It was stupid to feel nervous about giving Ronan a reading. Logically, fundamentally, it was not any different than what he did at the markets now. But Adam’s anxious mind twisted it all up into knots, worrying over what it could mean if it was bad. The obvious implications were that it would weigh Ronan down in undue stress because there would be nothing they could do; the less important implication would be that Ronan would never be open to doing this again.
The stakes were high. And without any certainty, Adam was conflicted about moving forward. If it were up to him, he would have pushed for this instead of catering to what Ronan wanted. Metaphysical conversations appeared too big to broach; they were an odd pair when it came to belief systems and religion. It never truly bothered Adam until now. They were intersecting harder than before.
The deck was a heavy weight in his pocket.
Slung into the passenger seat, Adam’s hand rested on Ronan’s thigh for a majority of the drive. Nothing with intent, only comfort, grounding, squeezing affectionately. A way to have a conversation without really having one—being in the car was always difficult with his deaf ear pointed continuously at Ronan. Chainsaw picked incessantly at her feathers from the backseat on the blanket they would spread out on the beach. Adam hadn’t thought twice about the presence of Ronan’s dreamt familiar tagging along.
Adam waited until they parked, his hand on the door to get out, before turning his head to Ronan, his profile sharp and handsome, overwhelming to look at. “You ready?”
Ronan couldn’t actually read Adam’s mind, but he knew his boyfriend’s body language better than anyone else’s and his nerves were a quiet buzz under Ronan’s skin. He was nervous too. He’d avoided readings ever since they’d gone to Fox Way years ago and Calla had used her skills to read that his father had been murdered for being a dreamer.
Things were drastically different now. They were far from Fox Way, but he trusted the psychics there, annoyingly bossy as they could be. He trusted the psychic sitting next to him even more. Which was why he was tense. If there was bad shit going on at home, Adam would read it and there would be no more hiding in ignorance.
He’d brought Chainsaw because she soothed his anxiety, but he’d only talked about her never having been to the beach as he buckled her in to the backseat. He set her free now that they were at their destination and pulled her forward into his lap. She gwahed and nuzzled her dark feathered head up under his chin.
“I’m always ready, Parrish.” It wasn’t a lie if he believed it stubbornly enough. “Grab the blanket.”
Adam grabbed the blanket, but not before detouring to give Chainsaw a quick scritch and Ronan an uncertain-but-encouraging smile. Then he opened the door and got out of the car. Adam focused on tapping down his concerns into something more productive and intuitive; good energy only. Optimism. Hope. Things Adam rarely applied to himself. But he felt them more often with Ronan, for Ronan.
The air was cooler outside than it had been inside the BMW, and Adam tugged the hoodie (that he had 'borrowed indefinitely' from Ronan) tighter around his body. His walk around to the front of the car had become a respectable slow gait; he wouldn't be running any time soon, but he didn't have to use the crutches anymore. And he immediately plastered himself to Ronan's side, using him for mostly unneeded leverage.
"We don't have to get too close to the water. Any spot that looks good," Adam said, just to fill the air with something other than the building anticipation. "And we'll be quick, so your ass doesn't freeze."
Chainsaw scrambled up to Ronan’s shoulder as he exited the car. He slammed the door and moved up behind Adam to tug on his hood. “You think I own all those sleeveless shirts just to distract you? My blood runs hot. I’ll be fine.”
He leaned in to press a kiss to Adam’s neck and then his cheek before moving around him to look for a spot to sit. The beach was unwelcoming at this hour, even though it was a moody backdrop that Ronan could appreciate. Next to the parking lot, a moonlit merry-go-round creaked slightly in the center of a playground surrounded by picnic tables. The tables were sensible but Ronan bee-lined for the merry-go-round.
“Come on.” Ronan claimed the blanket and Chainsaw hopped over to Adam’s shoulder to nuzzle at his ear while Ronan laid out the blanket in the center of the merry-go-round.
Adam let out a soft laugh, quieted by Ronan's lips on his neck and cheek. That warmed him considerably, and Adam followed Ronan toward the less unpleasant parts of the beach.
The picnic tables were the obvious choice, but when Adam's attention caught on the merry-go-round he knew obvious was out of the question if Ronan had any say. Adam watched from a safe distance as Ronan laid out the blanket, his hand unconsciously coming up to smooth down Chainsaw's feathers. He approached when everything looked done, taking a careful step onto the merry-go-round.
He shook his head, as if to say I can't believe I'm doing this. Although, that never really stopped him before or would stop him in the future when it came to Ronan. Chainsaw hopped from his shoulder onto one of the bars, and Adam wedged himself between two others. He had just enough space to fold his legs up. Adam squinted at Ronan, reaching a hand up for his.
"Sit," Adam said, before adding, "I need to just be with your energy for a second. It takes a moment to concentrate in Vallo, with all the magic." He knew it sounded stupid to a non-believer, even to himself, but it was honest.
Ronan had his own hoodie on and he pushed his hood back off his head as he took Adam’s hand and sat down across from him. Chainsaw danced across the bars until she was closer. Maybe she recognized that his shoulders were a little drawn up in preparation. He hid it with a squint and reached over to yank on one of Adam’s hoodie strings like an asshole.
“How’s that for my energy?” The deadpan delivery was quickly chased with a little smirk. “Actually…” He spun a bit and laid down, dropping his head down into Adam’s lap. He’d have to get up for the actual reading, but a few minutes looking up at Adam would settle his heart. “This is much better. Just lay your cards right here,” he joked, tapping his chest.
His eyes narrowed playfully, the tension broken a little, as he adjusted himself for Ronan to lay in his lap. Adam had been too slow on the uptake to catch Ronan's hand from tugging on his hoodie, but he'd never pass up the opportunity to be an asshole right back. It was easier to fuck with Ronan, almost like a language they could both understand.
Adam pulled the deck out of his pocket, and then out of the thread-bear velvet bag. He shuffled the cards, lazily above Ronan's head, his attention glancing carefully down to Ronan, then to what his hands were doing. "You're right," Adam said, laying the deck on the center of Ronan's chest, cutting it, and calling his bluff. "This is better."
And if the cards felt warmer in his hand, if his awareness felt heightened being so closely in contact with Ronan, Adam wasn't going to mention it. Yet.
He pulled a card, as a warm up. "The Magician," he said, expected. It was difficult for this card to not show up when Adam was involved. A reminder of what he was, is, and would be. He placed this one on Ronan's stomach, and pulled the next one, showing it to Ronan; the card was a clenched fist, the arm carved with minor arcana symbols and taut with power. "Strength. This is you." And the last card he pulled caused him to smile. "The Lovers."
Ronan probably should’ve expected his sexy shithead of a boyfriend to counter ridiculous with ridiculous. His smirk grew into an off-kilter smile and he reached up behind him to stroke his hands up Adam’s outer thighs, where they bracketed his head. He wasn’t looking at the cards on his chest, but he didn’t need to with these three. He knew them well enough.
“I didn’t have my question in mind yet. Does that mean this is a reading for you? Have you been thinking about your lover being strong, Parrish?” He wasn’t trying to joke his way through this whole thing - he really did want answers, and serious ones at that - but laying in Adam’s lap and having Adam’s hands moving around over his chest was distracting as fuck.
Adam took that moment to place his hand over Ronan's mouth to keep him from talking. Or to distract him further. He would never admit to which one. "You know how much I love thinking about how strong my lover is, but this is just—I'm calibrating," Adam said.
Ronan's hands on his thighs were a welcome touch, and Adam was finding himself easily persuaded to skip all of this and make out on this lonely merry-go-round on the beach. But the responsible side of him, the one that constantly overruled most reckless ideas, kept all of that tucked away for later—if the reading was good or if the reading was bad, the final result would end with them tangled together, in celebration or necessary distraction.
"I needed to make sure the cards knew who I was dealing with. Relationships can color the reading, but clearly that's not an issue if the energy is already calling us out." He waved the Lovers card in front of Ronan, before shuffling it back into the deck, and taking it off Ronan's chest. Now both of Adam's hands were on Ronan for no good reason, just selfish needy ones. "The spread I want to do won't really work on your chest, but I can try if you're comfortable like this."
Predictably, Ronan licked the palm of Adam’s hand, but he did keep quiet at least. He could even have fallen asleep like this, Adam’s warmth under him and the cold breeze making the merry-go-round spin a slow revolution.
“Good to know your energy hasn’t forgotten me,” he murmured as he pushed himself back up to a sitting position. Crossing his legs underneath him, he left enough space in between their knees to lay down the cards. He wasn’t thrilled about the distance but he was determined to not make this harder for Adam than it needed to be.
“Am I supposed to do anything?” Ronan scowled and toyed with a frayed seam on his jeans.
Adam made sure to wipe his hand off on Ronan's chest after he was situated across from him. He shuffled the deck more, before setting it in the middle between them. He did not ignore the way Ronan was preoccupied with his pants. The restless energy was contagious, and Adam knew that focus would be important. Everything was already working against them, but Adam and Ronan would persevere.
He laced his fingers with Ronan's and squeezed. "Just relax," Adam said. "You need to cut the deck once." Adam did this, as a demonstration. "And then think of the question you want to ask. Nothing objective, like yes or no questions. And you don't have to tell me, you just need to concentrate on it, all right?"
His brow furrowed in contemplation, before he seemed to come to some sort of decision. "Keep holding my hand, too." He didn't normally do this, but Adam had a hunch—a stupid, but not uneducated hunch—about connections. And energies. Specifically, theirs.
The hand squeeze was enough to take the edge off. Ronan lifted their clasped hands to press a kiss to Adam’s knuckles and then rolled his neck until it cracked.
Chainsaw hopped down to the blanket and pecked at his pocket. It should’ve been distracting, but he smoothed a hand over her crown feathers and his breathing evened out between the two points of contact, Adam’s hand in his and his hand on Chainsaw. After a few calming seconds, he let go of Chainsaw and reached out to cut the deck.
“Okay. Do your thing.” He watched Adam with a steady, trusting gaze. Whatever happened, whatever they found out, he was so fucking grateful it was Adam sitting there across from him. He didn’t voice his question out loud. Adam already knew what Ronan wanted to know: How is everyone left at home?
Adam stared back at Ronan for one long, unwavering second, before his eyes slid closed and his breathing went slow and deep. He wasn't lying when he said the cards felt different—when he touched them now, the air cleared, the briney scent of the ocean disappeared into something sharp with ozone and the lush heat of summer. His fingers danced along the top of the deck, warm and charged with the connection between the two of them.
As the magician, Adam was capable of anything. With the right tools, Adam could be unstoppable. With Ronan, they were unparalleled, unmatched in their possibilities.
With his eyes still closed to the outside world, Adam pulled a card: The Tower, a shadow danced in front of a fire that was burning, engulfing the darkness. "Massive change, upheaval." Another, he laid across that one. The Nine of Swords. "The crux of what haunts you is your fear and your worry about the situation. It will become a self-fulfilling prophecy."
Below, he pulled another. The Hanged Man. "You've hit a wall. A pause. Don't keep pushing forward because—" Adam opened his eyes to pull the next one to lay beside the Hanged Man: The Knight of Swords, reversed. "Because you're unable to release this energy, you're prone to rash and impulsive decisions. You'll burn yourself out."
Adam tugged on Ronan's hand, concerned. "Keep going? There's two more."
Ronan may have been more relaxed with Adam’s hand in his, but the cards and Adam’s words only deepened his scowl. It wasn’t Adam’s fault. He was just the conduit. But frustration brewed in Ronan’s gut almost immediately and he glared down at the reversed Knight of Swords.
His voice came out ragged and dry. “So what, I’m just supposed to stop trying?”
It wasn’t fair to throw questions at Adam in the middle of this, he knew that. He waved the words away with his free hand nearly as quickly as he said them. “Just, yeah. Fucking do it, I’m fine.”
Admittedly, Adam knew when assessing half of the spread in front of them that it did not look good. Ronan's question wasn't even unexpected. He would have bristled the same way if the cards told him to, more or less, stop trying. Adam could feel the frustration coming off Ronan, even without their link. He tapped his index finger on the Hanged Man.
"This is what's real about the situation. You're stuck. We're stuck. This is probably the most literal interpretation of a card. And this—" He slid his hand to the Knight of Swords. "This is what's wrong about the situation: you're scattered, you're restless and frustrated—this is telling you that that is not the way to go about it." This time Adam flipped another card: on it, four candles, illuminating the night.
Whatever tension that had lined Adam's shoulders, released in relief. This was a good card, this was the answer to the unasked question. "This is the Four of Wands. In this position, it's what you need to know, to combat the other cards. Security. Safety. Happiness. This is peace and contentment with the people who love and support you."
Watching Adam so intently paid off. Ronan saw the strain slip free from Adam’s body before he even saw the card. His fingers loosened on Adam’s hand but didn’t let go.
“Does that mean everyone’s safe now or that if I stop pushing everyone will be safe? Or if we focus on the security we have here, then it’ll lead to getting past the wall?” There was always the chance the security here was an illusion or that it would crumble any second, but Ronan didn’t need a psychic to know focusing on the people he loved and relying on them tended to pay off these days.
He reached out to press his fingers on the blanket, next to the Four of Wands, like maybe he hoped to feel something that narrowed the possibilities. Or even feel some kind of connection to Declan. To Opal. To Hennessy. He sensed the magic he always sensed here but nothing abnormal, unfortunately. He sighed.
Adam watched Ronan touch the space beside the card. There was a loneliness in the gesture, something Adam was acutely knowledgeable about, but it didn't make him feel better about understanding. He wondered if this was how Ronan felt when Adam slipped into a dark mood, with nothing to pull him out. Adam could not bring the rest of the Lynch family here, so everything else he tried felt less and unhelpful. This reading was all he could provide.
He touched his own index finger to Ronan's, an unconscious move in solidarity. Then he dragged the last card from the top of the deck and flipped it over next to Ronan's hand. The Queen of Cups, reversed.
"You wanted to know how everyone was, right? That's why we're doing this. That's your actual question," Adam said, in that way that meant the only answer was yes. "How is everyone left at home? This is what this card is telling you." He pointed at the wands card. Then moved backwards, to touch the Knight card. "They are safe, secure, so your confusion and uncertainty that has been eating away at you about them—" He moved back again, to the Hanged Man, "—during this standstill in the events in your life—" He placed his hand over the crossed cards at the top.
"Has only been working against the upheaval and changes going on from home that you left behind. Whether it's blame or guilt, your responsibility has been giving you every worst case scenario possible. And the queen," Adam said, his hand jumping to the newest card. "Says what you need to do now is chill out for a moment. Focus on yourself. You haven't since you've been here, because of not knowing."
Cynicism was a hard habit to kick, but Ronan wasn’t the slave to it that he used to be. Adam was a large part of the reason, and why Ronan was instantly grabbing for the comfort being offered. Why he instantly trusted it, none of the suspicion present that most people would’ve gotten. He leaned closer, twisting his grip on Adam’s hand to rest it on his own knee.
“Hm. Focus on myself. That sounds like something I’d get shit for.” He smirked, but his gaze was soft and grateful. His next words were more serious and his hand stroked up from Adam’s hand to his wrist and back down again. “The rest of that is…” He closed his eyes and breathed out, a long heavy exhale. A weight lifted. “I’m really fucking relieved.”
"I won't give you shit for it. The cards said so. Think of it as a doctor's note," Adam said quietly, pleased. There was something that changed in the air between them. The magic still lingered, the answers still easily within Adam's grasp, but their connection, the charge between them was now a balanced hum not an unsteady leaping crackle of a frayed wire. Adam looked at Ronan now, his own expression equally grateful.
Adam reached across, running his fingers along Ronan's hairline, down the side of his face, against the soft spot behind his ear. His palm rested against his cheek, stroking a line back and forth with his thumb. It was meant to be soothing, fortifying. A silent communication of I know. Adam's own feelings swelled with unbridled emotion: to be able to give Ronan the relief he needed was more than Adam could vocalize. Things were going to be okay.
He leaned in to press a kiss to Ronan's forehead. "Anything else you want to ask? I understand if you're ready to draw the line on this now."
Ronan leaned into the touch and the kiss on his head in equal measures. His hands shifted to rest on Adam’s thighs and he kept his eyes shut a moment while he mulled over Adam’s question. Knowing the future, even in the vague terms of a Fox Way style reading, had always made him fucking twitchy. He had the answer he needed to stop feeling like a brushfire. The idea of asking any more questions just made him want to punch himself in the face.
“I’m good. I’d rather fool around on this stupid merry-go-round.” Chainsaw flapped her wings and cawed. “Hey, nobody asked you.” The words might have been harsh, but the tone was teasing and he reached out with one hand to scratch under Chainsaw’s beak. His gaze was for Adam only though, even as he turned his face to kiss the hand resting on his cheek.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
It was alarmingly easy to be intimately tactile with Ronan. Maybe because he was allowed to be, so freely. Maybe because there didn't have to be expectations behind it. Maybe because Adam couldn't imagine not touching Ronan in these small private ways. So when Ronan kissed his hand in return, while saying thank you, Adam closed his eyes briefly against the pang of want in his gut.
His attention went briefly to Chainsaw, watching Ronan load easy affection onto her. "You don't have to thank me. I would have done it no matter what. Even if you didn't ask." Adam knew that saying this outloud might have been like admitting a secret that should have stayed secret. But he couldn't lie. He would have pulled cards forever if that meant he could answer the things plaguing Ronan. "It was just better that you did."
With great disappointment, Adam pulled his hand away to gather up his cards and tuck them back into his pocket. "Now what was this about fooling around?"
“Could’ve just said you’re welcome, asshole,” Ronan teased, his smile sharp but warm. It wasn’t at all a surprise that Adam would’ve done the reading either way so he didn’t address it. He had a better plan.
He rolled to his knees and nudged Chainsaw off the merry-go-round with a careful shove. She squawked but flew off to peck at a picnic table. No doubt she’d find some fucking trash to eat now that his tension wasn’t her focus. Ronan grabbed for Adam’s face with both hands and pulled him up into a kiss. He could’ve lingered, but he’d had another itch since spotting the merry-go-round. He pulled away just enough to mumble against Adam’s lips.
“Better hold onto something.” With that, he jumped off, grabbed one of the handles, and started running. The merry-go-round started to spin.
Goddamnit, Ronan was good. The kiss was wanted and still unexpected, a welcome distraction that ended with Adam making a small noise of confusion when Ronan pulled away. He blindly chased after Ronan's mouth, swaying in his seat, barely registering what Ronan said until it was too late. His eyes popped open, his arms and legs grabbed and wrapped around bars to brace himself, and he managed out, "you asshole," but there was no heat behind it.
As the merry-go-round picked up speed, Adam felt lighter. Centrifugal force be damned, he tossed his head back—a bad idea later when it made him dizzy and he likely would stumble right off the thing. But until then, Adam couldn't help but bask in the reckless, spontaneity that seemed to always happen when he was with Ronan.
He let out a shout of laughter, followed by, "Ronan! Ronan!" Adam said his name in the way that meant everything: slow down, get on, stop, and never stop.
Adam’s joyful laughter was all Ronan needed to settle everything back into place. He cackled and ran as fast as he could for a long minute, then flung himself onto the merry-go-round. He landed mostly on top of Adam, banging his elbow hard on a metal rung as they continued to spin.
“Fucking fuck!” The curse might’ve carried more weight if he wasn’t still laughing and rolling Adam up in his arms. Not that it mattered. Adam had color in his cheeks and Ronan felt fucking content. He rolled over to lay out on his back, watching the stars shoot by in a blur. “Now this is some goddamn romance,” he joked.
Ronan swearing as he landed on top of Adam only made Adam laugh harder. His eyes were squeezed shut now because everything was going by too fast—picnic tables, the shore line, Chainsaw. But he held on to Ronan, pressing his face into his shirt. Ronan could look at the stars for both of them; Adam needed something solid to keep him from thinking about the spinning.
"Oh yeah, super romantic," Adam mumbled, sounding abruptly serious. "The beach, the stars, and if anyone asks what happened to your shoes, I'll tell them I was literally overflowing with love for you." Adam knew that Ronan would feel his smile forming against his chest, in playful retaliation. His own joke, from one shithead to another.