It was a nice day out and Ronan’s wardens had given him a little extra breathing room, as he got closer to being cleared by a doctor, so he’d grabbed his art supplies and their current box full of baby shower crafts and kicked Blue right in the ass before making a break for it. They’d ended up in the large field close to the pond, where he was planning on pitching pop up tents over tables for the party, and he’d set aside their crafts after a while to focus instead on painting Blue’s boots.
He lifted one of her feet up closer to his face and then lowered it back into his lap. “You need bigger feet, Moneybags. This canvas is fucking tiny.” That didn’t stop him from creating a work of fucking art, of course. He’d even resisted painting a dick on there. Still he didn’t let her see it just yet. It had to be perfect.
He lifted one eyebrow at her over his work. “Did you decide what you’re going to do with all your fat cash?”
"Why would I, the new sugar mama at the Barns, buy shoes that don't fit?" Blue asked, nudging Ronan's side with her other, non-occupied-by-an-artist foot. "Pressure is on not to mess up."
Okay, so maybe Blue had made an offended noise when Ronan kicked her to go out to the field. But Blue was also more than happy to spend time outside in the field by the pond. And she actually didn't mind hanging out with Ronan, despite what outside parties may have believed. Their friendship was all superficial antagonizing, and Blue found herself realizing that for as much as she loved Gansey and Henry, her love for Ronan was different but intensely the same.
Much like Ronan, she had abandoned the crafts after a time, and leaned back on her elbows to enjoy the sun and allow Ronan to do—well, do whatever he was to her boots. Fashion should be an outward expression of self, not a societal choice, as Blue often reminded people, and if a piece of Ronan—her friend—made its way on her shoes, she didn't mind.
"And I haven't thought about the money. Not really. I mean, probably some to Atreus for the sanctuary but the last time Vallo mysteriously gave me a ton of fat cash, I spent it on myself. I don't want to do that again."
“If you ever say the words sugar mama again, I’m throwing you over a shoulder and dumping you in the pond,” Ronan warned, straightfaced and not all that convincingly. He was focused but he was also listening. As much shit as they gave each other, he respected Blue’s backbone and tended to listen pretty fucking close to everything she said, even when he was pretending to ignore her.
“The first time was a couple hundred bucks. This is bigger. You could turn it into more.” Ronan Lynch knew jack shit about investment portfolios. On purpose. Gansey and Adam were the people to go to for that. But it didn’t mean he wasn’t aware of how to turn his money into more money, when he needed to do that. It also didn’t mean he wasn’t hyper aware of his friends getting everything they needed and deserved. “Not that I don’t think you should give some to Atreus too,” he admitted. “But still.”
The look Blue gave Ronan was both skeptical and challenging—would he throw her in the lake? Did she know the best octopus hold to make it impossible to do so? Or better yet, take him down with her? Although, it wasn't worth the disappointment from Gansey to dunk Ronan who still was nursing the last dregs of a head injury.
"Oh my god, please do not try to give me financial advice. It sounds weird coming out of your mouth," Blue said, but it lacked a certain amount of her usual disgust when it came to the boys and finances. She exhaled, all big and overdramatic, and laid flat into the grass, covering her eyes from the sun. She didn't want to talk about money, it was annoying. What was someone like Blue Sargent supposed to do with ten-thousand dollars?
After an uncharacteristically long moment of silence, Blue groaned. "Okay, nevermind. Talk to me about money. How would you—" Blue lifted her hands to make air quotes. "—'turn it into more'. And don't say go ask the brains, I'm not looking for retirement funds. I want something fulfilling."
The dramatic exhale and flop backwards earned her a half-judging and half-amused eyeroll from Ronan. He could’ve dove in and changed the subject. There was one looming - the status of her mirror off-switch training and the impending kiss test of doom - but he was trying to avoid a sneaky dizzy spell while he was finishing up her boot artwork. He made a few more strokes with the paintbrush and smirked.
“You could invest in your fiber art shit. Better equipment, better materials, maybe even an employee so you can make more stuff to sell. More stuff, more profit. Or you could just invest in somebody else’s business. Help them expand, lock in a cut of the profits,” he shrugged. “That’s how the obnoxiously wealthy keep themselves swimming in money. They get other people to do all the work.”
"Trust me, I am very aware of how the obnoxiously wealthy work. I've been to the Ganseys' second home." Blue made a gagging noise, because their hoity-toity overt displays of wealth were so gross—she had never been happier to discover that although Gansey was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, he did not subscribe to that lifestyle. Blue Sargent had kind of corrupted him, and she reveled in that little factoid.
"Don't diss my fiber arts, you know it's good stuff. You're just mad that it is because you can't crochet as well as me," Blue said, preening. "I could do that, though. Get an employee. But if I hired someone else, they would be doing all the stuff I don't want to do, like customer service, and then I would feel bad." Blue awkwardly sat up with her one boot still acting as Ronan's canvas.
"For someone who complained my shoes are too small, you're taking a really long time to paint it." Her brows furrowed, realization hitting her. "Why don't you do more with this?" Blue asked, gesturing with her chin to his art.
“Soooo...don’t give your employee the shit jobs. Just have them make more stuff to sell,” Ronan said, like he was talking to a three year old. His gaze was gentler than the words, but only just. Couldn’t make things too easy on her. He wrapped up the last few touches on the axe-wielding otter on the side of her boot - vampire fangs. Just be-fucking-cause.
“Anyway, I am doing more with this. I made a masterpiece.” If he were a nerd, he’d have tucked his paintbrush behind his ear to stare her down. Instead, he twirled it in the air like a drummer completing his solo. Chainsaw took that as her cue to swoop down, land on his arm, and snap at the brush to steal it from him.
He blew in her face until she squawked at him, but his attention was still all on Blue. “Why are you trying to change the subject?”
"But I want to make the stuff to sell. I only don't have time now because I have to work at a place that now has a shotgun behind the counter and a freaky icepick behind the ice machine," Blue explained, doing the same three-year-old voice back to Ronan. She resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him, but only just. She couldn't let herself devolve into juvenile antics yet.
Blue turned her foot to admire the paint job while Ronan fiddled with Chainsaw. And yeah, okay, it was a freaking masterpiece. She was still inspecting the fanged otter with an axe, as she said, "I'm not changing the subject. I—" Blue huffed, frowning. If she could have crossed her arms, she would have, but they were currently keeping her upright. No closing off now.
"Maybe it's not a lot of money to you, but it is to me. I've never a thousand dollars, let alone ten thousand. I'm panicking on making a decision with it. I'd rather just give it all away then think about how to appropriately spend it on myself and feel like I made a mistake later on." Blue turned her attention away from Ronan, to the pond. "It's been distracting me from thinking about other, more important things."
Ronan scowled at her. Not because of the rich jab - unlike Gansey, he was impervious to guilt about having grown up with money. He liked to think everyone knew he’d give up every penny to have his parents back. And if they didn’t, fuck them anyway.
No, he scowled but he was a lot more invested in her “more important things” than ten grand.
“If that’s true, why not just hand that shit off to Parrish or Gansey and ask them to figure out how to make more money off of it so you don’t have to work at that dump? Or just walk the money right over to the sanctuary right now?” Chainsaw got tired of fighting for the paintbrush when Ronan’s attention was clearly elsewhere so she waddle walked over to Blue and pecked at her clothes. For his part, Ronan reached over and squeezed Blue’s shoulder in a rare (and brief) show of support. “Or just shove it into a savings account until the more important shit is taken care of. There’s no fucking rush.”
Someone else who cared about what they wore might have been slightly concerned about a giant raven pulling at a thread or trying to bite at the safety pin holding a patch on. Then again, someone who cared about clothes wouldn't have safety pins holding it together. Naturally made holes looked cool and Blue was tempted to let Chainsaw tear at a pair of bright yellow tights for aesthetic. Blue didn't push her away.
"Money is stupid," Blue said, slumping a little when Ronan squeezed her shoulder. She hadn't realized how wound up she had been for days—would Vallo take it back? Was it Monopoly money? Was it cursed? God, she could only handle one curse at a time.
"But maybe, maybe, I'll give some to the sanctuary, put some in a savings account, and invest the rest. I'm sure Gansey has specific ideas and he knows what I like." And then, half-joking, Blue added, "Or I could just invest it here, since, you know, I live here and you let me hock my wares at your market."
Ronan flicked her ear. “Don’t say it like that. You could invest enough here that I can afford to house more sheep, you get more wool, you make more shit, we both profit. And maybe you quit that sketchy fucking diner while you’re at it.” There was undoubtedly a lot more to it than that and he could admit, he sucked at saving money. He sank most of his profit back into the farm so he wasn’t abusing the magic here to dream nonstop. Some day, he might find a way to get them all home with Noah alive and he really didn’t need the magic here being pissed enough to stop him.
But also he just really liked everything here being a combination of hard work, his magic, and his family.
“You’re overthinking this,” he grunted. Chainsaw rubbed her head up under Blue’s hand for pets. “It’s ten grand, not ten million.”
"Surprise, Lynch, I can overthink things!" Blue said, but not unkindly. She turned her attention to Chainsaw, giving her the scritches that she absolutely deserved. In her best, overly sweet child-talking voice, she said, "Your dream dad can be a real pain sometimes." Chainsaw answered back with a hearty gwah.
"Enough money talk. We're edging really close to rich jerk territory and I don't want to have to explain to Gansey why you have a new black eye when we were supposed to be working on crafts." Blue switched out one boot for the other. When else was Ronan going to let her put her feet in his lap and it be for something nice?
"Do you think Gansey is worried about me trying to kiss him again?" Blue said, apropos of nothing. She was quick to follow up and not let the heavy question linger. "You know, because you're best friends. He might have said something to you."
This time Ronan’s eyeroll was more pronounced and he took her second boot with scoff. “Look, it’s not my fault if you don’t like good advice.” He didn’t actually have a problem changing the subject, so he didn’t fight it. She’d do what she wanted about the money and he’d support her choice whatever the fuck it was. He was a little surprised by her question though. Or rather, that she was asking him. He gave her a sideways squint and then pulled his paints back over to start on the boot.
“I think Gansey worries about a lot of shit,” he said truthfully. “But I think his faith in you is pretty fucking unshakeable.” Gansey hadn’t talked to him about this. Ronan couldn’t blame him. He wasn’t exactly even-keeled about the idea of Gansey dying again. But his own faith was pretty fucking unshakeable too. He knew Blue wouldn’t risk Gansey’s life unless she was sure. “Are you worried?”
Contrary to popular belief, one that Blue had relentlessly perpetuated, Ronan did have good advice. And later, she'd let all of her options settle with how to spend her own boatload of cash. Blue—a girl who in some way wanted to make the world a better place—would undoubtedly invest in the barns. And bother Ronan about housing more sheep, and getting more wool, and blah blah blah. She couldn't give him the satisfaction of agreeing now.
She did grow quiet at his question, as she sat up further to watch him with her other boot. She kept up her Chainsaw pets. "I don't know. I feel like I should be, right? The last time I kissed Gansey the intention was—" Blue's face scrunched up. "Whatever, the point is. I've been practicing, and I feel like I could do it. But a part of me has been so used to don't do it, that I can't seem to get over that hurdle that I could, can."
Blue leaned forward, resting her cheek against her hand. "I've been told no for so long that it feels like a trick."
Ronan watched her, easily slipping into the same quiet seriousness. Add a scowl and this was where he lived most of the time, after all. But seeing it on her was disarming. Blue Sargent was a badass that didn’t let anyone push her around or get in her way. She was bigger than her size and bolder than anyone. Well anyone but him anyway.
“Guess it’s about fucking time you remember you don’t let anyone tell you what to do,” Ronan said matter-of-factly. He quickly painted an anarchy symbol on her boot and he spoke with conviction, the way he did when he saw something in black or white. “Gansey trusts you with his life.” A long pause and he sighed dramatically. “I trust you with his life. When you’re sure, when you’re ready to tell a curse to fuck right off, it’ll be the right time. It won’t be a trick.”
Blue was prone to moodiness, and sometimes she let it get the better of her when the rarity happened. But right now, with Ronan painting an anarchy symbol on her boots, telling her she was a boss—in his own Ronan-ish words—made her smile. And that smile kept growing and growing, like someone finally let her in on some long-evaded inside joke.
"You're right, I don't let people tell me what to do, including curses," Blue said, emphatic. She shoved his shoulder, in a aw shucks, look at you complimenting me way. "I feel close. I think—I think it's almost the right time. And my favorite pastime is telling curses to fuck right off. We're both pretty good at it, if I do say so myself. If we combine our efforts—" Blue's whole face lit up at the thought. There was something that might scare Gansey; Blue and Ronan, usupuring propriety one middle-finger at a time.
Blue added, "I trust you too. I probably should have said that first but you know..." She made a vague hand gesture that seemed to encompass their antagonistic behavior to one another. She was sure he'd understand. "I wouldn't just let anyone paint my boots. Although, I guess I have money now to buy new ones if you had completely ruined them."
Her dumb smile made him smile. A year or so ago, that fact would’ve annoyed him, and he would’ve fought it more. He would’ve made excuses to push her away in one way or another. Now it just made him cross his eyes at her before pulling her into a head hug that he hoped was just a little bit uncomfortable.
“Great. Glad we sorted that out. You can shut up now, maggot,” he said. Admittedly, it might’ve held more punch if he didn’t press his cheek to her hair for a moment. Worried about the repercussions if he didn’t restore balance and fast, he grinned his shark’s grin and gave her a noogie. “Get off me and we can go get some burgers.”
It was a nice moment, and Blue didn't even fuss when he pulled her into a head hug. And since they both were sitting, the whole gesture lacked any sort of height difference, shit-talking they were prone to do. She had come a long way with Ronan, and although she purposely refused to call him her friend to the general public, he knew. She knew. Their friendship had been through so much that—
Blue shrieked and pushed him away. "Rude! I know you think I don't care but it takes a lot of effort to make my hair look this perfectly disheveled." Blue adjusted a glittery neon clip in her hair, but it didn't help. In fact, it looked worse. "Because of that, you have to buy because I refuse to spend my money on your dumb face."