**Due to popular demand, I have continued Adam and Ronan's adventures. I wrote this late at night for three days using my phone. So. It's not really up to par, but I still hope you'll enjoy. Some basic information might be incorrect and it might not be so book-like because it's been several months since I finished The Dream Thieves.**

Ronan still dreamt that night - of Cabeswater and the way the trees whispered to him all their secrets, but so cryptically he couldn't hope to understand - but he had an easier time pulling himself out of it.

He opened his eyes, a flower crushed in his palm and Adam snoring open-mouthed beside him. Sunlight filtered through dust, lighting the room in a whirlwind of floating off-white specks. Surreptitiously, he slipped the bent petals between the wall and the mattress and turned on his side. Propped up by an elbow, he watched Adam sleep. Around Adam's mouth the skin was crusted with spit. Smiling softly to himself, Ronan kissed the edges of it and carefully lifted himself off the mattress.

In the bathroom he stared at his reflection. Water dripped from his harsh face. Except it looked softer, almost. There was no evidence that he had kissed Adam Parrish in the morning's wee hours, but even Blue would probably have been able to tell there was something, something, different about Ronan Lynch.

A few hours - it was past noon now - of good sleep hadn't done much to lessen the bags darkening the skin beneath his eyes. But he felt better. Calmer.

He patted his face dry with a yellowed towel then returned to lower himself on the floor beside the mattress and watched Adam's chest move up and down. His lips were closed now and he was curled up, hands under his cheek and the pillow. He looked like a child. Ronan's chest cavity seized, uncomfortable with heat, and he averted his eyes to the room. Even in all its mess, it looked barren. He wondered if Adam would ever know it was he who had ensured Adam wouldn't be kicked out of here. He wondered if one day he'd tell Adam himself.

A noise came through Adam's nose, a freight train on the run and screeching to a halt. His throat burst open with a yawn and he blinked bleary eyes at the boy seated beside his hips. His sweet smile called up one of Ronan's own.

"Hey," Adam whispered, although the birds and the city and even the nuns were loud outside this tiny room. It was late; but the stillness of the enclosure echoed in Ronan as well. For once he didn't feel like he was a match's flame, licking at a firework.

"Hey," he whispered back. "Good afternoon."

Adam's smile deepened another margin. He held Ronan's gaze like it was easy, like it soothed instead of burnt. Ronan twisted onto his knees, scooted forward. Approaching a challenge. Adam's head fell back, relaxed, and Ronan's hovered over. He sucked in a breath to ask a question but Adam was already smoothing his fingers across Ronan's cheeks, his ears, his skull. His lips nudged Ronan's lips, his breath nudged Ronan's breath.

It was only the third time he'd done it but he was already deciding it was his favourite thing in the world. He would rather lazily drag his tongue between Adam's lips than drag his car over the finish line ahead of Kavinsky's, any day.

Several minutes later, Adam had gone to the bathroom and they were sitting on the floor side-by-side with the mattress pressing gently at their backs. Silence caressed the oxygen they breathed, quietly, in and out.

"So," ventured Adam, eyes anywhere but near Ronan, "how do we do this?" Ronan stayed silent, darkness chewing at his gut. "Do we...tell Gansey? Do we keep it a secret?"

"Gansey has enough things to worry about," Ronan said flatly, repeating himself. It was a mantra in his mind. Repetition kept him from spilling everything. Repetition kept him closed.

"Yeah, but..." Adam glanced at him, clearly uncomfortable. "If we're going to be making out, surely *someone* should know."

"We know," Ronan pointed out, sharply. An awkward silence beat the edges of his ribs. "I'm not ready to tell him," he amended, careful to be softer. "Can we...take it slow?"

And they did take it slow. Adam couldn't begrudge him that; he was scared to tell Gansey himself. Not because Gansey was homophobic - he wasn't one to judge, unless you didn't think Glyndwr was interesting, in which case you became a frustrating anomaly, a person to which he must preach all Owain's merits - but because Gansey might see it as a betrayal, such secret-keeping, such sneaking. He had already grown apart from them both. Adam feared this might prove to be too much, and Adam was so very tired of fighting.

So they kept it secret. Ronan came over to get help with school or late at night when he was scared to sleep, and when he stayed overnight, curled together with Adam like those proverbial peas in their proverbial pods, he told Gansey he'd slept on Adam's floor. He'd done that on rare occasion even before the kissing started; sleep came and left easier above the church, better still when he was near Adam. But now he was closer than ever.

Adam slipped Ronan out of his shirt and traced his ever-shifting tattoo with his fingers. Ronan carded his through Adam's hair of the country's dusty shades. He kissed Adam's collar bone. Adam kissed his hip bone. They moved with one another in stark, vivid reality. A normal person would say it was like a dream, but Ronan had had his full share of dreams. Adam was just right. Easy and hard, all tangled and mixed. Like himself.

A month later - it was a Saturday, it was raining and the roof was shaking but everything was still sticky with heat; Ronan had brought Adam a fan but it only circulated the humidity - they were stretched out on the bed, nibbling on a popsicle they were sharing. Ronan had come over without needing an excuse because Gansey was with Blue. A deeper, nastier part of Adam was bitter at the thought of the two of them spending time together. The other part was glad Gansey was distracted enough not to notice how distracted Adam got around Ronan, when the group was out doing Glyndwr-y things or Adam was just over at Monmouth.

The surprising part of all this was that Adam could still focus on school. None of his assignments the past few weeks had been turned in late or unfinished. In fact, Ronan's hadn't been either. Right now, a mathematics textbook sat open on their stomachs with a dull pencil and an unmarked piece of paper. That was, it was mostly unmarked. Ronan had lazily scribbled some cawing ravens on it. One had a bubble attached to its beak,"fuck math!" encased rather neatly within.

"Classy," remarked Adam.

"I'm all about the fucking class," Ronan retorted. He turned his head and gave a smidgen of a smile. His face was glossy with sweat, his cheeks pink. It was almost the same shade he flushed when Adam did something daring like unzip Ronan's jeans and slip a hand inside. It was a new experience entirely, making someone's breath hitch and release on a moan. And not just anyone, but Ronan begrudgingly-his-friend-by-association-of-Gansey Lynch.

Adam chewed on the popsicle stick. His mouth and face and fingers were all gooey with melted, sugary water. And sweat. He was feeling dreadfully lazy but high of spirits. His life could be figured out. His desired future was certainly not unattainable. Anything was possible.

Magic was real.

He smiled back at Ronan to try and portray all this, inconspicuously and simultaneously. Ronan's smile shifted, as if to say he knew. Then his head shifted as well, and he licked the popsicle juice off Adam's lips, off the inside of his mouth. With a thunk and a clatter and a crumple, the homework supplies slid off onto the floor. Adam sucked in a breath as Ronan's harsh teeth tore at his collarbone, bruising where the Algionby, or a regular, shirt could hide. Ronan sucked in a breath as Adam's callouses cruised down his shirt then down the seat of his jeans.

The room was already too hot, but the heat of Mother Nature had nothing on Ronan Lynch.

"Ronan," Adam gasped as Ronan flicked the popsicle stick onto the floor with his tongue. The air seemed to shimmer. Was that a trick on his eyes or Henrietta's summer?

Ronan paused, his hips tentatively pressed against Adam's. He was breathing hard, too. Was he shaking? Was that another eye-trick? "Yeah?" he prompted hoarsely when Adam silently kept staring.

He blinked. He cleared his throat. He felt like a lightning strike. He felt like several lightning strikes. "I don't know. Are you..."

Ronan seemed to redden even more. He shifted his weight uncomfortably, and his groin scraped Adam's. They were both wearing shorts, the material soft and prone to sliding. Nerve endings sparked. Adam lost his train of thought, eyes zeroing in on Ronan's swollen mouth.

"Am I what?" asked Ronan.

Adam inhaled a short breath that either contained too little or too much oxygen. "...Sure?" he said, voice small.

Ronan's eyes softened - they did that a lot, Adam had never noticed before, and he couldn't say whether it was because of their...thing or whether he just had never been looking closely - and he tilted his head. He looked like Chainsaw. "We don't have to do anything," he said, gentle as the touch of his fingers when he stroked Adam's face before he fell asleep. Before Adam could respond, before Adam could fully form thoughts, decide whether he was, indeed, ready to throw his heterosexuality completely out the way, a car door slammed upstairs. Feet, two pairs of feet, slapped up the stairs. A laugh, it sounded like Blue's laugh, slammed up inside Adam's skull.

Ronan jumped up like Adam had just spontaneously burst into flames. He ran into the bathroom, then twisted back, paused in the doorway, looked Adam over, and gave a thumbs-up as a fist beat at the door and Gansey's voice shouted his name. Then he darted out of sight again.

Adam was frozen, heart pounding, not encouraged. Was that thumbs-up meant to encourage him? Did it mean his hard-on, now dwindling thanks to that shot of pure fear and horror and surprise, wasn't visible? Did it mean he should pretend everything was normal and Ronan wasn't here? No; the BMW was up front and Ronan's shoes were tucked beside the door. Gansey wasn't blind, and neither was Blue. If he acted antsy or like Ronan wasn't hiding in the bathroom - and what was he doing anyway? jerking off? that seemed unfair - they'd know something was up, besides the obvious in his shorts, and Gansey would get all suspicious and give him a look, and Blue would give him hers, and-

"Adam! Ronan!" shouted Gansey. "I know you're both here!"

"Are you asleep?" ventured Blue, sounding very much like a mother hen. That was to say, like Gansey. "Don't you know it's three in the afternoon?"

"I know what time it is!" Adam shouted back. His voice came out hoarse and angry rather than nervous. Normal, he reminded himself, normal. "Can't anybody have a lazy day on Saturday?"

"Yeah, come on," added Ronan, exiting from the bathroom. He looked refreshed, albeit still sweaty and red. He could put that off as the heat, though. Could Adam? "Can't he fucking relax on his day off?"

He yanked open the door, and Adam caught a glimpse of his condescending brow before he faced the guests.

"Relax?" echoed Blue, perhaps distastefully. She didn't sound any less happy than she had a moment ago. That nasty part of Adam twinged. "With you here?"

"That does seem a bit far-fetched," Gansey said. "But we have more important business. Are you dressed?" His head popped between Ronan's and the door. His cheeks were pink, too, and he was grinning.

Adam gingerly rose to his feet. "In a second," he said, and carefully didn't look at Ronan as he passed him into the bathroom.

He gazed at the boy in the mirror. Dirty hair, dirty mouth, dirty mind. His lips were still red, but with popsicle juice or kissing?

Gansey wouldn't know, he told himself firmly as he emptied his bladder then washed his hands and his face. Gansey couldn't know. There weren't any clues lying about for him to pick up and find. Nor were there any for Blue.

It was fine, it was fine. He wasn't going to out himself, or Ronan.

Yet.

It happened so simply. It happened so fast.

Ronan had Chainsaw in his lap. She was so big now, and she fluttered away from him, to Adam. Her beak pecked his fingers, playfully and nowhere near enough to hurt, and he laughed. He caught Ronan's eye, both of them grinning. Noah occassionally flickered into view, to laugh at them or stare or reennact his death, the latter of which was occuring more and more often.

They played a game with Chainsaw, sitting in the center of Gansey's miniature Henrietta. They hid shredded paper or mint leaves among the buildings, one of them holding her to their chest so she couldn't peek, and then released her to find them. She was good at this game, maybe too good for it to be a proper challenge.

It was quick. It was a stroke of bad luck.

Chainsaw was getting bored, irritable. "Kerah," she cried, and hopped towards the door. When Ronan ignored her, she flapped her wings and glared. Adam laughed and she swiveled her head to glare at him, too.

Abruptly he pressed his lips together, containing himself, and met Ronan's gaze. He leaned over the only little building separating them.

It was a stroke of misfortune. It was ill-timing.

Neither boy heard the footsteps on the stairs over Chainsaw's croaking and cawing. Adam's lips were soft on Ronan's. Ronan smiled, leaning forward more and splaying his hand beside Adam's knee. He was careful not to smash anything.

They were both sitting with their legs folded into diamonds. They were comfortable and happy and just as Adam parted his mouth and leaned forward more insistently, the door flew open on a wave of laughter.

Both boys reflexively yanked away. Ronan hopped to his feet. Chainsaw startled and skittered to his room.

It was too late. The laugh had cut short.

"I'll talk to you later, Jane," Gansey said into the phone. His voice was level. His face was a frozen mask. Confusion furrowed into his eyebrows. " 'Bye." He tucked the phone away. He stared a few seconds more, eyes flipping between Adam and Ronan. "What the hell is this?" He asked it as if posing the question to a television audience.

Adam jumped up too, then. "Gansey-" he began.

Ronan could see the anger melting into Gansey, other versions of him fading as he scrambled to find purchase in this newly upsidedown world.

"No," Gansey interrupted, still looking at Ronan. "What did you do?" It was an accusation. "What have you been hiding from me?" He glanced at Adam, a millisecond of hurt.

The edges of Adam's face crumbled. Answering anger spilled in Ronan's gut. "I didn't do a fucking thing."

"Then why -" He gestured uncertainly at his Henrietta model. "- were you making out?" To his credit he didn't stumble over the words.

"Well, I can't really make out with Blue, can I?" Adam retorted.

Gansey furrowed his brow at him, this time incredulous as well as confused. "So you're kissing Ronan behind my back?"

"I can kiss anybody I want to," Ronan reminded him. Gansey's eyes flickered, and Ronan knew he was thinking about Kavinsky.

He looked put off. "I...know that but...why..." Hopelessness fluttered in his hands. "Why each other?" A thought visibly struck him. Suspicion erased progress. "And for how long?"

Adam glanced at Ronan, and the fear there, the cry for help, made Ronan's heart seize and pound. He straightened his back and gathered his resolve and answered, "Five weeks."

Gansey looked stricken. "That's..." He added up moments in his head, fingers twitching. The many times Ronan hadn't come back after his nightly, insomnia-induced walks. Barging into Adam's and finding Ronan already there. The looks between them. The proximity. The guilt Ronan sometimes saw on Adam's face and could feel all over his own.

Gansey pinched his nose and slammed the door behind him with his foot. He leaned back on it and closed his eyes. He swore several times, and Ronan exchanged a glance with Adam. His anger was thrumming, ready if need be. The guilt was there. He wasn't as afraid as he thought he would be, now that they had reached the inevitable.

I'm gay, Gansey, he thought at the space between them. There it is: I'm fucking gay.

Gansey sighed and stood and dropped his hand and stared at them a little longer. Adam wiggled uncomfortably, and Ronan resisted the impulse to set a hand on his shoulder then remembered the cat was out of the bag and it no longer mattered.

Adam hesitated, then placed his hand over Ronan's and squeezed. Ronan had to smile, showing teeth but perhaps not appearing so feral.

Gansey swore again. "Is this...a relationship?" he asked like it pained him. All his finesse had scattered. "Are you...in love?" His eyes widened as if he couldn't believe those words had left his mouth aloud, and directed at his friends.

Ronan's entire body flushed. He didn't think he knew the answer to that question.

Gansey lifted his hands in surrender. "Never mind! I can't believe this. I can't believe you two." He frowned. "This..."

"Don't ask any more questions," suggested Adam. "It has nothing to do with you."

"Nothing...? How does it have nothing-"

"We're not..." He briefly looked at Ronan, cheeks red like they were trying to catch fire. "It isn't out of spite. It just..."

"Is," finished Ronan.

"That was wonderfully put," Gansey said. "I understand. Completely." He pinched his nose, rubbed his nose, rubbed his chin, pinched his chin. "You two are in a secret relationship. Exactly what I needed to make my Friday better." He lifted his gaze. It wasn't molten anymore. "Are you happy then? Together? Sneaking and keeping secrets?"

"Yes," Adam answered without hesitation. Ronan grinned.

Gansey's frown deepened. "Don't..."

"What?" Ronan's smile slipped. Here it was: the order for them both to stay away, the order for Ronan to be kicked out, the order to shred the most important friendship Ronan would ever have.

Gansey's nose crinkled. "Don't make out on my stuff again. Please. You might smash Nino's."