other things. We can talk about it?

[He'd meant to compromise, not spill his heart, but it feels okay anyway.]

[Damn right he'd do it if Adam let him. Kavinsky would spoil him rotten. But at the same time, he also sort of liked that Adam didn't let him do that. It assured him that Adam wasn't with him just because of his money. But on the other hand, he wished Adam would let him get him some things.]

You don't have to apologize.

[For as much as Kavinsky disliked Gansey, being compared to him wasn't an insult. There were probably a lot of people who wished they could be compared to Dick Gansey. The real truth was, Kavinsky wasn't going anywhere. And if he did, if he wanted to see the world? He'd take Adam with him. They could go to Italy or Spain or Hawaii, but he doubted Adam would let him buy him plane tickets.

The rest though, the rest made his breath hitch in his chest, just a little. Or more than a little. He'd never considered himself a good boyfriend before. He'd been a downright shitty one in the past. But he'd always been trying with Adam. Kavinsky wanted to treat him right, to make this last. He was desperately in love with Adam but there was more to it than that. Normally, K didn't believe in shit like soulmates. But with Adam? Adam made him believe.]

Maybe I should get you a ring.

[He sounded a little choked up and normally he'd brush it off and hide it, but he was safe with Adam, he knew that.

Scrubbing at his face, he took a breath.]

Okay. Talking's good.

Maybe you should.

[He rubbed at his eyes, damp with tears not because any of this was bad, but because he felt like he would burst with the feelings, with how his heart raced in his chest. With the sheer joy of it, of the boy he loved, that loved him back. Kavinsky was magic, not just because he was a Dreamer, but because he was good and he cared, and he filled Adam with so much love it felt like magic. If they were face to face, he'd wrap him in his arms, hold him just to anchor himself, but for now he just closed his eyes and let himself feel it, let the question echo in his bones.

Who would want to marry Adam Parrish? Joseph Kavinsky.

And Adam didn't question it, didn't wonder if it was real or if he meant it. He just.. tried to say it back. I'll say yes, the words that thrummed through it. That feeling that Adam wanted it too. He knew people would roll their eyes at the idea of them getting married, high schoolers who didn't know any better or something like that. But Kavinsky was all that he needed, all he wanted. He'd never believed in soulmates or love at first sight, or any of that romantic nonsense. He'd hardly believed that love was something that he got to have. But Kavinsky changed all of that: made his heart skip at the end of movies, when the boy kissed the girl -- just because he understood now what that feeling was supposed to be.]

Talking is good, but right now I just wanna see you.

[He doesn't cull his accent as much with Kavinsky, doesn't feel like the other boy will see him as something less-than because of it. And he might find a way to be okay with plane tickets, eventually, but for now it was just- small steps. He just wanted to feel like he stood on his own feet, like he gave back as much as Kavinsky gave him -- he was trying, anyway.]

Gimme ten minutes. And then I want you to hold me.

Edited 2022-07-17 01:13 (UTC)

[Maybe you should. Who would want to marry him? Adam Parrish, apparently. Maybe he would get Adam a ring. Dream him up something nice after looking through rings online, to get some ideas. This wasn't how he'd expected this conversation to go but he wasn't upset about it, either. He'd almost forgotten they were talking about Ronan to start with. He wondered if Ronan would be happy for them or jealous if Kavinsky told him he thought Adam would marry him if he asked.

He took another breath, shaky as it was, and smiled.]

Same. I'll be waiting for you, arms open.

[Not literally, but he'd definitely hold Adam when he got there.]

Mm, good. I'll see you soon. And we can talk. And I love you.

[And Adam hangs up, and he starts his car.

Meanwhile, once Kavinsky hangs up the phone, Ronan downs the last of his drink. He'd been nursing it slow just so that he had something in his hands, so that he wasn't fidgeting uselessly while he waited to hear how things went. He was tense despite himself, despite the way that he was trying to look casual. He wanders over to the other boy as he starts to head towards Ronan, more or less meeting him halfway.

He's about to ask a question, except that he realizes that Kavinsky looks-- emotional? Are his eyes glassy? Ronan takes a step back as he claps a hand on his shoulder, his stomach threatening to twist itself into knots. Had he fucked things up? God- just. God he hoped not.]

Hey. Are you.. okay?

[Ronan tries to keep his voice level, so Kavinsky doesn't feel like he's entirely obvious, hopefully.]

[After a quick I love you, too, Kavinsky also hung up, shoving his phone in his pocket. He tried not to look so affected, like he had his heart on his sleeve, but it was hard after the conversation he'd just had. Apparently, as he met up with Ronan again, he was pretty obviously emotional.

He laughed, a light sound.]

I'm great, actually. I think Adam just said he'd marry me if I asked him.

[He paused for a moment, head tilting to the side.]

Which is not where I expected our conversation to go.

[That was not the answer that Ronan was expecting, but he laughs, clapping a hand against the side of Kavinsky's head and ruffling his hair in a playful, but conspiratorial sort of way. Ronan is happy for them, which makes the feeling sort of like vertigo. Worrying he'd ruined things to finding out two of the people he cared for most were assumedly going to get married at some point in the not-too-far future.]

You asshole. Congratulations.

[He grins, hooking an arm around his shoulders after clapping him on the back a few times.]

Guess I'm not shit luck all the time. I shoulda brought-- fuck. Cigars or some shit. I'll save that for when you actually give him a ring, I guess.

[Kavinsky has a better option for a best-man, but he'd be Adam's, if he wanted him to.]

Thanks, man.

[He was- it was still sinking in. It'd been one thing to tell Adam, over the phone maybe I should get you a ring, but it was another thing entirely to say it to Ronan. It made it feel more real, like it was actually going to happen someday. He felt light and happy and at the same time, there was a lowkey panic. What if he was a bad husband when the time came? He pushed those thoughts away though, focusing on the good part of things.

He hugged Ronan tight for a moment. He was glad Ronan didn't seem hurt by it or jealous, both of which Kavinsky might have been if the tables had been turned. But- this was good. It was good.]

I'm still not sure how 'hey, do you want to have sex with Ronan?' turned into 'hey, maybe we'll get married', but I'm sure as shit not complaining.

[Ronan hugs him back, almost without thinking about it. He hugs him like he can push all his joy into him, rubbing his back for a moment, and then just clapping him on the shoulder as they part. Ronan catches him by the shoulders and shakes him just a little.]

You guys are gonna be good, you know that right?

[He was a little jealous, if he was honest. It was what he'd seen in the hall at Aglionby, even if it hadn't had the word marriage attached to it then. But he'd seen the way that they fit together, like halves of one another. And so he-- fuck. He didn't know if he was jealous of the two boys that he liked, that he cared about, or jealous of that feeling. But he wasn't hurt, because Ronan had hurt himself. He'd walked away from Kavinsky, not the other way around. Their relationship- he was glad they had it. Adam needed it, but he thought Kavinsky probably did too. Less assured than he tried to seem in the quieter moments.]

I mean, it's you so I'm not completely surprised. [He elbows him just a little.] But uh.. does he want to?

[He was teasing, but also- you know, he was still interested. How could he not be?]

I know.

[It was easier to bluff than say he was unsure and worried that he'd fuck something up. If something went wrong, he knew it wouldn't be Adam's fault. Had Kavinsky ever had something good in his life that he hadn't screwed up somehow? There was only Adam.

Laughing, he grinned at Ronan at the question. He'd dropped the hint on purpose hoping he would ask, so Kavinsky wouldn't have to change the subject too drastically. Predictably, it'd worked.]

Yeah, he does. He didn't agree to anything but talking yet, but he was definitely thinking about it. Having sex with you, I mean.

[Adam was cuddled up against Kavinsky, his head nestled into his shoulder. It had become more common than not, on nights where he could stay over. Not late enough that they were asleep yet, they were just- talking. Adam in a pair of boxers, his fingers tracing idly along Kavinsky's abs and his ribcage. He teases him sometimes about how nice his abs would look if he ate more than Twizzlers. But it's worry more than teasing, really.

Because he cares impossibly about the boy he's tangled up with.

They talk about all sorts of things, of course. Cars. The things they care about. Failed relationships. Adam tells him about Blue, about how he hadn't thought he was worthy of anyone after her, not until Skov and Swan. And at first he was just glad for the attention, and now he's here, with a boy he cares about, that he can say he's dating. It will never be you and me, she'd said to him. It's a strange parallel, and one that actually gets them here, talking about Ronan Lynch in more detail than they have before.

It's complicated for Adam, but those things are harder to say outloud. That they're still friends, but he never feels equal to Ronan the way he does in this space he's build with Kavinsky and the other boys. He feels like everything he fights to hold onto is a joke. It's hard not to be around them and still feel as small as he did before.

He sighs, exhaling as he lets his fingers slot against his ribs, holding onto him a little tighter. But he laughs, a little bit self-conscious, but it's vulnerability. It's giving away a piece of himself.]

I mean- I've never told anyone, but I've been attracted to him since basically the first day of school. So I sort of get it. He's like a heart attack. How do you not want to kiss him?

I definitely want to kiss him.

[He had for a while, months, but he wasn't going to say just how long out loud. Wanting to kiss Ronan aside though, he was happy snuggled up to Adam, arms draped around him. Adam made him feel happy and alive in ways he hadn't thought he'd actually get to have before. It was nice and he was special and Kavinsky never wanted to let him go.

It was nice, in a way, that they both thought Ronan was drop dead gorgeous, but what else did it mean? Did it mean anything? There was, at least, nothing wrong with thinking someone else was attractive while you were in a relationship, he was pretty sure.]

You've got good taste though, so I'm not surprised.

[He was only partially teasing. He did think Adam had good taste; Adam was dating him after all. Kavinsky would like to believe he was a good boyfriend but he wasn't sure. Adam was his first real relationship, the first one where he really wanted to try and make things work. He'd fucked up in the past but he refused to do it again.]

[Adam is quiet for a moment, because he doesn't want to ask the question on the tip of his tongue, because he knows it's a rabbithole. But if all the stuff with Gansey and Glendower and Cabeswater has taught him anything, it's that leaving them alone doesn't make them go away. So he wants to toy with the joke about his good taste, but he doesn't.]

Would you do it? If he found you one night saying he'd made a mistake or something.

[There's a pause, and he shakes his head a little, fingers tracing loops against Kavinsky's chest. It was easy enough to figure out that Adam thought that Ronan'd made a huge mistake. And he figured that even his friend who was oblivious as anything would put that together eventually. And when he did...]

This isn't-- I'm not going to be upset about it.

[And he means that, more or less. It might hurt his feelings, but he's not fishing for an argument or for an insult. It's more complicated than that. He just- the way Kavinsky talks about Ronan feels different than the way Adam feels about Ronan. Or maybe it isn't even Kavinsky at all, maybe it's just Adam. Maybe it's just that he can't help feeling like there's nothing he has that he wouldn't lose if Ronan wanted it. That hasn't really been a concern so far, but Kavinsky-- it's always felt almost arrogant to think he can keep him.]

I'm a realist. But I'm also- [He laughs softly, lighter than what he's said probably sounds.] -hideously in love with you. So I just... if we know we can figure it out, right?

[Maybe it was optimistic to think he could reduce this sort of thing to a puzzle, to something where Adam just had to be able to see all the pieces. And yes, the way he sucks a mark into the side of K's throat is probably insecurity as much as affection. They're complicated feelings that curl in his chest, pressing against his breastbone. But he figures that Kavinsky knew that before they were dating, probably knows it better now.

It's insecurity, that fear that he isn't good enough. But it's also devotion, also the desperate want to hold onto Kavinsky with both hands, with everything he has.]

Edited 2022-07-07 21:08 (UTC)

[Kavinsky took a breath, held it for a moment, and considered the question. As much as he wanted Ronan- he wasn't the kind of person who'd hurt someone he loved. Not on purpose, not by deliberately kissing someone else. As if there was any other way to kiss someone. Finally, he exhaled.]

I wouldn't if it would hurt you. 'cause I love you and I don't want to lose you.

[And Adam was maybe one of the best things that'd ever happened to him. Sure, Kavinsky had the rest of his boys but Adam was different than them. He was- K didn't know how to put it into words. He just knew that Adam was special. He was good with his hands too, and his mouth, and- there wasn't a single thing about him that wasn't good.

Kavinsky sank his fingers into Adam's hair for the sake of touching him.]

I know a lot of people probably think I'm 'that guy' who'd fuck around but I'm not. I just- I still care about Ronan, though.

[But he didn't know if Ronan felt like he'd made a mistake, if Ronan even wanted him. And what did it matter, at the end of the day? Kavinsky had Adam and he was more than happy with him.]

[Adam felt- he didn't know. Awed, maybe. Had anyone ever put him first, made him feel this special? It made him want to cry. He doesn't, but he does murmur when Kavinsky runs his fingers through his hair. He trembles, clings to him as his heart races in his chest.]

I love you so goddamn much.

[He almost lets it go. Not because he doesn't think it's important, but because he's a greedy, selfish creature, and being told that he's enough is such a breathless feeling that he wants to hold onto it forever. But instead he just holds onto it for a minute or so, long enough to memorize it, to tuck it into his ribcage where no one can take it from him, where he can pull it out on his worst moments and remember the feeling.

He snuggles into Kavinsky's shoulder, affectionate because he can't put into words how much that means to him. So he just says it in how he looks at him, overflowing with it.]

I know you're not. I trust you, completely, no matter what other people think. All I was saying was-- you still care about Ronan. And I care about Skov and Swan.

[He sighs, but it's not sad. If anything it's warm and light, smiling against the other boy's skin, still curled in the safety of that feeling. Trying to say that what he was talking about wasn't whether Kavinsky would cheat on him or not, but something else.]

So I'm not saying I don't trust that you would choose me. I mean, I'm greedy and selfish- I like keeping you to myself. But I don't need that. What I need is... your love and desire, your attention, to know that I'm enough, that you'll keep me anyway, that I wont lose you.

[He runs his fingers through Kavinsky's dark hair. It isn't easy for him, but it is true. He wouldn't be with Swan and Skov if he couldn't handle the thought of Kavinsky kissing someone else, that there might be someone else he'd care for. Adam wasn't quite hypocritical, he was just greedy. Ronan was admittedly a more complicated feeling than Skov or Prokopenko, where the worst of Adam's feelings would probably be jealousy if he didn't get to watch. But- it wasn't impossible.]

It doesn't have to be something that hurts me.

I love you, too, darling.

[He was genuinely touched that Adam trusted him. Other people might say it was stupid to trust Kavinsky, but he wasn't really that bad--was he? He knew he was a monster, but even monsters had redeeming qualities. Sometimes.

Listening quietly to what Adam had to say, he held him close and pressed a kiss to his head. Kavinsky was a smart guy. He could put the pieces together. But he also didn't want to make an assumption about what Adam was saying. It sounded like he was willing to share Kavinsky with Ronan--but he didn't want to assume. It wasn't even about getting his hopes up- because as much as he wanted to kiss Ronan, he could live without it. Adam was enough for him, an equal, a boy whose feet Kavinsky wanted to worship at. It wasn't a feeling he usually had.]

So...are you saying I could kiss Ronan?

[He figured he'd start small, see if he was right or not, and build up depending on Adam's response. He wouldn't have imagined they'd be having this kind of conversation but- maybe it was good that they were. For all he knew, nothing would ever come of it, but sometimes it was good to know where you stood with certain things.]

No matter what, you're not going to lose me.

[Not unless Adam broke up with him or something.]

Yeah, I am.

[There are caveats there, but rather than getting into them immediately he shifts so that he's laying on top of Kavinsky's chest, cupping his face in his hands so that he can kiss him, slow and lingering and affection that almost tips into desire. He's never felt like he needed a person before; he needed his scholarship, he needed the letters of recommendation from Aglionby, he needed to get into an Ivy League college. But he needed Kavinsky too. He'd never felt as capable of doing the things he desired, as when he was standing at Kavinsky's side.]

Just making out, though. And tell me about it when you can. And then-- we can talk about it, about Ronan. But the kissing wont hurt me.

[He grinned impishly, light and almost playful, like letting him kiss Ronan was almost easy. And it was, honestly. Reaching out he softly brushes his fingers against the side of Kavinsky's face, letting his touch trail against his skin, down to his chest. He likes touching him. Both when it's his cock in his hand, or just like this. Just fingertips, curling against the warmth of his body, so awed that he gets to have this. That he gets Kavinsky, gets a boy with everything that would choose him over anyone else.

There's that quiet implication there that the kissing wont hurt, but that something else could, but Adam doesn't leave it hanging.]

To be honest, Ronan's... more difficult for me. I mean, we spent a year and a half basically competing for Dick's attention and neither of us were even dating him. And back then- I couldn't help comparing myself against him and seeing all the ways that I didn't think I was good enough. But I'm not who I was then. So I'm open to talking about it, seeing what we'd want and what that could look like.

[He looks at K, and he can't help the way his heart skips in his chest, his skin almost electric. Something about the way that Kavinsky says it like a promise, and Adam believes him. Part of his issue with Gansey had always been the knowledge that he'd go where-ever Glendower led him, and it made everything he offered even more toxic than just his carelessness.

And here's Kavinsky, and he says you're not going to lose me like something solid, a foundation; the sort of thing that you built houses on. Or a life.

Adam wants him so much that it feels like it burns him. Fuck.]

[Not just kissing but making out? If Adam were anyone else, Kavinsky would have grinned and teased him. But as it was, he combed his fingers through Adam's hair and asked,]

Are you sure?

[He wasn't sure if Adam would say something like this or not just to make him happy. And while the idea was flattering, he didn't want Adam to make himself uncomfortable just for someone else's sake. He wanted Adam to be happy and comfortable and just- he wanted him to have all of the best things in life. The only struggle was he wasn't sure Adam would accept the best things in life without earning them for himself.]

You're not- I mean- [Kavinsky took a breath and tried again.] You shouldn't compare yourself to someone else 'cause everyone is different. Everyone has value and different- uh- fuck- not skills, different- like strengths. And you and Ronan are nothing alike. You want different things out of life. He was special because he was like me, but that's a stupid fucking thing to hinge wanting someone on.

[And yet, he still wanted Ronan. He couldn't help it. After a moment, he added-]

I wouldn't replace you with him, no matter what happened.

[His eyelashes flutter and he leans into the touch of his boyfriend's fingers. It was a comfort, and he couldn't help just enjoying the touch for a moment. But he smiled softly at the question, nodding in assent: yes, he was sure.]

Yeah. It's all the rest of it that I'm not sure about. But kissing him one night if he gives you the chance? Do it. Make him melt. Tell me what it was like. I mean, it'd be a lot easier for me if Swan was your dream boy, but I don't hold it against you.

[He says it with a laugh, teasing him lightly, but he quiets, lets Kavinsky try and say what he's trying to say. He doesn't want to rush him or pressure him, since he knows that saying this sort of stuff is difficult. And he does appreciate the sentiment, but then Adam can't help catching on that last part.]

It isn't a stupid thing to hinge wanting someone on.

[Adam says it a little bit more intently than he means to and he quiets a little. Just brushing his fingers against Kavinsky's chest, letting his touch rest against his heart, and he takes a few breaths.]

Ever since Persephone died... I mean, made a deal to wake up a ley line is a club with a pretty limited member list, you know? Even Persephone wasn't.. but the way she felt things was similar. And now there's no one. Just me and a ley line that some days feels like it's more than I can comprehend. And I don't--

[Adam catches his breath roughly, shaking his head a little bit awkwardly as he tries to keep from losing the point he'd been trying to make. Outside, she would have said- gently urging when his thoughts would start to spiral: or capsize. He didn't really talk about this, these feelings. They'd talked about her death before, of course. But Adam had sort of skimmed over this part of it; he didn't like admitting to it, to the loneliness, to how strange he felt sometimes, and like no one else could see.]

So uh- no, I don't think it's stupid to want to be close to someone because they're special in the same way you are. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have you. I'd just be unknowable, but lost.

Edited (gd typos) 2022-07-10 06:40 (UTC)

I have a literal dream boy. [He paused for a beat, wondering if he should say anything else or if he was going to end up derailing their important conversation.] But it's not Swan.

[And then, as if he hadn't just said that, he continued,]

I can feel the ley line. I just never knew what it was before I met you. You're not alone. You don't have to handle anything alone.

[He cupped the side of Adam's face in his hand before kissing him, soft and slow. He knew what it was like to feel alone in the world; it was why he gathered boys to his side, pulled them under his wing so they wouldn't be alone, either.

He hadn't known Persephone but if she had been important to Adam, then she'd probably been a good or kind person--or both. He wished there were more people in the world who could support Adam. Adam deserved it.

Kavinsky had never really been anyone's rock before. It was an odd but touching idea.]

What if I kiss Ronan and things get complicated, though? What if he wants to get back together or something? I'm not breaking up with you, for the record.

[Adam has questions- of course he does- but it ends up getting moved to something to bring up later, given the way that Kavinsky just moves on to talking about the ley line, about how he wasn't alone, how he didn't have to handle things alone. And he kisses him- and kissing Kavinsky is always an easy way to distract Adam. Not that he thinks he's doing it on purpose, but it's so easy to get swept up in the soft and tender feel of kissing his boyfriend.

And then he asks about what if thing gets complicated, and Adam quiets for a moment, trying to order his thoughts as he strokes his fingertips up against his boyfriend's chest. He loves him so much. He loves how much he cares, that he doesn't just take this for granted. Like he wants to make sure it's okay for real, that they're going to be okay. That Adam... that he really was enough for Kavinsky. It leaves him a little breathless, torn between wanting him and wanting to cuddle him.

But it's still a difficult question to answer, to work out how to say it.]

So you kiss Ronan. And he wants to get back together. And then we talk about it. You said I wont lose you, that you wouldn't replace me. And I trust you. And Ronan--

[This part felt harder to explain. Because Ronan did make him feel insecure, but he also felt.. he didn't know. It was easier to be friends with Ronan than Gansey most days. They weren't close exactly, but they weren't not close, either. Adam would be one of the first people to say that Ronan was an asshole and that Gansey needed to stop holding his hand, stop trying to tug him in the trajectory he thought he should be following. But he also was maybe one of the only people that didn't think he'd fall.]

He's an asshole, but not like that. Not like you kiss him and he wants to get back together and then he's showing up late and offering to fool around if you don't tell me about it. And I do think you'd tell him to fuck off, but if I thought he was like that- it's not something you talk through.

[He shrugs his shoulders and then he meets Kavinsky's eyes. He's struggling himself; it might seem like talking about things like this was easier for him than most of the boys. But there was a difference between easier and easy. And this was hard, because it was hard to believe that if Ronan wanted Kavinsky back that he stood a chance. But the flipside of it was that he didn't believe Ronan was that cruel.]

He's the only reason I have my driver's license, you know. He taught me to drive- in his car. I drove the BMW for my driver's test. It wasn't like my father cared, and he would have never let me take the truck, anyway. Gansey would have missed the entire fucking point and tried to buy me a goddamn car. So... I dunno, man. Ronan's an asshole, sure, no question. But he's not.. just an asshole.

[He didn't know if Kavinsky understood what he was trying to say. He didn't know if he understood the point he was trying to make. Tense and his voice tinged with that Henrietta accent as he tried to make sense of how they'd handle it if Ronan wanted Kavinsky. He didn't think that Ronan would hurt him on purpose, was what he supposed he was saying. That Adam could trust it if they talked it out, that he could trust them together.]

So if it gets complicated and he wants you back, we talk about it. We see what he wants, and-- and if that's something you want, too. We see what would work, and if that fits for everyone or not.

[It's difficult to say, to talk about Kavinsky wanting Ronan as more than just kissing, as something real. Like he'd said before, this is the stuff where he just doesn't know. He's quiet for a moment and he exhales, a little rough, a slight tremble in his body and he just clings to him, curls into him so that he can nuzzle into his shoulder. His heart pounding in his chest, and he's not upset, he just- it's a lot for him. To remind himself that he trusts Kavinsky, trusts how firm and solid his affirmation had been.]

So, uh... If you wanted to get back together with him, then we'd see if we could figure it out. But like I said before, this is the stuff-- it's hard. I don't know how much of you I could stand to lose.

[Kavinsky listened. It might not have usually been one of his strong suits, but right now his primary concern was Adam's comfort and happiness. So he listened, nodding here and there when it was appropriate. And when Adam clung to him, Kavinsky wrapped both arms around him again, gently rubbing his back, murmured-]

You're okay. We're okay.

And I would absolutely tell him to fuck off he tried to get handsy. But you're right. He's an asshole but he's not that kind of asshole.

[So Kavinsky didn't think Ronan would try to make a move, if he even still wanted Kavinsky after everything that had happened. And the bit where 'Ronan isn't just an asshole' made him want to ask Adam what he thought of Ronan, really, if he had feelings for him, but he wasn't sure if now was a good moment. They already had enough on their plates, after all.]

I'm not gonna do anything you're not okay with, you know? I just- I was curious. But I don't want you to lose any of me.

[But he also didn't know how dating Adam and Ronan would work. He'd hardly ever had a single boyfriend. He'd also probably manage to fuck it up somehow, he was sure, just like he fucked up everything else.]

You're- you make me feel safe. [He admitted.] I'm not sure I'd be able to talk about this stuff, like this, with anyone else. I appreciate...I just appreciate you.

I-- thank you.

[He murmured it softly, even if he sort of felt embarrassed for being so affected, for needing the comfort, the physical reassurance that they were here together, and they were okay. But he didn't pull away from Kavinsky, and it was pretty obvious that the way he rubbed his back and the murmured words helped ease the spots that had been rubbed raw by talking about all of this, how difficult it was to tell himself that he would get to keep Kavinsky, even when Ronan wanted him.]

I know. And I.. I appreciate that so much. It's just difficult to believe that if Ronan wanted you back that I'd still get to have you. But it's not that I don't trust you, because.. it's just difficult, not impossible.

[It was just still a rough thing to work through. He held onto him, nuzzling into him, shamelessly needy just to touch him, just to remind himself that Kavinsky wanted him. And this was all speculation anyway, even if Adam suspected that Ronan would work through things eventually. He rather wanted Kavinsky to know both that yes, he could kiss him if it happened to come up, but that Adam was unsure about the rest. That he couldn't promise anything, because it was hard to imagine that he could give Ronan enough without hurting himself. But they could talk about it, at least.

And god, the way that Kavinsky says that he makes him feel safe is a feeling Adam doesn't have words for. He just murmurs, holding him a little bit closer.]

You're so important to me. And I want to make you feel safe. I want you to feel like you can talk to me about anything.

[He curls up with him, touches him in a way that isn't quite chaste, but it's mostly just- being tactile is reassuring. And he wants to feel his desire, to feel wanted. Maybe it's selfish- but with Kavinsky Adam feels selfish a lot. He just also feels like he's allowed to be.]

And- I don't mean lose you in the big ways. I mean small things. Like how many days do I give him to spend with you instead of me? Do I stop going to your parties, since that used to be your thing with him? There isn't a way where it would be easy. It'll be compromise. But I want you to be happy. And if-- If you want him, I'd try to see if it could work.

Why, cause he's up on some kind of pedestal? I care about you, a lot. And you're not- you're not like something to just be thrown away. I wouldn't do that to you. You deserve so many things in life.

[Especially someone who respected him and thought he was worth keeping forever. And Kavinsky thought he was worth it. Adam was important to him; he made K feel safe and able to be soft in ways he hadn't thought were possible with anyone.

It was the subject of having to split his time between Ronan and Adam that made Kavinsky frown as he listened. The way Adam framed it, it sounded like the situation divorced couples had where they only got to see their kid on certain days. Was that how things were supposed to work if Kavinsky was dating two people?]

Why would you have to stop going to my parties? I like it when you're there. Unless...

[Unless Adam meant it would be difficult seeing Kavinsky with Ronan. That brought up different concerns because Kavinsky didn't want to make things hard like that. He didn't want to make either of them jealous or sad or anything.]

I want you to be happy, too. So if this wouldn't work out where you could still smile all the time, I don't think I'd wanna do it.

[Maybe it wasn't an easy discussion, but at the same time- the reassurance was more than Adam would ever have asked for. He wanted to cry, and he couldn't help getting sort of misty about it, his eyes damp as Kavinsky's words that Adam wasn't something to just be thrown away slipped between his ribs. It could have been as lethal as a knife, but instead-- it was almost praise, it was Kavinsky believing in him in bigger ways than Adam was accustomed to.]

I just mean-- I figured if you were dating him you'd want time alone with him. To have space where I'm not holding on to you.

[He tries to covertly wipe at his misty eyes, but it's not really all that secret. His breath hitches a little, and he shakes his head a little bit self-consciously. It feels obvious that Kavinsky was envisioning something different; something where Adam didn't have to not be part of it. And that feels.. maybe a little bit more like something he could live with. But for right now, he knows that he can't talk that out the way that he'd want to.]

Why don't we.. we can talk about it later. I didn't really- I didn't really think about it like this. And you make me all emotional.

[It's not really a complaint, and he just presses in against him, cups his face in his hands as he leans against his chest. He's- well, he's sort of half-hard against Kavinsky's stomach. Which is a bit embarrassing, but no one's ever cared for him like this before. And he thinks that maybe he wasn't letting himself how much K cared because it was sort of terrifying. Because admitting how much he cared-- it was admitting that he was worth it, it was admitting that he wanted it, that this was something he didn't want to lose.]

I'm such a mess for you, K. I want- I want to smile for you always. And fuck, you care so much, in ways I never thought I'd deserve from anyone- and I want to hold you and tell you how much that means, and how much I care for you. But it also really turns me on? Just- feeling so much.

I'd want time with both of you.

[Because Adam was so, so special to him. He couldn't imagine a day going by where they didn't talk or at least text or something.

Kavinsky kissed him sweetly but didn't say anything about Adam being misty-eyed. He wasn't going to draw attention to it, even if it was just the two of them. He just hoped it was the good kind of misty.]

Sure, sweetheart.

[The rest though, combined with the start of an erection he could feel, made him laugh a little, but not unkindly. He kissed Adam again, letting it linger for a moment. He'd never thought he'd have something like this, not with anyone. Especially not with a boy like Adam.]

So, it's sexy how much I love you?

[He was teasing, but gently. He knew how overwhelming emotions could be, even in a positive way.]

[They all knew what the intention was here, but at the same time Ronan had suggested trying to make it something casual, where they could just hang out and see what happened. Adam knew that it was for his benefit, so that he didn't feel pressured, but he was trying to see that as a good thing, to remind himself that meant that Ronan cared how he felt, and not focus on the fact that he was woefully inexperienced with this stuff compared to the two other boys. But they wanted him anyway; wanted him here with them.

And it helps, actually. They pile together on Kavinsky's bed, and he puts on a movie; not exactly the most traditionally sexy sort of thing, but it has cars, topless Vin Diesel, and they've all seen it more than a few times. So it's easy to leave it in the background. Kavinsky and Ronan don't bother with shirts, and Adam loses his almost immediately. Ronan pulling it off over his head as Kavinsky kisses him, with hands steadying him as they trail against his skin, and then pulling him down between the two boys. He can't believe he gets to have this, hard to imagine even dreaming about it, and here they are, both of them with fingers on his skin.

No one really pays attention to the movie aside from occasional sideways glances. Mostly they cuddle and they kiss and the two boys both whisper words in his ears about how he's beautiful and wantable and it makes Adam shiver, makes his stomach twist with heat as his face flushes. Kavinsky and Ronan are both in boxerbriefs, though Adam opted for pajama pants -- he admittedly doesn't have anything under them, though. His heart is racing and he's achingly hard, a fact which the fabric does little to hide. Ronan's been intensely distracted the whole time, though he'd been trying to be as casual about it as he can manage, because he doesn't want to spook Adam. But he can't help being eager.

He looks to Kavinsky, trying to make sure it's okay as he gets his teeth into Adam's waistband and starts pulling them down. He presses one of his free hands to the front of K's underwear, touching his dick through the fabric as he strips the boy's boyfriend- or is it fiancee now?- with a grin. Adam's eyes are half-masted, fingers gently touching against Ronan's scalp, in a way that seems rather like encouragement. But after a moment he lets Ronan real with his pajama pants and reaches out to Kavinsky, kissing him again and only pulling back for breath.]

How do we..? I want you. I want you both.

[Ronan clearly has thoughts given the glint in his blue eyes, but he's equally clearly willing to follow their lead -- he's not going to push for his own desires unless they ask for it. But sex had always been easy for him to fall into, once he stopped worrying about what it meant.]

Edited 2022-07-18 23:49 (UTC)

[Threesomes could be tricky to manage, especially when Kavinsky wanted both of them at the same time but only had one dick. Though that was only the mildest inconvenience; there were plenty of ways to work around it. He was briefly distracted when Ronan touched him, murmuring quietly, and then again when Adam kissed him.

'How do we?' was a good question. Normally, Kavinsky was selfish but he wanted to lavish affection and attention on both of the other boys as much as he wanted to be the center of attention, himself. He was ridiculously turned on already, going through various different scenarios in his mind.]

I want you both, too.

[Dipping his head to kiss at Adam's neck, he let his gaze flicker to Ronan, unable to help smirking.]

What's on your mind?

[He wasn't normally a people pleaser but that was different with Adam and Ronan. Besides; he could at least hear out Ronan and see if he had any good ideas. Shockingly, he did that sometimes--have good ideas, that was. He was, of course, more than willing to hear Adam's opinion, too.]

[Ronan drops Adam's pajama bottoms to the floor, curling a little bit closer to him on the bed so that he can nuzzle into the hard length of his erection. It makes Adam's breath catch, reaching out to Kavinsky to steady himself. But Ronan lets him catch his breath as he looks up at Kavinsky, considering for a moment as he looked at at the two boys that did things to his heart that made him ache. God, but they were beautiful and he wanted them so fucking much.

He grins at the other dreamer, lifting an eyebrow, seductive and pleased as he lets his fingers touch against them both, gliding over bare skin.]

I wanna show Adam how good it can be. Make him enjoy himself without overthinking this. We can prep him and see how much he can take, maybe.

[There's a slight edge to it, an edge to how Ronan looks at Kavinsky. Because Ronan knows what how much you can take had meant with Kavinsky-- aka he's hinting at possibly fisting him, if Adam can take it, if he likes it. He wants-- fuck, but he wants so much. He wants all that he can get because he's afraid this will be the only time he gets. But he also wants to make it so good for Adam that he asks for more. But mostly he just wants to make him feel good, wants to apologize to Kavinsky in the way he was always best at.]

I wanna suck your dick a little and then watch him squirm on it while I hold him for you.

[And, you know, maybe slide his fingers in alongside his cock. Maybe more than that, too.

Adam for his part kissed Kavinsky, hard and desperate. He was so turned on and he wanted it, and he felt so-- he didn't think he'd ever felt desired like this before. He curled fingers around his boyfriend's cock, stroking him slow and easy.]

I.. I'll try anything. I trust you two. I want you to show me, I think.

[It wasn't quite shy, but he laughed softly, warm and pleasant, enjoying himself for the moment.]

[Reaching out, Kavinsky touched Ronan. A simple touch, fingers pressing briefly against his shoulder. It was for the sake of the contact, to make them both feel wanted and desirable and- his smirk turned filthier because he most definitely got what Ronan was hinting at. It made him feel- alive and present and awake in ways he normally wasn't.]

Yeah.

[He looked at Adam, a glint in his eyes. Lord knew Adam had problems with overthinking everything. Something to wipe the coherent thoughts from his mind and replace them with nothing but pleasure. It would be good for him, Kavinsky thought. And also, selfishly, he wanted to see if Adam could take it.]

I like the sound of that.

[He groaned into the kiss when Adam touched him, chasing his mouth when he pulled away to steal another little kiss.]

You're in good hands, sweetheart.

[Kavinsky would never hurt Adam (or Ronan) and he wouldn't let Ronan, either. Of course, he didn't think Ronan would hurt Adam, or K. Ronan acted tough and scary but he had a good heart. Maybe, by the same logic, so did Kavinsky. It was just easier to believe about other people.

Stealing another kiss, he let his hand wander down Adam's side to his hip, fingers dancing teasingly along his cock. Every inch of Adam was beautiful, in Kavinsky's opinion; he was worthy of worship.]

[Adam could not have really articulated how he knew something was wrong, just that he did. It was like He could feel it the pulse of his heartbeat, in how his hands grasped for something as he gasped awake -- Ronan's name on his mouth. He was desperate, grasping for something he could use, and thankfully coming up with a superbright LED flashlight. The light on his phone wouldn't have been bright enough, but this should work. It wasn't his car headlights, but it'd be enough to pull him out of himself. He hoped.

But, he wasn't about to ignore Kavinsky who either hadn't fallen asleep in the first place, or had roused when Adam had startled awake. At least he wasn't Dreaming- that was the last place that he wanted him right now. He cups his jaw and gives him a quick kiss in lieu of an explanation, because he doesn't feel like he has time for the later. His voice is even and sure when he looks into his dark eyes.]

Something's wrong. Just- trust me, sweetheart. Make sure I come back -- that we both do.

[And then he's cross-legged in Kavinsky's bed, with a light shining into his blue eyes; trying to send himself far enough that he can find Ronan. Which is Cabeswater, because of course it is. And technically he's scrying into the space, but it feels real, feels solid under his feet- not like dreaming. But with the pulse of the ley line through him like this, pulled to the place that he'd bound himself to, pulled to Ronan, no wonder it feels so real. Usually he's more reckless, but tonight he's glad that Kavinsky is there to watch him. Briefly he thinks of his boyfriend, sure that he's worried about him, and worried about Ronan, but he pushes the thought away before he can get distracted.

He can feel Ronan, but he can't find him. At least, not at first. But he can feel Cabeswater, old and unknowable, and then he realizes why. That Ronan's under Cabeswater, pulled into the lake beneath it -- drowning. And oh, how he snaps at the forest to fix it, to fix this, to save its dreamer. It doesn't answer in words, but Adam understands the meaning: you are our hands and eyes. Which meant Adam was supposed to save Ronan, but he felt so small and alone. How could he possibly-- He wanted Kavinsky and Blue and he wanted Gansey; knew that they could do something, could force this into something they could solve just by wanting it to be so, by dreaming it. What could Adam do?

Outside of yourself, Magician.

Adam's breath catches in his lungs, and he doesn't know if it's actually Persephone, or just the memory of her voice, her words. But maybe it doesn't matter- especially here. And in a breath it reminds him of what he is, that there was a name he'd claimed for himself, something bigger than Adam Parrish. The stones, the lightning: a network at his feet.

The Magician was a card of power, of acting with your full potential instead of holding back, having the will to manifest your desires into the world. It was reaching and saying I will instead of I want. Months ago he'd taken his first steps, but this felt different.]

I'm going to save him. So please-

[He says it in Latin, but also in the language of thought and intention that he's been so slowly learning to speak to Cabeswater. But it's Ronan, who it loves best, so he hardly has to say the words. He needed power and this place needed a conduit, a connection. Vines threaded against his skin, cool where Adam was flushed, his heart racing with the nervousness of it. Letting this be on his shoulders, standing and being powerful rather than quiet or polite.

It feels like a strange sort of comfort, almost a sort of reassurance: like the forest believes in him.

Most of what he's done so far has felt like small things, small pieces that when he aligned them correctly, could knock the bigger things into place. But nothing about this felt small. It was Ronan, after all. And it was Adam, standing here on his own, but not alone.

He takes a breath.

Kavinsky can probably feel it, because the ley line surges, like lightning on a power line, the way they'd used it to distract the hitmen from the dreamers last summer. Maybe K can even see it, like Adam had seen Ronan all those months before, when he'd been correcting the line, like a window. Because there's that way that the power warps the line between reality and dreams, between Adam and Ronan. He can feel him, feel the beat of his heart, and with the power of the ley line running through him, like a glowing current in his human hands, he reaches for him, trying to wrap it around him. His palms press against the ground, the soft velvet of the grass, the dream forest that had wrapped itself around him ... and then he reached further, touching beneath it.

Adam didn't know what the lake was, anymore than they had before, and at the moment he didn't much care. All that mattered was that it had Ronan and that Adam was going to take him back. It's fierce determination, a green glow in his blue eyes, bending the ley line because he needed it to be here, because he needed to be able to reach him. Desperate and wild, his skin glowing faintly where power hums into the line between the two boys, and then--

Then Adam is gasping and stumbling, almost falling, but managing to catch himself, and catch Ronan. Because the energy of the ley line in his hands had been one thing, but Ronan's six-foot-two frame, wet to the skin, is another. For a moment, he lets himself hold him, lets his fingers find his chest, the beat of his heart. He almost kisses him, just so overwhelmed- a moment where he'd thought he was going to lose him, that everyone would- and no one would forgive him for fucking this up. And Ronan might be an asshole, but he's an asshole that Adam couldn't stand to lose, either.]

Ronan--

[But then Ronan is coughing, spitting out water and making a face as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.]

Shit, that's fucking gross.

[He wants to say something, but he doesn't know where to even start. So he just gives Adam a quiet look that he hopes looks... thankful or something. Which isn't remotely enough, and he knows it, even without really knowing exactly how he ended up there. But he had thought he was lost; that no one would find him. Drowning in slow motion. Had he even been dreaming?

Ronan is woozy and unsteady, and Adam ends up half-carrying him. Which is not an easy thing, although Ronan is lighter than the FTI automatic transmission he'd had to lift up onto jacks the other day. But Adam really isn't thinking about anything except getting the boy in his arms somewhere safe. And safe to him means pretty much one thing:]

Kavinsky!

[It's not on purpose, but right now he's still sort of glowing, and Cabeswater has its vines still pressed to his chest with a feeling that sounds like thank you. But somehow dreams become reality become dreams. The window becomes a door. Adam, cross-legged on the bed is instead off to the side with six feet of squirming Ronan Lynch leaning into him, and there's leaves and ferns on the carpet of Kavinsky's room. And Adam hasn't even had the chance to process that this is weird yet.]

[Kavinsky didn't have a single flying fuck of an idea what was going on. He trusted Adam when he said something was wrong but he didn't know what he meant by both of us and- nothing made any sense. While Adam was scrying and doing...whatever it was he was doing, Kavinsky sat in bed in his boxers, waiting, not impatient, just...worried.

So when Adam- when he, what? Teleported? Changed places without moving? And suddenly had Ronan with him? Kavinsky flinched. He worked hard to be a tough guy who wasn't startled by anything but there was only Adam- and Ronan. And Kavinsky trusted both of them. Not only that, but Adam was glowing? Question mark? And there was flora all over the floor and Ronan was drenched and-]

What the fuck?

[Kavinsky didn't move. Not yet. He was used to strange and unusual things. He, himself, was strange and unusual. Sometimes, there were still things that caught him off guard, though. This was one of them.]

Ronan sort of-- I don't know. He was stuck somewhere and I used some of the energy of the leyline to pull him out.

[Adam shrugs his shoulders a little bit sheepishly, like it's not a big deal, even if he knows that it is, that he's changed things or changed himself. He wants to say more, but he hardly knows where to start. Ronan is trying his best to look like he's fine- or at least alive- but he's pale and wet and has to lean into Adam, no matter how humiliating it is. But he's conscious enough that he frowns at the way that he explains it, even if his voice slurs a little and he coughs when he talks.]

That's bullshit. What happened was I fucked up and Parrish saved my life.

[Adam sighs, but refrains from rolling his eyes.]

I wanna get him in the bathroom- into dry clothes.

[The tone of his voice, the way that he looks to Kavinsky and meets his eyes, is clearly an invitation. It's come with us and I'll answer your questions if I can, but also can we put him in some of your clothes? Neither of the boys judge Kavinsky, or laugh at him for being startled. If anything Adam feels bad about it, like he should have found a way to give him more information.]

[Well, that explained some of the weird things Kavinsky had felt but it still didn't tell him what exactly had happened, why Ronan was soaking wet, and why there were plants in his room. But that could wait.

Nodding, he slid out of bed, going over to his dresser to start getting out a t-shirt and pajama pants he hoped would fit Ronan. Then, with those in hand, he went over to help support the other dreamer so Adam wouldn't have to shoulder all of his weight.]

Parrish is good at saving lives.

[He wasn't surprised by that, just...everything else.]

[Ronan had fucked up.

He'd known at the time, really. When Kavinsky had tried to talk about something real, about them, about what this thing they were doing together meant- and Ronan had flinched from it, walked away like it didn't matter because he was scared and uncomfortable, and on him that was always written like anger.

But he'd thought that it would blow over like every spat they had. He'd even texted Kavinsky for the past three days to no response, which made his stomach twist with a sick sort of feeling, panic starting to crawl through his insides.]

man at least let me know youre alive
im not dragging your ass to the morgue

[It wasn't quite a joke. Because Ronan didn't think Kavinsky was actually dead. He figured he just had him blocked or was specifically ignoring him; that he'd finally burned the only bridge he thought was immune to his bullshit. It's a Wednesday night, school in the morning, and only a scant hour and a half from midnight, cuts from his fight earlier having turned to a low ache, but the pain is an almost welcome respite.

Ronan shrugs his shoulders carelessly to Gansey's worried question as he heads to the door with his keys in hand. I dunno, Gans; maybe the morgue, he quips back bitterly as he heads down to the BMW. It's pouring rain, but still hot, that way it gets when the August weather starts to shift further into September.

Ronan isn't drunk yet, but he certainly doesn't want to be sober. Maybe he'll go to the church and drink himself stupid waiting for texts that wont come.

It doesn't even occur to him that he's driving to Kavinsky's house until he pulls into the suburban hell cul-de-sac where his house is. He almost considers turning around, but instead he parks sloppily, halfway in front of one of the neighbor's driveways with a screech and and the smell of his tires burning tread as he gets out, slamming the door.

He walks to his front door, standing in the rain as he knocked obnoxiously on the door. He looks angry, but Ronan always seems angry. But in his heart he whispers: please please please. He just needed another chance. He knew he didn't deserve one, but he needed it all the same.]

[He came so close to texting Ronan back the last time, he really did. It wouldn't have been anything meaningful, just something like asshole, but he didn't. He was too busy getting drunk. Again. It figured that the one time in his life that he thought he had something good, something happened to fuck it up. In this case, Ronan was both the good thing and the thing that fucked it up. Kavinsky should have known. When was anything about the other boy ever easy when it wasn't about sex?

Kavinsky was almost sloppy drunk by the time Ronan came knocking. Except he didn't know it was Ronan--it could have been one of the annoying as fuck neighbors. He didn't know why they bothered but they did- sometimes. Except it was too late for neighbors, he realized as he peeled himself out of his seat and made his way to the door, and it was fucking raining. He opened it after only a slight fumble, ready to verbally tear out the throat of whoever was unfortunate enough to be on the other side.]

The fuck do you want?

[His expression changed when he realized it was Ronan. For a moment, his face was unreadable, then his shoulders sagged.]

As you can see, I'm not dead.

[And yes, it confirmed he'd read Ronan's texts, he'd just been ignoring him because he couldn't think of something civil to say. But now Ronan was here and Kavinsky couldn't just give him the silent treatment face to face. He wasn't a toddler. Maybe this would be good, maybe they'd- what, actually talk? Talking wasn't one of their strong suits.]

I want--

[I want you is what he wants to say, but he's too sober, not yet inebriated enough on alcohol or a pill or just Kavinsky himself. He made him feel so much, could make him melt with a touch, that sometimes Ronan thought he was a drug, too.]

I want to talk- if it isn't too late. I'm shit at it, and I'm an asshole, and I panicked.

[But here he was, at his house in the middle of the night on a schoolnight, standing in the rain. And maybe he hadn't quite said I'm sorry, but his blue eyes were looking for forgiveness. Or a chance, at least. His fingers were damp, but he reached out, brushing them softly up against his ribs through the fabric of his shirt.]

I can stay the night, if you want me to.

[He rarely had, and when he did, it was usually only the fallout of a party, or movies with Skov and the rest of the pack. It wasn't just-- Kavinsky and Ronan, alone and together and he stayed because they meant something to each other. But the thought that he might have lost him had made him feel terrible, and the memory of how he'd hurt him made him burn with shame. He was shaking and it wasn't just from the rain, his eyes glassy and his eyelashes wet.]

I can't lose you. So can we--

[Kavinsky sucked in a breath. Ronan had given him a pretty good apology, actually, without saying the words 'I'm sorry'. Admitting he was an asshole counted for something. He was more than that, too. He meant so much to Kavinsky. And Ronan was even offering to stay the night when he hardly ever did that.

He wanted to be angry with Ronan. He wanted to lash out. But he was more afraid of losing him, and he might if he started a fight. It was too much of a risk. He stepped aside but not before catching Ronan by the wrist and tugging a little.]

Get in here. It's gross out there.

[Humid. He meant humid.

But as soon as Ronan was inside, maybe even before the door was shut, Kavinsky wrapped his arms around him. He was already forgiven because K was easy for him- or more accurately he was like a boomerang in Ronan's hands; if he was thrown away he'd come right back. But only for Ronan. Everyone else could go fuck themselves.

He didn't care that Ronan was wet from the rain, he didn't care that it was fuck-o'clock at night. All he cared about was the fact Ronan was there. And yeah, they needed to talk and it would probably go about as well as anyone would expect from the two of them but maybe he'd be surprised. Maybe everything would be sunshine and fucking rainbows.

Speaking of talking, he probably needed to do something more than just hug the other boy.]

I'd like it if you spent the night.

[He would have understood if Kavinsky had lashed out; he wasn't the only one here afraid of losing someone. Of losing what they had had. He stepped inside, wet from the rain, but he didn't hesitate when Kavinsky wrapped his arms around him. Ronan finished kicking the door shut behind them, just so that he could have a solid surface to lean back against, so that when he wound his arms around the other boy's waist he could pull him in up against him.

His shirt and his jeans were wet, but he thought that Kavinsky would forgive him for that. Instead he just clung to him, holding onto him in a way that was raw and needy. He nuzzled his face into the side of his neck, exhaling like he'd forgotten how to breathe- like Kavinsky was a sort of home, too.]

I missed you.

[He really means I'm sorry, don't leave me, but the words are too vulnerable, even if they're in the way that Ronan holds onto Kavinsky despite how wet he is, like he needs him more than anything else. But he smiles, nodding against his shoulder when K says that he'd like it if he stayed. Gansey will have kittens of course, but Ronan isn't thinking about anyone but the boy in his arms.]

I'd like that too. Can I--

[He doesn't finish asking, he just kisses him. One hand lifting up to cup the side of his face, soft and tender and surprisingly sweet. Even the way that he kisses him is affection more than desire- there's that too, but it's like for the first time he's not as scared to show that he cares. Or maybe that he's scared that Kavinsky doesn't know.]

Edited 2022-08-28 02:19 (UTC)

[Of course, Ronan could kiss him. He didn't have to ask. Kavinsky thought it was sweet that he did, though. It meant that he cared and Kavinsky was desperate for any and all signs of affection. Between Ronan's arms around him and his hand on his face, he felt like he was going to melt. Or maybe he was drunker than he'd realized. Either way, he kissed Ronan back, letting it linger, letting it stay soft and sweet.]

I missed you, too.

[He didn't go far after the kiss, just...leaned against Ronan, holding onto him like it'd been months instead of days. There were plenty of opportunities for innuendos, starting with the fact Ronan was wet and ending with the fact they could have make-up sex. He thought he was maybe too drunk for that, though. He just wanted to be close to Ronan and breathe in his scent.]

Shit'd be easier if you didn't run with your tail between your legs, you know?

[There was no bite to it; he wasn't trying to be insulting or start a fight. He was only pointing out the fact Ronan needed to be better at communicating. As if Kavinsky would have handled 'I need some time to think about this' any better than he'd handled Ronan running off when things got frightening. That was the thing about Kavinsky though; he acted tough, looked tough, but was emotionally fragile.]

[It was just that they were in a strange place right now; he wasn't sure if he'd ever asked if he could kiss Kavinsky before, except as a tease, a provocation. A way to say I want your hands on me. But this wasn't that, not tonight. He wanted Kavinsky's hands on him, but just soft touches, just to feel close to him, to feel like there was a place for him at the other boy's side. Maybe a way to anchor him while they talked, or while Ronan did his best, at least.

Ronan just leaned back against the door, holding onto Kavinsky, like it had been far longer than days. But if anything, it had taught him how cruel it was when he'd ghost the other boy. Even if Ronan hadn't given in to the sort of desperation that Kavinsky would- texting him in repetition, he understood it. The hurt that ached in your chest like poison.

He nuzzled into the side of his neck, brushing bare skin with sweet whispers of kisses and the occasional tender nip of his teeth, because he couldn't entirely help himself.]

I know. It was just fucking terrifying. It had been easy to just fall into you without thinking about it too hard. It was just- sex and cars and shitty movies and more sex, right? And then you wanted to put a name to it, wanted to know what it meant and I'm a fucking mess, and I'd never dated anyone or anything. I'd never even kissed anyone before you. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing, but I don't-- I don't want to not have you in my life.

[His voice catches, and maybe his neck is a little more damp than it was before, Ronan holding him as close as he can without worrying about squeezing too tight. Kavinsky had been his first; been all of his firsts. Which Ronan had never lied to him about, but he had never admitted to it before, either. Always bravado about how he could take it when Kavinsky asked if he needed him to take it slow. They both tried to act tougher than they were.

He nuzzled into his neck, his voice warm as he sweetly whispered bad ideas:]

You'll cut school with me tomorrow, wont you? I wanna- get out of these wet clothes and I wanna hold you while we talk. And I wanna wake up with you next to me.

[In Kavinsky's opinion, this was as close to heaven as he was probably going to get. Ronan holding him, kissing his neck, just- the whole thing. He sighed softly, not out of impatience but rather contentment.

He could understand how things had been frightening; it'd been frightening to him, too. Especially when Ronan had just bounced and didn't give him an answer.]

What it means is I want you to be my boyfriend. I thought, maybe you didn't want me like that when-...

[Which he would have understood, too, no matter how much it hurt. It was easier to fool around when you thought there were no strings attached, and in comparison, falling in love was scarier. But he wanted this and he'd fight for it, tooth and nail.

When Ronan asked if he'd cut school tomorrow, Kavinsky snorted out a laugh.]

As if you have to ask. You know me.

[Which meant; yes, absolutely, he'd cut school tomorrow. He'd do pretty much anything to wake up next to Ronan in the mornings. Aglionby was only worth it half the time to see Ronan there. And if he was going to cut, Kavinsky had no reason to attend classes.]

No, it was... I was confused, and I didn't feel good enough. If anything I want you too much. But-- c'mon. Your bed is more comfortable if we're gonna talk about this shit.

[He kissed him again, sweet and sentimental, only pulling away so that he could strip in the entryway and not trail muddy bootprints and rainwater all the way to his bedroom. Although he notably doesn't say yes or no to the boyfriend question. Instead, he strips out of everything that's properly wet and not just damp, which ended up being-- well, pretty much everything. He co-opts the coat pegs for his wet clothes, even if he should probably at least toss them in the dryer eventually. He was rather of the opinion that could wait till morning, though.

But for now he was stripped down to moderately-dry socks and boxer briefs, and he pressed himself up against Kavinsky, wrapping his arms around his chest from behind, though he scrunched his face up a little at his damp shirt- even if it was wet from his own clothes. He nudges him a little towards his bedroom, clearly intending to follow, trail along with him.]

I know. I just wanted to make sure. I want-- fuck, I dunno. I wanna do something with you. Stay in bed all day reminding myself how your body feels. Drive out of town somewhere just for the fuck out of it. Let you drive and have a fucking picnic or whatever. Or take you to my place, show you- what the Barns are like. Maybe a little bit of everything, just.. Something.

[He presses a kiss to the curve of his neck; and Ronan might not have said yes, I want to be your boyfriend but there was an implication of it in how he was talking. Ronan didn't even talk like this with Gansey -- there were just, things he wanted to say, questions he wanted to ask. So he knew if he was fucking this up before they'd even started or not.]

Edited 2022-08-29 04:05 (UTC)

[Pointedly, Kavinsky scrunched his face up when Ronan said he didn't feel good enough. Like, who was supposed to be better than he was? Off the top of his head, Kavinsky couldn't think of anyone. And he did, of course, notice that Ronan had dodged the boyfriend question. It was fine. It was alright. He was spending the night; K would have plenty of time to prod him about it.

If Kavinsky was a better host, or maybe less drunk, he would've offered to throw Ronan's clothes in the dryer right now, but that could wait for tomorrow. It wasn't like the rainwater was going to hurt anything, after all. And besides, this was a pretty good reason to watch Ronan strip. Even if he wasn't getting completely naked.]

I can't think of anyone better than you, man.

[It was belated but still there and he still meant it. He'd just gotten distracted watching Ronan undress. And then Ronan was holding him again and kissing his neck and both of those things made him reluctant to move, but eventually, he forced himself to start heading for his bedroom.]

A little of everything. [He decided.] I'd like to see the Barns.

[It felt like...intimacy. Trust. Openness. It wasn't like Ronan operated a tour to the Barns for everyone all the time, after all.]

[Kavinsky said that he couldn't think of anyone better, and he just held him for a moment, tucking his face into his shoulder. Just soaking up the feel of his skin, the reassurance of his body. They were both tactile creatures, and physicality often came easier than words, especially for Ronan. But he did realize that they needed the words, too. Even he needed them, needed to hear that it was okay. That he was okay.

After that he didn't pause until they were in K's room, gently kicking the door shut and locking it- more in case the other boy's mother came home than anything. But he smiles softly as Kavinsky said that he'd like to see the Barns. It made him feel- he didn't even know, exactly. Warm. Something about K wanting to see the house where he'd grown up, a place watered by his father's dreams. Maybe not the most stable place to make a life, but it had been his life. And now the Barns was his, for real.]

Okay. I want to show it to you. Because it's- you'll get it.

[He didn't really know how to explain it better than that, but the words were soft and fond. The sheer mention of it was trust and intimacy and openness- everything that Kavinsky thought it was. But Ronan meant it, as he looked at the other boy. He's started to realize that he had grown up in a place for dreams and dreamers, and that Kavinsky had not. So he wanted to show him, give him the feeling of what it was like, even if only for a little while- just to be able to breathe. To know there was a place in the world that felt like that.

What it was like to know how vast their dreams could be without having to fight for it. A place where Ronan could say dreamer outloud without that thrill of guilt; but he didn't have to because every twisted branch and fairy cow and sunbeam said it for him. And yet Kavinsky had still taught him so much about being a dreamer. And he wanted to try and give him something back. To tell him it had mattered when the words were still hard.

Once he was sitting on K's bed, he took his hand and tugged him down next to him. On another night, he might have asked for something to take the edge off. Right now, he just dove in before he lost his nerve.]

I want you more than I want anyone else. [He says it simple, the best attempt he has to frame the rest of it.]

But I had feelings about Skov too, you know. Nothing I ever meant to do anything about, cause he has Swan. But I wouldn't have kissed him-- I mean fuck, I sucked his dick that one time, and I kept thinking about how I wanted to do it again.

[Ronan doesn't look quite guilty or ashamed as much as confused. Feelings he hasn't admitted to, and as new as he is to relationships he hadn't known how to deal with any of this shit. But he was pretty sure that thinking about going down on someone else was not good boyfriend behavior, even with the mess that Ronan and Kavinsky and his knot of unfairly attractive boys had always been. For the moment he just holds onto the other dreamer tighter, like he thinks he might pull away from him.]

And then you wanted to know what we were, and I dunno man, it felt like I'd already fucked it up or something. Like I was already a bad boyfriend and we hadn't even officially gone on a date yet. And I didn't know how the fuck to say any of that. And telling you to fuck off was easier-- I know I was an asshole.

[Normally, Kavinsky would have made some sort of sexual joke about locking the door. As it was, it still crossed his mind, he just let it stay a thought instead of voicing it out loud.

He was sure Ronan's childhood home was a lot nicer than where Kavinsky had grown up. Not that the house hadn't been nice but it hadn't really felt like a home. He'd always figured Ronan's place was a home, not just a house. A place whose foundations were built on love. It made him envious just thinking about it.

Shrugging out of his damp t-shirt, he let Ronan tug him down next to him, gently bumping shoulders. He listened quietly while Ronan spoke, nodding here and there, while looking increasingly amused and relieved, both. So that was what had scared Ronan off. Kavinsky hadn't done anything wrong, after all.]

Fuck, man, haven't we all been there at some point or another with wanting Skov?

[It was light, almost a joke, but sincere, too. He leaned his head on Ronan's shoulder.]

I wasn't gonna kick you to the curb for that. I wasn't gonna kick you for anything. 'sides, we weren't official then, so...

[He shrugged a little.]

I still want you to be my boyfriend. Even if you wanna fuck around with Skov. It's not a dealbreaker. It's not like you want to fuck everyone.

[He went quiet for a moment, not quite hesitating but thinking over his words before he said anything else.]

We might even be able to work out something with Skov and Swan if you want.

[The Barns was a complicated thing for Ronan. But it was always home; it was his very conception of what that was, what it could be. And he knew that Kavinsky had never had that, but he wants to- he didn't know. Share it with him, somehow. Show him that the Barns is a place that he could belong too, if he could find the words to say it in. Or maybe the dreamy hills and the peacocks and Ronan's dreamt lights would say it for him.

Ronan doesn't laugh, but he smiles, and it's like the anxiety bleeds out of him for the moment as Kavinsky leans his head on his shoulder. He reaches up a little awkwardly so that he could brush his fingers through the other boy's dark hair, just so that he can touch him, let his fingers whisper a different sort of affection than the kind he'd known how to say before.]

It creeps up on you, doesn't it? Skov. Like you think he's just this asshole punk, and then you realize he's, you know, one of the second-hottest guys I've met. And kind and loyal and funny, though mostly when he doesn't mean to be.

[He lightly bumps his shoulder into Kavinsky, a gentle touch that implies just who takes first place on Ronan's list. He's a little shy when he looks at K, like he isn't sure how much he's allowed to gush about another guy, even if it's Skov whose been one of Kavinsky's boys for as long as Ronan can remember. But then Kavinsky says that he still wants him to be his boyfriend, and Ronan eases.

It's easy for him to get himself wound up in his head, wound up in thoughts where all he sees is the worst. He feels almost embarrassed, but at the same time he's just glad that he gets this. That he can have a second chance, and that the fact that he liked Skov wasn't awful. It had been easy to see it that way with how adverse Ronan was to infidelity from long exposure to Declan, but the truth was that it was the lies that bugged him, and the way he treated the girls he dated like they were disposable, carbon-copies all named Ashley so he wouldn't even have to bother remembering their name.

But this wasn't that.

He cared about Kavinsky with an intensity that almost frightening, a ball of warmth and want and something else that he couldn't say yet. And he liked Skov as a person, too. He didn't just like his dick, or the way his eyes looked in the sunlight. He was a soft heart wrapped in sharp edges, bloody knuckles and the easiest promise on his mouth was always the threat to fuck you up, and he burned when people pressed at the things he was loyal to.

There was no part of Ronan that thought either of them were meaningless, that would lie about it. It was nothing like Declan at all, and that made it easier to finally work through his feelings about Kavinsky and Skov and everything else.]

I wanna be your boyfriend. Cause you're the one. I'd-- if I have to pick I pick you. No one else is even close. But I mean, if we could make that work.. yeah, I'd like to work something out. I liked having you both, and I'd maybe like to mess around with him sometime, but only if that's okay, you know? And I guess I'd have to ask him if he'd want that.

[He laughs a touch, shrugs his shoulders a little bit helplessly.]

It's not like either of us had wanted to sit down and talk about our feelings, and then I fucked things up, so things are-

[Basically Ronan didn't quite know where he stood with Skov either, right now. But Kavinsky was the one that was important, and so he presses a kiss to his temple before flopping backwards onto the bed. He pulls Kavinsky back with him and shifts them towards the pillows so that he can snuggle up against his body, nosing into his shoulder with a faint murmur of contentment as he sweetly tangles their bodies together.

Skov was a question for later, Kavinsky was now.]

You're warm.

[He said it like a lazy excuse that he didn't even really believe that he needed. He wanted this, to stay the night tangled up together. And then he wanted to be a good boyfriend, to take the whole day to try and just give them something nice where they didn't have to give a shit about anything else.

Which meant he'd have to take something from his dreams tonight.
Because he was going to take him to Cabeswater.

And Ronan wanted Kavinsky to have his own translation box, to show the other dreamer that he could speak back to dreams.]

Sure does. But he's so much more than an asshole or a punk.

[And Skov might have been a brat sometimes but he was Kavinsky's friend and all of his friends were special and important, even if he wasn't the best at showing it or telling them. There might have been a time when he'd been into Skov but he could definitely appreciate how attractive he was either way. Kavinsky himself was loyal and wouldn't cheat on anyone but he still had eyes. There was nothing wrong with appreciating someone else's attractiveness, he figured. It was acting on it that caused problems.

And then Ronan said he'd pick Kavinsky over anyone and K felt warm and pleased. It wasn't often people chose him--though his boys chose him all the time, it was different. It wasn't romantic. This was romantic. There was a difference in being friends with someone versus wanting to date them. Just saying 'you're the one' made ridiculous things like wedding rings pop to mind. If only he was so lucky.]

If it's just Skov, I wouldn't mind. 'Cause he's my friend and we respect each other. Swan's the jealous type though but he hasn't punched you yet, so maybe he'd be cool with it, too.

[Neither of them would try to steal the other's boyfriend from them; Kavinsky was certain of that. Though he was a little nervous (which he'd never admit to), he trusted both Skov and Ronan. He trusted Swan, too, and the rest of his boys. They all wanted each other to be happy.]

But yeah, ask him. Skov, I mean. And Swan too, probably.

[The worst that could happen was Skov said no, but then Ronan would still have Kavinsky and that was the important part, right?

Snuggling up against Ronan, Kavinsky draped an arm around him. Things were almost too good to be true right now but he knew they were real. He knew when he was dreaming and when he wasn't.]

And you're sweet.

[Beneath the barbs and blades and sharp edges and bruised knuckles. Ronan was a soft center wrapped in barbed wire and Kavinsky had fought his way through to reach that center. It hadn't always been easy and it hadn't always been pretty but it'd been worth it. Kavinsky wouldn't trade anything he had with Ronan for anything else in the world.]

Yeah, he is. And it's.. yeah. I mean, it's only ever really been you and Skov that I've really been attracted to, enough to like- want to do something about it.

[Okay, maybe he'd had dirty dreams about Swan once or twice, but it had never felt the same as it did with Skov, where there was real attraction and not just because he was hot. Really, all of Kavinsky's boys were hot in their own way. But he'd always liked Skov in a way that was different from the other boys, even if Ronan was fond of all of them in different ways.

Part of the reason it had fucked with Ronan so much was because he was loyal, or had always seen himself that way, at least. Even now, if Kavinsky had said it wasn't okay, he meant it that he mattered more. That he'd pick him over anyone else. But if Skov wanted something, and it was okay with Kavinsky and Swan... God, he felt like he'd fuck it up, like he had to because that was just the person that Ronan was. But if there was anyone that could put up with him, he thought it would probably be Kavinsky and Skov.

So he spends the night, his body tangled up with Kavinsky's, holding him close, and god- he's needed this in ways that he doesn't even really know how to feel, let alone that he could say to the other boy. But he wants to show him. He wants-- he doesn't really know. But he wants to try and be a better boyfriend, he guesses. Or maybe not just better, but actually good to him. Because yeah, he knows that being better isn't exactly a high bar. But he hadn't realized-- he doesn't know. He'd been a fucking idiot, really. It had never crossed his mind that he could hurt Kavinsky, and now he knows that he had, and he wants to fix it as much as he can.

If it had been anyone else, he wouldn't have dared to dream like this. But he knew that Kavinsky knew the dangers, and he trusted the other boy to keep them safe even if Ronan fucked it up and manifested a nightmare instead of what he wanted. Of course, he almost forgets all about what he wanted to bring back with him, because Kavinsky is in the dream with him. They were Kings here. With Ronan with him, the forest is even a little more tolerant than it usually was of the other dreamer. He shows him orphan girl, explains that he'd dreamt her when he was young, desperate to not be alone, to have a friend that was like him. Initially she's skittish like she's scared of K, but then Ronan gives him a box of dreamt KFC and the odd dream creature warms up to him almost instantly. Kavinsky might notice that her teeth are sharp and that as she eats the chicken she crunches right through the bones.

And then there's a clearing, green grass and trees both old and new, and climbing trellises of flower blooms that wind around with the moss. It's lit with golden sparks of light, that flit around, almost dancing in the air like they're something alive. Ronan takes his clothes off, more by thinking about it than with his fingers. He can't help himself, and there's something about touching Kavinsky in his dreams. It feels more raw, more honest, like it's just Ronan instead of the pretenses, and maybe he wants to give that to him.

So, yeah, he almost forgets about the translation box. But he remembers, or well, Orphan Girl peers from around the trees, saying don't forget! and Ronan picks a strange white shape from between some vines. He looks at Kavinsky with a smile, kisses him and tells him that he'll show him when they're awake. He wakes with it clutched in his hands, his body still tucked into Kavinsky's, his face pressed into the dip of his shoulder.

And true to his words, he does show him how it works once he's no longer paralyzed and they're both awake, and they're both stolen enough kisses to feel content for the next few minutes, at least. But there's clearly something missing, because while Ronan shows him how it works, he doesn't explain what it's for, or why he'd wanted it. He just says: there's something I want to show you, and tells him not to forget it.

But after breakfast, after a shower that takes a very long time since neither of them can keep their hands off each other, and after they finally get their clothes on- Ronan stealing Kavinsky's and finally remembering to toss his wet clothes from the night before into the laundry. But then Kavinsky is driving the Mitsubishi with Ronan in the passenger seat, and he wont give him an address, but he gives him directions. Then as they drive through the grassy field, there comes that point where it clicks, where K hits the breaks hard as he realizes that the trees they're heading towards seem strange and familiar. Ronan just laughs, clasping him on the shoulder, shaking him a little as he tosses him the odd box he dreamt for him, and then he's springing from the car.

Ronan seems wild here, his blue eyes bright as gems, grinning as he runs for a moment, only to spin around and hold a hand out for Kavinsky. A thrill like something electric running through him, alive and vibrant, as urgent as a dream.]

It's name is Cabeswater. It's-- Fuck. C'mon... I want you to meet it.

[He could've cracked a joke about how there wasn't a lot of competition in Henrietta, but he knew there was plenty. There were plenty of attractive boys, nice boys, sharp boys- Aglionby had a lot of assholes but they weren't all bad. But he was charmed that he was one of the only two people Ronan had been attracted to enough to do something about it, so he kissed him, instead.

Ronan spending the night was beautiful. The dream was beautiful. Even the strange dream creature who liked chicken was beautiful, in a way. Even if she apparently bit right through bones. It was a dream; usually impossible things were generally plenty possible. So he didn't bat an eye, not at that stuff. Dreams always made reality pale in comparison, but it seemed even more--just...more, with Ronan there. Kavinsky was confident in his own abilities as a dreamer, but seeing what Ronan could do made him feel a little--not inadequate, but like he still had so much more to learn and experience.

He didn't know what was so important about the box, and he absolutely had intentions of making sure Ronan coughed up the information, but it seemed like the other boy had a surprise for him, too. So he didn't press too much right now. Besides, it was easy to get distracted by the lines of Ronan's body, the lines of his tattoo and muscles, the perfect curve of his ass. Everything about him was perfect. Even his scars, which Kavinsky kissed tenderly while they were in the shower.

He didn't forget the box when they left--how could he?--but he also didn't get why Ronan couldn't just give him an address. It would have been easy to pop it into google maps, but maybe that would've ruined the surprise. Maybe the place didn't have an address. Or it was convoluted.

And then, because Kavinsky had an eye for detail and because it was hard to forget the dream they'd shared the night before, of course he recognized the trees. He cast a suspicious look in Ronan's direction, but it was curious and surprised, too. He liked seeing Ronan happy. He liked all of this, even if he didn't know exactly what was going on. He liked any time he could spend with the other dreamer. It was all valuable, precious.

He'd barely put the car in park before Ronan was practically leaping out, and Kavinsky watched him from behind his sunglasses. Fuck, but he always wanted Ronan to be like this, happy and wild and carefree.

Taking the box with him, he got out of the Mitsubishi, shaking his head a little even as he smiled while he caught up so he could take Ronan's hand.]

You want me to meet a forest?

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Open RP Post

for Adam

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at the dream field;

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more dream pack ronan | some point after the skov thread idk what im doing

great things is what you're doing

yesss im glad i thought it had potential :)

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/during/ the skov thread ahem

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kavinsky lives and eli moves to aglionby

yiiiiiiis

i love it already

:3

holiday vibes + cars + ???

:eyes emoji:

ro and kavinsky and adam? maybe? idk what I'm doing but have a thing anyway

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