Richard Campbell Gansey III (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
quaerit) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
hadriel_logs2016-04-19 02:08 am
quaerit) wrote in hadriel_logs2016-04-19 02:08 am
Entry tags:
The Killing Game
Who: The Raven crew: Gansey, Blue, Adam, Ronan and Noah
What: Blue targets Gansey during the Assassin event
Where: The Raven House.
When: During Rage's Assassin event
Warnings: Attempted murder, the full list of swear words known by Ronan Lynch, teenage angst.
[ As far as Gansey knows, it's an ordinary morning in their house. He's yet to venture outside, and hasn't seen any of his friends emerge from their rooms. Given that his own is the living room these days, and also given that he struggles to sleep most nights, he typically finds himself wandering around alone in the mornings. This isn't a place with a great prevalence of cereal boxes, and his beloved car is still at home, so his usual methods of distracting a wakeful mind are unavailable.
That's why, on this particular morning, his friends will arrive to discover Gansey has built some approximation of the Eiffel Tower out of a range of the house's cutlery. There may have been one or two minor crashes, when his efforts collapsed on him, but really, that should just make everyone glad that he didn't decide to use the plates. This is a lot harder than it looks. He's in the kitchen, minding his own business, and setting this monstrosity up on one of the counters. There's also some indeterminate can of something being warmed in the microwave; let no one say he never attempts to cook for his friends.
Oblivious to what's started to happen around the city, Gansey goes innocently about his model building, and waits for the first of them to wake up. ]
What: Blue targets Gansey during the Assassin event
Where: The Raven House.
When: During Rage's Assassin event
Warnings: Attempted murder, the full list of swear words known by Ronan Lynch, teenage angst.
[ As far as Gansey knows, it's an ordinary morning in their house. He's yet to venture outside, and hasn't seen any of his friends emerge from their rooms. Given that his own is the living room these days, and also given that he struggles to sleep most nights, he typically finds himself wandering around alone in the mornings. This isn't a place with a great prevalence of cereal boxes, and his beloved car is still at home, so his usual methods of distracting a wakeful mind are unavailable.
That's why, on this particular morning, his friends will arrive to discover Gansey has built some approximation of the Eiffel Tower out of a range of the house's cutlery. There may have been one or two minor crashes, when his efforts collapsed on him, but really, that should just make everyone glad that he didn't decide to use the plates. This is a lot harder than it looks. He's in the kitchen, minding his own business, and setting this monstrosity up on one of the counters. There's also some indeterminate can of something being warmed in the microwave; let no one say he never attempts to cook for his friends.
Oblivious to what's started to happen around the city, Gansey goes innocently about his model building, and waits for the first of them to wake up. ]
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But he didn't come here for that, and he can't let it distract him, because it's selfish and pretty stupid. Ronan pulls the bandage off, and Adam looks down as well, checking the progress of the wound. It's stitched up, a better job than Adam could have done, and healing pretty well, though it's only been a few days. It might scar, but it shouldn't be too bad, and so long as he keeps it clean it won't get infected.
And that shouldn't be hard. Adam hasn't left the house since it happened. He knows he's no match against someone with a rifle with knows how to use it and wants him dead. He's safer here, hidden away, even if makes him feel a little bit like a caged animal.
He blinks at Ronan for a moment when Ronan asks his question, and then can't quite keep a tiny smile from his face. Maybe Ronan is more distracted than he seemed. Adam shouldn't be pleased by that, but he is, and he really doesn't have it in him to give Ronan a hard time about it. He'll just hold on to that tiny kernel of knowledge that he can distract Ronan Lynch, and let himself enjoy it.]
Yeah, if you don't mind.
[He finds the tube of antibiotic ointment in the pile of things he brought, holds it out.]
Just a little would be okay.
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Shit.
[The bottle is capped again and Ronan wipes his fingers carelessly on the bedspread, a little frustrated with himself.]
I should wash my hands first. [That's what Adam has done when he's tended to Ronan's injuries, and Ronan skulks around the clinic enough to know that Bruce does it on the regular, before handling anyone. He hasn't touched the actual stitching yet, just the exterior of the bandage and a little bit of the skin around Adam's shoulder, so hopefully he hasn't potentially gotten anything bad on it?
Ronan shifts like he's going to move and then thinks better of it, leaning in for a quick kiss to Adam's forehead, before pulling back for good this time.]
I'll be right back. Hang on.
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Yeah, good idea.
[He should have mentioned it, probably, except that Adam isn't so concerned about himself. He'd have washed his hands if he were rebandaging Ronan, and has done it, but - he doesn't know. It doesn't seem as important when it's him. Or maybe it's just that he was distracted by Ronan. Maybe he should have asked Gansey for help instead. But he can't regret asking Ronan, because even if it's awkward - well, isn't this something they should get used to?
He sits on Ronan's bed, amusing himself by looking around and picking out the little things that are new since he was last in there. Ronan is an endless source of impossible dream-things, and though Adam isn't normally the fanciful type, he doesn't think anyone could see the sorts of things Ronan makes and not be interested in them.
There are little piles of found objects here and there, thanks to Chainsaw, and Adam recognizes a button from one of his shirts and a few shards of a bowl that got broken. As messy as Ronan's room is, Adam likes it. It feels like him.]
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When he's back in his own room, Ronan nods at Adam, far more ready for this now that he's had a moment or two to compose himself and make sure he's attacking this from the right angle. Ronan eases back into where he was sitting earlier on his bed across from Adam and takes up the jar again, gets a little on his fingers again, and leans in to look at the puckered stitch line before his eyes flick to Adam's own, quiet and sure.]
It might sting.
[He doesn't know if it will or not, but Ronan moves forward anyway, easing the ointment over Adam's injury. Just a light coating, just enough to be effective, and he pulls away, his brows knit in concentration.
(Adam's shoulders are just like he remembers, spattered with a dusting of freckles, prominent collarbones, scars that he aches to put his mouth on, to kiss away the memories attached to them, a thin frame like he imagined, fragile and tan, like the backroads in the middle of fall-)]
-how. [His chin tilts up suddenly,] do you want me to do the bandage? Just, the padding and tape around it?
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It doesn't sting, but the cool ointment feels nice against Adam's skin. Ronan's doing just fine, and Adam doesn't see any need to correct him. He reaches out with his good arm and tugs the gauze out of the little pile of stuff he brought.
It's evident that Ronan wasn't actually listening at all when Adam was talking earlier. Adam should be irritated, maybe, but instead he finds it - well, flattering, actually. Ronan was distracted because of him, and Adam is rather happy to be considered a distraction.]
Yeah. Put this over it and tape it down. It doesn't need to be that secure, since I'm not gonna be doing much with that arm.
[Just chores around the house, really. Adam hasn't left it since he got home after getting shot. It's safer here, and he knows that Ronan is more comfortable with them all in one place. Adam has no intention of making him protect all of them - if it came down to that, Adam would be facing whatever danger approached regardless of what Ronan wants - but there's no reason to make him worry unnecessarily, either.]
Hey. Um, thanks for doing this.
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The hand that's not halfway obscured by a plaster cast reaches out for the tape, tugging at a section before raising it up to his teeth to bite off the edge of it. One section of the tape is enough to secure the gauze to Adam's skin, so Ronan can pull his arm back and use that to help him further get at the tape.
The thanks surprises him, and he shifts his focus back upward, toward Adam's face for a quiet moment, as if he's not quite sure how to respond to it. He's done this before- helping Adam with injuries, but those were less severe than this. Adam has helped him with things like this before, stitching up where bullets had grazed him, bandaging up stab wounds, helping him to the clinic with broken bones- and so Ronan had just assumed that it was something they did for one another, something that didn't have to be officially recognized.
But how many people had done this for Adam? How many people had helped him with his injuries, kept him safe, made sure that he was alright? He's struck with the image of Adam in his old, cramped bedroom, twisting over himself to try and apply first aid to all of his own cuts and bruises and it makes his mouth go tight. That doesn't have to happen anymore. He'll make sure it doesn't, and he bites off another piece of tape to secure the gauze with, leaning back in to apply it.]
'course.
[A third piece of tape, and then it seems to be holding alright, but Ronan looks over it skeptically and starts on a fourth, just in case, smoothing his palm over the hollow of Adam's shoulder maybe a little more than necessary. It looks sort of rushed and not exactly expertly applied- instead of neatly encasing the gauze, the tape is applied in straight lines across it, like a strange asterisk symbol, but Ronan thinks it'll do the job. He hopes that Adam won't mind it too much, anyway.]
I'm here for you.
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They've helped each other out before, but Adam gets injured less than Ronan, so he's needed the help less often. All that means is that he's still not used to it, that it still means a lot to him. That it's not something he can simply brush off, it's not something that's casual to him. He doesn't want to make a big deal of it, but he needed to express some kind of gratitude.]
Yeah.
[He smiles at Ronan, just a little, and raises his good arm to touch the bandage, testing the tape. It's secure, it's good.]
Not too bad. Maybe you should come help out at the clinic sometimes, too. Exercise that great bedside manner.
[The mental image is pretty great, and it makes Adam's lips quirk into a smile that's wider, more genuine. Amused.
But on the other hand, the idea of Ronan being so gentle with someone else doesn't quite sit right with Adam. He knows it's a selfish thought, that Ronan does not belong to him and he doesn't have a right to be possessive, but it's not something he can entirely shake, either. Luckily, he thinks, Ronan is at least as bad when it comes to that sort of thing. Not that that makes it right, but it makes it equal.]
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Still, Adam is sweet and Ronan is happy to help him however he can, even if the fact that he's injured at all is enough to make Ronan's blood boil. He's careful here to make sure that Adam is comfortable, that he doesn't seem to be in too much pain, and his gaze flits up to Adam's eyes for a moment, quiet and unsmiling, just to be sure- before he finally pulls away with a small nod.]
I do enough for the clinic as it is.
[Bluntly. But his crude manner doesn't stop him from looking Adam over again, hungry in that direct way again, despite Adam's injury, despite Ronan's sullen mood on the whole matter. He can look now and so he does, blatantly, before tilting his chin up and meeting Adam's eyes again.]
You should walk around like that more often.
[He delivers it absolutely deadpan, before he leans over to snag at the dirty bandage and stands to toss it away in the rarely-used garbage bin in the corner of his room.]
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I'd get cold.
[Adam has never had a particularly high opinion of his own attractiveness. His face - that's all right, sometimes, if you look at it from the right angle. He's not classically handsome like Gansey or savage and dangerous like Ronan. He's thin, all his muscles tending toward leanness instead of bulk, and at home he could scrub all he wanted and still he'd find motor oil under his fingernails, dirt on his shoes.
For whatever reason, Ronan either likes that or at least doesn't mind it. Adam doesn't quite know how to feel about that, except lucky and flattered. Ronan could want anybody - and there had been plenty of attractive guys at Aglionby, and plenty since they'd been taken, too - and for some reason he wants Adam.
It's a fragile moment, and Adam knows he can't let it go too far. Not when they're both injured, as much as he likes the way Ronan looks at him.]
I thought you'd be going stir-crazy, cooped up in here.
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[It's an instinctive answer, but he regrets it a moment later when he realizes that he's possibly being too forward. Adam has never really seemed uncomfortable with Ronan's attraction to him, but now- when he's recovering from a bullet wound, hurting and sore and likely tired from all of the heightened emotion that's been swarming through the house recently- might not be the best time to blatantly hit on him.
Ronan presses his lips together then, frustrated with himself for wanting, frustrated at the situation for putting Adam shirtless in his bed for the first time and making it about something as stupid as an injury that needs tending to. He makes his way back to the bed and heaves himself on it with a dramatic sigh, sliding up to lay between Adam an the wall, his shoulder close to where Adam is sitting. Ronan settles on his stomach with his elbows propping himself up, a position that closes him off a little- but only because flipping on his back might seem too inviting for the situation- while at the same time letting him maintain a little bit of nonchalance about their conversation.
Also, it ensures that he's not stuck there, looking at Adam's bare chest with nothing he can do about it.]
Who says I'm not? [He sighs, reaching out for the softball he'd been messing with earlier. Ronan turns it idly in his hands, his thumbs tracing over the strange, spiraling pattern of the stitching.]
If not for Sargent going psycho and giving us a little fucking excitement, I'd have jumped off the balcony by now.
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It makes Adam happy. It means something. He wants to encourage it, but he knows now is a bad time. Still, he waits for Ronan to settle next to him and then reaches out, touching his back, letting his hand slide up a little to rest on the back of his neck. Not holding, just touching. A gentle, careful form of affection.]
Please don't. You don't need a broken leg too.
[Adam thinks about Blue and Gansey and that whole mess, and he bites his lip.]
She's gonna be upset when this is all over. And Gansey -
[He's upset now, and there really isn't anything either of them can do about it.]
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Just like before, it's difficult to focus on much, when Adam is close enough to smell the pine and wet grass on him, when Adam's warm fingers are resting on his neck, but Ronan nods anyway, quiet for a beat longer than is strictly necessary for their conversation.]
Gansey knows it's bullshit. [He says this with a confidence that he doesn't exactly feel. He remembers the look on Gansey's face when he pulled Blue off of him, and even before, how he'd reacted when they'd fought over the mirrors.
He frowns, turning back to stare at the headboard.]
Following him was our choice. If not for him, then we'd-
[There's a pause, and Ronan frowns as he tries to figure out how to say it without giving too much away. Adam knows, of course, what the sentiment is already, but saying it out loud gives it a certain life that Ronan isn't quite ready to let go of yet. So he diverts, moving onto something else.]
...anyway, people would have died anyway. It wasn't Gansey, it was Sargent's bitch of an aunt, the crap she had around the house. He knows that.
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The truth is, some part of Adam believes that Persephone's death was his fault. Logically he knows that's not true, logically he knows she made her own choices. But if he'd just been able to find her, catch her, pull her back -
No one would have had to die, if he'd been better.
Well. Not no one. Whelk's death is still on his shoulders, and Kavinsky died as well, for all that Adam doesn't feel anything about that. He chose his path. Whelk did too, but not with such gleeful disdain for life.
None of those deaths can be placed at Gansey's feet, though. Gansey would never hurt a fly.]
He knows that, but he might need to be reminded. He takes responsibility for things that he shouldn't, sometimes. We'll just... we should just keep an eye on him, until this is over.
[His fingers trace a sharp barb of black, a claw or a thorn or a branch.]
It's selfish, but some part of me is just glad it wasn't you and me.
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We always do.
[They don't, is the thing. Ronan likes to think that they do, and it's not technically a lie, but he knows- and he's fairly certain Adam knows- that Gansey does more to keep an eye on them then they do on him. It's just how their relationship has always worked, particularly with Ronan, but he can try. Especially considering some of the things that Blue has said- he has to try.
He pulls back a little when Adam admits his so-called selfish thought- but it isn't for long, just enough for Ronan to pull his tanktop over his head and shove it between the bed and the wall. It leaves his back and more of his tattoo exposed, and Ronan settles back down against the bed, where he was before. It's a not-so-subtle request to have Adam continue to touch him just as much as it is an allowance on Ronan's part for Adam to explore this part of him.
It's nice, that they can do this. It's nice, that they can talk about something else while close like this, though the jury is still out a little on the subject matter.]
Shit, I'm glad it's not us.
[He admits it casually, like it's not a selfish thought at all.]
I can't imagine- if I went at you- [There's a pause, and Ronan's forehead creases, as if he's trying to work it out in his head, before ultimately he just sighs, rubbing at his eyes and reaching again for the softball.]
Let's talk about something else.
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For a moment, he pauses, distracted by the easy way Ronan removes his shirt. Adam hasn't put his own back on mainly because it's really a hassle, with only one shoulder he can move without pain, but he would be lying if he didn't admit that there is a tiny part of him that likes the way Ronan looks at him when he's like this. Adam is not used to being looked at like something attractive, and he has enough carefully hidden vanity to like it, rare and impossible as it is. But he wasn't quite expecting Ronan to join him.
Not that he's complaining. He's wanted to look at Ronan's tattoo for awhile now, and now he can. He rests his hand gently on Ronan's back, between his shoulderblades, and drags his mind back to their conversation.
It's so easy for Ronan to say things that Adam thinks of as selfish, as something he shouldn't admit. It almost makes him that it might be okay, sometimes, to think those things.]
You wouldn't.
[His voice is soft. It was never Ronan attacking him that he thought of. Ronan wouldn't hurt him. But Adam - he knows he's capable of awful things. He's always been afraid of hurting Ronan. He traces the line of something that looks like a vine, twined all through a knot beside Ronan's left shoulderblade.]
What do you want to talk about?
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He lets him touch, though. Something about this feels personal, a transference of something vulnerable and intimate, but Ronan breathes through it and lets it happen however it needs to, refocuses on the current conversation.
There are a few long beats of silence. Ronan isn't quite sure what he'd want to change the subject to, but after awhile, he starts to speak, his voice low.]
I had a dream, the other night.
[It's a little softer. He still doesn't look up toward Adam, but he's not quite as closed off as he could be. He recounts the dream in quiet tones, not entirely detached and impersonal, but gentle, maybe a little disturbed. He wouldn't say it like this to anyone else.]
We were all at a pawn shop- watches and rings and old cameras and shit. We found a shelf with fuckton of snowglobes. Inside of them, there was every place we ever knew. [It's a little lighter there, a slightly happier memory, but Ronan doesn't look up because he has to continue.]
Aglionby, St. Agnes- even Harborview, but that one was broken. The trailer park was broken too.
[They'd be idiots if they didn't recognize the significance of that, but it's not a thing for saying out loud and so he doesn't- just continues speaking, soft, echoing out the rest of the dream. Ronan wets his lips, his fingers tightening against his sheet, the muscles in his back going just a little tense.]
I tried to take the Barns, but it broke when I woke up. Cut myself pretty good, got glitter water all over my sheets.
[He scoffs.]
Fuckin' lame.
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He's seen bits and pieces of Ronan's tattoo before, glimpses here and there, but he's never gotten the chance to simply look at it like this. It's an elaborate and complicated thing, drawing the eye, and he feels like he could look at it for hours and still find new things here and there - a curled claw that looks like Chainsaw's, a flower cradled in the curve of a thorn, something that looks like a cross but might be a sword. His fingers brush over Ronan's skin, a soft touch, exploring but not imposing.]
Can't take something that's already yours, I guess.
[Adam knows that Ronan misses the Barns terribly. It's been months, nearly a year since he's seen it, and it's such a part of him - such a vital part - that it must hurt to be apart from it. Adam can't do anything to make that better. He can't do anything but hope they can find a way home eventually, and try to offer Ronan what little solace he can until then.]
You want me to interpret your dream?
[He presses his palm against Ronan's spine, gently, as gentle as his voice.]
It definitely means you shouldn't touch broken glass, dumbass.
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[Part of him wants to be annoyed that Adam is treating this so lightly, but the other part of him is pleased for it. Of course Adam knows how much he misses his home, of course Adam knows that he'd give anything to go back, and it's reflecting in his dreams. Ronan supposes that they can both be sad about it, or Adam can try to cheer him up and lighten the mood.
It wasn't exactly what he had in mind when he changed the subject, but it's something.
Besides, maybe it's not the best of things to discuss with Adam's hand pressed flat against him, and Ronan closes his eyes at the feel of it, tipping his head forward with a long exhale. He can feel the softness of Adam's fingertips now- and that has to be new- the warmth of his palm, the spread of his elegant fingers, flush against his back. Intentionally- or unintentionally, he doesn't know- the muscles in Ronan's back go tight, flexing under the touch, before he forces himself to relax again.
Breathe.]
I've had dreams like this too.
[Breathe.
Ronan opens his eyes and tries to refocus himself, but it's impossible, as if Adam's hands had pushed him off the edge of a cliff and he's just falling, unable to focus on anything but the rush of air past his ears and the low rumbling of truth, snatched from his throat.]
-minus the part where you have a fucking gunshot wound, obviously.
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Ronan might not want Adam touching him anymore. Or maybe it's a reaction to what he said - but that, Adam is less worried about. There's always been a lightness, a teasing to their interactions at times. Sometimes it goes too far and one of them gets stung, but Adam doesn't think this is one of those times.
Or maybe it's a response to his touch, but not a negative one. Or maybe it's just that his thoughts have lead him somewhere tense. Adam can guess, but he isn't sure. He doesn't remove his hand, though, because he doesn't want to. Ronan can tell him to back off if that's what he wants, and Adam will, but without certainty he won't move.]
Thanks for not dreaming me with a gunshot wound.
[His tone is dry, amused, but he's thinking about what Ronan said and it softens, changes into something else.]
I like that you dream of me at all, though. Like this.
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Adam has a gunshot wound, after all. They probably shouldn't get into anything too physical, no matter how the touch to his back makes him want to respond. Ronan's eyes are lowered toward the bedsheets for a few moments before he turns on his side, displacing Adam's hand and tucking an arm under his head so he can tilt upward more easily, look toward Adam with a darkly pleased expression.]
You think I wouldn't?
[There's another breath of a pause, before Ronan shoves himself back up to a sitting position, still resting mostly on his side with his legs outstretched and his arms in front of him, braced with his palm against the sheets. It's a position that lets him lean in a little closer, his chin brushing against Adam's shoulder.]
I can tell you about it.
[Cheeky, maybe teasing him a little. Despite the fact that they probably shouldn't, it's damn near impossible to resist messing with him, now that they can. Adam is still injured, Ronan still has a cast. Nothing will happen, but- there's still a little thrill to be had in making him flush, isn't there?]
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But it still thrills him that Ronan is comfortable flirting now, is comfortable letting things go in directions he would have gotten spiky and angry at before. Adam was never playing, but he can understand why Ronan didn't like it. Now, though, things are different.
And he's curious.]
Okay. Tell me.
[His gaze is challenging, then, if not a little amused. And - not hestitant, exactly. Shy, maybe, just a tiny bit. This is all new ground for Adam, for both of them. He's made up his mind and committed himself to his path, he knows what he wants, but that doesn't mean that walking this uncharted path is always easy.
He leans in just a little closer, inches away from Ronan. Adam could kiss him right now. He doesn't, but he thinks about it.]
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So, he eases back a little instead, shrugging callously.]
I don't know- I don't think I should spoil the surprise.
[Which is already a little silly, since he was the one to challenge in the first place, but Ronan manages to back down, allows Adam a little victory- even if it's just in teasing and giving into stupid flirtations. Congratulations on calling his bluff, at least.
Ronan is too far away now, Adam has lost his chance for a kiss, but at least they were close for awhile.]
Patience, Parrish. Think of our chastity.
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He knows they couldn't have done anything anyway, and they were wandering a little too close to areas they shouldn't. Not right now, at least. But even so, Adam would have liked to hear Ronan's answer. He'd have liked to have him stay close, too, and more.
But it's all right. It's for the best, and really Adam should head back to his room anyway. Let Ronan have his space, make sure they're both focused on the important things - keeping Gansey safe while this craziness is happening, for example.]
Right, of course. You're a good Catholic boy, and here I am leading you down a path of sin.
[He smiles, picking up his shirt.]
Hey - thanks. For helping with this.
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They can't have everything, though, even if sometimes Ronan thinks that they already do. So he sighs, heaving himself up like it's an imposition- though of course, it's not, and reaching for Adam's shirt instead, snatching it away from him.]
Let me.
[Ronan fluffs it out then, giving the garment a quick once-over, before frowning, pointing at a near-invisible stain on the shoulder of it.]
Jesus, Parrish, you bled all over it. [That absolutely won't do, and with an exaggerated eyeroll, Ronan balls up the shirt, tossing it in the corner of his room, where it hangs over a half-assembled wicker basket.]
Borrow one of mine instead.
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Besides, he sort of likes the idea of wearing one of Ronan's shirts. They aren't really Adam's style, mostly because Adam doesn't have a style to speak of unless you count wearing mainly things from the thrift store because he couldn't afford better. Here, he just wears whatever fits and doesn't look too weird.]
All right. Sure.
[He was just going to take his shirt into his room, though - it's too awkward to get dressed in front of someone else, not when he can't lift his arm much. He still doesn't really want Ronan to see that, though he's aware Ronan would probably just think it was funny. Maybe that's why he doesn't want Ronan to see it.]
Go get me one, but you'll have to help me get it on.
[That might be asking too much - pushing too far. But if so, Adam will back down. He doesn't want to make things weird. He does want Ronan's shirt, though.]
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