#pre greywaren mood

[czwrny]

I’m an Ronan Lynch defender first and a human second.

[yamisnuffles]

♡ for... your choice of characters from the Raven Cycle

I can’t see a prompt about sleeping without going Pynch. Although, technically, this is set a bit pre-Pynch, late Blue Lily, Lily Blue ish. Takes advantage of the insinuation that Ronan was a frequent visitor to Adam’s St. Agnes place.

Dealing with Ronan was less like dealing with another human and more like dealing with Cabeswater. His communication style was best described as forces of nature than any more easily understood language. He swept through a room like a storm and offered smiles as sharp as the sickle of a waning moon. As with Cabeswater, Adam felt like he was slowly getting better at interpreting.

Ronan’s arrival was generally heralded by the thump of bass in the St. Agnes parking lot, like a thunderstorm localized in one charcoal grey BMW. If it was followed by the pronounced screech of tires, it meant danger. Ronan was in a mood and looking to drag Adam into it. If, instead, a knock or “Hey, open up, asshole” followed the sound of boots on the stairway, it was generally a better portent. Tonight, it seemed, would be just such a night.

Adam was in the middle of reviewing for history the next day when the thin door to his modest attic apartment shuddered from the impact of what he guessed was a foot. A moment later, “Let me in. Got something with your name on it, Parrish.”

Adam felt his whole body protest as he got to his feet. He’d yet again been on them far too long. If he was reading his Lynch portents correctly, though, it would be worth the effort. Besides, Ronan was best not left to his own devices for too long.

He’d barely opened the door when a grease stained bag flew at his head. He caught it just before it made impact with his face and Ronan took the opportunity to angle by. “Shithead” was scrawled on the bag.

“Nice, Lynch,” Adam drawled.

“I thought so.”

Ronan threw himself heavily onto Adam’s bed. Adam just shook his head and looked into the bag. Inside was standard fast food fair- a pile of fries, a burger, and apple pie- along with a stylized plastic raven figure. Adam lifted an eyebrow at Ronan.

“Happy meal,” Ronan laughed. “Special Chainsaw edition.”

Knowing Ronan, there was more to it than met the eye. Adam poked the toy experimentally. Pressing the miniature Chainsaw’s head caused her beak to open wide. The first note of the Murder Squash song had barely escaped when the toy was sent hurtling at Ronan. Ronan was too busy laughing to dodge. It bounced harmlessly off his chest.

“You complete and utter asshole.”

Ronan bared his fangs in naked delight. “You’re welcome.”

Adam sank onto the edge of the bed. He ate almost half of the burger in one bite. Somehow accepting free food from Ronan never felt like charity. It was an offering, payment for being Ronan. Which is to say, for all the noise he made and space he took up, and he took up quite a lot of space just being. Such as now, when he lay sprawled across Adam’s bed, earbuds in and foot tapping to music loud enough that Adam could hear the beat.

With his stomach filled, it was easier for Adam to get back to his studies. There was a sort of rhythm to it all that was easy to sink into. The frenetic, electronic heartbeat from Ronan’s too loud music, the accompanying jangle of his bouncing foot, and- overlayed on top of it all- the sort of blanket heavy exhaustion that came from too much work and too little sleep. Although outwardly different in every way from the companionable presence of Cabeswater, it gave Adam a similar feeling of escape. Leave it to Ronan to provide peace in the loudest possible way.

All of it meant that he didn’t notice when one class’ readings blurred into another’s or when the words on the page bled together into an illegible jumble. The part of his brain that shouted tired, tired, too tired, drowned in the ever present beat. So tired turned to sleep with as little ceremony as his eyes opening and closing from one blink to the next.

He awoke with his head at an angle against the wall that made his neck scream for relief and no memory of having fallen asleep in the first place. He didn’t immediately move, though, despite the discomfort. He was trying, with mixed success, to force his sleep addled brain back to wakefulness. His eyes fell sleepily on his surroundings.

The sky was inky outside, so he couldn’t have slept too long. One hand gripped his econ book, still open to a page he’d read four times over without successfully absorbing anything it said. The other hand had fallen to his side where it rested against Ronan’s chest. Adam blinked, drowsy and only half comprehending, at his hand’s rogue wanderings. His hand rose and fell slowly with Ronan’s breath. Something twisted in Adam’s chest. He curled his fingers into his palm and pulled his hand back. The ghost of Ronan’s heat clung to the skin.

For his part, Ronan had also succumbed to sleep. His hands were laced behind his head like a pillow, feet hanging over the edge of the bed, and music still blaring from his earbuds. Even unconscious, his edges were there, but they were softened. He almost looked tranquil. Adam thought for half a moment about letting him doze. That moment passed and he instead yanked out Ronan’s earbuds.

“Go home, Lynch.”

Ronan mumbled an unintelligible string of curses and rolled to face the wall. He draped one of his arms over his head, as if to block out the light. Adam, however, caught a surprising pink tinge on the tips of Ronan’s ears. Embarrassed about having fallen asleep? Or something else?

Adam shook his head. He still had work to do and he would like to have his own bed to sleep in when it was over. He jostled Ronan with the side of his leg. “Come on. I don’t need a frantic call from Gansey if he realizes you’re not there.”

“Alright, alright, Parrish. Gimme a sec.”

Ronan stretched out all his long limbs with a groan. He shuffled out of the room without another word, not even bothering to close the door behind him. His sudden absence left the room feeling silent and empty. The St. Agnes apartment was far too small for a sleeping Greywaren and his heart full of boundless dreams. Without him there, things settled back to the norm. While it meant Adam once again had room to breathe and that his heart was allowed a beat of its own instead of following along to Ronan’s incessant bass, it was… lonesome.

Adam stood to close the door just as squealing tires outside announced Ronan’s departure. He shook his head and indulged a small, private smile. He was getting good at reading the signs and, if he had to guess, another storm would be blowing in soon.