Untitled Waffle House ficlet (Gansey and Ronan)
Untitled
gen / Gansey and Ronan friendship
945 words
charmingpplincardigans prompted me with "Gansey and Ronan and their insomnia." This is what happened.
Read the story here
Gansey wasn't sleeping.
He lay on his bed, staring up at the dim cavern of Monmouth above him. Thin copper pipes and square ventilation shafts cris-crossed the space, gleaming dully in the yellow glow of the streetlights. Outside, a sliver of a moon hung in the dark sky.
His phone rested in the center of his chest, rising and falling with each breath. It did not ring.
Gansey lay still and silent in the bed, as his thoughts chased each other in circles around his mind. Blue driving the Camaro. Adam fixing the Camaro. Adam inventing the evidence against Greenmantle. Ronan dreaming the evidence against Greenmantle. Greenmantle in front of Latin class. Whelk in front of Latin class. Whelk killing Noah. Noah threatening Blue. Blue's voice, saying "Come get me."
The phone, not ringing. His friends, and everything he wanted to do for them. Just to help, to be as important to them as they all were to him. That was all.
His mind began another loop. Gansey sat up and gave his head a brisk shake, as if he could rattle the thoughts loose and change their course, direct them into something productive. It helped a little, but not enough.
At the end of the hall, a floorboard squeaked. Monmouth was a noisy building, something always rattling or creaking, but Gansey recognized this particular sound.
"Can't sleep?"
"Bad idea." Ronan's voice was rough, twisted with something harsh and ugly. Gansey had seen the kinds of things that crawled out of Ronan's dreams on a bad night, so he didn't ask.
Ronan stalked across the room and threw himself down on the floor at Gansey's feet. "Hungry?"
The ugly clock on Gansey's nightstand read two thirty. Nino's had been closed for hours. He ran a hand through his hair and considered. "I could eat," he said with a shrug.
Half an hour later, Ronan pulled up to a little shoebox of a restaurant, lit by a square yellow beacon. Inside, Ronan ordered a waffle and Gansey asked for a vegetable omelette, and they got two orders of hash browns covered with everything the kitchen had to offer.
Gansey felt the square shape of his phone in his pocket, and resisted the urge to check for missed calls. Ronan smirked at him over his coffee cup.
"So, Dick," Ronan began, and Gansey tensed up. Nothing good could come of Ronan using his given name. "University of Virginia."
The envelope had arrived in the mail two days earlier. A big, fat envelope with a full-color university seal on the return address. Everyone knew what a large, thick envelope meant: you were in. Rejections came in small packages.
There was no denying it. Gansey just nodded. "University of Virginia," he confirmed.
But Ronan wasn't done. "Princeton," he said. "Yale. Duke."
Gansey nodded again. He should have known that Ronan would see the mail. Those fat envelopes weren't exactly subtle.
Ronan waited patiently, the unspoken question hovering in the air. It was his favorite conversational tactic, and usually Gansey was immune through long practice. Usually.
This time, Gansey gave in. He didn't have any real reason to keep this from Ronan, who had shared so much of his life for two years. "Virginia, I guess," he said. "I can't stay at Aglionby, and I want to be close to--" to Blue, his mind supplied, but he couldn't tell Ronan that much. "To Glendower," he finished. "It's hard to think about what I'll do after we find him."
Ronan just shrugged expansively. I don't have that problem, his expression said without words.
The waitress brought their food, which was greasy and salty and smelled amazing, along with a cup of coffee for Ronan and an orange juice for Gansey. Ronan began systematically dousing his waffle in a river of syrup, but Gansey just watched him thoughtfully for a moment.
No fat envelopes had arrived in the mailbox bearing Ronan's name. There had been no talk of enlisting in the army, or backpacking across Europe, or joining the merchant marine. And Ronan wouldn't be allowed to move back to the Barns until Matthew was eighteen, in three years' time. "What about you?" Gansey asked.
Without pausing in the demolition of his waffle, Ronan flicked a piece of folded paper across the table. When Gansey opened it, he was surprised to see that it was a college application form. Virginia Tech College of Agriculture and Life Sciences, it read across the top of the page.
He blinked at Ronan.
"Those cows aren't gonna raise themselves," Ronan said, with a twist to his mouth that said he was only halfway joking. "Gotta pen?"
Gansey smiled and pulled a pen out of his journal, and together they bent their heads over the application and filled in the little boxes with Ronan's name and address, his passable grades and mediocre activities and excellent test scores.
He might not be able to solve Blue's curse or Noah's deterioration or Adam's finances, but here was something that Gansey could do for his friends. Something real and concrete, something he knew how to do, and something that Ronan needed.
When they left the little restaurant at the side of the highway, the sun was already rising over the Blue Ridge in the distance. Ronan's shoulder bumped Gansey's as they headed toward the BMW, solid and reassuring. A moment later Gansey replied with an elbow jab, and Ronan's laugh rang out across the highway and echoed back.
The morning sun was bright as they drove back to Monmouth, but Gansey rested his head against the window anyway, and for the first time that night, he slept peacefully.
gen / Gansey and Ronan friendship
945 words
charmingpplincardigans prompted me with "Gansey and Ronan and their insomnia." This is what happened.
Read the story here
Gansey wasn't sleeping.
He lay on his bed, staring up at the dim cavern of Monmouth above him. Thin copper pipes and square ventilation shafts cris-crossed the space, gleaming dully in the yellow glow of the streetlights. Outside, a sliver of a moon hung in the dark sky.
His phone rested in the center of his chest, rising and falling with each breath. It did not ring.
Gansey lay still and silent in the bed, as his thoughts chased each other in circles around his mind. Blue driving the Camaro. Adam fixing the Camaro. Adam inventing the evidence against Greenmantle. Ronan dreaming the evidence against Greenmantle. Greenmantle in front of Latin class. Whelk in front of Latin class. Whelk killing Noah. Noah threatening Blue. Blue's voice, saying "Come get me."
The phone, not ringing. His friends, and everything he wanted to do for them. Just to help, to be as important to them as they all were to him. That was all.
His mind began another loop. Gansey sat up and gave his head a brisk shake, as if he could rattle the thoughts loose and change their course, direct them into something productive. It helped a little, but not enough.
At the end of the hall, a floorboard squeaked. Monmouth was a noisy building, something always rattling or creaking, but Gansey recognized this particular sound.
"Can't sleep?"
"Bad idea." Ronan's voice was rough, twisted with something harsh and ugly. Gansey had seen the kinds of things that crawled out of Ronan's dreams on a bad night, so he didn't ask.
Ronan stalked across the room and threw himself down on the floor at Gansey's feet. "Hungry?"
The ugly clock on Gansey's nightstand read two thirty. Nino's had been closed for hours. He ran a hand through his hair and considered. "I could eat," he said with a shrug.
Half an hour later, Ronan pulled up to a little shoebox of a restaurant, lit by a square yellow beacon. Inside, Ronan ordered a waffle and Gansey asked for a vegetable omelette, and they got two orders of hash browns covered with everything the kitchen had to offer.
Gansey felt the square shape of his phone in his pocket, and resisted the urge to check for missed calls. Ronan smirked at him over his coffee cup.
"So, Dick," Ronan began, and Gansey tensed up. Nothing good could come of Ronan using his given name. "University of Virginia."
The envelope had arrived in the mail two days earlier. A big, fat envelope with a full-color university seal on the return address. Everyone knew what a large, thick envelope meant: you were in. Rejections came in small packages.
There was no denying it. Gansey just nodded. "University of Virginia," he confirmed.
But Ronan wasn't done. "Princeton," he said. "Yale. Duke."
Gansey nodded again. He should have known that Ronan would see the mail. Those fat envelopes weren't exactly subtle.
Ronan waited patiently, the unspoken question hovering in the air. It was his favorite conversational tactic, and usually Gansey was immune through long practice. Usually.
This time, Gansey gave in. He didn't have any real reason to keep this from Ronan, who had shared so much of his life for two years. "Virginia, I guess," he said. "I can't stay at Aglionby, and I want to be close to--" to Blue, his mind supplied, but he couldn't tell Ronan that much. "To Glendower," he finished. "It's hard to think about what I'll do after we find him."
Ronan just shrugged expansively. I don't have that problem, his expression said without words.
The waitress brought their food, which was greasy and salty and smelled amazing, along with a cup of coffee for Ronan and an orange juice for Gansey. Ronan began systematically dousing his waffle in a river of syrup, but Gansey just watched him thoughtfully for a moment.
No fat envelopes had arrived in the mailbox bearing Ronan's name. There had been no talk of enlisting in the army, or backpacking across Europe, or joining the merchant marine. And Ronan wouldn't be allowed to move back to the Barns until Matthew was eighteen, in three years' time. "What about you?" Gansey asked.
Without pausing in the demolition of his waffle, Ronan flicked a piece of folded paper across the table. When Gansey opened it, he was surprised to see that it was a college application form. Virginia Tech College of Agriculture and Life Sciences, it read across the top of the page.
He blinked at Ronan.
"Those cows aren't gonna raise themselves," Ronan said, with a twist to his mouth that said he was only halfway joking. "Gotta pen?"
Gansey smiled and pulled a pen out of his journal, and together they bent their heads over the application and filled in the little boxes with Ronan's name and address, his passable grades and mediocre activities and excellent test scores.
He might not be able to solve Blue's curse or Noah's deterioration or Adam's finances, but here was something that Gansey could do for his friends. Something real and concrete, something he knew how to do, and something that Ronan needed.
When they left the little restaurant at the side of the highway, the sun was already rising over the Blue Ridge in the distance. Ronan's shoulder bumped Gansey's as they headed toward the BMW, solid and reassuring. A moment later Gansey replied with an elbow jab, and Ronan's laugh rang out across the highway and echoed back.
The morning sun was bright as they drove back to Monmouth, but Gansey rested his head against the window anyway, and for the first time that night, he slept peacefully.