WHO Older!Ronan & Gansey WHERE Barns Kitchen! WHEN After church, Sunday Oct 17th WHAT Just some infant help and tasty snack making. STATUS Complete! WARNINGS General anxiety, talks about panic attacks (but no actual panic attacks) and worries.
“In three seconds I will be done and I swear to you, we’ll go for as many walks as you like.” At this age, Gansey didn’t know how to talk to babies any differently than he talked to adults. It had only been a few days of adjusting to sudden parenthood, and naturally, plenty of people offered to help, but both he and Blue had gone into protective we can do it mode.
And he could, he was certain of it.
But Gansey hated to admit he still really had no idea what he was doing. So it involved a lot of out-loud verbalizing and over-explaining and research. Just when he would finally feel like he was getting the hang of things, something would throw a wrench into it or the stabilized schedule would change.
This was one of those times where he’d agreed to do some Halloween prep for the upcoming event. Owen had been blissfully asleep in a borrowed bouncer seat, resting comfortably just in front of Gansey while he went to work making Halloween-themed chocolate-covered pretzels.
It was his luck that Owen would wake up and fuss right as Gansey had begun dipping the pretzels. So now he was trying to reason with the infant, who clearly did not want to be reasoned with (stubbornness ran in the family, that much had been apparent).
“Would you like another story?” There were a dozen pretzels left, he could do this, he just needed to stall. “Because I can tell you about King Arthur,” Owen fussed and his hand went to his mouth to gnaw on it. “Or about the Welsh myth of Blodeuwedd, she was fantastic.” That seemed to hit a little better, for a half-second of happier gurgling until the fussing started again.
Ronan was doing his best to cover for his younger self but he was also getting a little old for the full farm detail plus readying for a holiday event. He was in good shape goddamn it. He just had helpers for this shit now for a reason. His back ached already and it was only midday. It was time for a lunch break at least.
He'd stopped slamming his way into the kitchen through the back door years ago. He did come in a little sweaty and dragging his feet, but he perked up at the sight of Gansey working on pretzels.
"Sounds like he's bored of your old yarns, Gans," he teased. Crossing over to the kitchen island, he reached into the bouncer seat to pick up Owen and cradle him in the crook of one arm like a pro. He made sure the baby could get a good view of Gansey as he rocked him back and forth. "He just can't see shit from in there, huh?" He was talking to Owen now, in a borderline baby voice. "You're a nosy little butt, aren't ya? Tell him I need to be in everyone's business, Dad."
That was still weird - not Ronan being older, so much, that part was adjusted to fairly easily - but add in good with babies and using a voice that made Gansey’s eyebrows shoot straight through the roof? Weird. He almost missed dipping a pretzel because he was too busy looking up and staring at them both. Still, even after a few days, taking in Ronan’s everything that had changed.
“Damn it all.” He caught himself, and the chocolate dipped on the counter, before managing to get it all onto the parchment paper with only a little mess. “How am I supposed to know what stories he’s already heard? I figured Glendower was out, for obvious reasons that Blue might still murder me over if you’re actually telling the truth now, but Blodeuwedd isn’t always at the top of my list.” He paused and moved onto the Halloween sprinkles. “Just top five.”
Ronan snorted at Gansey. Owen mirrored the snort, which made a bubble come out of his nose. Laughing a little harder, Ronan reached for a burp cloth on the table and cleaned the baby up while he gave Gansey an amused glance.
"Relax, gramps. He's a baby. You could speak in gobbledegook and he wouldn't know the difference right now. He just likes to hear your voice and have your attention." A small part of Ronan was embarrassed at sounding so at ease with a baby, but he was getting too old to worry about that kind of thing. Besides, it was nice to know what the fuck he was doing here and there. He rarely got to be ahead of the game where Gansey was concerned.
"If you're really worried, though," Ronan said, sitting him and Owen down in the chair next to Gansey, "you could try making shit up. Write your own stories."
Gansey was both warmed and a little maddened at just how good Ronan seemed to be at this. Ultimately, he settled on not really being that surprised. Ronan was a caretaker. Even with his rough edges and his persona that projected as if he had no feelings or a black heart under it all, Gansey knew him for him, and had seen the part of him day in and day out that was kind to animals and kind to children and eternally soft on the inside.
It was the Ronan that Gansey loved most dearly, the best version of his best friend.
v
“Is that a suggestion because it’s something I do in the future?” Gansey may have taken the immediate opportunity to poke for a little extra knowledge, but he didn’t actually expect an honest answer. “He doesn’t like to sit still, for one.” They’d all had to swap off carrying him by this point, Owen clearly preferring being on the go at all times. “I’ve never been very good at telling stories that aren’t borrowed, but I can try that, I suppose.”
“I don’t know. Is it something you would do in the future?” Ronan countered with deadpan blankness, before a smirk slipped back into place. He put Owen on his knee and let him look directly at Gansey because it calmed the toddler and would keep any more mouth waterworks from being aim at him. “I’m making conversation here, Dick. I’m not telling you your future. You’ve got a family full of psychics for that.”
He reached out and stole a broken pretzel from a tiny abandoned pile and dipped it into some of the chocolate, popping it into his mouth. It was nice being reminded that Gansey had always been a part of the market’s success, from day one. That even with a baby dumped into his lap, he was still working hard, made Ronan stupidly fond. “Listen, you’ve got time to figure all this stuff out. You get pretty ingenious with helping him tag along. Before you know it, he’s a fucking teenager and can drive your car."
“Ass,” Gansey retorted back, but the immediate glance he gave Owen was telling, as if he was worried the swear word was somehow going to be a bad influence this early in things.
It was a ridiculous worry two-fold, given that Ronan was going to ruin that well before Gansey could manage. At least if he could be confident in anything, it was confidence that Gansey probably wasn’t the one teaching any of their children swear words. Probably.
His shoulders sagged, and he nodded at Ronan’s comforting words. “I know, I know you’re right. Well, I don’t know that I’ll ever feel comfortable with him driving my car but I know you’re right on the rest. It’s just--” He gestured between them, to Owen, to himself, with a chocolate-covered hand. “I just assumed this isn’t something that would probably ever happen. It’s hard to even realize it’s possible, I’m not used to thinking that far in the future yet.”
Ronan watched him with a serious expression for a moment, rubbing a hand on Owen's back to keep him calm. "Yeah," he murmured. "I know what you mean. This place…"
He blew out a breath, almost laughing. This room had changed a lot in his time but there was something about it that always felt the same. Maybe it was how they so often had serious conversations at this table. In the middle of the night half the time. He smiled helplessly. "We get a lot of shit here we didn't think we really ever get a chance at, Gansey. All of us. And it's so good, it's disgusting. Here. Take this and let me take over pretzel duty for a bit."
He leaned forward and held out Owen, who gleefully reached for Gansey with a happy sound.
“Oh- I--” He had chocolate on his hands and on his apron and on his shirt, but Ronan was right there and Gansey was powerless to deny it and accepted Owen with open hands. The baby latched right onto his shirt, little hand curling into the polo as his head immediately dropped down to his father’s shoulder, and Gansey made a little pleased noise.
“Having a moment of being thankful for getting a little practice with the twins before this happened.” Without that, Gansey would have felt completely hopeless in this, but a few days in now and he felt more and more comfortable with each time he was walking Owen around or changing a diaper.
He took a moment to gaze down at the fuzzy head snuggled in, before pressing a soft kiss to it. And then up at Ronan, taking him in, and all of his changes. Good changes. “Even disgusting, I’m glad you got that chance, Ronan. I’m unbelievably thankful the future has been good to you.”
“Oh shut up,” Ronan snorted, making way to the sink to wash his hands. He came back to the table and made quick work of the first pretzel. They’d done these a lot over the years. It was tempting to improve this year’s Halloween set up with all the things he’d learned in the decades since, but he had to resist. Time travel was weird and they could never be sure what they were going to fuck up.
“You better save some of that sap for the 1st,” he warned. “You have your best man speech written yet?” Ronan’s smirk sharpened. This was fun. Having future knowledge of the wedding less than two weeks away. Gansey’s nerdbook probably had a half-dozen speeches started and not one near the one he’d settle on once anxiety ran out of time to be a dick to Dick. “You could pay me for hints on that,” he teased.
Owen let out a screech that sounded far too loud for his tiny body, but Gansey wanted to echo it. Or at least felt the strong connection to his kid in that very moment, even if he’d learned to keep his screams on the inside at any early age. “Mood,” he still gave in return, the lingo sounding foreign on his tongue as Gansey rarely used terms commonly associated with young adults in their age range.
But-- eugh. Best man speech. The damned thing had been plaguing him for a week or more now, as he sat down to write it. And re-write it. And again. Nothing sounded right.
Ronan taunting him about it sounded fairly on-brand, at least. Gansey shot him a look. “I’m not paying you. I’ll- get it right, eventually. I’m sure of it. We’re only on draft three so far. Besides, you telling me what it is might mean I’ll change it to spite you and then the whole course of the future could be thrown off, you never know.”
Finishing up two more pretzels in impressive speed, Ronan flashed a shithead smirk at Gansey. "Hey I'm just trying to help," he said, in the tone of someone who knew damn well they were not helping. Nora had made him a little nervous about the wedding and Vallo's unpredictability, but he was determined to believe it went well. It was a beautiful day, goddamn it.
His taunting face had sobered and he moved the finished pretzel sheet over so he could fit the last few on a new layer of parchment paper. "You do get it eventually. And you're gonna overthink it even if I say don't overthink it. So just, if a panic attack feels like it's headed for you, try to remember that your heart is just another fucking piece of ours. If you mean it and it's spoken out of love, it's the right thing to say." He peeked up at Gansey through his eyelashes. "It might be a little dorky here and there, but that's ok too."
“Literally, even,” Gansey retorted, but it didn’t stop the smile from creeping up on his face as Ronan went in about his heart. He may have known Soft Ronan better than most but that didn’t stop the shithead side from being there at times, and it certainly didn’t stop Gansey from enjoying the softer side when it emerged. “I’ll try to keep all of that in mind.”
It probably wouldn’t stop an impending panic attack right away, but at least might help keep him a little grounded. If Owen even really gave him time to work on it, given his love of being involved in everything. As if on cue, the infant reached up to grab at Gansey’s necklace to pull it towards his mouth. Gansey deflected and gently pried it from the infant’s hands and replaced it quickly with a rubber toy more meant for that sort of thing.
Maybe he would get better at this with time. Gansey looked more than a little proud at the switch off when he looked back up at Ronan. “Do you want me to go find your glasses for you?”
Ronan rolled his eyes at Gansey's too accurate joke and got distracted watching him be a careful dad-in-training. Early or not, anxiety-prone or not, Gansey was one of the best dads Ronan had ever gotten to witness. The question made him blink stupidly, though.
"Fuck," he muttered, dropping his gaze to the pretzels that were drying on the table. "I've just been doing this shit blindfolded on instinct."
It was an exaggeration; his vision wasn't completely shot. But the work laid out in front of him was definitely a little blurry. He sighed. "If these look like crap, I'm gonna be pissed." He slid the last few across the table and reached for Owen. "Trade back. Shorty and I will go find them while you finish up here. Then we can do something that isn't work."
Gansey’s laughter followed Ronan and Owen, thoroughly enjoying Ronan’s dawning realization. He jumped back in while Owen clearly enjoyed getting passed around them, like that was normal. It came with the realization that so much of this was starting to feel normal, and Gansey had to blow out a long breath to center himself.
After a moment of peace, he called out after them. “Stop teaching my kid all of the swear words, he’s impressionable!”