Ronan never expected to willingly run a farmer’s market from the Barns. Not in this lifetime. He’d sold some stuff before, to a local deli and a restaurant, but mostly he just gave excess to the church at home. He shouldn’t be letting strangers onto his land. But they were in an alternate reality and it seemed stupid to stress about people wandering around his farm when there were actual fucking dragons and travel crystals and a hundred other things in the forest that belonged in his dreams. All of his more brain-breaking dream objects were locked away, at least, and nobody could tell a dreamed cow from a real one anyway. There was the chance one of the more exotic dream creatures would wander in close to the few stalls they’d set up, but it was unlikely.
Which meant Ronan had to do the thing – the social thing – and actually like sell shit. The cheese blocks were all in small manageable amounts, wrapped quaintly in colorful paper. Gansey had insisted on labels and displays. Ronan would’ve just stuck wheels of cheese on wooden boards and carved off pieces for people.
But he had to admit, it looked nice. He’d added in some dreamt flowers in a rainbow of shades and shapes, and there were glass jars of raw milk and colorfully labelled egg cartons inside two refrigerators with glass doors. It looked like a charming Instagram picture, especially with cows and goats in the background and a blue sky overhead.
Ronan stood inside one of the stalls with his arms crossed over his chest and a frown pinched between his eyebrows. He’d rather be wherever Noah was currently, shockingly alive. But signs and flyers had already gone out. So he stood, and he frowned, and he looked about as welcoming as a grizzly bear.
A lady with a snooty face said, “Do you have sheep’s cheese?”
“Do you see any sheep?” Ronan answered.
The lady opened her mouth to likely say something rude in return, just as Gansey stepped up with a grin on his face. Ever the charming and charismatic one, he put on his Richard Campbell Gansey III face that his friends hated, but usually had to admit was effective. It was the face that got Gansey through the door - half just cause he was white, and he knew that and usually hated the privilege it afforded.
But in this case, and others before, it served a purpose that helped people. So he did it. He sucked it up and played the part well, his last customer walking off with a grin on their face and a bag full of goods freshly purchased.
Gansey wanted nothing more than to tell the lady with the smug face to jog off, but that wasn’t his way.
Instead, he stepped in front of Ronan carefully and presented other options. “I’m afraid we haven’t branched out to sheep yet - if our first few markets are a success, it could be an option in the future. With his Gansey-boy grin, he held up a simple napkin with a piece of freshly sliced cheese on it. “If I could convince you of our quality, the goat’s cheese is some of the best I’ve ever tasted. Sample?”
She stuck her nose up in the air, but regarded Gansey with a contemplative face, before taking the cheese and walking off to the next stall.
Gansey leaned back, settled a hand on Ronan’s shoulder and dropped his voice to a low tone. “You hate this, don’t you?”
Watching Gansey turn on the charm was usually confusing for Ronan’s brain. It was Gansey and it wasn’t. It annoyed Ronan and it didn’t. It was part of who Gansey was. Ronan just didn’t think it made him very happy and anything that made Gansey unhappy was on Ronan’s shit list.
He squinted at the departing crone and then glanced sideways at Gansey. “I don’t hate it. I’m just shit at it.”
Working with Gansey was nice, if he was honest. This whole thing was weird and stressful but he’d missed his best friend, so at least he had that. He blew out one of his smoker’s breaths and patted the back of his hand against Gansey’s ribs. “Everything looks sharp, old man. Don’t feel bad if we don’t sell much.”
“That’s why you have us. Just be honest - you’re good at that, but not too blunt. Sometimes you have to fake it just a little.” Gansey squeezed Ronan’s shoulder before dropping his hand away to sort the table and tidy it up a little as they spoke. It was mostly quiet, but a steady stream of people had at least come to check out the market, so he had no real complaints on that end.
He was proud of the work they’d all done, which was a nice feeling - Gansey always liked being accomplished at something. He flushed a little at the compliment, something that was rare from Ronan. “You oddly have Blue to thank for some of it, I mentally copied a few designs from markets she’d taken me to.” He leaned in a little and dropped his voice down to a whisper. “Please don’t tell on me.”
Ronan rolled his eyes at Gansey’s advice and leaned a hip against the table. There were people milling by the goats but for the moment, he could stop worrying about what he needed to say and just give Gansey some affectionate grief.
“I don’t have a different honesty setting, and you fucking know it.” He said it with a smirk. Reaching over to claim a sample of the goat’s cheese, he popped it into his mouth and talked around it. “I’ll make you a deal. I won’t tell the maggot you stole some poor hippie’s hard work if you don’t tell her I did this at all. It feels fucking weird, having people here.”
If he hadn’t known it was pointless to censure Ronan on both eating the samples and on calling Jane maggot, so he let that one stand, for now. He still wanted to, simply because she wasn’t here to snip right back like normal. He wasn’t half as good at it as they were, though.
However, there was no way he could hide the fact that the little mention made him just an edge more sad. It was his own fault for bringing her up in the first place, but it was impossible to put Blue to the back of his mind most days, so he did what he usually did and faked it. All it took was a casual laugh and a glance over his shoulder to be reminded that he was very glad he had what was already here. “What are you going to do if she shows up, then?” Gansey reached out to swat at him lightly, “And stop eating the merchandise before Adam glares at both of us.” Though, he may have gotten a break on that, given their attention to Noah having to take over this morning. It was Adam’s turn in that regard.
“It’s my merchandise,” Ronan grumbled childishly under his breath. He wasn’t so dense that he didn’t know talking about Blue came with could carry a raincloud with it. All he had to think about was how terrible he’d feel if Adam wasn’t here. Pushing away from the table, he hooked an arm around Gansey’s shoulders.
“If Sargent shows, I’m sure you’ll keep her distracted while I kick some people off my property.” Speaking off, a kid was poking his fingers at the next table full of cheese. “Hey. you got any money, twerp?”
The boy froze and then nodded quickly, pulling out a crumpled pair of bills.
“Alright, let’s see.” Ronan let go of a Gansey and seemed to look over the table carefully, then he handed a block of cheddar over with a squint. It was worth more than the kid was offering, but he really didn’t care.
Gansey wouldn’t have stopped the exchange for the world. Seeing Ronan actually be soft with people was one of his favorite things, and thankfully happened more often than most people would expect. He gave them a few minutes until Gansey finally reached over and offered his hand out to the boy, giving over a sample of the goat cheese for him to eat, and a little pamphlet with a list of things they sold and ingredients. Just in case.
“Thanks misters!” The boy beamed at them in return, clearly thrilled as he traded the cheese for his crumpled bills, which Gansey took and immediately started straightening and smoothing out like an old man.
He really didn’t need to say much. Just gave Ronan a knowing look, more appreciation for the soft side, and smiled to himself as he pulled up their inventory so he could make the appropriate marks on it. “I don’t think you’ll need to kick anyone off, Lynch. You may be good at this after all.”
Ronan saw it coming, of course. That look. He knew even as he started talking to the kid he was going to give Gansey an opening for this stupid conversation, so he really had no one to blame but himself. He sighed, loudly, and gave Gansey a playful little shove.
“Shut the fuck up. You know that’s not the same.” Animals and kids seemed to have a special pass with Ronan. Whether because of his own childhood, Adam’s, or some combination of all their trauma, he tried to be just a little less of an asshole with kids. And animals just didn’t deserve human beings at all. Didn’t stop him from scowling about being under scrutiny. “You think I should bring in sheep? Don’t wanna get too comfortable here, but who fucking knows when we’ll figure out a way home.”
Gansey made a little eh face that showed he knew but also didn’t quite believe his best friend. Ronan Lynch could do anything he put his mind to, Gansey had known that from the day they met and it was only solidified through years of friendship. So if he wanted to make this market work, he could, and he’d do well. Even if he didn’t have Adam and Gansey backing him up.
“Sheep?” Oh, right, the crone that had bugged them. Gansey shrugged a little and glanced around at the Barns, as if surveying an English countryside. “Maybe a pair? It couldn’t hurt.” Suddenly feeling a little impish, Gansey bumped shoulders with Ronan and raised an eyebrow. “I’ve never asked - do you ever feel like you’re playing God sometimes, with all of this? It’s not something you can confess to on Sundays.”
“I’m not playing God.” Ronan’s reply came out sharp and fast, a knee-jerk reaction to a question that made the ghost of old self-hatred snap its jaws. “I…” He grimaced and rubbed at his face. Thankfully, any customers weren’t wandering close right now. If they had, they might have been startled by the tension in Ronan’s shoulders and how he rested his hands on the table and let his head hang.
“I used to spend Sundays wondering what kind of abomination I was in the eyes of God.” He straightened up, tried to clear some of the scowl from his face with a shrug. Gansey didn’t deserve his Catholic guilt. “Now it’s like--if you handed an artist a palette of paints and they made something with it - would you say they created colors themselves?”
Gansey, curious as ever, hadn’t meant to set off Ronan in a fit of guilt and anger. He immediately reached out and put a hand on Ronan’s shoulder, hoping for a soothing touch rather than anything that was going to make him more upset. Gansey had a less complicated relationship with God - being mostly agnostic kept things fairly simple - but he’d never judged Ronan for his own thoughts and beliefs. He still didn’t, but it also left him more than a little clueless on a few topics.
And clueless Gansey asked a lot of questions, more than half of them he usually regretted.
“You are not an abomination.” It probably didn’t need to be said, but Gansey couldn’t let that thought stand anywhere near the same area as them. He understood the artist comparison, and nodded, but also tried for a reassuring smile. “You are remarkable, both as a person and as an artist.”
Ronan snorted and patted Gansey’s hand on his shoulder. “Thanks, old man.” He didn’t usually like to get into this subject. It was hard not to drag his loved ones down when he did. And he was all too aware that his religious beliefs baffled most of the people in his life. Some days they even baffled him. But they gave him comfort too.
“It’s easier now. Remembering I was never the only one. And just being able to...hold the fucking brush or whatever, doesn’t make us good or bad or any kind of God. It just matters what we do with it.” He scowled and blew out a breath to ease the tension out of his shoulders. After a beat, he sent a soft sideways glance Gansey’s way. “You gonna help me name the sheep?”
Gansey nodded in understanding, taking Ronan at his word. He knew better than most exactly what Ronan was doing with his ability - and Gansey was just chaotic enough to appreciate it even when he used it for slightly-less good. But Ronan usually only wanted to hurt himself, not others. Gansey cared more about the former, his strong desire to protect Ronan from himself always edged out as a lead.
“Well,” His eyes swept over the tables, the merchandise, what they’d built in a short period of time due to Ronan being remarkable. “I think you’ve done pretty well on that end-- Really?” Being asked to name sheep caught up with him, and he gave Ronan a look that was slightly disbelieving. As if it was a trap.
But then his face changed a little and he broke into a grin. “Lord Baaaaartholomew.” He made sure to sound out the baaaa part. “Inflambable.” He couldn’t resist one more pun, far nerdier than the other two. “Lambert II, Count of Louvain. Adam would appreciate that one.”
Ronan couldn’t smother the laugh that burst out of him, and wouldn’t have even if he could. Seeing Gansey grin was enough to make him grin stupidly back, if a little bit squinty-eyed about it. It was just a relief to side-step away from talk of dreaming and God.
“You’re the worst,” he said fondly. But his face did go through a complicated thought process that ended with him rolling his eyes and looking like he was gearing up to tease the shit out of Gansey. “I’m gonna regret asking this, but why Lambert the second? Was the first a douchebag or are you just predisposed to roman numerals at the end of a name?”
Getting Ronan (and Adam) to laugh was a favorite hobby of Gansey’s. Especially when that laugh was full bodied and genuine, and attributed to the smug expression that formed on Gansey’s face. He knew Ronan’s tone meant he was the opposite of the worst, at least, and Gansey got to gear himself up for a history lesson all at once. It was a good afternoon.
“I find the second to be more interesting. He was from one of the largest cities in Belgium, and even at one point told the Holy Roman Emperor to fight him.” His dorky grin grew. “His father was nicknamed “The Beard”, though, if you wanted to go with that instead.”
“Tempting,” Ronan deadpanned. Someone who pissed probably pissed off the church did appeal to him, in a backwards sort of way, though. And he was predictable enough to like the sound of Adam would appreciate that one. He hummed and then looked vaguely snooty.
“Inflambable is the only respectable fucking choice, obviously. Wonder if I can make its wool actually fireproof…” A family approached, while Ronan was stuck in his own dreamer thoughts. The toddler in her dad’s arms cheered cheese as loud as she could, so it brought Ronan blinking back to himself. He gave Gansey a quick glance and then squinted at the family before pointing at a large display wedge of Colby Jack.
“This one makes fu--fantastic grill cheese sandwiches.”
Fireproof sheep were apparently going to happen now, and Gansey couldn’t even be mad about it. It was probably a good business move, even. He’d still get a name choice or two, especially once he threw the Lambert one at Adam for his approval.
“Well done,” Gansey whispered before stepping forward, his grin turning into his more Customer Service appropriate one as he pointed it towards the family. They still hadn’t come up with an official name, so Gansey just went with it, fully aware that Ronan would make his grievances aired at a later date if he didn’t like it. “Welcome to Lynch Family Farmer’s Market - there’s plenty of cheese to sample along the tables and if you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to ask.”