WHO: Adam Parrish & Ronan Lynch WHAT: The wishes coming true issue has a dreamer on edge. Adam helps ground him in a dreamwalk. WHEN: June 25th WARNINGS: Brief mention of a graphic death dream in canon, mostly fluff otherwise STATUS: Complete
Ronan really needed to get his shit together. Ever since the new memories were dumped into his head, dreaming had been a minefield. He still felt in control in the dream, but nervous in a way he hadn't felt in years. Finding out he'd dreamed another person into existence without realizing it was kind of kicking his ass. He'd broken the seal at least, dreamt a book for the Bennet-Black twins that he was annoyingly proud of, and he was at least reasonably certain he hadn't also dreamt a person. But really, how the fuck would he even know anymore?
He jerked the dream barn's door shut after Adam stepped inside, plunging them into darkness.
"Fuck. Meant to bring a flashlight." One of the bins nearby glowed twenty-four seven. He crossed over to it and pulled out a storm lamp that never turned off. He'd been trying to make it a clap on, clap off model, but he'd been distracted in the dream. Distracted dreaming got dumb shit sometimes. Like lamps that never turned off and occasionally hummed the lyrics to Blinded by the Light.
He grabbed Adam's hand with his free one. Just because he needed it. "You sure you're good staying up for this? It doesn't have to be tonight." It did kind of need to be soon. The weird wishes that kept coming true were making him antsy.
"As if I haven't run on less sleep for less important things," Adam responded, matter-of-fact. He didn't care if he was exhausted, or if he had a hundred things to do in the morning, this took precedence. Dreaming with Ronan was a priority. He squeezed Ronan's hand in reassurance because sometimes just saying it wasn't enough—Adam learned it was two fold, especially in the dim dark where other senses were cast away.
Normally, this would be the perfect time to make out. Alone in the barn and delicately lit, Adam should have taken advantage of the situation, but that wasn't why they were here. And if Adam were honest with himself, he held his own buzz of nervousness under his skin. Their shared unconsciousness thanks to ley line magic had been a staple of nighttime activities, and it was lacking since the memories from crowded their minds. Adam wondered if there was any space left for him inside Ronan's dreams.
The fear of rejection, knowing Ronan was capable of keeping Adam out at the slightest provocation also made Adam anxious for this evening. But practice had made it easy for Adam to push that all down.
He followed Ronan as they wove through the barn, between boxes and normal looking objects that did abnormal things. "Where do you want to do this? I'd rather you be comfortable but I didn't bring something to scry into," Adam said. It was purposeful—Adam wasn't forgetful— because he had hoped to be angled where they could be intertwined, where overwhelming contact would forego staring into dark liquid.
"And I know how you feel about saving my eyesight."
“You should care about your fucking eyesight too,” Ronan grunted, sidestepping a cow statue that followed them with its eyes. This barn could be a little goddamn creepy sometimes but it was buzzing with the energy of dream magic and he felt at home here, like wearing a familiar shirt that was worn soft in all the right places. That comfort was invaluable when his anxiety was a livewire under this skin.
He lead Adam past the floating couch and into the office in the back. The couch was more comfortable but he didn’t want to be too comfortable. He needed to focus not actually sleep. Setting the lamp on the desk, he gestured at the cot. “Let’s do it here. Maybe uh…can you sit and I’ll sit in front of you? Lean back? Is that enough contact to get there without a scrying tool?” They’d done this plenty but every time was a little different and the power here sometimes like to throw a wrench in things just as you got used to them. “Or there’s a hot can of soda I forgot in here the other day. You can crack it open and stare inside,” he joked weakly.
Adam made a small hum of consideration, attention sliding to the warm soda, then back to Ronan. "Next time. Defeats the purpose of a makeshift scrying bowl if I have to squint." Adam didn't say anything else about the can, and climbed onto the cot as his answer. It would be enough, just being in this space should have been enough too, but Adam was not as skilled at drawing on the energy of dreamt objects. Ronan was his own beacon that Adam was acutely attuned to instead. Navigating that wide abyss when he threw his mind out was always easier when he had a point of focus—the greywaren.
He was quick to settle in his seat, pressing his back against the wall, and spreading his legs with his knees up to bracket Ronan. Even if this wasn't about sleeping, Adam wouldn't take any chances of Ronan slumping over in his lap. He reached a hand out, fingertips grazing Ronan's wrist, as a gentle c'mon.
"If you're going to be tense," Adam said, because even through his own nervousness and concern, he could feel Ronan's anxiety, thick enough in the air between the magical buzz of the barn, "we're going to be here all night. Don't make me force you to call me a hippie and walk you through breathing and meditation exercises. I did learn a few good ones during Solstice I want to try out." That was a weak joke back, an effort to tease, and Adam flashed him an easy grin after a beat.
"Save the breathy shit for later, Moonbeam." Ronan snickered and climbed onto the cot, collapsing backwards into place with practiced ease. This was one of his favorite ways to sit with Adam. It made him feel blanketed in warmth and the familiar and well-loved contours of Adam's body. He rested his head back against Adam's shoulder and breathed out. It wasn't a meditation exercise but it almost felt a bit like a ritual anyway. Breathe out the tension, breathe in the summery smell of boyfriend. Breathe out the fucked up knowledge that he could create people, breathe in the calming presence of Adam Parrish, the steadiest, most stubborn person he'd ever known.
"I should dream you a safer scrying method," Ronan mumbled. He sounded tired. Restful sleep was a fucking unicorn sometimes. He lifted one of Adam's hands and laced their fingers together. "It's not gonna take long for me to go under," he warned. "Let's decide where we want to go. A little trip. No flying needed." He twisted his head to nose along Adam's jaw. "Where do you wanna go?"
The moment Ronan was against him, Adam's hand, not tangled with Ronan's, slid around his waist, up his chest, holding him securely. If his palm just happened to rest on his heart so Adam could feel that familiar beat with his own pulse, he wasn't going to deny the intent. It helped him take and release those same breaths with Ronan; this exercise was better if they were truly in sync, and it didn't take much.
Adam kissed Ronan's shoulder, as if to say later—he could dream him something later. When this wish business was behind them, when Ronan got some modicum of sleep that wasn't working overtime in his brain. Adam wasn't confident that was any time soon, but he could think of somewhere to go. Even if Ronan was making that difficult when he was nosing at Adam's jaw in that sweet, tender way that made him shiver. His fingers curled with brief, but unfettered, desire.
"Ireland," Adam said without thinking. He turned his eyes down to Ronan, and then dipped his face to hide it in Ronan's neck. He sounded almost embarrassed. "You and me, in the middle of one of those big green rolling fields, with the breeze from the ocean coming across." It was a selfish want too, knowing it would be harder to shut him out of an open pasture than inside a building of Ronan's own creation.
"You promised you'd take me, this is just a different method. No pressure though, I'll go anywhere with you."
"Yeah, I did," Ronan smiled. "And all you've gotten to see is a shitty beach. Time to fix that." He'd never actually been to Ireland. Or if he had, he'd been too young to remember. But his father had described it often enough that he felt like he could do it justice.
He slouched a little further down, covering Adam's hand on his chest with his free hand and pinning it over his heart. All the points of contact were like lightning rods to comfort. He could sleep for real like this, probably. But Adam would get stiff eventually so they needed to get this show on the road. His eyes closed and he relaxed into Adam's breathing, keeping a tight rein on his anxiety.
When he opened his eyes in the dream, it was a blank slate for a brief moment. But then form and color came. Lush green grass coated soft hills, leading out to distant trees and fat sheep and little stone houses. There was a light layer of fog and it was early morning. The sun kissed the horizon with golden warmth.
"Okay okay. Not bad, asshole," Ronan murmured quietly to himself.
Waiting for someone to fall asleep should have been a boring affair. But Adam watching, waiting for Ronan to slip into his dreamspace was a different beast altogether. Adam felt his body relax against his, his breathing even out. It was the steady thumpthumpthump against Adam's hand, and the matching pulse against his cheek where his face was buried against Ronan's throat that Adam scried into—this was his lifeline, his leyline, a welcome magic he could wrap his psychic fingers around and follow.
What a pair they were, tangled together on this cot, like letting go would mean drowning. In some ways, it was. For the briefest second between throwing his mind out to Ronan's dreamspace and the surety of reality, Adam hesitated. A reaction to being shut out so many times before, but no, not now. Not like this. They may have had the memories but they wouldn't do the same things to each other here.
Between one slow blink and the next Adam was standing in the vibrant hills of Ronan's dreamt Ireland. The warm wet grass crunched beneath his bare feet as he walked closer to Ronan.
"Better than I imagined," Adam said, a little awed. He touched the small of Ronan's back, as he looked out to the horizon. "It feels good here, solid, strong." Ronan's dreams always felt this way to Adam, but he felt the need to say so, especially now. "I know why you were worried, but I don't think you need to be."
As Adam appeared between one blink and the next, Ronan had a visceral memory of Adam trying to break through his nightmare of Matthew dead in the hall. He remembered how he’d instinctively shoved Adam out of the dream because Bryde was there. He’d done a lot of that without even realizing he was doing it. The shame of it burned in his chest. It made him actively focus on keeping the connection open and strong now. Normally, he kept his dream walls up, out of habit, out of protection. With Hennessy, he’d needed to do it to keep out the Lace. He loosened his grip now but only to fold Adam into the heart of the dream where he belonged.
“It felt strong at home too. Especially once we had more juice.” His gaze stayed locked on the horizon but he hooked an arm around behind himself to pull Adam close. “It might take a while to trust myself completely. I don’t—” He wasn’t sure it would ever happen again. But he didn’t want to be that fucking maudlin. “Whatever, it’s better with you here.”
Adam slipped easily beside Ronan, feeling the warmth of his arm around him and the warmth of the dream around him. He tilted his head down, his deaf ear against Ronan's shoulder. Adam thought distantly, happily, he could stay like this forever. He hadn't realized how much he missed being allowed into the most intimate mental parts of Ronan, his subconscious was an exercise in ultimate trust. Adam couldn't, wouldn't, lose it.
He only wished—a dangerous word to speak, let alone think right now—that he could give Ronan the same reign in his own mind. This was as close as they could get.
"That's not it, not exactly, not to me. I'm not a dreamer so it's different when I'm here," Adam said softly. "I know having more ley power is what makes your dreaming solid, gives it shape and form when you're awake, but this—creating all of this, it's you. You're the one in control here, it's your strength keeping it all together, allowing me in, and making it so, so..." Adam didn't finish the sentence; he didn't have the right words. He hoped his awestruck silence was enough to explain.
"I'm just a dream tourist. A little point of reality to keep your focus on while you're dreaming. I'm not going to take credit for what I've always trusted you to be able to do, to still do." Adam paused, glancing up at Ronan, before adding, "Okay, not all the credit."
Ronan listened, watching Adam out of the corner of his eyes as he stepped away. He didn't go far, just bent down to pluck a stem of brooklime out of a stream, all of which had formed as if it had always been there. He brushed the leaves and small purple flowers under his nose but they had no smell because he had no fucking clue what they smelled like.
"You've never been just anything in your life, Parrish. But fine, I hear you." Ronan rolled his eyes and pressed the stem of the flowers between his hands. When he opened them, a flower crown rested between his palms, speckled with other flowers and leaves of all colors. He'd always been good at this part though. Pretty flowers and lights. He could dream all fucking day about these things. It didn't mean he wouldn't dream another person when he had a bad day. But it helped center him.
He reached out and put the crown on Adam's head, leaning in to press a kiss to his mouth. "My worst shit comes from feeling alone," he admitted quietly. "But I don't feel like that here. Not just because you're not off at school and Gansey's not roadtripping. It's not all on your shoulders, thank fuck. I got my head out of my ass and got a support system. Who fucking saw that one coming?"
Adam smiled as Ronan stepped away, feeling pleased he managed to be right again. His attention went to his feet, and he watched with that gentle, child-like wonder as he flexed his toes in the grass. If Adam didn't know any better, this could be real. He wouldn't be able to differentiate the dream. That should have been terrifying, to know he couldn't trust his own senses, but Ronan could tell—Adam had asked him many times before. And so Adam left his trust in Ronan, wholly, fully, when they were like this.
When he lifted his head, Ronan was placing the flower crown on it. Adam blushed, nonplussed. He reached up instinctively to touch it—soft, delicate, fragile with a hint of sharpness in their stems, like brooklimes were. There was a hippie comment on the tip of his tongue, but he took Ronan's hand instead and started walking through the low-lying valley toward the little stone house that never seemed to get closer.
"I'd say I saw it coming, but would you say I was cheating since I'm a psychic?" Adam asked, kissing the back of their clasped hands, before his tone turned a little more serious. "You're never alone, Ronan. Even if we were gone, we're always going to be there for you. Always your support system in other ways. I know that Gansey and I can't replace the feeling of another dreamer— " And that stung Adam's pride a little. He wanted to be that everything to Ronan, have all the answers, but he had to accept some truths, as hard as they were.
"But everything else? It's okay to need one another."
"You're damn right, it's cheating," Ronan smirked. Every minute here was a little easier and it showed in the softening of the lines of his face. Particularly the one that often wrinkled between his eyebrows. He didn't like being afraid of this place. He'd been afraid here for so many years that feeling at home here had been like finding an oasis in the desert. He needed it. Like air. Like Adam. Like maybe a longer list of people than he would've ever imagined.
This place was so fragile that the thought almost hurt as much as it healed.
"I don't need you to replace anyone. You're the irreplaceable one, dumbass." He pulled Adam to a stop and sank down into the grass, still holding his hand. It wasn't outright procrastination when he just enjoyed being here with Adam. "Come on, sit in my lap." He waggled his eyebrows. "Let's make this a fun dream."
"You're the irreplaceable one, dumbass," Adam echoed with an answering grin. Even though they sorted most of their shit out since the memory drop, Adam felt the need to be more vocal about his need and want for his boyfriend. Sometimes saying the words I love you were just as important as implying them.
He looked down at Ronan for a long moment as he came to a decision. Adam dropped gracelessly into Ronan's lap. But not like their positions back in the dream barn on the little cot. Adam wanted to keep looking at Ronan, so he was straddling him rather than sitting, knees digging into the soft dirt, hip to hip, chest to chest. He gathered Ronan's face in his hands, kissed him swift and sweet, and lifted a single brow as he pulled away.
"What did you have in mind?" Adam asked, curious and interested, that tone that said he was up for anything, which was dangerous when it came to Adam Parrish. "You've been doing a lot of shaping of this dream for me, but what do you want?"
Ronan grinned back, sharkish to an outsider but charmed to Adam. The expression could easily have gone lecherous with Adam dropping down into his lap like that but instead, it softened. He wrapped his arms around Adam, digging his fingers into Adam's back and massaging up to his shoulders. His face found the space between Adam's jaw and shoulder for a long moment, just resting there.
Okay, maybe he was a little shakier than he'd realized. But this felt solid. Grounding. He breathed in and pressed a few chaste kisses up the column of Adam's throat before he pulled back to scowl.
"I...I don't fucking know, honestly. This is good, right here," he murmured. "I was gonna be a horndog about it but I kinda just want to feel safe here. It fucks me up, feeling scared here again."
Adam took a deep breath, inhaling the earthy-sweet scent of the field and the cool but not cold breeze—all Ronan's dream, all his creation, down to the tiniest detail. It settled his rapidly speeding heart, and his muscles relaxed against Ronan's ministrations. Adam felt safe here, but he wasn't the one whose stray thoughts could create something unintentionally and unexpectedly. His own hands slid around to cradle the back of Ronan's head and base of his neck, where the tattoo hooked around the sharpest.
"So you stay safe here, with me. I'm not going anywhere," Adam said, his eyes searching Ronan's face for any sign of uncertainty. It wasn't going to be a few words tossed around to fix things; it was a slow healing wound, like any sort of trauma would be. It only hurt Adam that Ronan, who had come so far, could be made to doubt himself because of himself.
Adam leaned in to kiss that spot between Ronan's brows, the same one Ronan would smooth away when Adam was thinking too hard, fretting over this or that, unnecessarily. Now the roles were reversed.
"It can just be like summer all over again. You and I used to dreamwalk all the time while we figured out how to. And I don't mind spending some time here with you, rather than being asleep without you. I'm not scared of your dreams, Ronan." And then he added, "And we can make it a fun one."
Ronan closed his eyes and savored the intimacy. Sometimes he dodged it out in the real world, but it was never because he didn't want it. It was always wanting things too much that made him act out more. At least it had been. He liked to think he was less of a chaotic mess these days. He asked for shit that he needed. Mostly.
"There's nothing for you to be afraid of here, I can be damn sure of that. I'll never kick you out again." He shifted in his seat enough to get some leverage and rolled Adam into the grass, claiming his mouth swiftly and fiercely. When he came up for air, he had his forearms braced on opposite sides of Adam's head and his hands in Adam's hair. The crown had tumbled over to the wayside. There was dew in the grass near Adam's face and Ronan barely had to concentrate to conjure butterflies and rays of warming sun to scatter the low lying fog.
"I'm thinking I should dream you some sunglasses," he smirked and shaded Adam's eyes with a hand. "For the scrying."
There was something to be said about dream rules—if it worked in the dream, it worked in real life. Adam thought they worked in real life, so of course they worked in the dream. It was a silly thing to consider, almost too ridiculous to voice out loud coming from Adam. But as Ronan flipped them over, and pressed him down into grass, slotting their mouths together as in an eager, hungry, and endlessly happy kiss, there was no doubt in the truth of it. Things in the dream wouldn't have felt so sharp and in focus for Adam if he wasn't attuned with Ronan.
He made a small hum with Ronan's hands in his hair as they replaced the crown. When he opened his eyes and everything was flooded with sunlight and Ronan, Adam lit up too. "I'd ask you to promise not to make me look like a tool, but I shouldn't be picky, you are saving my eyes. Surprise me," Adam said, as he held his open palm up between them so an opalescent butterfly could land in his hand.
Studying the wings, the shifting colors, the obvious dreaminess of the butterfly, Adam asked, tentative with his request, "Maybe you can dream more of this too?"
"That just sounds like a challenge to make you the ugliest ones I can imagine but we'll see how I'm feeling." Ronan rolled to his side, one leg still thrown over Adam's thigh, and propped his head up with one hand. His eyes followed the butterfly as it landed on Adam. He had a theory that all of his dream creatures felt at least a low level pull to Adam. Not just because of who Adam was to him but because Adam was the magician. He was bound up in magic of his own, no matter how much he liked to minimize it.
"You want me to make more butterflies? Didn't realize you were such a fan," he teased. A second butterfly landed next to the first, this one fuzzy and iridescent black. The two butterflies somehow looked both bold and right next to each other. Probably a bit like the two of them laying in the grass. Ronan rolled onto his back, one hand resting over his heart and a soft, stupid smile on his face. "I'll dream you as many butterflies as you want, nerd."
"I'm a fan of things that are yours," Adam corrected, softly. It could have been anything, not just butterflies, and Adam would have wanted more. Anything to keep Ronan's boundless beautiful creativity afloat so he wouldn't doubt, at least for a little while.
Adam, left to his own devices with both the butterflies now, rotated his hands so they could crawl across the back of it, then watched as they eventually and inevitably took off in a mad dash to the sunny, clear sky. He then blindly reached for the crown above him on the grass and promptly placed it on Ronan's head. Better. Adam inched closer so that he could slide against Ronan, pulled his arm around him, placed deaf ear against the space between Ronan's shoulder and his chest, seeking comfort. Offering it, too.
"Just one more minute like this, I want to enjoy the dream with you."