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There was something special about the Barns at night. It was a special place to begin with, full of the dream things of Niall Lynch, and now being slowly repopulated with the dream things of Ronan Lynch. But on clear summer nights, the Barns wasn't merely special. It was a place of mystery, and a place of magic, and , of course, a place of dreams.
The farmland was dark but for fireflies or the glowing orbs Ronan had once pulled out of Cabeswater. Ronan sprawled in the damp grass, ignoring them when they crawled over him in the way of people that liked bugs. Every so often, he tapped the ring he'd dreamt and sent a shower of light-casting orbs dancing around his chest. It confused the fireflies. Ronan was fine with that.
Overhead, he watched for Virginia's summer constellations. Cygnus. Aquila. Ursa Minor and Major. Sagittarius and Scorpius and Ophiuchus.
To his right, he watched Chainsaw peck at the ground for late night bugs. Probably fireflies. Maybe beetles. Maybe she'd take off after a field mouse, if one felt brave enough to roam around this warm summer night.
To his left, he watched down the hill for a light in the farmhouse. The light that meant Adam was home from work. Adam would look around the house for him, and not finding him there, Adam would carefully turn off all the lights again, and come walking out into the fields. The first time he'd come with a flashlight, and Ronan had flinched when the bright beam fell across his face and told Adam to turn the thing off (though with more swearing, because Ronan used curses like some people used filler words). Adam had used the light from his cell phone screen a few times after that, and then foregone a light altogether.
Ronan thought about what that meant while he searched the sky for stars to name.
Some time later, the lights went on in the farmhouse. They went out again moments later, and the shadow of a dusty Henrietta boy started his way up the shadowy grass on the hill where Ronan watched the sky. He didn't turn left again until Adam was nearly upon him.
"Scry for me, Parrish? That was awful quick," Ronan greeted him.
"Didn't need to," Adam said. He sat in the grass beside Ronan and tapped his middle finger against the ring. A particle burst of light exploded from it, showering them both. "You've got a beacon up here."
Ronan smiled his razorblade smile and looked back to the sky. Adam leaned on the heels of his hands and tilted his head back to look. It was gorgeous. A sky full of stars, the dusty stream of the Milky Way, not black but not quite blue and not quite purple. Impossibly full of stars. Adam wondered if Niall Lynch had dreamed more stars for the sky above the Barns, something to inspire his dreamer son.
Ronan cut his eyes to Adam's silhouette in the fading orb-light then closed them. "The trees in Cabeswater dreamed of stars," he said, to Adam or to Chainsaw or to the silent fields.
"Do they dream of stars because that's what trees dream of," Adam asked, "or because you thought that's what trees should dream of?"
Ronan didn't have an answer for that. Adam hadn't expected one. Cabeswater was in Gansey now and they could never ask it. It was a mystery that would remain. They had both expected this.
Ronan tapped the ring for another burst of orbs. Adam stuck his hand into them, as if to catch a little starlight for himself.
"Scientifically speaking," Ronan said, which was a bad start to any conversation with Ronan Lynch, because Ronan Lynch didn't particularly care about science. Ronan Lynch had grown up a dreamer in this house full of dreams, and science didn't quite apply here. "We're made up of the same fucking stuff that stars are. Big Bang, evolution and all that. Calcium and nitrogen, and hydrogen and iron. And a little something extra to make us walk and talk and think."
"And what's that 'something extra,' Lynch? The soul? Religion?" Adam laughed because Adam and Ronan talking philosophy was like Gansey and Blue talking psychic magic. It was something they understood, intrinsically, but only dipped their fingers in in practice.
"Dreams," Ronan answered, "magic." And suddenly it wasn't philosophy they were talking, but something they both understood quite well.
"Tell that to Blue, and she'd cuff you and tell you 'then where's my magic, hmph?'" Adam did a passable impression of Blue. Ronan sniggered.
But he waved away the comment, too. "Sargent's got her mirror magic," he said while Adam caught his hand and played with his fingers. "We are, all of us, the stuff of stars and dreams," Ronan said.
"You more than the rest of us, maybe," Adam said with a laugh.
Him. Greywaren. The proof of it was around them. The magic ring he tapped idly a few times, sending burst after burst of starry sparks floating around them. The quiet of the Barns, acres of farmland and the namesake barns full of dream junk and Niall Lynch's sleeping dreams. But there was also Adam beside him, picking at the leather bands on his wrist and tracing his fingertips along the dips of his palm and the length of his fingers.
Ronan shook his head in disagreement. "You, more than anything," he said.
"You didn't dream me up, Ronan Lynch." Adam leaned over him and blocked the sky. No, Ronan did not dream up Adam Parrish. Not like Matthew. But that made Adam Parrish so much better than what he pulled from dreams.
"That's how I know you're stardust and dreams and magic," Ronan told him for the way he knew Adam's cheeks would get warm. He tapped the ring for more light just to see that pink. It was in his ears, too; that was cute. It made Ronan smirk. Success.
He turned his head and kissed the warm flutter of Adam's pulse in his wrist. Ronan was always full of dreams, but on quiet nights under the stars he was more full of love for Adam. Loving Adam was loving a summer storm, high winds, hot rain, and all. A little bit scary, a little bit wondrous, a force of nature in the skin of an eighteen year old. It made Ronan want to climb as high as he could and revel in the wonder of him. He put up his arms and pulled Adam down to him. Adam fell willingly into Ronan's lap.
Adam didn't feel like stardust and dreams and magic. He felt like sweat, smelled like grease, but maybe a little part of him was magic. It was the part of him, as he righted himself and settled back against Ronan's chest and felt Ronan's lips on his shoulder and arms around his waist, that reminded him that Ronan loved him even when he smelled like a mechanic's workshop. Maybe even more then. Adam put his head back on Ronan's shoulder and looked at the stars.
Loving Ronan was loving a racecar, high speeds, hot engine, and all. A little bit danger, a little bit freedom. It was on your mark... when he was near, get set... when his arms made that safety belt around his waist, GO! when he kissed him. Ronan was a racecar that ran on starfire and dreams and magic, and with him Adam wanted to find that elusive empty stretch of highway and find out how fast he could go.
With him, Adam felt like magic. Ronan put his chin on Adam's shoulder, tightened one arm around him and used the other to point out constellations in the sky. Cygnus, he said. Aquila. Where Ronan pointed, Adam imagined the shape of the constellations, down to each feather, each claw. Or maybe the stardust in the sky coalesced into their forms, or maybe it was a trick his tired eyes were playing.
"No ravens?" Adam asked, as his stardust imagination crumbled out of the shape of the eagle. He could imagine it, inky black feathers like the night sky, not black not blue not purple. Chainsaw cawed softly to his right, reminding him there was a raven right there if he was looking for one.
"Not in our sky," Ronan said. Then he laughed. "You know, there's six stars in Corvus. We should rename them after us." Ronan didn't have to explain that he meant all of them, from Gansey who'd started the quest for Glendower to Henry who joined them at the end of it. Adam knew it.
He made a face though and sat up, not far enough to encourage Ronan to let him go. "Now, who in their right mind would name star 'Adam?'" he asked, Henrietta pulling his vowels long like taffy. "You'n Gansey have the names for stars." Even Blue did; even a star called Czerny or Cheng sounded better than a star called Adam or Parrish.
"I was thinking of calling his 'Dick,'" Ronan replied. It was so outrageous that Adam laughed. It was more outrageous, because Ronan was serious. Ronan squeezed Adam tight, put his chin back on his shoulder beside the ear that could hear. "Besides, I spend all goddamn night looking at a star called Adam," he whispered. It was too sweet a thing to say for any Ronan Lynch but the one that could hide in darkness, out of Adam's direct sight. That was fine with Adam. He didn't think any Adam Parrish but the one that could hide in darkness where Ronan couldn't see his face could bear to hear it.
Adam didn't have the right words to reply, so he twisted half out of the safety belt of Ronan's arms to kiss him. Ronan couldn't believe he'd thought the night warm before. Nothing was warmer than Adam and his mouth. He meant it even more now. Adam was starfire, and Ronan was content to burn in his presence if that's what it took to keep him close.
Ronan was content to dream of stars every night if they were all stars named Adam Parrish.