britomarts: (blue / willow)
[personal profile] britomarts
This is the beginning of what was meant to be a 25k fic following Blue post-series. I started writing it before TRK came out. There was going to be a whole story about her getting close with Aurora because of knitting/fiber arts and how Aurora reminded her of Persephone in a lot of ways once she was somewhat ~restored. It was also going to have a lot of Blue&Ronan friendship stuff because I had them both living at Monmouth while Blue went to a nearby community college to do her general education credits. It was also going to deal with Noah being alive again and with Blue and Gansey navigating their relationship now that they had put all of the death and curse-related angst behind them.

Obviously, TRK jossed like, every aspect of this, lmao.

But here's what I had.


Ronan had grown out his hair.

This wasn’t news to Blue, who had seen Ronan every day for the past three months. It had been happening long enough that she’d stopped commenting on it, other than to occasionally ruffle his soft black curls as she walked past where he was seated on the couch. It was something that hadn’t happened overnight—much like her own hair getting a few inches longer, or the whole of Monmouth becoming less grimy.

Gansey and Adam hadn’t been around Ronan every day, though—they’d barely even spoken to him on Skype, the way that they’d spoken to Blue. Ronan remained technophobic in the most purposeful way possible, tending to only call up Gansey when loneliness left him no other option. So Blue shouldn’t have been taken aback by the reaction Gansey and Adam had to the change. She shouldn’t have been taken aback by the changes she saw in the other boys—she’d seen via video chat that Gansey had taken to wearing his glasses more, and that Adam looked less exhausted, but a pixelated image couldn’t show her just how much good three square meals a day and time to rest had done Adam, or how much lighter and less sad Gansey seemed. An image couldn’t remind her of how good it felt to have Gansey’s arms around her, lifting her up and spinning her around.

Blue herself hadn’t changed so much as her boys in the past three months. She was still Blue, with her collection of hair clips, fish hook earrings, and ripped tank tops. She was still Blue, Nino’s waitress. Blue, witch. The last descriptor still made her heart catch in her chest, and she had to admit that the lack of change in that department wasn’t exactly a bad thing.

“Everything’s so different,” Gansey said, once they had the main room of Monmouth to themselves. “I don’t know how you convinced Ronan to move the fridge out here—was it magic?” The teasing lilt to his voice made Blue smirk.

“Not everything’s magic,” Blue said.

Gansey caught her hand in his and brushed his lips along her knuckles. “Just you, then?”

A year ago, Blue would have nervously laughed and brushed that off with a pshaw, but maybe she really had changed more than she’d realized. “Just us,” she said, and she meant more than her and Gansey—she meant Adam and his forest, Ronan and his dreams, Noah and his life—but she leaned up to press her lips to Gansey’s all the same. He made a soft, sweet sound—the kind that came from still not being used to be able to do this—and cupped her face.

“Ow,” Gansey said. He fidgeted for a moment, not seeming to want to sit up all the way, and then pulled out the offending object from under his back. Blue laid heavily on him as he moved, refusing to open her eyes or shake herself awake, despite his fairly large movements. “Is this a wand?” he asked. His voice was rough from sleep, but the quiet awe was obvious.

Blue cracked open an eye. Gansey was holding her drop spindle between his fingertips, spinning it slowly so that the decorative top caught the last of the light filtering in through Monmouth’s windows. She made an amused noise and pressed her face into his chest briefly, losing herself in the scent of mint and wheatgrass. “It’s not a wand,” she muttered.

“A scepter, then.” Blue was ninety percent sure that Gansey was joking, now. She was getting better at being able to tell, but sometimes the things Gansey said were so oblivious that it was hard.

“It’s a drop spindle, jackass.”

Blue lifted her head off of Gansey’s chest and turned to stare at Ronan, who’d walked out of his room without either of them hearing. He was naked other than his boxers, which caused Gansey to make a small distressed noise—something that Blue interpreted as not in front of Jane!, which made her want to punch Gansey in the stomach. She had gotten used to Ronan’s loose grip on public decency pretty early on. “How do you know that?” she asked.

“My mom,” Ronan said. Before he could continue, Adam’s voice, sleepy and heavy with an accent, called out Ronan’s name from inside the room. Ronan disappeared into it, the door shutting firmly, without another word to either of them.

“Full of surprises,” Gansey said, after a moment. “Though I’m sure you’ve noticed that.” He set the spindle down on the bedside table—previously home only to his glasses and mint plant, and now home to any knickknack Blue thought she might need before bed—and shuffled until he was back in a more comfortable position.


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January 2017

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