adam "now he's a spooky 10" lynch (parrish) (tamquam) wrote in valloic, @ 2020-02-05 18:37:00
WHO: Richard Gansey III, Ronan Lynch, & Adam Parrish WHAT: A general meeting of insomniacs because healthy sleep schedules mean nothing. WHERE: Their apartment, more specific the table. WHEN: Literally, the middle of the night. WARNINGS: Cursing, it happens! STATUS: Complete!
Waking up in the middle of the night was a new fun habit Adam had acquired since arriving in Vallo. He had desperately tried to shut his mind off before climbing into bed, because falling asleep at the kitchen table where Gansey had set up his research den was not an option. Adam was not an insomniac inherently, only through requirement when he was cramming for a test or driving eight hours to his boyfriend's house.
Now Adam was listless, and when the answers weren't easily identifiable, his brain traitorously supplied him with options or hypotheses that settled like rocks in his mind until he did something about it. Consuming information here was overwhelming, and he could feel a headache constantly eroding at the back of his mind with all the stones gathering there, unanswered, unsolved.
Distractions had been welcome. His closest friend and his boyfriend had been unbeatable company, but Adam felt like if he slept, he would miss an answer that would (illogically) only appear in the middle of the night. They needed to get home and so, somewhere around three in the morning, Adam was awake.
He stared at the unfamiliar ceiling, and then he stared at Ronan's familiar profile sleeping, dreaming, both maybe. Deservedly so. But he also didn't miss the crack of light from underneath their door. Adam rubbed at his eyes, resigned himself to being conscious, and slipped out of bed trying not to disturb one of the two people he believed needed more sleep than him.
The other one was exactly where Adam left him hours ago.
Adam resumed his place at the table, and grabbed for a book at the top of one of the stacks. He dutifully started reading without any sort of greeting, seamlessly picking up where he had left off, in amicable quiet. Eventually though, Adam asked between page turns, "Tell me what new interesting thing you discovered in the last four hours, Gansey."
Gansey had been in the lucid world, his eyes drifting between reading and asleep, head held propped by one hand so he wouldn’t fall and smack his face on the table (he’d done that before, it wasn’t pleasant) if he drifted off fully. Adam’s words cut into his half-sleep and he inhaled sharply and sat up, giving himself a moment to adjust to being fully alert and and to register the question without looking like a complete idiot.
He glanced at his watch - it had been a few hours since he had waved them off to bed, but wasn’t dawn yet. He knew he didn’t need to stay up when they went to bed, but Gansey’s own insomnia had been working overtime since they arrived and he had quietly, privately, wanted just a little bit of peace and quiet. He didn’t hold it against them for the touches and the flirting and the eyes, but Gansey wasn’t used to it. It had been months, and in those months, he’d been allowed his own touches and flirting and looks.
So he stuck his head in book after book. Ronan’s comment about worrying that his brothers would be dead if they were here too long, and now knowing everything back home - and his own melancholy from missing Blue and Henry - added to a long list of normal reasons for him to lack sleep.
New world, same problems. “Uh-” Gansey gestured to the stack of books on waypoints and magic. “The waypoints are far more regulated by the local government than I originally would have guessed. I’ve been wondering if someone in the government either messed up and doesn’t want to admit to it, or they’re doing it on purpose for some reason.”
Ronan’s insomnia came in fits and starts. It was better than the first couple of years after his father’s murder, especially when Adam was sharing a bed, but it still plagued him often enough that he couldn’t claim it was gone for good. Tonight, he’d surprisingly dropped off hard and fast, worn thin from trying to test the dreamer limits here in this strange place. But eventually, he woke up to an empty bed and that was a rare enough occurrence when Adam was around that he quickly lurched to his feet and stumbled out of the room in his sweats.
He wasn’t surprised to find them at the table like a couple of obsessive nerds, just relieved. The quick beat of his heart settled and he stumbled sleepily over to sprawl out in a chair at the table.
“Wouldn’t be the first time the government fucked up and made it worse by trying to keep the public in the dark.” Ronan yawned and blindly reached to rest a hand at the back of Adam’s neck.
Adam's mood changed considerably when Ronan joined them. Both guilty that he had somehow been the reason Ronan was now awake, and pleased to have him close again. Adam leaned into Ronan's hand, and his own slipped under the table to squeeze at his knee. His affection was soft, fuzzy with sleep, even if the conversation was anything but.
"Yeah, but if someone messed up this badly, it's human error which people can reverse engineer. They would have solved the waypoint system by now. People wouldn't be here for a year." That was one of Adam's biggest concerns: the length of time they were wasting away in a foreign place. They needed to get home; it was becoming a harder pill to swallow as the days ticked by.
"If they're strongly regulated by the government, it has to mean they have no idea what they're dealing with. They don't want anyone finding the answer before they do. Or maybe they have the answer and don't want to share it," Adam said, scrubbing at his forehead with the back of his hand. He hated how he sounded like a conspiracy theorist, pessimistic and distrustful.
He sighed. "I know that's not a helpful insight."
Gansey removed his glasses slowly, and brought a hand up to rub against his face before he ended it in a pinch between his brows. His eyes were far more tired than his brain was, which was a betrayal he felt far too often.
“It’s no less helpful than any of this,” Gansey offered an affectionate smile across the table at them. There was no point in digging down on theories when they were all just as lost. “There are a lot of powerful magic users here, I think you’re right that they’d just be able to reverse engineer it. There’s other people that have been studying the magic and waypoints for a lot longer.”
He slumped back in his seat, and spread his hands across the table outward, palms up. “I’m just at a loss, outside of some crackpot ideas that don’t make much sense.” Gansey always hated that weight on his chest when he just didn’t have answers. “I don’t think getting us home is in these books. Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize like it’s your fault, old man.” Ronan recognized the fatigue in Gansey’s eyes, maybe better than most. Living at Monmouth had given him front row seats to the search for Glendower and how it took a toll on his anxious best friend. As much as he wanted - as much as he needed - to get home, he didn’t want it to be at the cost of Gansey’s sanity. Or Adam’s for that matter.
He glanced sideways at his boyfriend, scowling his concern. “We’ll figure it out. I think I’m starting to get a feel for the magic here.”
Adam did not have the same acute awareness for Gansey's fatigue, but he did know self-defeating attitudes when things, bigger than all of them, were not their fault. Mostly because Adam had fallen into the same critical analysis of himself on many previous occasions when things felt bleak.
"Ronan's right," Adam said, which should have meant something. Adam and Ronan were not prone to agreeing on many things. "Waypoints were how we got here, but it doesn't necessarily mean that's how we get home." Adam reached across the table and pulled the book out from under Gansey, not unkindly. He should probably stop reading for a second. Several seconds. Bed was imminent, it was time for Adam to tag team him out.
Although Adam made a face, one he tried to hide but found it difficult to do, when Ronan mentioned magic.
"I think we should be careful with the magic here though," Adam said, slowly. His own intense understanding of the power and what it felt like was nagging at him daily in Vallo. Like a hundred ley lines all converging underneath his fingertips. He looked to Gansey for backup, before adding to Ronan, "You most of all."
Gansey wanted to argue when the book was taken from him, but he knew better with these two. They’d just double down on him, and he’d lose horribly. And even if he had just taken the defeatist way of saying he didn’t think the answer was even here, it didn’t mean he planned on stopping.
But then Gansey’s brain was a complicated mash of information and emotion and they rarely got along. It wasn’t anything unusual.
“I agree,” As much as he wanted Ronan to dream up a portal home, or to stretch the limits to see what he could do, he would never wish for it at the risk of his best friend’s health. The worry was there, creasing Gansey’s brow as he looked across at them. “With all the talk of monsters showing up and things out of the ordinary, even for this place, I worry you may accidentally pull out something we can’t handle. Or worse, something might happen there to harm you. Dreamer magic is still an unknown in a lot of ways.”
Ronan’s smugness at hearing Ronan’s right flashed across his face. Well, more like flickered, since it was quickly snuffed out like candlelight. What followed it was a betrayed grimace.
“Hey, I’m good at this now.” The thought of murder crabs soured his expression further, but he pushed on, dropping his hand from Adam’s neck to rest across the back of his chair instead.
“I don’t know that I really have a fucking choice in the matter anyway,” he grumbled. “Every day I’m away from the Barns, the chance I’ll start oozing black goo increases.”
"No one said you weren't," Adam said, quick to stop whatever train of thought would accompany Ronan thinking he wasn't good at dreaming. Adam had spent enough time, murder crabs aside, to know his control and his skill were not what was in question. It was outside factors, like the pulsing magic of Vallo in every corner they existed. Or Bryde. But Adam kept his mouth shut on that matter.
His face, though, went a little pale at the mention of black goo. He remembered that summer night before he left for Harvard, he remembered wiping those dark tears from his Ronan's face in the labyrinth, he remembered the night of Gansey's death. Adam did not want to see the nightwash either.
"It's not going to get that bad. We won't let that happen." Even tired, Adam sounded confident. As if he had any control over Ronan's dreaming. He barely had a handle on Gansey's insomnia.
"Start small, work your way up to the things we've been brainstorming. I know we're in a hurry—" Adam felt guilty about being the cause of that, "but go slow. No one should be getting hurt."
Where Gansey had been ready to pack it in and collapse on a bed somewhere, the reminder that Ronan could start oozing anywhere at any point made him sit up again. From the stack on the left, he pulled out a fresh book and shot Adam a side glance full of worry. None of them wanted to fall down that hole, if they could help it.
Their worry was an echo around the room, pinging off each person sitting there at an ungodly hour, fueling them more than even coffee could. “There’s magical healers here…” His comment wandered away from him quietly, as Gansey flipped through the book. “Both in the forest and in the city. But that’s a last resort,” he qualified, before objections could be brought up.
He stopped flipping pages and finally gave in and put his glasses back on before looking up at them. “Do we know exactly what about the Barns stops it? If we can’t go home, maybe we could pull in a piece of it from our world. Or see if the other magic users have a suggestion.”
Being told to go slow was frustrating but it wasn’t as bad as Declan’s don’t do it at all brand of bossy. Then again, Ronan would probably always be a little better at taking direction from these two people specifically. Feeling bad for even bringing this shit up when there wasn’t a whole lot any of them good do about it, he rubbed an apologetic hand across Adam’s back and focused on Gansey’s question.
“No. I don’t know. It might just be the ley line or all the family magic built up there offering some kind of protection.” He shrugged and claimed the new book Gansey had pulled out, flipping it open randomly. “How much do we wanna tell these people? The welcome party acted like there wasn’t much we could even keep secret which makes me uncomfortable as fuck.”
"You don't have to tell them anything, if you don't want to," Adam said, leaning back into Ronan's hand again. He unconsciously shifted closer. Sleep, or lack thereof, made him restlessly needy, and the nightwash talk made him uncomfortable as fuck. Being nearer to Ronan eased that a little.
"Even if they made it seem like it's impossible to keep your dreaming a secret that doesn't mean it has to be public knowledge." It was a warning and advice. Adam had kept so many secrets for so many years, that when it came to lying at Harvard it felt unavoidable. Needed. A safety net. He didn't know if Ronan or Gansey would feel the same way about half-truths.
"I'm not saying you need to lie," Adam clarified a beat later, too long to make it sound casual. "But it doesn't have to be the next thing out of your mouth after telling someone your name."
He realized he was a hypocrite, knowing he had offered up his amateur psychic abilities to a group of people much more magically inclined than he was. He didn't say anything about that though. He looked to Gansey, for confirmation. "Unless it serves a purpose to get us home?"
Gansey had opened his mouth to talk, and ended up glaring at Ronan stealing his book instead. He internally wrestled with the idea of reaching out to steal his book back, potentially causing a fight he’d definitely lose, or grab another book and have that probably taken away as well.
Apparently this was the game they were playing now. Gansey, ever the mature one, ended up crossing his arms across his chest petulantly. “I think we should keep a low profile.” Knowing that his thought damn well never stopped any of them from doing anything they wanted regardless. “Unless it serves a purpose. But there are others here that value their privacy, too.”
He finally gave up his posturing and leaned back in his seat so he could glare at the table more effectively. “There’s Outlanders here that have fought the government on demanding information, so I don’t think you’ll be forced to dole it out anytime soon.”
Ronan rolled his eyes at the both of them, fond but still frustrated with this whole scenario. He’d finally been forced out into the light a bit at home. And as terrifying as that had been, there’d been some relief in knowing people knew. In being seen. That didn’t mean he’d be running around telling everyone here he was a dreamer, obviously.
“Fine,” he eloquently grunted. “Business as usual and we figure this shit out on our own.” He lifted his stolen book and smirked at Gansey over the edge of it, slowly turning the pages but not really reading anything. His smirk dipped a bit though, as he remembered something. He scowled sideways at Adam. “Keeping things on the down low might be hard for you, what with joining magic club and all."
Adam thought it was business as usual, but he bristled immediately at the mention of magic club. He shrugged off Ronan's hand, because that abrupt defensiveness was back without warning. He could feel the unpleasantness radiating off of him, something he had tried hard not to get the better of him. Adam gave Ronan an equally scathing look back.
"It's not like that," Adam replied. He quickly tucked his hands under the table. "And we're not talking about me." He didn't particularly like having to explain himself, especially when his reasons for reaching out had been a somewhat hedonistic endeavor. Adam had tried to deny that magic inside him for so long, out of lack of confidence and out of desire for normalcy, he could never decide. But if it meant some guidance in finding their way home, Adam would push past the initial discomfort.
It's not like he hadn't done it before. He attempted to downplay, though. "No one cares that I'm a psychic here.”
With just the three of them, a conversation could easily turn wind, leaving someone feeling as if they were being ganged up on. It had happened to all of them, when sides were taken, and Gansey was already wincing at the thought of agreeing with one over the other.
But at least they weren’t focusing on him. Which was a terribly selfish thought that had Gansey slumping in his chair just a little. He reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, pushing aside his glasses for the full effect. “No one that we know cares that you’re a psychic,” he finally quietly pointed out. But in an effort to keep things neutral he continued. “But having an in with the magic users could be useful to us. Especially with the ones that are more powerful.”
Ronan hadn’t intended to pick a fight but Adam’s reaction made him want to anyway. Because it stung. That probably didn’t say much about his maturity level but he was tired and worried too, goddamn it. “You can join whatever club you want, asshole. I’m just saying it’s not fucking keeping our cards close to our chests.”
He dropped the book to the table and rubbed both hands up over his shorn hair. Gansey’s attempt at diplomacy made him annoyed and affectionate all at once. “Allies are...fine, good, whatever. Just don’t fucking tell me to go slow and then race ahead without me.”
Adam was too tired to fight. He hated how reactionary he could get, how easily he fell into old habits of self-preservation because it had always, only been himself to look after. But that was a lie. It just took conscious effort, in the middle of the night, to remind himself that that wasn't the case. Two of the most important people were sitting right beside him.
"It's not a race," Adam said softly, his whole expression looking guilty and ashamed. He wanted to apologize, but he didn't know how. I'm sorry didn't feel like enough. "I'm not, we're not leaving you behind." Were they even talking about magic anymore or something else? It felt like a conversation they had before, and Adam reached for Ronan again, this time for his hand under the table.
"But having people who have been here longer and who are more magically inclined can only help our chances. They may know something we don't. We should explore every avenue with the other Outlanders while we're here. And I thought it's easier for me to explain—" Adam made a vague gesture because even saying it now was difficult. "Being psychic than what either of you two do."
He yawned, which was a reminder for why they were even out here in the first place. "When was the last time you slept, Gansey?"
Adam likely did all the reassuring Ronan probably needed, but Gansey still fell in that between state of not knowing exactly how things had shifted and changed since last year. He was still used to being the mediation between the two, when Ronan would get angry at the drop of a hat and Adam would huff something about it not being his problem, without the two ever talking it through.
He definitely preferred this shift, one where they would reach for each other under tables as if it wouldn’t be noticed. Even if it left him feeling as if he was a step outside the now-smaller circle. That, he could get over, when they both deserved it more than anyone he knew.
“I don’t even know what I do,” he pointed out lamely, and followed it with a dismissive shrug about his sleeping habits. Technically he knew what he did on paper, how the leyline heart worked, but that didn’t translate to just everyday use, either. “But I think both of you have the potential to be dangerous to others - so I think no matter who we tell or what we tell, we should be careful and keep aware of who’s knowing what.”
The frown between Ronan’s eyebrows eased and he reached easily to meet Adam’s hand under the table. He hated that guilty expression on Adam’s face, but it was better than his guarded one. As if they didn’t have enough to worry about, the feeling that something was very wrong with Adam at home welled up unhelpfully in Ronan’s chest. He stubbornly shoved it back down and focused his intense gaze on Gansey instead.
The both of you have the potential to be dangerous to others. It wasn’t judgment, but it still made him look away.
“I don’t love the idea of anybody we don't trust knowing anything about either of you but I know that’s not fucking fair. And if we’re keeping a running list, I told that doctor guy I could get medical materials or equipment anyway. I didn’t say how, but still.” He shrugged and absentmindedly traced his fingers across Adam’s palm, laid out on his thigh.
Adam was not thrilled about the way this conversation had decided to go: Gansey was avoiding the real question of sleep, and Ronan was obviously going for the record of most bombs dropped in a single discussion. His mouth pressed into a thin line, Adam’s hand tightening around Ronan’s fingers. He was worried, but it also wasn't his place to tell Ronan what he could or could not do. It wasn't his place to tell Gansey that he was wrong about either of them being dangerous. Adam knew his internal bias was showing if he denied it.
"We weren't keeping a list, but I guess we have to now," Adam said. It was his own concession. He wasn't about to ask for permission on who to talk to, and he would never ask the same of either of them, but it felt important not to be blindsided later on. A list, physically or cataloged mentally between the three of them, was the best they were going to do until they made it home.
"Maybe we can tackle Eddie's list of potential threats tomorrow, and determine their viability, after we've all had some sleep." Adam said this to Gansey, pointedly.
He raised an eyebrow just as Adam’s pointed order smacked him in the face, but he couldn’t deny his friend was right. He was tired, both his body was weary and his brain was starting to shut down. But he knew that didn’t mean anything, the moment his head hit the pillow, Gansey knew there was a 50/50 chance he’d be as alert as ever.
But he wouldn’t know until he either tried or fell asleep at the table right here, and his two friends were determined to not let the latter happen. He got up before he could argue his staying power, and pushed in the kitchen chair like a neat old man. “Alright, I’m going. We can go over Eddie’s information in the morning.” He snagged his book back from where Ronan abandoned it, and started for his room, tossing one last tidbit over his shoulder. “Don’t do anything untoward on the table. We have to eat there.”
Ronan squinted at Gansey’s departing back but a ghost of a smirk ruined the look entirely. So much out of his control and no way to fix it fast made him want to fist fight God, but at least he could always count on Gansey being Gansey. “Don’t fall asleep in your glasses, grandpa,” he called after him.
Pushing up to his feet, he tugged on Adam’s hand to get him standing. “Come on.” He lifted their clasped hands to his mouth and kissed Adam’s knuckles. “You’re tense. I’ll give you an untoward back rub.”
Adam let out a sleepy sigh, shaking his head at Gansey's warning and Ronan's predictable counter to it. But he was easily coaxed out of his seat, lured by the promise of a backrub. As he continued tugging Ronan to their room, Adam shut off the last light on their way inside, returning the kiss to the back of Ronan's hand.