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Chapter Text

It was a bright and clear morning when Ronan heard the news. A morning in June, to be specific. Not his favorite month, but he put up with it as it rolled around every year, even though it reminded him of long, boring days and hipster parents who weren’t inventive enough to name their kid anything but the month they were born in. Still, Adam was coming home in a couple of weeks and Opal liked the summer rain showers they kept having lately, so he could deal with it. Of all the things Ronan Lynch lived with, the stifling June sun was not the worst.

Of course, this didn’t mean he couldn’t be a dick about it. Of all the things Ronan Lynch lived through, there wasn’t a single one that he didn’t manage to be a dick about. Adam said it was part of his charming personality. Blue said it meant he needed to go to therapy. Ronan didn’t think too much about it.

All this aside, when Blue called him at 8pm his time and 1am hers, which was weird and clingy even for her, he answered as was to be expected.

“Maggot.”

He waited for the routine scoff or sigh of disappointment that unavoidably followed the nickname, but the phone stayed silent.

“Ronan.”

He hadn’t heard Blue sound so distraught in a long time. The way she said his name was a paradox: it sounded like a begrudging prayer, but there was a hint of mirth in her voice that spelled trouble.

He paused, allowing himself a moment of peace before it was inevitably shattered. The cows were grazing out the window. Opal was in the fields too, happily making a (piss poor) flower crown. Sun was streaming through dotted clouds in perfect ribbons of light. Adam was coming home soon.

“What?”

He heard Blue inhale sharply through the phone.

“Gansey’s done something stupid.”

“You called me at 3am just to tell me that? I appreciate it, but I think you should go back to sleep, dipshit,” Ronan replied.

“Oh no, Ronan. I don’t think you get it.” Blue sounded like she was holding back tears, but through the static of the phone it was impossible to tell if they were of laughter or deep, deep regret. Possibly both, Ronan supposed. “Do you remember Gansey’s friend Henry?”

“He’s quite unforgettable,” Ronan said drily.

“He is,” answered Blue fondly, “Anyway, since my environmental work brought me to the UK-“

“-and Gansey doesn’t have a real job-“

“Oh yes, that too. Well, Henry is also based nearby for now, and him and Gansey went out a few weeks ago, and they both drank far too much Chardonnay, and now here we are.”

“Which is where? I’d quite like it if we skipped to the part where Dick lll does something embarrassing, if that’s alright.”

“Alright, alright. Don’t pretend you don’t enjoy our little chats, dickhead.”

He said nothing, since lying was still a practice he didn’t believe in.

“I know full well you don’t speak to anyone but your half-feral child and cows, so unless their company is preferable to mine, your silence speaks volumes.”

“I, for one, do not consider myself to be superior to a cow.”

“Probably because you’re, like, half-cow.”

“You know full fucking well I’m not. You’re the one who’s half tree, so- Jesus, both of us need to sleep.”

“Amen, brother.”

The conversation lulled as they both presumably weighed up the benefits of simply hanging up the phone and nodding off.

“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain,” Ronan eventually muttered, hypocritical.

“Gansey’s joined Strictly,” Blue replied, in the same tone.

“Strictly?”

“Strictly Come Dancing,” Blue said, “It’s a British TV show.”

“And why,” Ronan said, starting to think he really was dreaming, “has he done that?”

He hasn’t missed the careful way she’d spoken the words, the guilt a faded undertone, but still there, like it was somehow her fault that Gansey was Gansey.

“Well, you know Gansey’s mom,” Blue began, “Probably better than me, because I couldn’t go to one of those Republican conventions if you payed me.”

“I’m familiar with our vice president, yeah.”

Ronan couldn’t say he disliked Mrs. Gansey- contrary to popular opinion, he had been raised with manners, he’d just lost most of them somewhere along the way. But a few remained, so it still felt wrong to dislike her, when he’d spent half his teenage years raiding her fridge. However, while she herself was fairly amicable, her political companions were, to put it lightly, bastards. He tried his best to avoid politics, but he’d heard Adam fantasising about the President falling from the steps of his private jet enough times to know what he needed to.

“She was at that… press conference, I think? That thing a few weeks back, where the President started talking about ‘real American values’ and how, shocker, he didn’t think gay people fit into them.”

Ronan kept all his shame safely locked up inside him for Sundays, thank you very much, so he didn’t let the words sting him as much as they would have once. Still, they left a bitter taste.

“Did you hear about it?” Blue was saying.

“I don’t watch the news.”

“Whatever. The point is, he was being a dickhead. And obviously, that’s to be expected, but… Gansey’s mom didn’t say anything. She just sat there, nodding a bit.”

Ronan decidedly didn’t care. After all, Mrs Gansey was just another politician who didn’t want to piss off the President or the public. But- she knew him. She knew Adam. After his father died, she’d half-raised Ronan, and he’d saved her son’s life and her son had saved him. And Ronan got, objectively, that in the great world of politics none of that mattered, but to him it still felt like it did.

“What does it matter?” he grunted eventually. “Politics is politics. And they’re all Republicans, anyway. I don’t know what you expected.”

“I didn’t expect anything,” replied Blue, “But sometimes it’s nice to hope.”

Ronan had left hope behind along time ago, somewhere between his father’s corpse on the drive and the emptiness he’d felt since Cabeswater’s sacrifice. Somehow, it felt like they’d lost something more that day, but Ronan could never figure out what. He knew he dreamed about it sometimes, and he swore that in dreams, he remembered. Without fail, though, he would wake up scrambling for answers with a blank mind. Which was weird, because Ronan never forgot his dreams and certainly remembered every nightmare, and this one always seemed like both.

“Adam called me later that day, to talk about it. He was doing that thing where he gets upset and tries to pretend he’s angry instead,” Blue continued, “And I guess it just made me angry. Fuck politics. Gansey’s mom should be brave enough not to go along with all that bullshit, cause god knows people like you and Adam shouldn’t have to deal with all that bullshit. I don’t understand how she can hug you like a son at every function and still fuck you over when it benefits her political career.”

“You really know how to make a guy feel better, Sargent.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Blue said quickly. “That was insensitive.”

“It’s fine, maggot,” Ronan said quietly, leaning back on his kitchen stool until he was in danger of tipping over. He rubbed a hand over his head, and dragged it over his face tiredly. “You still haven’t told me what any of this has to do with that fuckin’ dancing show, y’know.”

Blue sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

Ronan let the phone go silent for a while, static hissing by his ear.

“It’s my fault, really,” Blue began.

“I doubt that,” Ronan scoffed. “Dick has always done whatever he wants. He loves you, but he wouldn’t do something unless he wanted it, too.”

“Thanks, Ronan. You could be a psychic with all that wisdom.”

“Fuck you, Sargent. My wisdom is worth more than that weird shit, and you know it.”

“Fuck you too, Lynch,” Blue muttered, completely devoid of anger. “It’s pretty simple, really. I thought it was fucked up, what Gansey’s mom did. And it occurred to me that- that the problem was that she did nothing. She let it happen. But then I realised Gansey was just as guilty of that. And I told him, and he made all his excuses about his mom’s image, and how it wasn’t his business and that I knew he didn’t believe in that shit. I knew he thought I was being ridiculous, but that just made me more annoyed.”

Blue paused, breathing slowly, in and out, through the phone.

“I told him- I told him that he had a choice, to be a good son or a good brother. And I told him that you and Adam would forgive him, because you wouldn’t expect him to do anything about it either way. But the last thing I said was- ‘Will you be able to forgive yourself?’”

Ronan whistled. “Well, Sargent. I always knew you had it in you.” He was impressed, even if he thought she was overreacting. They’d always had opposite views on this kind of thing, though. All of them did. Gansey smiled and shook hands and made polite conversation with all the right people, then went home and lost himself in quests and unsolvable problems. Adam’s approach was simple- grin and bear it. Or maybe just bear it. Ronan broke things until he felt better, which was a stupid tactic that rarely worked, but it was sometimes enjoyable. But Blue- she was a fighter. Ronan didn’t get it at all, but she did get results occasionally, he supposed.

“All I meant was a donation to an LGBTQ+ charity, or an appearance, or a simple gesture of support,” Blue said, almost defensively. “But now he’s signed up to be a member of the same-sex couple on Strictly Come Dancing. How was I supposed to know he’d do that?”

“Hang on- he’s dancing with Cheng?”

“Oh, yes,” Blue said, “and, you know, that’s all fine, but every other celebrity who’s ever been part of the same-sex couple, has, I don’t know, actually been gay.”

“I’m 90% sure Cheng is gay,” Ronan said. “Can they not just say that?”

“Sure. I highly doubt it’ll do anything to prevent the absolute media storm that’s going to come out of this. God, am I going to become the other woman in this scenario?” Blue muttered, sounding like she could barely believe her own life.

“Gansey,” Ronan said, “has really, truly outdone himself this time.”

“So now you see why I had to call you,” Blue said. “Thoughts?”

Roban just snorted. “And prayers,” he replied, and hung up the phone.

Chapter Text

Ronan considered calling Adam after he hung up on Blue, but he’d already spent far longer than he was comfortable with on his mobile, and decided against it. Besides, Adam had- finals maybe? midterms?- and Ronan didn’t want to stress him out. He knew that while Adam would, like Ronan, be incredibly entertained, he’d also start to panic about all of the possible repercussions on all of their lives.

Realistically, this didn’t have to affect them at all, of course. Still, if the producers discovered (and from what Ronan knew about producers, they probably would) that Gansey’s two closest friends happened to be a gay couple, they’d have a field day. Ronan wasn’t particularly in the mood to have his life poked and prodded at, so he had no plans to play along with that. But it did seem like Blue might need some emotional support once the show began, and there was nothing stopping Ronan from flying out to the UK for a while.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. There was Opal, but honestly, she could probably do with some changes. Ronan had dreamt her a pair of soft, leathery boots to better hide her hooves and a pin that kept her little skullcap on, concealing her horns. It had been Adam’s idea, that maybe she would benefit from a more normal childhood (if Opal could be called a child). Ronan hadn’t been sure, but he couldn’t deny that Adam had a point- Opal had been born in a dreamworld, but she lived in the real one. It wouldn’t have been fair to her to keep letting her run wild and not adapt to her new reality. It would have definitely been easier, but still crueler in the long run.

So, reluctantly, Ronan had agreed. The good thing was that Opal loved school, once she got used to the routine and the fact that the people there wouldn’t let her eat bark. The bad thing, for Ronan, was that one concept that it took her quite a while to get the hang of was the whole ‘no swearing’ idea.

Look, it was definitely his fault. Ronan, personally, found it quite entertaining when a seven year old loudly screamed “FUCK!” after stubbing their toe, but sadly the (quite judgmental) parents of Opal’s classmates didn’t seem to agree. He could feel the huddles of moms glaring daggers at him every time he went to pick Opal up, and he didn’t appreciate it.

So maybe a school in England wouldn’t be so bad. Opal was easily bored and would probably embrace the change, and she adored Blue only slightly less than Adam. She could do with leaving her current school soon anyway, since Ronan wasn’t sure how he could explain her lack of aging.

There was, of course, the matter of the Barns. Ronan didn’t like the idea of leaving for so long. Since Adam’s start at Harvard and Opal going to school, Ronan had spent his days trying to turn them into a real home again. That meant making them a real farm, too. Animals finally roamed around again, and he even had crops growing to be harvested later that year. It seemed stupid to give up all that hard work for a weird British dance show, and yet Ronan was considering it. He could come back for the harvest, probably. The animals were dreamt, so they would be fine if left on their own for a while. Ronan mostly fed them because it was something to do. And Matthew and Declan could take care of anything else while he was gone, surely.

Maybe he wouldn’t tell Declan. The dickhead would probably just hire someone to do it for him. Then again, much as he loved Matthew, the kid was a narc.

Yeah, maybe he’d book a flight.

~

Ronan decided to start making dinner at about 7, although perhaps decided wasn’t quite the right word. Opal had stormed in in a whirlwind of chaos, wilting daisies dangling from her hair, and demanded that he make pasta.

“Watch your manners, maggot,” Ronan had replied, swatting at her with a tea towel.

“Manners are for idiots,” Opal had sneered, and Ronan couldn’t argue with that.

Laying the plates on the table with a clatter, making sure to give Opal the one which already had several bite marks on it, Ronan yelled her in from wherever she’d ran off to. Once she was sufficiently distracted by the food, he broke the news.

“How would you feel about a new school?”
he asked gruffly.

“I don’t need any school.”

Ronan paused with his fork in mid-air. “You like school,” he said, almost accusatory.

“I don’t need it,” Opal repeated.

“I know you don’t,” said Ronan, frustration building, “but if you have to go, how would you feel about a new one?”

“Miss Sarah doesn’t like me,” mused Opal. “But Joe is fun.”

“Miss Sarah likes you fine, kid. It’s me she hates,” Ronan answered. “And you can still see Joe when you get back, how about that?”

Opal seemed to be considering it, at least. “Will Adam be there?” she asked hopefully.

“Nah,” Ronan said, and watched her face drop. “But the other maggot will be. You like her.”

“Blue?”

The fact that she remembered the name was a testament to her affection for Blue. She was pretty bad at them otherwise.

“Yeah.”

Opal thought about it for a little longer, slurping up her pasta pensively.

“School is stupid,” she said finally. “But Blue is nice.”

Ronan took that as a yes.

“I guess that’s settled, then,” he muttered, more to himself than anything, given that Opal had already scampered off.

Chapter Text

Two weeks later, Adam came home for the weekend. Honestly, Ronan had assumed that he’d heard the news by now, considering how distressed Blue had seemed. He figured she’d have called him, especially since in some weird way it seemed that Gansey was doing this for them.

Apparently not. Adam seemed blissfully unaware of this latest news, which Ronan appreciated. Maybe he didn’t give Sargent enough credit, but it seemed that really their whole group was beginning to understand the importance of looking out for Adam, because God knew he never looked out for himself. It must’ve taken a lot for her to keep it to herself, but Adam was better for not knowing yet. Worry lines were etched onto his forehead from a long, tiring term, and even the peace of the Barns couldn’t completely smooth them away. God, Ronan hated Harvard sometimes.

“Welcome home,” he’d mumbled as he pulled the door open.

“Home,” Adam had whispered sleepily, and those gorgeous, dirt-brown eyes would be the death of Ronan one day, “What time is it?”

“Late,” Ronan had said, which wasn’t completely a lie because what did he know about time zones, so maybe it was late in Massachusetts. “Go to bed, Einstein.”

Adam hadn’t argued, so he really must have been exhausted.

That was yesterday, and since there had been no mention of British dance competitions Ronan was fairly certain that Adam was in the dark. Unfortunately, he was also fairly certain that he needed to tell him. Ronan might try to protect Adam, but one thing Adam sure as fuck would not appreciate was being coddled. He deserved to know as much as anyone- Blue had done him a favor by not telling him over the phone, but that didn’t mean he was never going to find out.

This was going to be fun.

“Adam,” Ronan started, pushing a plate of eggs in his boyfriend’s direction, “Would it be alright with you if me and Opal went to the UK for a bit, later this year?”

Adam was still wolfing down his eggs like a man starved, and Ronan waited impatiently for his reply.

“Why?”

“Well, Blue and Gansey are there.” Ronan traced the patterns of the wood on the counter slowly, trying to figure out how to say this. “But I don’t want you to feel like we’ve all left you. Still, I guess you could come over at some point, if you got a break.”

“Ronan, I want you to do whatever you want to do. I’m just surprised. I thought you were scared of British people?” Adam teased.

Ronan pretended to look offended. “Listen, something about them isn’t right,” he insisted. “But I think Opal could do with some change. And… I think Blue would like it if I came over.”

“Well, sure,” said Adam. “Sometimes I worry about you all alone out here. Just don’t have too much fun without me.”

“As if I could.”

Ronan couldn’t shake the irony of Adam fighting tooth and nail to make it through Harvard, still finding time to worry about his stupid farmer boyfriend. All the while, his stupid farmer boyfriend was worrying about him.

“Gansey probably wouldn’t know fun if it hit him in the head with a boat shoe,” Adam agreed good-naturedley.

“About that,” Ronan said. “That’s kind of why I want to visit.”

Adam looked confused.

“You’re going to think this is really funny,” Ronan promised, “it’s just going to take a minute.”

“That’s a very reassuring statement.”

Ronan grimaced. “I’ll give you the short version, because I’m sure you can get the better one from Blue. She’s probably dying to get it off her chest. Basically, after that stupid press conference- the one with Gansey’s mom, where the president said we were all going to hell or something, Blue convinced Gansey that he needed to be doing more for the fucking- gay community, or whatever. What Blue had not predicted is that Gansey would take this to mean ‘I should sign up to be Cheng’s partner for the next season of Strictly Come Dancing.’”

Smoothing his shirt down in a familiar repetitive motion, Adam blinked slowly before turning to face Ronan properly.

“That was a lot.”

“Yeah.”

“Strictly Come Dancing?”

“It’s some kind of celebrity dance competition. Blue says everyone’s obsessed with it over there.”

Predictably, Adam was already typing on his laptop, searching for more information. When he stopped and laughed disbelievingly, Ronan raised an eyebrow.

“10 million people watched the final last year.”

The news hit Ronan like a ton of bricks. Maybe he should rethink his plan and just hide out at the Barns forever.

“Gansey has actually gone insane. This’ll be fun.”

“Are you sure you want to go? It’ll be hilarious, but you know you’ll be hounded by journalists and producers dying for an inside scoop.”

“I’ll be fine, Parrish. It’d be mean to leave Blue there all alone.”

Adam grinned. “I thought mean was your speciality?” he said thoughtfully.

Ronan scoffed, but didn’t reply.

“Is it because of me?” Adam said a minute later, teeth worrying his bottom lip. “I called Blue after that stupid conference. I was upset.”

“It’s because of Gansey,” Ronan answered with finality. “And- look, the press is going to have a field day. Sure. But Gansey loves Cheng and he’ll probably have the time of his life on that dance floor, so I don’t reckon we need to keep pissing ourselves about it. Dick knows what he’s got himself into.”

Adam laughed. “I sure hope he does.”

“Want to go look at the cows?” Ronan asked.

“Fuck yeah,” replied Adam, sliding his plate away and grinning that perfect, world-ending grin.

They had a pretty good weekend. Adam brought with him a perfect, peaceful chaos that lit up the Barns and had Ronan doing stupid shit like he was 17 again. Even better, Opal even behaved occasionally when Adam was around. The refreshing change engulfed them all, and Ronan had all but forgotten about Gansey until the evening of Adam’s departure.

Scrambling to pick up all his textbooks and shove them into his suitcase, Adam turned to him and asked, “So, when are you planning on leaving?”

“Are there really seven editions of Higher Level Business?” Ronan replied, eyes tracking Adam’s movements judgementally.

“There’s eight, actually.”

“Jesus.”

“Ronan.”

“I don’t know, alright? I need to talk to Blue, but the demon never picks up her phone.”

“I think if you refrained from calling her a demon, she might be more likely to,” Adam said stiffly, but a small smile pulled at the edges of his mouth.

Refrained. Harvard really was having an effect. Ronan supposed, in the end, that while he loathed the place, there was nowhere better for Adam. However much Adam’s dreams were partly misplaced ambition, fuelled by misplaced self-hatred, he was the most academically talented person Ronan had ever met. The only other time he’d seen someone’s eyes light up when presented with a challenge or problem was when Gansey talked about Glendower. There was a magic to it, and Harvard made Adam happy, so Ronan could accept it.

“Sargent and me are the best of friends,” Ronan pronounced. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Well, let me know, alright?” Adam said, shoving his suitcase shut. “I’ll see if I can free up a few days to join you.”

Warmth spread in Roman’s chest, and Adam hovered at the door.

“Tamquam,” Ronan muttered, pulling him in for a final kiss.

“Alter idem, asshole,” Adam replied against his lips, and then he was gone.

Chapter Text

It took Ronan admittedly too long to call Blue, but he despised organisation and planning with a passion that was only rivalled by his distaste for his phone. Frankly, it was a miracle he called at all.

It had been a slow morning, though, with the cows fed and crops seen to, and Opal away terrorising Miss Sarah. The phone trilled for three rings before he heard scuffling and a harried “Ronan?”

“Blue, my favorite midget.”

“That’s a much politer greeting than usual,” Blue noted.

“Adam thinks I need to be nicer to you. He didn’t believe me when I said we had a bond he couldn’t begin to comprehend.”

“Do we?”

“You tell me, pipsqueak.”

Blue hummed. “New question. Do you have a single insult for me that isn’t based on my height?”

“Nope,” Ronan said, popping the p.

“Good to know,” Blue replied, amused. “Anyway, is there a reason for this call?”

“I couldn’t have just wanted a chat?”

“Oh, my mistake,” Blue said breezily, “I’ve had a lovely day. This morning I met excellent environmental surveyors, specialising in tree lichen- we had a lovely lunch at a local pub, and then we headed to the woods to-“

“Okay, asshole,” Ronan cut in before he could implode from the small talk. “I don’t do social calls.”

“Of course you don’t. So what’s up?”

“When does Gansey’s show start?”

“Strictly?”

“No, his other one,” Ronan retorted with exasperation. “Yes, fucking Strictly, or whatever.”

“Well, the contestants will be revealed gradually in August- I imagine they’ll release Gansey at the end, to create the biggest splash, so to speak. So late August for that, I think, and then the launch show will be on September 14th. It’s weekly after that.”

“How long does this thing go on for?”

“Until December,” Blue answered with a sigh. “Theoretically, he could go out much sooner, but…”

“But what? You actually think he’s gonna win?” Now, this made it sound like Ronan had little faith in Gansey, which seemed mean, but he didn’t think it was unfair to acknowledge the absolute ridiculousness of the idea that Gansey would actually win a dance competition.

“Listen, I know that love makes people crazy, but I also know you’ve seen him dancing at house parties. I don’t think even love could blind you to the reality of his skill.”

Blue huffed a laugh. “I’m not delusional, don’t worry. It’s just that Strictly is more of a popularity contest than anything.”

True, Gansey could be charming. Ronan just wasn’t sure he was that charming.

“You really think he’ll be people’s favorite?”

“He’s something different. Besides, it’s not just him- Henry is extremely popular,” Blue informed him proudly, “and most of the other contestants will range from D-list celebrities to disgraced politicians. If you had the choice between watching them be mediocre, or watching the vice-president’s son continue to give it everything on the dancefloor while calling out his mother’s party, accompanied by the dazzle and unique appeal of Henry Cheng, which would you pick?”

Ronan couldn’t argue with her logic there.

“Me and Opal are gonna come visit,” he decided, “unless you don’t want us to.”

“Oh, thank god. I don’t think I could watch this alone.”

Ronan felt his heart slow a little. “Good. Shall I book a flight for the launch show?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Blue said, speaking so fast that her words ran into each other. “Does this mean Adam knows?”

“Yeah.”

“And he’s… okay with it?” Blue asked nervously.

“He’s fine. But I don’t want any fucking producers hounding him, trying to get his life story or whatever.”

“Right, obviously. Well, if you come over, we can try to control the narrative a bit more.”

“That’s what I’m hoping,” Ronan said grimly.

Quiet stretched over the phone for a minute or two, neither of them moving or speaking.

“Ronan?” Blue said finally. “Thank you.”

The line cut off.

~

As August approached, Ronan attempted to prepare himself for the inevitable shitstorm that he knew was on the way. But how did you prepare for something like this? Lock the doors? Build a bunker? He wasn’t sure.

In the end, he decided that there was nothing to be done. He switched off his phone on August 1st, which was no inconvenience to him, and did his best to enjoy the peace.

The peace lasted all the way until August 28th. If he was being honest, Ronan had got complacent, and as the month went on he thought about Strictly less and less. Forgetting the situation was out of the question, but it hadn’t been the first thing on his mind. For one thing, he’d decided August was an even worse month than June. Stifling heat was now accompanied by scorching sun, which never failed to burn his pale skin, and worse, everybody seemed to be expecting Ronan to celebrate this. In his opinion, summer was ridiculously overrated.

Despite this, Matthew had been sending him endless amounts of overenthusiastic social media videos which all featured an array of pretty flower pictures and a caption which said something along the lines of “Summer is here!!!!!!!”. Sure, Ronan would be lying if he said they didn’t make him smile into his coffee on the rare occasion that he switched his phone on for a while, but they were the only good thing the new weather had done for him so far.

All this said, on August 28th he pulled his collar up high as it would go when he made his way to pick Opal up from summer school, which she’d been keen to go to for reasons he couldn’t comprehend. Sometimes they were so different he wondered if he hadn’t stolen her from someone else’s dreamworld.

The sun was out in all its glory, and Ronan had once again forgotten to put on sunscreen, so would no doubt look like a peeled tomato before the day was done. When Adam was around, he was insistent on Ronan wearing sunscreen and covering up in the sun, and Ronan wondered belatedly whether he’d be annoyed if he saw any paparazzi shots of Ronan looking like this. He’d probably send at least one disappointed text.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he muttered to himself, flinching as he pulled away from the BMW’s door handle. Was this heat trying to kill him?

Once safely in the car, he turned the AC as high as it would go and enjoyed breaking as many speed limits as possible on the short drive. He was still a few minutes late, so he wasn’t expecting any other parents to be there when he arrived, but as he pulled up he could see multiple groups of them clustered around. From there, it took very little time to connect the dots between usually stony-faced, uptight moms suddenly being huddled together, whispering and clutching their phones, and one Dick Gansey the Third.

Ronan rested his head on the steering wheel for a moment, then schooled his face into its most intimidating expression before exiting the car. Immediately, the whispering increased tenfold, and he saw at least one camera flash. Fuck’s sake.

He made it all the way to the school’s entrance before one of the moms summoned enough bravery to speak to him.

“Ronan?” she called brightly, her voice saccharine, “Do you have a second?”

“Not really,” he answered, and attempted to push through the doors. The woman- Betty, he was pretty sure her name was- was undeterred, sweeping in front of him with practiced grace and blocking his way.

“Well,” she began, “I think we all just wanted to say we think it’s very brave what Richard has done. You must feel so lucky to have him… on your side, so to speak.”

Well. If there had been any doubt before, this confirmed it. Gansey’s cat was out of the bag. Ronan fixed Betty with a flat stare. “You’re blocking the entrance.”

“Oh, am I? Apologies,” Betty laughed, not moving an inch. “You don’t have anything to say?”

“To you? No,” Ronan snapped.

Betty huffed, shook out her hair and scuttled back to her gaggle of friends. Pushing through the doors with much more force than necessary, Ronan made a mental note to ask Opal to teach her son as much profanity as possible.

Miss Sarah couldn’t quite meet his eyes when he entered the classroom, but she kept any thoughts she had to herself, which Ronan was glad for. He scooped Opal up onto his shoulders before he left, because she enjoyed being carried around like some kind of royalty and he was interested in a quick exit today.

Perhaps not unsurprisingly, most of the parents seemed to have decided that they wouldn’t get anything out of Ronan, so nobody tried to approach him as they made their way to the BMW. Squaring his shoulders, he glared right back at every one of them as they ogled him like it was some kind of zoo.

Kicking him in the shoulder to get his attention, Opal looked murderous as she asked, “Why is everybody looking at us?”

“Their lives are much less interesting than ours,” Ronan replied gruffly, wincing and rubbing the place where her hoof had met his skin. “For better or worse.”

Opal harrumphed, deeming that answer acceptable, and they got in the car.

Chapter Text

Flying with a feral dream child/psychopomp was not something Ronan would recommend. He didn’t fly often- traveling was Gansey’s forte, not his, but when he had previously he’d found it interesting at best and inconvenient at worst. This was something else. He watched in great distress as Opal scoffed another bag of peanuts, bag included, and prayed that if any other passengers had seen that they would put it down to altitude sickness.

“How much longer?” Opal asked gruffly, kicking her feet against the back of the seat in front. “This is boring.”

“Three more hours, you menace,” Ronan replied. “Just try to sleep or something.”

Opal looked at him like he was insane, and went back to kicking the seat. Ronan had no choice but to sigh and close his eyes again. Opal was right- there was no chance either of them were getting any sleep tonight- but at least he could pretend.

Customs were a nightmare- security wanted Opal to take off her shoes, which for obvious reasons was not going to happen, and Ronan kept forgetting to take various metal things from his person. Truthfully, he was pretty sure that the only reason they made it through was because the security team hated them so much that they just wanted them gone.

Finally, they emerged into the bustle of Heathrow airport. All Ronan wanted to do was check into a hotel and sleep, preferably for about 20 hours straight, and he planned on doing just that. They stopped briefly at an airport cafe to grab a flaky, slightly dry croissant, an overpriced black coffee and an orange juice for Opal. The kid was addicted to the stuff. Then he went to pick up their rental car- and that was the worst part about flying. Ronan had an attachment to his BMW, okay?

The very concept of a rental car upset him, but he had made up for it by acquiring the most expensive one possible. With the keys to a brand-new, sleek grey Aston Martin in his hand, he felt a little more like himself. The dude at the rental car stop looked personally offended when Opal got in and put her grubby hands all over it, too, which added to his enjoyment. He got in the drivers seat languidly, stretching his fingers over the steering wheel for a moment before he slammed his foot on the accelerator and swung the car onto the road.

Sticking to the 60 mile-per-hour speed limit physically pained him, but he was under strict instructions from Blue not to speed while in the UK, because she “absolutely did not have time to deal with any run-ins with the British police right now”, and Ronan had decided he didn’t want to be responsible for her having a nervous breakdown, so he did his best. They were staying in a hotel in St Albans, a smallish city on the outskirts of London, and the drive wasn’t too long. Mercifully, Opal managed to sleep for most of it, preventing Ronan from enduring another hour of “Are we there yet?”

They eventually reached their hotel’s car park at about midnight, so all was quiet aside from the roar of the engine as Ronan parked. A few stars were bravely fighting London’s light pollution, but they couldn’t compare to the kaleidoscope of the Barns’ night sky. Staring up at them, the ground seemed to slip from under his feet for a second, and he pressed the car keys more tightly into his palm. He probably just needed to go to sleep.

“Get out, you rascal,” he grumbled, rapping lightly on the window by Opal’s head. “We finally made it.”

Opal muttered something unintelligible and burrowed her face further into the seat.

“You’ve wanted to get here all day,” protested Ronan, but clearly she was not in a negotiating mood. Sighing, he picked her up, figuring they could leave their bags in the car for now.

“God, I don’t go to the gym enough for this,” he told the empty night as they reached the hotel, Opal sleeping peacefully in his arms. He pushed the door open with his shoulder and blinked blearily at the receptionist, who didn’t look like they had much more energy than him.

“Name?” they asked in a bored tone.

“Ronan Lynch,” he managed.

“Room 24,” the receptionist informed him, handing him the keycard. “Enjoy your stay.”

I’ll enjoy a real bed, thought Ronan, but he gave his best attempt at a nod and made his way down the corridor.

The room was pristine, with two made-up twin beds, a large bathroom, a TV and a desk with a little coffeepot on it. With little fanfare, Ronan deposited Opal on the first bed and pulled a sheet over her, shoving his own shoes off at the doorway and sweeping the curtains shut. Then he pulled back the sheets and climbed fully-clothed into the next bed, praying as he closed his eyes that the rest of the trip would be less exhausting.

~

The next morning, he immediately regretted not hanging up the little “Do Not Disturb” sign on his door last night, because he was rudely awoken by a muted knocking. Someone had probably arrived to make the beds or tidy the room, but they would have difficulty doing so with him and Opal both still in bed.

Adam liked to make fun of Ronan’s sleeping habits back home, since despite being a farmer he was rarely up with the sun, but Ronan felt there was no use in having a dream farm if you still had to wake up at the crack of dawn every day to look after it. Usually, he was up by at least eight, but the jet lag must have had an effect because when he glanced at the clock it read 12:32. Okay, so maybe he should get up.

“No thanks,” he called gruffly, rubbing his eyes, “We don’t need our room cleaning.” Jesus, was it really protocol for them to keep knocking for this long? Maybe he should’ve prepared more for the cultural differences in the UK.

“For God’s sake,” a voice replied, and did they just kick the door? He ventured over warily and peered through the peephole, and was met with the sight of a flustered-looking Blue, scowling as she continued to lightly kick the door.

“Ronan, you asshole,” Blue said, “Let me in.”

Ronan swung the door open and faked his best scowl. “Sargent, what the fuck are you doing here?”

“Don’t pretend you aren’t happy to see me,” Blue replied easily, kicking off her shoes and throwing herself onto his newly vacated bed. She grinned widely at him, but there was an edge to the smile that made Ronan a little uneasy. “Anyway, welcome to the chaos.”

“Doesn’t seem that bad so far,” Ronan told her.

“No, I’m sure it doesn’t yet,” Blue said airily, shooting him a pitying look, “But I wouldn’t advise going outside, because I had to fight off at least twenty paps to get in here.”

For a dance show, that seemed excessive. How did they even know he was here? Pulling the curtain open slightly, he grimaced as a camera flash immediately blinded him, and stuck up his middle finger firmly before yanking the curtain back.

“Well done, Ronan,” Blue said. “Great first impression.”

“They need to know what they’re getting into,” he replied with a shrug.

“I guess they do,” Blue agreed, closing her eyes and falling back onto the pillows. “Anyway, I’ve decided I’m going to hide out in your hotel room forever. Wake me up when it’s over.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Ronan, hauling her up, “I’ve not suffered through that hell hole of a plane just for you to give up. We’re going sightseeing.”

Blue managed a smile. “I’ve missed you, Lynch.”

“Yeah, I missed you too, you fucker.”

“So, where are do you want to see?”

“The Eiffel tower?”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“I didn’t skip all those Geography classes for nothing.”

“Fine,” Blue said, a glint in her eye. “I’m taking you on a full tour of London. You can’t back out now.”

“Fine by me, titchy.”

“Careful, Lynch. There’s a lot of names I could call you.”

So the trip was looking up. Opal was unhappy to be woken, but cheered up considerably in Blue’s presence, chatting away non-stop the entire time they were getting ready. For some unfathomable reason, Blue had upon her person lots of colorful string, and Opal was transfixed by it, messily weaving strands together in mismatched patterns. Then, of course, too soon, it was time to leave the hotel.

“Ronan, I don’t expect you to be polite, but if you could avoid swearing at any of them, that would be lovely,” Blue warned him before they left.

“I’ll do my best,” Ronan promised, and out they went.

The paparazzi were awful, but Ronan had faced worse monsters and survived, so he kept his head low and steadfastly ignored them. Blue stared straight ahead and did her best to appear unruffled, but Ronan could tell that she hated it as much as he did. Once they reached the safety of his car, her whole body sagged with relief.

“How do you feel about visiting Buckingham Palace?” she asked him, composing herself.

“Just tell me how to get there,” Ronan replied, “And we can get out of this place.”

“Perfect,” Blue replied. “I don’t even care if you speed.”

Ronan grinned. “Oh, that is perfect.”

~

Halfway into the drive, Ronan’s phone beeped with a message from Adam. It was a blurry picture of him with an awful bedhead, angrily giving a paparazzi the finger.

From: Adam, 12:56
Play nice, Lynch.

Ronan scoffed, and quickly typed out his reply.

To: Adam, 12:57
When do I not, Parrish?

Chapter Text

Speeding towards London in a ridiculously expensive Aston Martin wasn’t a bad way to start the day, Ronan had to admit. With the windows down, it was as if the exhilarating feeling of the chilling September air on his skin could bring him some peace (and briefly wash away the knowledge that he was surrounded by British people).

“So, Sargent,” he began conversationally, “How’ve you been?”

“Oh, you know, Lynch,” Blue answered casually. “I sort of think my life might be a joke, but it is quite a funny one.”

“It’s hilarious,” Ronan agreed.

Blue shoved him from the backseat (Opal refused to give up shotgun) and reminded him that he was just as much of a joke now, too.

“Not as much as you,” he protested.

“For now,” Blue said.

“Have you seen your outfit today?”

“Have you looked in the mirror? You’re driving a grey Aston Martin that you don’t even own. You couldn’t scream rich prick harder if you tried.”

That may have been true. “Whatever. Do you want me to buy you a coffee at the next stop or not?”

“Do you want me to throw you out of this car? Anyway, me and Gansey share a bank account and lately I’ve been feeling less and less guilty about spending his money, so you really don’t need to worry about me.”

“I apologize,” Ronan said as sincerely as possible, and turned in his seat to face Blue. “In that case, can you buy me a coffee?”

Blue scoffed. “Eyes on the road, Lynch,” she replied.

~

Despite her previous threats, when they pulled over Blue bought him both a coffee and a Greggs sausage roll, which Ronan had to admit was absolutely delicious. Flaky pastry combined with Opal, on the other hand, was a nightmare. The interior of the Aston Martin was instantly completely debauched.

Blue eyed up the damage warily. “You going to be alright, Lynch?”

“It’s not my car,” Ronan replied easily, shrugging.

Blue’s eyes lit up mischievously. “Does that mean I can drive?”

Even the idea of it had Ronan on edge. “When hell freezes over and the devil has a halo, Sargent, and not a day sooner.”

“God, I love winding you up.”

Getting to London was fairly simple, but parking was a near-impossible task. This was precisely why Ronan couldn’t live in a city, because he had no idea how some people did this daily.

“I genuinely believe,” he told Blue as they circled round another packed parking lot, searching for a space, “that this could drive me to murder.”

“It’s a miracle Gansey is still alive, honestly,” she replied.

He chuckled, then sent up a prayer of thanks when he saw an empty space and pulled the quickest parallel park of his life in order to snag it.

“Fi-nally,” Opal muttered.

“Damn right,” Blue said in agreement. “Well played, Ronan.”

“Thanks. Now, do you have any idea where the fuck we are?”

“Ooh, good question,” Blue said, briefly looking around. “The answer is not in the slightest.”

Ronan made a face. “We can probably figure it out.”

“Famous last words,” laughed Blue, following him to the elevator.

London was at once exactly like Ronan had thought and full of surprises. Harried businessmen scurried around in their fancy designer suits, passing expensive shops and carrying briefcases that Ronan assumed were filled with gold, or government secrets. Well-dressed women and older couples with fur coats were aplenty, and everything seemed ridiculously overpriced. Still, at the end of the day, it was just a city. Kids tugged at their parents’ sleeves. Workmen patched up potholes. It wasn’t infallible.

Every now and then he’d see a mum struggling to juggle three kids, or even just a McDonalds,and be reminded so strongly of picking Opal up from school or meeting Adam in the city that it’d throw him for a second.

“You’ve got that look,” Blue informed him.

“Huh?” he said, still absently people-watching.

“You’re in London, and it’s just a place, and everybody here is just another person too,” she said matter-of-factly. “And you can’t quite set it straight in your head.”

“You’re creepy, Sargent.”

“Runs in the family, I’m afraid.”

“Are we still lost?” complained Opal.

And- Ronan may not have been an expert in London’s landmarks, but he was pretty sure that sign said Trafalgar Square, actually, and that was a place, right?

“Nope,” he told Opal cheerfully. “We’re going to a square.”

“A square?” Opal asked, sounding unconvinced.

“There’s a big lion,” Blue said conspiratorially.

“Ooh, a square.”

This slightly backfired, as to say that Opal was disappointed to discover that the lion was in fact made of stone would have been a massive understatement. Still, she recovered eventually and started scrambling happily all over the statues with the other kids.

“You’re sweet with her,” Blue told him, hopping up onto a wall and swinging her legs cheerfully.

Ronan shrugged.

“No, really. I’m gonna buy you a ‘Dad of the Year’ mug this Christmas.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Ronan scoffed, kicking at gravel. “I’m definitely not dad of the year. Opal’s not even a real kid.”

“Matthew isn’t a real brother,” countered Blue.

“That’s-“

“Not the same?”

“You know it’s exactly the same,” Ronan sighed. “I didn’t mean she’s not important.”

“I know you didn’t. So what’s the problem?”

“I’m not qualified for this?”

“You’re a high school dropout. You’re not qualified for anything.”

“Thanks,” he muttered.

“So,” Blue continued, “what does it matter? You’re doing great, and I’m definitely buying you that mug.”

She said it with all the finality of a case closed, and (while Ronan would never admit it aloud) it did help.

So things were good. Stable, nice. They were having a peaceful day out in London. Naturally, it couldn’t last.

Really they brought it upon themselves. If there’s one thing that he’d learnt from this situation, it was that in moments like these, googling yourself is never the answer.

“Shall we see how things are going?” Blue had sighed, pulling her phone from her deceptively deep pocket and opening safari.

“Don’t tell me that picture of me from this morning has gone viral,” he’d replied. “I look like shit.”

“I bet it has,” Blue had cackled as she typed their names in. Then, “Fuck.”

“What? They get a shit one of you too?”

“No, but-“

Ronan had leaned over and skimmed the headline before grabbing her phone and reading it again.

”Fuck,” he’d exclaimed.

Who is Adam Parrish? Find out more about the gay friends that inspired Richard Gansey on his Strictly journey!
the article read, and through his panic the only coherent thought Ronan had was that they really should have made it more catchy.

Alone, that was bad enough, but it was accompanied by a paparazzi shot of Adam, clearly between classes on the Harvard campus.

“How the hell?” was all he could say.

“They found you,” Blue said, defeated. “From there, it’s not hard to find Adam.”

“I just wish there was a way to keep him out of this. People taking pictures of him, knowing where he is all the time-“

“I know,” Blue had replied. “It fucking sucks. But what can we do?”

Later, he would say that his mind had gone blank. That he didn’t know what he was thinking. But really, it was simple: he had a problem, and he decided to fix it by whatever means necessary.

A camera had flashed.

“Ronan Lynch! Ronan, over here!”

“Blue,” he’d said, a crazed look in his eye, “I know what we need to do.”

“Miss Sargent! Will you be at the launch show?”

“Hit me, Lynch.”

He’d taken a deep breath.

“Kiss me.”

A multitude of emotions had rocketed over Blue’s face: confusion, revulsion and shock, one after the other. But she ended on amusement.

“You’re fucking crazy, Lynch,” she’d laughed, and then she’d leaned in.

Chapter Text

People liked to call too many things in Ronan Lynch’s life the fallout. Sometimes he felt like that’s all he did anymore- live through the aftershock of a million mistakes.

When he spiralled after finding his father’s dead body on their drive, the therapists said it was an ‘expected consequence’. The fallout of Niall Lynch’s death had haunted him since he was fifteen, forged who he was now in some kind of awful, broken mould. So he knew what a consequence looked like. He was one.

All this said, he didn’t think Gansey (or his long-suffering PR agent) had ever appreciated his lacklustre approach to making bad decisions.

“Ronan-,” Gansey had sighed in his last voicemail, “Listen, I get why you did it. And I’m sorry for whatever part I had in making you feel like you had to do it. But did neither of you think about the fallout?”

“You know me, Dick,” Ronan muttered to his phone. “I never do.”

The lie was bitter on his tongue even in the silence, but sometimes secrets didn’t cut it. Frankly, Ronan didn’t have the time to make Gansey understand that it wasn’t that he had ever stopped thinking about the consequences of his actions- in fact, he was painfully aware of them- but at a certain point he’d just started to accept them.

He was Ronan Lynch. He messed shit up. These truths had become interchangeable in the years since Niall’s death.

He tossed his phone somewhere in Blue’s direction, narrowly avoiding hitting their hotel room’s light fixture.

“Well, Sargento,” he drawled. “Regretting inviting me to the party?”

Blue was slumped in a scratchy armchair, running her hands through her hair tiredly, but she managed a grin nonetheless.

“It may not have been my finest moment, but it was the most fucking fun I’ve had in a while,” she said. “Call me Sargento one more time though, farmboy, and I’ll book the return flight personally.”

“You’d better not take all the blame for this, you know,” she continued, levelling him with a hard stare. “Don’t bail on me now.”

“It was my idea, Sargent.”

“And?”

“How am I supposed to not take the blame for a problem I completely caused?”

Rolling her eyes, Blue pulled herself up to a more respectable sitting position in the chair.

“Sure, Gansey is a little annoyed.”

Ronan snorted at her use of the word ‘little’ but she pressed on.

“And maybe it was a bit stupid! But it was funny enough that I don’t really care, and in a ridiculous way it has worked, since everyone is way too worried about me cheating on Gansey with his best friend to give a fuck about Adam anymore. Wasn’t that the whole point?”

Maybe Ronan should talk to Blue more often, because he didn’t know how, but his chest felt lighter. His mom had always said that he was too caught up in his own head. It was nice to have someone talk some sense into him for once.

“Adam’s gonna be so pissed,” he said finally. Blue couldn’t argue with him on that.

But she was unfazed. “Oh, for sure,” she said, “But isn’t that, like, your guys’ love language? Pissing each other off?”

“We don’t have a love language.”

Blue shrugged. “If you say so.”

“I can’t stand you sometimes, Sargent, you know that?”

“I won’t lose any sleep over it,” Blue assured him.

“Shithead. Wanna put on hoodies and sunglasses and go to Pizza Hut?”

“Sure, dickwad,” Blue replied breezily, her eyes dancing with that fun, careless energy that had made Ronan so angry when he first met her. Now it felt… infectious, even. And, okay, he’d admit it- in his own head at least- he was happy she was happy, and it was as simple as that.

Despite their best efforts, the paparazzi were not fooled by their ingenious disguises, and so the trip to Pizza Hut quickly morphed into the most boring car chase and the quickest McDonalds drive through order that Ronan had ever made, which was saying something.

“Hang on? Is this vegetarian?” Blue screamed at him as they pulled out onto the road, the wind blowing her hair into a ridiculous frenzy.

Pulling his eyes away from the asphalt just barely, Ronan replied drily, “It’s a fucking McDonald’s burger- what do you think?”

Blue just laughed, and took a bite anyway.

“Don’t tell Gansey,” she told him conspiratorially.

“Isn’t that, like, rule number one?”

~

Once Blue had passed out in the armchair and Opal had finally settled down, Ronan decided to rip the band aid off. Last he’d checked, Adam hadn’t sent him anything, but Ronan figured his boyfriend had had enough time now to craft the perfect paragraph of annoyance that he might as well reply to sooner rather than later.

Needless to say, he was surprised when he opened his phone to just one short text.

From: Adam, 11:35
You sure you still want me to fly over?

To: Adam, 01:17
Yes.

From: Adam, 01:17
alright. is it even worth asking you not to do anything stupid in the meantime?

To: Adam, 01:18
i doubt it

From: Adam, 01:18
me too somehow

The phone screen flicked to black and Ronan flopped back onto the thin mattress of his hotel bed. Childishly, he found himself wishing that the ceiling could be a little lighter, wishing that the starkly painted walls could feel a little less far from the warm comfort of the Barns even just for a minute. Still, at some point Blue’s quiet breathing and Opal’s familiar presence must have settled his mind slightly, and he managed to fall asleep

Chapter Text

A few days later, Ronan found himself in a place he could never have predicated he’d be- a ballroom.

“You’re sure we’re allowed to be here?” he asked, raising his voice slightly over the sharp clack of shoes on a dance floor.

“Shh,” Blue warned, which answered his question well enough. “Stay quiet and we’ll be fine.”

Ronan felt five again, stuck in a corn maze with Declan, waiting to be rescued. Declan had insisted they could get out on their own while Ronan had picked leaves and scuffed dirt, wondering if Declan really believed his words or if he, like Ronan, was thinking what he aways was. Would Neil come back for them?

He did, of course, like a knight in shining armour, his queen by his side, Matthew angelic in her arms as always. Ronan was ecstatic at the time, all fears forgiven, but he had never forgotten how it felt to be well and truly lost.

Blue, on the other hand, was completely in her element. With the way that she was strolling through the rooms like she owned the place, Ronan wasn’t surprised no one had stopped them, despite how utterly ridiculous and completely not Strictly-fied they looked. Glittering star pins shone under the fluorescent lights in Blue’s hair, which probably worked in their favour, but the mismatched, clearly hand-me-down nature of the rest of her bright clothes slightly ruined the image, unfortunately.

Ronan hadn’t made any effort with his outfit, but most people probably just assumed he was a tech guy or something.

They reached the end of another corridor, and Blue’s eyes lit up.

She pressed her ear to the closest door, and, reluctantly, Ronan joined her.

Faintly, he could hear a familiar voice chanting: “One two three, one two three, one two three, cha cha cha!”

“Is it too late to back out?” he whispered to Blue.

“At this point? Absolutely.”

Then she flung the door open with far more fanfare than Ronan felt they had earned.

“Henry!” she squealed excitedly, running over to him and receiving many kisses on the cheek in return. Ronan sidled over to Gansey, who was panting in the corner.

“Dick.”

Gansey looked up. Brave, serious, and somehow meaning it when he said, “Ronan. Good to see you.”

“I can see now what Blue meant when she said you’d lost your mind.”

“You’re one to talk,” Gansey replied. “I do recall a recent event involving you and my girlfriend that I feel justifies the same response.”

There wasn’t much Ronan could say to rebuff that one, frankly, so he settled for just rolling his eyes and turning back to Blue and Henry.

However, upon discovering that they were still being weird, kissing each other on the cheek like this was fucking France or something, he gave up on them and spoke again to Gansey.

“Does your mom know?”

“What do you mean?” Gansey asked, feigning ignorance.

“You know damn well what I mean.”

“She doesn’t.”

“But she must know that you’re doing it- it’s everywhere in the papers,” Ronan reminded him.

“Well, obviously,” Gansey answered, “but I told her Henry was the only professional left. That I would make that clear on opening night, and then donate a bunch of money to a charity that teaches sick children to dance. Say that was my reason for doing it.”

“Is that good for them?”

“What?”

“The sick children,” Ronan told him. “Are we sure they should be dancing?”

“I hadn’t considered that,” Gansey said, looking genuinely concerned for a second, but recovering enough to say, “but I guess everyone has a right to dance. I’m learning that it can be… transformative. And I’m sure they clear it with their doctors, or something.”

“Right. And does Helen know? What you’re really doing, I mean.”

“Helen knows everything.”

“Helen tells your mom everything.”

“Not this,” said Gansey.

“You sound certain.”

“I am certain. She thinks I’m being stupid. And she thinks I’m going to drop out before it starts anyway.”

“Such little faith they have in you, Ganseyboy.”

Ronan didn’t mean to be cruel, but hurt still flashed across Gansey’s face. Goddamit, Lynch. He always was fucking things up.

“Blue has enough faith in you to make up for it, don’t worry. She really thinks you’ll win.”

“And what do you think, Ronan?”

He took a moment. Watched Henry dramatically trying (and failing) to teach basic ballet to Blue. Watched the camera crew who’d paused their filming briefly and were chatting quietly in the corner. Thought of how Gansey would see it all. Rose-coloured. Friendly, charming. Possible.

"I haven’t decided yet,” he concluded finally.

Henry denied Blue’s pleas to let them watch the dance early, strictly informing them that it was “a surprise!!”. Soon after, they were shooed away to give him time to “whip this old man into shape.”

“Wouldn’t want to interfere with that,” Blue reassured him, “So we’ll see you later.”

And just like that, they left.

Skipping as she was through the bedazzled corridors, Ronan got the impression that Blue was coming around to this whole Strictly thing. She waved cheerily at every baffled crew member they passed until they pushed through the doors to the outside world.

Blue promptly collapsed onto the pavement.

“What the actual fuck,” she said, sounding kind of delirious.

“You good?”

“Oh, I’m good.” Blue started laughing. “It’s just… God. Gansey. He’s fucking doing it. He’s actually fucking doing it.”

“Oh, he’s doing it for sure.”

Blue pulled herself together and stood up firmly.

“This,” she announced, “is going to be fun.”

The crazy thing was that for a second, Ronan believed her.

“Fuck.”

“What?”

“Paps. To your left.”

“Fuck. Alright. Guess you’d better hold my hand then, Romeo.”

“I hate you so much right now,” Ronan hissed through a smile, trying to look loving for the cameras.

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

Blue’s hand felt tiny compared to his, and frankly Ronan found the whole situation very unsettling. Still, he didn’t… hate it. Not as much as he’d try to make everyone believe anyway.

It was easy to forget that you weren’t alone sometimes, even when you were with people. Ronan’s mind had a special talent for drifting away from reality, and sometimes physical touch was enough to claw himself back.

Still, this was Blue, so there was no way he was getting sappy.

“Your hands are so fucking sweaty, Sargent.”

“Suck my dick, Lynch,” Blue laughed. “You ready to head back?”

“Sure.”

Blue looked down at their joined hands carefully. “You know, I think the paps have gone.”

“I know,” he replied, then realised his mistake and pulled their hands apart at record speed.

Blue cackled. “You’re such a fucking sap, Ronan.”

“I hate you,” he repeated.

“You looove me!”

“I will kick you out of the hotel room.”

Blue gasped, faux-scandalised. “And leave me to fend for myself, all alone in the dark and dangerous streets of London?”

Ronan snorted. “Right. Because it would be such a struggle to go and book yourself into The Ritz on Gansey’s credit card.”

“Now you mention it, I’m considering that option,” Blue cackled, linking their arms and striding home.

Chapter Text

The remainder of their time in London before Strictly was devoted to hiding out in hotel rooms, exploring the weirdest attractions they could find and turning down interview requests from gossip-starved reporters. Time flew, somehow, in what felt like the first time in Ronan’s life, and before he knew it, the opening show was about to go live.

He wouldn’t have described the strange, dark and cramped room they were all shoved into as comfortable, but he guessed the seats were pretty fancy, if the way he had sank into his half-armchair, half-bed contraption was anything to go by.

“Are there really this many people who want to be in a special viewing room for the premier of this weird-ass show?”

“There’s probably millions, Ronan.” Blue whispered. “Also, if I sink too far into this fucking chair, you’re gonna need to pull me out.”

“What are friends for?” Ronan replied, and Blue hummed in agreement.

Without warning, the lights dimmed even more, if that was even possible. Shit. Ronan’s palms were sweaty and he wanted to jump out of his seat and break something.

“Chill out,” Blue whispered. “I can hear your heart beating from here.”

Ronan glared at her, which was the best he could do without lying.

Sure, it wasn’t a massive deal. But he had already started to categorise his life into before Strictly and after Strictly, which felt slightly ominous. What did it mean that he had already defined it, in his mind, as a life-changing event?

The truth was, a stupid dancing reality show was irrelevant. But tonight was Gansey’s last chance to back out, to do what his mom wanted and be the perfect golden boy of America once again. He could be everything Ronan never could, and Ronan wouldn’t blame him for it if that was what he chose. That didn’t mean it wouldn’t sting. Still, hope was a dangerous, stupid thing to have, and Ronan was full of it and he thought it might kill him soon.

The screen glowed, coming alive to the sound of a trumpet, an image of a golden, shining mirrorball floating like a star in the centre. Couples flashed up on the screen, each in their own distinctive pose, and Roman gripped the seat harder as he waited for Gansey to appear. He was the final contestant to be shown, and at first, his moment seemed fairly tame, despite its ridiculousness. Him and Cheng flashed their brightest grins, jazz-handing away for a second, and Ronan assumed that would be all. But just as the cameras were about to cut away, Cheng took Gansey’s hand in his and kissed it, like he was a knight in court and Gansey was his king. Gansey blushed, pausing momentarily, before he blew a kiss in return.

Ronan blinked, hard. Took a deep breath. Turned to Blue.

“I feel,” he said, “that they got significantly more screen time than anyone else.”

Blue just nodded mutely, looking like she was about to pass out. Ronan gave her his best attempt at a reassuring arm pat.

Turning his attention back to the screen, Ronan tried to focus on the poorly executed dance moves of ex-Tory MPs and low level Eastenders stars, but his concentration was mediocre at best on a good day, and- well. He didn’t know what today was, but ‘good’ didn’t feel like it quite covered it.

Still, when Gansey swanned onto the dance floor in what could only be described as a nightmare of an outfit, he sort of wished he’d had longer to prepare.

To put into words what the costume department had no doubt forced Gansey into was a challenge. On the one hand, you could be forgiven for thinking they were trying to go for a somewhat sexy look, given that he was one of their youngest contestants this year. His shirt was practically completely undone, his glasses had been removed and his hair tousled into a soft, charming mop of gold.

But then there was the matter of… everything else. His shirt was pinker than a flamingo drowning in candy-floss, drenched in sequins and ridiculously loose.

Voice booming, the announcer proudly announced that the group of celebrities would be performing a welcome dance to “Party in the USA” by Miley Cyrus. To Ronan, it seemed an odd choice for a quintessentially British TV show, but what did he know?

It soon became clear that the theme of the good old American dream was actually the focal point of the dance, with, surprise surprise, Gansey at the centre. They were really milking the whole ‘somehow we got the vice-president’s son on our show’ thing, but then again, who wouldn’t? Red, white and blue lights lit up Gansey’s face and arms as he twisted and turned across the dancefloor, that perfect politician’s smile never leaving his face.

It didn’t look quite as forced as usual, though. Not that it ever did to a stranger, but Ronan could tell.

He glanced at Blue, who seemed to have significantly perked up. She smiled at him with a look in her eyes that he couldn’t quite place.

“That’s our boy,” she whispered to him fondly.

“I guess it is,” Ronan replied.

To be fair to Cheng, Gansey’s dancing had improved hugely since the last house party Ronan had attended with him. Then again, not being drunk probably helped. Nonetheless, he had been enjoying it enough that he found himself a little disappointed when the performance ended and the dancers dispersed to find their partners.

Next came the celebrity interviews. Sitting through them was like pulling teeth. Once again, the producers had decided to save Gansey until the end, so Ronan and Blue were forced to endure what felt like hours of random celebrities gushing about how they’d always dreamed of dancing and (often in a way that was laughably fake) raving about the professional they had been paired with.

Finally, Gansey’s name was called and him and Cheng entered the studio, arm-in-arm. They’d both cleaned up since the opening dance, dressed in sharp suits and sharper smiles. Gansey’s hair had been smoothed and gelled down and his shirt was crisper than a Virginia frost.

He leaned out, shook the host’s hand.

“It’s a pleasure, Claudia,” Ronan heard him saying. “Really, I’m just so happy to be here.”

“Well, we couldn’t be happier to have you,” she replied warmly. “I’m sure, though, that a lot of people would be dying to know what brought you here? Would you be able to share any more about that journey?”

“I don’t know that it was much of a journey,” laughed Gansey. “It just sort of happened, really.”

“Gansey here is a very seize the day sort of guy,” Cheng added, smiling widely at his partner.

“I think all the best people are,” Claudia agreed good-naturedly. “Could you run me through the moment you decided, then?”

“Sure,” said Gansey.

Ronan held his breath.

“I think, partly, I had just wanted to do something fun. You’re only young once, after all.” Gansey paused, a crease in his forehead. “But then, I suppose, I also wanted to try and make a difference. To show that everyone has value, and to celebrate the people I love. I know it’s just a dance show, but I thought if it could just make one person feel a little better about who they were, it would be worth it.”

Blue’s eyes shone with the threat of tears, and she reached out to hold Roman’s hand, interlocking their fingers and smiling.

“You know that when he says ‘people I love’ he means you, right?” she asked.

“He means you too, maggot.”

“I know,” she grinned. “God, I know.”

Gansey had paused to take a breath, and the host starred talking about what a beautiful message that was, and the power of dance to change a life, or something along those lines.

“I’m glad you agree,” Gansey told her. “And- I understand a lot of people might be wondering why I’m part of the same-sex couple this season, and I think I would say that that’s my reason why. I chose this because I guess I wanted to show that there’s nothing wrong with two men dancing together, that you can dance and live your life with whoever you want in whatever way you want. If we’re lucky, I might even make two men dancing together look beautiful.”

The silence in the room, in the studio, in Ronan’s head- felt exhilarating. Gansey had had his chance to deny all. He’d had his opportunity to do what his mother wanted and he’d not even come close. The end credits started to play, names rolling down the screen like waves, clearly after a consensus on the show that Gansey’s last speech was plenty enough to leave the audience wanting more.

Ronan barely registered it. They had to get back, he thought. Opal was probably bored, and he’d certainly be in trouble when he returned, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready to leave this dark room and all of its magic.

Chapter Text

Magic rarely stuck around when you wanted it to. This was a fact that Ronan was all too aware of, and had been throughout his whole life. Magic showed up at your doorstep with a rose and a smile, took your breath away and then disappeared for months without explanation.

It was a cruel lover, but Ronan had yet to meet someone who hadn’t become addicted to its devilish games.

So when he left the studio, finally, after sitting stunned in his seat for probably far too long, he shouldn’t have been surprised when harsh lights flashed and reporters yelled and everything turned sour.

Squaring his shoulders, Ronan reached for all the masks he had abandoned briefly, took Blue’s hand and marched through the throng of chaos.

Sometimes you didn’t need magic. Sometimes all you needed was some fucking determination.

By his side, Blue seemed much calmer. She waved excitedly to fans and even gave her best attempt at a smile to the reporters, but Ronan knew she hated this too. Maybe it was all of these assholes demanding a performance from her, when he knew for a fact that Blue Sargent performed for nobody and nothing if she didn’t want to. Maybe it was the uncomfortable, sharp ting of class betrayal that Ronan knew would always haunt her, associating with them so publicly. The Aglionby boys.

If only Adam was here.

“Now is not the time, Ronan,” Blue chastised him quietly.

Ronan had no idea what she was talking about.

“What?”

“Stop thinking about your boyfriend, idiot. I can see it on your face. You can call him when we get back to the hotel.”

What the fuck.

“Stop being a creep, Sargent.”

“I’m afraid I can’t. Born this way, you see.”

“I’ll book you an exorcism, then. I’m sure Declan knows someone.”

“Oh, I bet he does,” Blue laughed. “You’re telling me he’s never tried one on you?”

“Probably,” Ronan grinned. “Must have been while I was sleeping.”

Humming in agreement, she tugged on his hand a little harder until they made it to the car.

“I’ll drive us back, yeah?” she asked with a smirk playing on her lips.

Ronan just rolled his eyes and swung himself into the driver’s seat. He’d come to expect her jibes, since she made them every time they went out. He’d tried to tell her that they had stopped being funny after the first time, but apparently she disagreed, if her huge grin was anything to go by.

“It’s your face, man,” she said to him as he merged onto the motorway. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Whatever, Sargent.”

He glanced to his left briefly when she remained silent, and realised that she’d already nodded off, her head lolled awkwardly to the side and her arms all droopy. He prodded her, not bothering about being gentle.

“What, Lynch?” she mumbled.

He wasn’t sure. The night felt huge, and with her lost to it as well, it felt even huger. Everything was off-kilter. He didn’t want her to leave him with only the unforgiving concrete of the London roads and the light of passing cars’ headlights for company, but he couldn’t say that without sounding like a little bitch.

“Sleeping already?” he muttered when the silence became too oppressive. “What are you, five? It’s only half nine.”

“It’s been a long fucking day.”

She was damn right about that.

~

Unfortunately for Ronan, long fucking days seemed to be in no short supply. He began the next morning with a clear mission in his head – to find a school for Opal before she died of boredom and/or committed murder because of it. However, he had been correct in his prediction that Opal would be pissed at him for leaving her so long to go and watch the premier. And because he genuinely did feel bad about it, and was a weak, weak man, he gave in to her puppy dog eyes and agreed to take her out for ice cream first.

So it may have been around two pm by the time he actually started looking for schools. Which was fine.

Or, it might have been fine if Opal hadn’t decided to pull a 180 on him, saying she actually hated summer school, thank you very much, and would certainly not be attending one when she had far better things to do, like sit in hotel rooms chatting to Blue and playing with string. At first Ronan had brushed it off as a brief tantrum, but it seemed that she was determined to make his life impossible, and was now earnestly telling every concerned summer school teacher in the Greater London area that she had horns and hooves, and also that Ronan was gay.

“Like, soooo gay,” she had informed one particularly unlucky older lady, who ran a kids club called Little Stars and was clearly not at all equipped for this conversation. Ronan had decided by that point that maybe it was a mistake to ever let Blue anywhere near his child. She was worse than a bad influence.

By 5:30pm, all the potential places were closed, Ronan was hungry, and Opal’s dramatic revelations were getting bolder by the minute.

“I give up,” he told Opal. “But this isn’t over, pipsqueak.”

She just smirked, and as much as Ronan tried to hate how pleased with herself she looked for causing him so much trouble, he couldn’t bring himself to fully.

“We’re getting the tube home,” he decided, just to be petty, and promptly regretted his decision upon remembering that he hated the Underground just as much as she did. Whatever. At least it wasn’t the goddamn New York subway.
~
Their hotel room was eerily quiet when they returned. Fading drafts of cold air brought goosebumps to his arms as he leaned over to tuck Opal in, and he pulled the window shut with a roll of his eyes. For all her environmentalist ways, Blue was an awful one for wasting central heating.

He’d barely pulled the scratchy, clinical hotel sheets over his body when his phone began to buzz on the nightstand. He was still awful at time zones, so he picked up just in case.

“What?”

“Always a pleasure speaking to you too, Ronan,” came the unmistakeably clipped voice of Richard Gansey the Third.

“Oh. It’s you.”

The phone buzzed with static, and Ronan almost thought that Gansey had finally decided that Ronan’s bad manners were unacceptable and hung up the phone.

But the call was still going, and his tinny voice did eventually return.

“Do you have a minute, Ronan?”

“It’s my bedtime, Dick.”

“Really? It’s hardly late.”

“Yeah, well. Long fucking day.”

“Fair enough. But I feel like I haven’t talked to you in ages. Can you sacrifice a few minutes of beauty sleep?”

“Yeah, alright.”

Gansey let out a relieved sigh. “How are you, Ronan?”

“I agreed to talking, not therapy,” he replied.

“Just being polite,” Gansey answered diplomatically. “And if that’s your idea of therapy, I fear for you.”

“I’ll live. How are you, then? And don’t give me any of the bullshit you spew to those reporters.”

“It isn’t bullshit!” protested Gansey. “I really am having a wonderful time. I’m spending time with Henry and learning new things and wearing ridiculous outfits. I couldn’t be happier.”

“But?”

“Well, obviously it was always going to be stressful. You and Blue deciding to kiss in central London didn’t exactly help.”

Ronan shrugged before he had time to remember that Gansey couldn’t see him through the phone. “What else were we supposed to do?”

Gansey spluttered.

“I don’t know where to begin,” he said. “Look, I appreciate what you wanted to achieve. I really do, but we can’t go on like this. Everyone is so confused-”

“-why does it matter if strangers on the internet don’t understand our lives?”

“Ronan, please. I- I’m being pulled apart right now. And I get it. Maybe I did this all wrong. But I can’t say anything that significant about the inherent bigotry of the US government if all everyone cares about is if my girlfriend is cheating on me.”

“I thought there was no such thing as bad publicity?”

“People are going to demand answers from me at some point, Ronan. And right now, I have no idea what I would say!”

“That it isn’t any of their business.”

Gansey sighed. “Please, Ronan. Work with me here.”

“To be honest with you, Dick, I’m really not sure what I could do, at this point. Hasn’t the damage already been done?”

He wasn’t lying. If Gansey’s public image was a car, Ronan had crashed it off the side of the highway and rolled it into a dirt pit. And this time, he didn’t think that dreaming up a new one would cut it.

“There’s no problem that can’t be solved,” said Gansey, seemingly pleased that Ronan was finally showing suggestions of cooperation. “I understand that you’re worried about Adam. We all are. But if you just tell the press that the whole thing was a joke that got out of hand, then my team will pay for security for Adam, to protect him from harassment until all of this is over.”

Ronan actually laughed. “Yeah, right.”

“Ronan-”

“No. I’m sorry Gansey, but this isn’t even about me. Adam would hate it. He’d hate us.”

“I thought hating each other was your guys’ love language,” Gansey muttered under his breath.

Maybe him and Adam needed to start being nicer to each other in public.

“You know it’s true,” Ronan pressed.

Gansey was silent for a moment, contemplating.

“Yeah, I do,” he eventually replied dejectedly.

Setting the phone to speaker and putting it on the table, Ronan allowed himself a small moment of appreciation for Gansey’s weird relationship with Adam. Say what you wanted, but the guy could be talked out of anything if he thought it would hurt Ronan’s boyfriend.

Unfortunately, Ronan too occasionally had a soft spot for tortured academics.

“Listen, what if we just wait until the end of his semester? I’m pretty sure there’s only a couple more weeks, and then Adam can fly over, I’ll tell the truth, and we can handle it together. Alright?”

He could feel Gansey’s relief seeping through the phone.

“Thank you, Ronan.”

“Night, asshole.”

He flopped onto his bed with a sigh, hoping for sleep without nightmares and an easier tomorrow. Sometimes, sleep still evaded him as it had in his high school days. It was a ghost, a flicker of light that he chased but never caught. But tonight, he was lost in seconds.

~

When Ronan woke up, Blue was giggling. This was extremely concerning, because Blue was very steadfastly not the giggling kind. Ronan rubbed his eyes, thinking that maybe he was having a really strange dream, but the world only blurred then focused again, and Blue was still giggling.

“I can’t wait to see you,” she told the phone in a voice so earnest Ronan genuinely thought she might have lost her mind. He had never once seen her be this nice to Gansey – but maybe they just kept the lovey-dovey stuff for themselves, and she probably hadn’t realised that Ronan was awake yet.

“Yes, I miss you too. See you soon,” Blue said, then hung up the phone with a dopey smile.

“Gansey alright?” Ronan asked, announcing his presence.

Blue did a double take at the sound of his voice.

“Gansey? No, that was Henry,” she clarified. “Did you only just wake up?”

He made a noncommittal sort of noise that could have been agreement, and she relaxed just a little. Interesting. What was that about? For the life of him, Ronan couldn’t decide, but it didn’t matter. He had bigger problems than the strange ways of Blue Sargent.

Chapter Text

Now that Gansey’s weird show had properly begun, it was inescapable. It was one thing waking up to his nerdy best friend’s smiling face plastered on the front page of the news all the time, but being rendered basically unable to leave the house was proving to be a problem.

“If I killed Gansey, how much would you care on a scale of one to ten?” he asked Blue the next day as they shoved through reporters who were for some reason dying to snap a picture of them with their mundane array of groceries.

Blue was unfazed.

“It doesn’t matter” she replied, “if you killed him, the media storm would only get worse. No point.”

“You’re biased,” he accused.

“I’m right.”

He pulled out his keycard and they stumbled into the hotel, shutting the door behind them with a sigh.

Immediately, Ronan collapsed onto his bed.

“I hate it when you make sense.”

~
By the time the next episode was about to air, Ronan had half-convinced himself that he was experiencing some sort of fever dream.

Crisp air and a cigarette had always been the favoured method of clearing one’s head in the Lynch family, and Ronan was no exception when he snuck out the back of the hotel on Saturday morning. He wasn’t ready for tonight, and he knew it.

His phone weighed down his pocket like a pile of rocks, getting heavier as each day went by. He dug it out of his jeans, hating the way a wave of hope rose up in his chest. He checked his messages.

To: Adam
Tamquam
(Read, Monday.)

There was nothing else, unless you counted about seventy messages from Declan, which Ronan didn’t.

The wave crashed just as quickly as it had risen, and he shoved his phone away. Right now there was too much other shit going on, so he just took a long, slow drag of his cigarette, stomped it out harshly and silently returned to the room.

He must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew he was groggily opening his eyes to the sound of Blue’s voice growing increasingly frustrated.

“What do you mean we can’t- ”

“Yes, I know, but-”

“Because we care about him!”

“Can I not just speak to Gansey, please?”

“Fine. I hope you all enjoy yourselves.”

He sat up slowly.

“What fresh hell is this?” he muttered finally.

Blue’s smile at his words was smaller than it should have been.

“We’re not allowed at the show,” she told him finally.

He was suddenly ten times more awake. “What?”

“Too confusing. Too much drama. Too much of a distraction.”

“That’s fucking stupid- did Gansey agree to it?”

“I don’t know,” Blue said. “But either way, it’s not his choice.”

Sometimes, Ronan felt like nothing was a choice anymore. He couldn’t wake up one day and decide to be free of the grief and rage that would forever be his shadow and his maker. Blue couldn’t travel to Peru like she wanted to, not until she spent at least five more years working on tree lichen in England or rejected all her principles and took Gansey’s money. Even Adam’s attendance of Harvard felt far more like an inevitability than an option he had simply taken. None of them could ever decide to forget what they’d done, and somewhere inside Ronan was just as sure that none of them could ever truly remember.

For the first time in his life, he was done fighting shit. Maybe the path of least resistance was the best one after all.

“Don’t worry about it,” he told Blue as she dialled another number, presumably to plead their case. “They’re probably right anyway.”

She looked at him like he’d just grown a second head.

“I know you’re kind of mad at him, but don’t you want to see Gansey perform?”

Did he? Yes. Maybe. He didn’t know anymore. He wanted things to be normal and he wanted to set the world on fire. He wanted to go to church and feel like he belonged; he wanted never to go to church again. Gansey was just another part of the conflicting mosaic of desires that made up Ronan Lynch.

“Of course I want to be there for Gansey. But the stress, all the reporters, the lights, the people, the small-talk- I’d go if they let us, but is it really worth all this?”

“I just don’t want Gansey to feel alone. I know it’s a stupid show, but it isn’t to him.”

No, nothing was stupid to Gansey. It was one of the things Ronan had always admired the most about him when they’d first met. It was also one of things that made him easier to break, but there was no point in saying that now.

“He’s a big boy, Sargent. And he’s got Cheng, don’t forget.”

Blue slumped down onto the armchair. It seemed like the mention of Henry had finally convinced her, but she still seemed defeated.

“So, if we’re not going to the show, what are we doing?”

Ronan finally grinned.

“How do you feel about a drive?”

~

So, somehow, they had ended up in the middle of nowhere, pulled over on a dark country lane on the outskirts of London, lining up shots on the dash. The internet had many flaws, but every now and them it produced something wonderful. The Guardian newspaper’s Strictly Come Dancing drinking game was one such phenomenon, in Ronan’s opinion.

He didn’t drink much, lately- not because he was trying to be fully sober, but he had enough self-awareness to know that drinking alone was a bad idea, at least for him. On the rare occasion that he and Adam went out, Adam never drank more than a glass and Ronan didn’t want him lumped with the task of taking care of his wasted boyfriend all night, so he followed suit.

Seeing the shots lined up was strange, was all. For a moment he was in a dusty scrapyard with Kavinsky all over again. But then there was something else- the sense that he had let someone down like this before. They’d found him bleeding out, bottles shattered on the nearby floor, and he hadn’t been able to forget the look in their eye. Except he had, because the memory felt hazy and wrong even as he tried to detail it.

Gansey found him that night, he knew. Ronan remembered the way his friend’s brown eyes had looked in the reflection of the stark hospital lights. So why did it all feel wrong?

“Earth to Ronan?” Blue said impatiently, breaking him out of his stupor.

“Sorry. Been a while.”

She looked at him in confusion for a moment until she traced his gaze to the half-empty tequila bottle on the dash.

“We don’t have to-”

“I’ll be fine.”

She didn’t look like she believed him, but she knew better than to argue.

He pulled up the “Strictly Week One Bingo” on Blue’s phone.

“What are we watching out for?”

Ronan wasn’t sure where to begin.

“Uh, a lot of things. Including Tess saying ‘look at your little face!’ to a young contestant?”

“Ooh, Gansey could be in the running for that.”

“I guess,” Ronan answered. “I won’t let him live it down if she does.”

Blue laughed. “I was under the impression we weren’t going to let him live any of this down?”

“Well, that’s true,” he admitted.

Blue pored over the bingo list for a minute, then leant back in her seat.

“I guess there’s nothing to do now but wait.”

Ronan started the car, since he figured driving would be off the table soon and there was no way he was just gonna sit around and do nothing, not right now.

“Watch your speed, dumbass,” Blue told him after a minute.

“Don’t tell me how to drive my car, Sargent,” he replied, but he slowed down a little.

“You know, you’ve been even more of a dickhead than usual the last few days. Anything you’d care to share?”

“No.”

“Adam alright?”

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” he gritted out.

“Alright, man,” she said, shooting him a look of pity that made him want to retch. “Just asking.”

They drove in silence for the next ten minutes- and then it began.

The first forty five minutes passed in a blur, but it was safe to say that by the time Gansey was on the screen both of them were absolutely plastered.

Ignoring whatever sappy, fake bullshit was being parroted in the behind-the-scenes clips that played as a preview to the actual dancing, Ronan turned to Blue, confused.

“Why does Gansey keep looking at Cheng like that?”

“Like what?” she slurred.

“Weird,” was all his drunk brain could come up with.

She was silent for a minute, and then seemed to finally process his words. She laughed at him like he’d just told the world’s funniest joke.

“Why do you think?”

“Uh, because he’s actually lost his mind?”

Blue just smiled, glassy-eyed.

“Well, they do say it makes you crazy.”

As strange as she was being, Ronan didn’t have time to unpack any of it because suddenly Gansey was being announced for his dance, which was a fucking jive, of all things.

Nonetheless, let it never be said that Dick was one to half-ass a job. Ronan had known this, and yet he still felt like he was dreaming watching Gansey jump and twist and tap his feet with all the energy and strength that he possibly had. By the time the music faded and the crowd was cheering, Ronan could see the sweat dripping down his face.

“Jesus,” he breathed.

“That was… good?” Blue said in disbelief.

She sounded like she could barely believe her own words, but – well, she was right. It had been fucking fantastic, at least for a guy that Ronan had once seen actually fall over doing the macarena. He had no idea what Cheng had been doing the past few weeks, but clearly he was a good teacher, if not a goddamn miracle worker.

“Well, shit. Guess we gotta see what the experts have to say,” he said, and they both paused with bated breath as the judges gave their feedback.

The first judge to speak was impressively enthusiastic and jumped right into a speech about Gansey’s “incredible energy” and “undeniable potential”, which was moving but slightly undermined by the fact that she had gushed in a similar manner about pretty much every dance so far, even the truly godawful ones.

The next had baffled Ronan all night with his incredibly ability to talk without really ever saying anything, and certainly never saying anything that made sense. It was hard to tell what he thought of Gansey’s performance, but he did compliment Cheng’s “marvellous hair”, so.

The head judge seemed fairly positive, but Ronan didn’t speak dance so frankly he never knew what she was talking about. Although she’d lost him at the word chassé, she did spend a good five minutes fawning over Gansey and seemed very keen on his American accent.

“Do you know what’s going on?” he muttered to Blue as the judge continued to talk technique on the screen.

“I’ve had five shots of shitty tequila, farm boy. What do you think?”

“That you should probably step away from the tequila, Jesus,” he replied, placing the glass in her hand back on the dash. “And if you call me that again, I will end you.”

“Call you what?” she asked faux-innocently. “Farm boy?”

He swatted at her and missed by a ridiculous degree.

“I swear to God, once I get my hand-eye coordination back, it’s all over for you, Sargent.”

The final judge was the designated mean guy, the Simon Cowell of British dance TV, or something. If Simon Cowell was gay. Or maybe he was? Or this guy wasn’t, and Ronan needed to stop stereotyping. God, he was drunk.

Anyway, he made his snide comments about Gansey’s shoddy footwork and minor mistakes, accepting the jeers from the crowd after each one unfazed, but Ronan didn’t think he was imagining the glint in the guy’s eye when he finally ended with: “Good job, though. It wasn’t awful.”

Damn. Gansey was already winning people over. Or maybe this judge just liked the idea of pissing off the US government- he did seem the type.

Either way, Ronan wasn’t sure it mattered. He tipped back his head to stare at the pollution-smudged sky, distantly aware of Blue cheering as Gansey and Cheng received a decent score and the show was brought to a close.

“I told you,” Blue said to him with pride.

He blinked at her slowly.

“Told me what, Sargent?”

She grinned, wide and hopeful.

“He might actually win this thing.”