It was only a matter of time before Adam felt like ripe shit. Conversations about money were an easy way to push him into a downslide of self-esteem issues that continued to plague him even when most factors weren't in play anymore. He was far away from Henrietta. He was far away from Harvard. Adam was probably in the most comforting, supportive place he could be, with the people he cared about the most, and he somehow managed to fuck that up too. Because of money. Money that wasn't even spent—it hung like an albatross around his neck.
After multiple conversations with Ronan and his horribly unfinished one with Gansey, the walk he banished himself to didn't clear things up. It only served to push all these problems into a tidy little mental box. Normally, Adam could avoid seeing Gansey until he had it all figured out or compartmentalized it into oblivion. But they couldn't ignore each other until the pressure eased.
Adam was forced to endure his own shame and guilt right next to Gansey in the house. For days.
He didn't know how to say he was sorry. He didn't know how to unknot the complicated mess he felt about money. He didn't know how to explain that in the end it wasn't about the money at all. And that morning, he pulled one card from the top of the deck—Judgment, reversed. A reminder that it was time to forgive himself and ask for forgiveness.
It was time to stop being a goddamn asshole to one of the few people who mattered the most to him.
Adam slid out of bed, slipped quietly downstairs, and beelined for the kitchen. He could say he had a psychic feeling that he'd meet Gansey in here, and really play up the clandestine nature of their meeting, but that was a lie. Adam just knew because friendship was its own kind of knowing.
So he poured two cups of coffee, and when Gansey walked in, Adam nudged one mug with his knuckles to the seat across from him at the table. An invitation.
"Do you have a minute?"
The voice had stopped Gansey in his tracks, in the middle of the doorway. He hadn’t expected Adam to be up this early, and Gansey had done his level best to give his best friend the space he needed over the last few days.
Even if it was pure agony.
The fights were nothing new. They sucked each and every time, like the joy and life was actually being siphoned out of him. But that was true for home just the same as it was here. It never bothered him - not really - when Ronan snapped at him, the pair had their way. But with Adam it was always more difficult, always more personal. It hurt so much more each and every time. And Gansey never knew how to fix it. Back home, they always just gave each other a wide path until hurt feelings had seeped away and then it was back to normal.
Now it was Gansey opening his mouth to try and talk to Adam every time Ronan had managed to get them into a room together, and he still cowed away from it, not wanting to hurt either of them again.
“I’m up early, I have time before work.” He hung his work bag on the chair before taking a seat, slowly. The coffee was made exactly how he liked it, and Gansey clutched it as if it was a lifeline. “Thank you.”
Adam was tough, but he was not brave. Not like Gansey. It was a quality that Adam looked up to, respected immeasurably. He wished he had it now. He almost wanted Gansey said he didn't have time for him—but that was stupid, even if he didn't, Adam knew Gansey would make the time. Their friendship was that important. It deserved protecting and preservation.
He glanced down to his mug, now attempting to find whatever bravery was left for him to use. Gansey's physical presence was so overwhelming when it was just the two of them and this fight was already suffocating. He worried he might never make it through the apology.
"I said some things that were out of line," Adam said quietly, lifting his gaze slowly to meet Gansey's eye. Despite feeling ashamed for his behavior, Adam owed him something that couldn't be dismissed so easily or believed to be insincere. Adam could be cruel and cutting, but he was always painfully honest with the things that mattered.
"I was angry but it was misdirected at you and I'm—" Adam's face crumpled a bit, his measured words failing him slowly. "And I'm sorry."
Gansey took a slow slip of his coffee, glad he had gotten some of it down before Adam’s apology. That didn’t happen much from either of them in their friendship, because it was easier to forgive and forget than it was to bring it up all over again. A sentiment that Gansey would have been happy to continue, if it meant that they could move past it all.
But it didn’t seem to be a topic they could figure out how to move past. Each time it came up, it was like a war was waged and both of them ended up bruised and battered.
“You don’t have to--” He didn’t, but Gansey also didn’t take to take away Adam’s words, so he finally nodded. “I just want to know how we can fix it. What I can do. I know it isn’t just the trust fund money, because it came up before that had arrived, with the food money.”
Adam didn't know how to fix it. Not the deep-rooted problems he thought he had figured out, only to have them come roaring out of him at the worst times. He only knew how to fix this—the building tension, the impossible conversations, their friendship. Adam couldn't just leave Gansey out to dry because he couldn't get his shit under control.
He dragged a hand over his face, and finally took a drink of coffee. He was not awake enough, his brain barely running on all cylinders. Adam was all heart, all emotion. That couldn't bode well for having a meaningful conversation, right?
"I can't offer you money, Gansey," Adam said, tired, exhausted. As if he was sick of this conversation with himself; one he had many times. "And I know it doesn't matter to you if I can or not. You and I are never going to see money the same way, and I'm—I'm okay with that. But it matters to me that the things you do because we're friends, I can't. Even if I want to."
This was undoubtedly painful; Adam was so rarely able to put his issues into words. But Gansey was worth it. He exhaled. "And it's frustrating to me. And that is unfair to you."
Gansey kept level, as much as he could. He often reacted to Adam with his own brand of too-much-emotion or hurt or avoidance. It was the same dance they’d done a dozen times, and both of them were exhausted. What he wanted to say was that he had never cared about how much money Adam had, but surely Adam knew that?
“You can. You will.” Gansey said that with certainty, his knack for confidence kicked in right at the last moment. “The money isn’t something I’m proud of, I was just raised with it. What does that make me?” He shot Adam a humorless smile and shrugged one shoulder. “Just some rich kid with a trust fund. I want to discover things. History. To find things, to learn magic and hear stories and document tales. I’m not going to be anyone, but you are.” If Gansey knew anything, it was that Adam was going to be something greater than any of them.
Gansey held open his hand in an empty gesture and shrugged again. “I don’t want to throw money at things to solve them, sometimes I just don’t know how else to be a friend that you deserve.”
Adam shook his head at Gansey, and then he shook it harder. "The friend that I deserve? Gansey, please—" Adam sounded both mad and hurt as he brushed aside that statement. How could Gansey ever think he was less somehow? Adam knew he had his doubts, they both did, about their worth in the world, but it felt impossible to see it applied to their friendship. How did they let it get so bad? How had Adam not seen it?
"You're not just some rich kid with a trust fund, Gansey. We would not be friends if that's all you were," Adam said, his attention darting to Gansey's open hand then back to his face. "You are so, so much more than that to me. Your friendship has been, will always be, one of the most important relationships in my life. I don't want it to be defined by deeds you have done for me, I want—what I have always wanted—was time with you."
His grip tightened around the mug, grounding him.. "Hearing stories, learning magic, all the things you want to do, I want to do it with you. Because it's all I can offer you, is my time." Adam closed his eyes, feeling the brunt of his own self-esteem pushing down on his shoulders. He kept his eyes closed when he said, "And I'm afraid it won't be enough. Time and money are mutually exclusive and if you use money to solve a problem, then I lose out on time with you and I am afraid that's what you will eventually want."
Gansey was quiet for a little longer, with no snappy comeback or emotional response right out of the gate. He took in Adam’s words, staring at his friend with creased eyebrows and a worried look on his face. That was a worry he didn’t know how to alleviate, how to fix or make better instantly. He wasn’t sure if there was a single thing he could say to stop that worry.
“I don’t think that’s true. I don’t think time and money are mutually exclusive, I don’t think that using it would make us lose out on time together.” Gansey blew out a breath. He couldn’t think of how paying a hospital bill or chartering a boat had done anything but give them more time together. More time to explore, to adventure, to not worry about debts and bills-- But he wasn’t in Adam’s brain.
It also hit him with stunning realization that Adam was having the same worries on the opposite ends of the spectrum that Gansey had with his own level of self-confidence, and they’d just never discussed it to that level before.
“I don’t want that to happen, ever. I had a thought--” A few thoughts. A Dozen. A million. They were neverending, but now they sounded stupid, as he thought of them again just before speaking them. “If we return home, everything that’s here remains here. I assume. But the money-- put it in the hands of the DOA, allow them to spread their wings, allow newcomers to go to college and further education... “ He ended the pitch lamely, grimacing at himself. “I don’t even know where to start, to be honest.”
Ronan's words rattled around in his brain, an endless loop of did you tell him that? And Adam could only keep saying, no, no, no. He didn't have the right answer, the right explanation, the right way to tell Gansey how much the money had cut into their time together. How the money offered solutions without showing the work. How he enjoyed the work, and he enjoyed it more when Gansey was involved.
It felt stupid when the time he was spending right now with Gansey was arguing over money.
Gansey only ever wanted time with him too. Adam's whole chest ached, his brain hurt, his throat seized for a terrifying moment. Like he was going to cry because Gansey was just being too nice. Because Gansey wanted to give Adam a chance that he might not have had before. Kindness, unconditional kindness and love, was such a difficult concept for Adam to grasp that when he did, it hurt. It hurt so much. And how fucked up was that?
Adam opened his mouth, but Gansey beat him to it with his idea. And just like that money and time coexisted, Adam and Gansey coexisted. "I do," Adam said quickly, softly, an uptick in his voice. "It's a good idea, Gansey. If that's what you want to do with your money, I want to help. If you want me to."
Gansey’s face came up a little, his clear admiration for Adam’s opinion written across his face as he smiled a little. Hopeful. Anytime Adam liked one of his ideas, or jokes, or wanted to help him, it made Gansey sit up a little straighter. He didn’t know why that particular friend carried more weight to him, but it probably had something to do with the whole topic at hand. Adam’s work ethic was above anything Gansey could ever hope for, and even as much as they butted heads and frustration took hold, he’d always appreciate that about him.
“I do. Always. I need it, otherwise I’ll pick the wrong account type and investment options. Lower interest than I could get… My spreadsheets could get messy.” He almost wished he could say he was joking, but without Adam, he did have a tendency to get messy. To jump ahead, leave gaps. Adam kept him in check in the most delightful ways. “We don’t want the paper trail to look like my journal.”
When Gansey smiled, Adam mirrored it. Whatever had changed, Adam wanted it. He clung to it. This truce that they had come to was delicate and tentative, but Adam wouldn't break it. Gansey had solved the money problem, and Adam—well, Adam had explained nothing, but he thought at this point he might not have to. Maybe Gansey got it.
"No, no one wants it to look like your journal," Adam softly teased, and took a sip of his coffee. The caffeine was not needed, he was awake. "You know, or maybe—maybe you don't know. Maybe I haven't told you enough." And that was the crux of it, Adam's inability to voice his feelings in an uncomplicated way. He had been surprised at how easy it had been to say he loved someone, but it had become more difficult to say he couldn't lose someone. One step at a time.
"I like working on spreadsheets with you. I like when we can put our big dumb nerd brains together and solve a problem. This idea, what you want to do—this is the time I want with you. Just being ourselves. You're one of the few people I can do that with. And the fact that I can? It means everything to me."
Gansey made a little noise. Hearing Adam’s words was-- well, unexpected. It wasn’t that he disbelieved the words, he knew to take Adam at what he said a long time ago. But he did, most assuredly, blink a few times before nodding in agreement. It was the same on his end - how he liked to spend time with Adam was the same, and it wasn’t something he really knew before. Deep down he had, maybe, but Gansey’s insecurities got the best of him a lot of the time.
It wasn’t something he was proud of, doubting that friendship on such a level. He warred with his own brain countless times over these thoughts, and to have Adam reach out.
Gansey blew out a breath and then smiled, it blossoming on his lips slowly. “Big dumb nerd brains must be a Ronan term.” He’d heard that countless times before, directed their way. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted with you, too. It’s one of my favorite parts of any day, puzzling things out with you, or working on the Pig. I’m glad it’s the same on your end.”
"He probably has the term copyrighted somewhere. Don't tell him that I like it," Adam said, softly amused. He was proud of his big dumb nerd brain and the reliability people tended to place on him for it. He liked being useful, the same way he was certain that Gansey did too.
Adam offered up his fist to Gansey across the table, to bump knuckles. Solidarity in their nerdiness, their companionship, and maybe-not-so-unsurprisingly their insecurities. Adam promised himself that he would try to stop looking at the money offered to him as a humble brag. Coming from Gansey, it was anything but.
"You're going to have so much more of it, Gansey. After you pitch it to the DOA, your project—it's weeks of brainstorming, months to get through all the legal red-tape, making sure that it continues to exist beyond now. Years of prepping for financial stability and maintaining a source of income because there's going to be more people who need help than we could possibly plan for. It's going to cut into our car maintenance time," Adam said, mostly a joke—they would find time. They always did.
But then he asked, "Are you ready for that?" in the same way he would have asked Will this be enough?
Gansey met Adam’s fist with his own, bumping it without any hesitation at all. Even post-fight, he wouldn’t leave Adam hanging, and this was a true sign of them being okay all around. He wished they were standing, as well, where he could lean in and force a hug on Adam, but Gansey had to play it cool, casual. So he downed his coffee - far too fast, pulling a face at it.
When he was finished a few gulps later, he had the excuse to get up and wash his mug, and after a quick rinse, he turned back around and regarded Adam with a smug, chin-up smile. “Excelsior, Adam. I think you’ll find I am more than ready for that.” He laughed, in an unknown, kind of Gansey way that both was looking forward to things and knew he was in over his head. “I didn’t even realize it would be that extensive of a project, so now I’m certain I need you.”
It was too awkward to try and go in for a hug now, wasn’t it? Gansey just stood there, talking with his hands, unsure of what to do with them now.
Adam turned around in his chair and watched Gansey clean his mug. His own was still mostly full and getting colder, but he'd drink it later. Coffee had been a vehicle for conversation not the reason for it. And Adam didn't have an office job to run to this morning that required him to be awake.
But even as Adam's attention followed Gansey—his own smile brightening with his laugh—there was still something off. A fumbling between them. It took a moment for Adam to catch it, not because he wasn't attuned to Gansey's moods but because there was a difference between asking for affection with words and with body language. Adam was still getting the hang of the latter; Ronan had been quicker on the uptake than Adam had ever been.
He rose from the kitchen table, and was in Gansey's space within two long steps. For a second he hesitated—this was not where he often took the lead, and he couldn't imagine being hugged right now was the correct answer. But while he and Gansey shared so many similarities, there were different people. In a good way.
Adam wrapped his arms around Gansey in a tight embrace. "I need you too, Gansey."
There was no hesitation in Gansey wrapping his arms right back around Adam, pulling him in a little tighter. He’d been getting progressively more and more attached and used to the idea of physical affection, especially with the way that Blue and Henry gave it out so freely. It was rare enough with Adam (and Ronan) that he didn’t mind leaning into it a little extra.
A little longer than was strictly necessary. But there was no awkwardness when he stood back, hand clasped on Adam’s shoulder. He didn’t want to get too weepy or sentimental before they’d even had breakfast, but did take a quick glance down at his watch. “I still have over an hour before work, do you want to join me for a walkthrough of the school? See just how many dry erase boards one can fit on the top floor of Monmouth?”
Adam didn't mind the extended hug, in fact he welcomed it. Why not show and tell how much you cared about a person? Small measures of affection like this seemed to do large amounts of emotional heavy lifting, at least for Adam, who was still figuring out how to do that.
His face lit up at the suggestion of walking through Monmouth. "Yeah," Adam said, a little dazed to be asked. And then, more confident, "Yeah, I do. Let me just—" Adam took a step, then paused, then took another step in a different direction. It was like his mind couldn't decide in real time on what he needed to do first: clean up, change his clothes, finish his coffee, tell Ronan he was leaving with Gansey—
"Give me two minutes to do roughly twelve things, and I'll meet you on the porch." But then considering who his boyfriend was, Adam amended that: "Make that five."