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Ronan was glaring. Nothing in particular, just glaring. When the Pig pulled up he wrenched the door open and slammed it shut.

"You're an old man."

Ronan smelled like dry grass and horses and sweat. He needed a shower.

"I need a new pair of boots." Which meant he was coming with Gansey to shop.

The glare was expected, as was the violence necessary to open and close the door. As he'd told Ronan before, this version of the Pig was nearly identical...right down to the doors having the forcefully closed for the latch to catch properly.

"I am not. I'm eighteen." At least that was what he'd claim while he was in New Dodge. The truth might result in the two of them being separated, something completely unacceptable to them both.

Gansey looked down at the boots in question, knowing that Ronan wouldn't track anything unpleasant into the Camaro, but letting his skepticism over that announcement become obvious. He put the car into gear and headed for where they'd stored the BMW. "Can you be polite to Mercy?"

Ronan didn't dignify that with a single word, just a pointed look. And then he turned to stare out the window. Boomtown wasn't anything like Henrietta. It was foreign in a way nothing back home would feel to him.

"Do you think they notice we're gone?" Did time keep moving there? They'd been promised they would return home at the exact moment they had been taken. Stolen. Kidnapped. But he wondered and worried about Adam more than he did about Matthew and Declan. Fucking Delcan would at the very least make sure Matthew was taken care of. But who would be there for Adam?

"Remember that she's my supervisor now." Not that it would matter to Ronan. He'd say what he thought no matter the consequences. Knowing that she was the one person who would get the BMW back on the road might help, but it might also provoke Ronan's temper.

Making a thoughtful sound, he considered the question. When Gansey arrived, he asked about how time would work for his return, but not how it would flow while he was away. "I don't know," he answered, knowing Ronan would prefer the truth to possibly false reassurances. "They said no one would know we were missing. I asked half a dozen people, and they all said it'd be as if I never left.

"Technically, you were taken from a point in time before I was. I don't remember you being gone. I remember the party and that you sent me texts." He stared out the windshield with more focus than the road merited as he avoided thinking about one particular text. "Or Kavinsky did. There's no gaps in my memory or moments when I wondered if you were missing."

Ronan frowned a bit, turning to look at Gansey. He didn't remember sending Gansey texts while Gansey was at his parents party. He definitely didn't remember Kavinsky using his phone or he would have broken his nose.

"What was in the texts?" Plural, he noted. More than one text and Gansey seemed to be hyper focused on the road.

If Gansey hadn't noticed he was gone then it was possible Declan and Matthew wouldn't notice. They would be fine. Adam would be fine. "What did Kavinsky send you?"

He wouldn't have texted Gansey. Not when he was focused on bringing the Pig back to life. He wouldn't have texted Gansey even if Monmouth had been on fire and Blue's head had started to spin on her shoulders. Maybe if Monmouth had been on fire he might.

Sensing that Ronan was watching him, he tried to relax while maintaining his focus on the road. Gansey knew that Ronan would figure out something was wrong. There was no way he could hide it. They knew each other too well for even the various Gansey III personas to work.

Even if they might deflect Ronan's curiosity, the lie would be unforgivable. So would the fact that he hadn't deleted the texts immediately. A few days after the event, he might have been able to say that shock had kept him from thinking of it. Weeks later, that excuse held little value. "He texted me to tell me that you wrecked the Pig." He paused a beat, hoping that Ronan wouldn't notice. "He sent a photo."

Maybe Ronan would think the photo was of the ruined Camaro.

"I called you and he answered. He that you were drunk and that the Camaro 'had half a face'." The words had been etched into his mind, still sharp despite sitting in a more wondrous version of the Pig. "Then he made his usual juvenile comments related to his assumptions about us and hung up."

All of this made sense knowing Kavinsky the way he did. He imagined just how crazy things would have gotten if he hadn't ended up here after his fits failure. Frustration over the imperfection and Kavinsky pushing him always would end badly no matter how much he liked to pretend he was in control.

He also knew of Kavinsky's deeper desires. He was jealous of Gansey and so he always made assumptions. Because he knew. Or...he thought he knew. Ronan could always deny them because at the time he and Gansey were best friends, brothers even. So there was never any lies, just flexible truths.

"What was the picture he sent?"

Not the Pig. He already knew it wasn't the Pig. The Pig would be too boring of a photo. Kavinsky would have sent something he knew would get a reaction from Gansey. More than the Pig would.

His hands tightened around the steering wheel, knowing that he was caught and he would have to deal with the repercussions of his actions. Pulling the Pig onto the shoulder, he reminded himself that Ronan would forgive him eventually. His anger rarely lasted more than a few days if Gansey was the target of his ire.

Glancing over at Ronan, he braced himself for his friend's reaction. "At first, I didn't know Kavinsky sent it. It was from your number. I thought it was a joke or you were enjoying the wilder aspects of Aglionby society." That didn't explain why the picture was still on Gansey's phone, but at least Ronan knew that Gansey hadn't known the circumstances involving the picture.

"He sent an inappropriate photo. Of you. And an Irish flag." He still wondered about that particular detail, but he rarely understood Kavinsky's motives or amusements.

Gansey was actually pulling over. Which meant he was seriously concerned about Ronan's reaction and because it was Kavinsky Ronan knew it could be anything. Except boring.

Ronan tilted his head just a bit, curious because clearly the pic had been of himself.

And then he raised an eyebrow.

The next time he saw Kavinsky he was breaking his nose. Twice.

"He sent you a dick pic."

It wasn't that Gansey had seen a picture of his dick. It was Kavinsky. He felt like he needed a shower now.

"Half mast?" He asked curiously, keeping a straight face.

He wondered if Gansey being so uncomfortable sharing this with him meant he wasn't at all comfortable with having seen an intimate part of Ronan. To be honest, he felt slightly cheated because if Gansey was going to see that part of him he would have wanted it to be a mutual sharing. Not Gansey pulling off to the side of the road, looking worried about the entire situation.

Richard Gansey III should be able to accept any situation and smile through it without anyone realizing how uncomfortable he was. He'd managed it when Kavinsky told him that the Pig was wrecked, only seeming distracted or perhaps slightly ill as he'd processed the news. Just Gansey had a different set of reactions that couldn't quite sync with the ones he'd been taught since he was a toddler.

"Yes." He closed his eyes, waiting for his best friend's anger. "He sent me a dick pic."

Ronan's question distracted him from his preparation for the verbal explosion. He turned, staring at Ronan as he fumbled for an answer. "It - uh - " Now he couldn't stop himself from blushing over his reaction to the picture after Ronan had given him the newly minted Pig. At the time he'd received the message, he'd been too shocked and then worried to consider the implications of the photo. Then he'd alternated between a myriad of reactions that were all inappropriate and would most likely result in Ronan punching him. "It was artistic, in a Kavinsky sort of way."

Kavinsky who always angered Gansey no matter how much he tried to control his temper. It didn't matter that Kavinsky was dead, he still hated how he'd led Ronan into danger. That he'd taken advantage of Ronan when he was desperate and he'd... "I didn't know he done it when you were..." The anger in his words startled him, an old jealousy he rarely acknowledged snapping in his tone. "If I'd known he'd done that to you, I would have - " His voice trailed off as he realized how foolish that sounded. God, Ronan didn't need him to try to defend his honor. Gansey couldn't even punch someone without breaking his hand. "I didn't know."

Gansey was blushing. A real blush. And he sounded...Ronan didn't take his gaze off Gansey, absorbing every detail, trying to read what was really happening. Kavinsky always set Gansey off. But he'd never seen Gansey react this way.

"Do you still have the picture?" He asked suddenly, his voice calm and curious, not explosive or taunting. This reaction of Gansey's started something in his chest that he was almost too scared to call hope. He shouldn't want to hope for something more with Gansey and risk losing the only family he had left besides Matthew and Declan. He didn't live with Matthew or Declan. He lived with Gansey. He loved Gansey.

The smallest bit of hope when there was previous none at all was a dangerous thing and difficult to ignore.

"I know you would."

If he wasn't so flustered, he would have found a way to deflect Ronan's question, but with his emotions in a disarray and jealousy gnawing at his thoughts. "Yes." One simple word. A simple word that could cause Ronan to hate him. "I'm sorry." It had been wrong to keep it, his guilt compounded by knowing that Kavinsky had taken it without Ronan's consent.

Part of him hated Kavinsky for doing that to Ronan while another part hated himself for being too weak to do the right thing. "I should have deleted it." Fighting back most of the blush, he turned in his seat to look at Ronan, still waiting for the accusations. "He shouldn't have done it and I shouldn't have kept it."

Gansey had kept it. Gansey had kept the picture and now Ronan couldn't stop imagining him pulling it up on his phone and staring at it. He only allowed his imagination to go so far. He could not and would not imagine when and where and how Gansey had looked at the picture.

Ronan rubbed his chin where his five o'clock shadow was closer to an twelve o'clock already.

He needed to shower and shave.

"No. He shouldn't have. If I'd known I would have broken his fingers and his nose and his jaw." Long inhale. In through his nose. He was trying to decide how best to handle blushing Gansey. "I would have preferred you had one from me."

Gansey knew that his morals were always too flexible in all matters related to Ronan, but this was an offense that Ronan should condemn him for. He should be furious with him as much as Kavinsky. But instead, Ronan seemed calmer than he had been in months. Part of that was their new circumstances, but the rest... Gansey wasn't certain why Ronan wasn't angry.

"I would have done the same to him, but you would have had to give me another lesson on how to throw a punch correctly first." Or perhaps he needed to have someone else teach him since Gansey could never seem to gather the necessary resolve to try to hit Ronan even when it was practice.

Most of the blush had faded and Gansey thought that the conversation might return to the BMW or the complexities of time when Ronan made a suggestion that Gansey couldn't quite comprehend. For a moment, he stared at his best friend, certain that he'd misheard. "Beg pardon?"

"You heard me." Only this time Ronan couldn't quite look at Gansey. He hoped, but he was uncertain. This was something he would normally take more time to analyze, careful and absolute in finding an answer.

He shifted in his seat and slouched a bit further, feeling the heat of the engine through his boots despite knowing there wasn't an engine under the hood. "I was thinking about a punching bag. You can't hurt a punching bag." He knew that was part of the reason Gansey pulled his punches. A good punch required intent. No hesitation.

He was waiting for Gansey's reaction. Hope rolling into a knot in his chest. He wouldn't lose Gansey, but it would change the way Gansey looked at him if he was wrong.

For a moment, all the generations of Gansey polish and decisiveness deserted him, leaving a confused teenager who was terrified that the wrong answer might cost him one of the people he loved most. Swallowing hard, he pressed his thumb to his lip, turning over possible answers, possible reasons why Ronan would say such a thing.

Ronan didn't believe in casual sex. He wasn't the type that would suggest pictures as a joke or as a way to embarrass Gansey after his confession. If Ronan made that type of comment, it was intentional. His heart stuttered at the thought, hope catching painfully between his ribs, delicate and fragile. Something that Gansey wasn't certain should exist, but he refused to say anything that might destroy it. "I would have preferred one from you."

He studiously ignored the flush creeping across his skin as he adjusted his glasses despite them being in the correct position. "That might work. I should have less of a problem hitting an inanimate object. It'd also be a way to start training again. I don't miss the rowing team, but I miss the routine."

Ronan leaned his head back against the seat, closing his eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. For a moment he hadn't breathed. He knew Gansey had to think it through, worrying over the answer ad the consequences, weighing the situation and the truth of things.

Hearing his words unraveled the knot, soothed the crease forming between his eyes.

"Would it help if I tape a picture of Kavinsky's face on the bag?" What he would give to see Gansey break Kavinsky's nose. He turned his head towards Gansey and for the first time since forever he let something more show. Not the steady gaze of a loyal friend, trusting and absolute no matter how much they might disagree about some things. Longing and warmth, like the heat that crept along Gansey's skin.

The smile completely distracted him. It was so rare that Ronan offered a smile without hint of mockery or the razor sharpness that he'd developed after Niall's death that Gansey almost thought he was hallucinating. It took a moment for Gansey to remember to breathe, then Ronan asked that question and he couldn't hold back his laughter.

Laughter was better than hatred. Better than the jealousy that had roared through him whenever Kavinsky had been near Ronan or insinuated...

Insinuated things that Gansey had carefully pretended he didn't want. "It might." It was terrible to think that way of the dead, but he would never be able to completely forgive Kavinsky for leading Ronan toward a path of self-destruction.

His heart stuttered into a painful rhythm that seemed to steal away both breath and thought when he noticed the sudden change in how Ronan was looking at him. It was a wish, a dream, that Gansey had carefully pushed aside, certain that Ronan would never feel that way about him. But there was the same wistful longing and unrequited affection that Gansey had been hiding for months, that he couldn't hide while Ronan was willing to let him glimpse those emotions. "But I might get jealous that you have his picture instead of mine."

Gansey laughing was like Adam smiling. Ronan would start wars for them both. He'd burn the world to ashes and build a new one if they would look at him the way Gansey was looking at him now.

"You haven't seen the picture yet." Gansey jealous. It was such a tiny little thing and yet it meant everything. Ronan didn't actually have Kavinsky's picture. He'd planned on drawing a stick Kavinsky on a piece of paper and writing his name on it in crayon just to give Gansey something to punch. "I only want a picture of you if you leave me."

Please don't ever leave him, Gansey.

"Does it involve the desecration of a flag?" He couldn't quite keep the jealousy out of his tone even when he shouldn't think ill of the dead. Kavinsky would be a sore subject for a long time no matter how charitable Gansey attempted to be.

His chest felt painfully tight at Ronan's words. Only if he left him... Maybe now that they were far from Henrietta...

Shaking off that thought, he smiled at Ronan. He would do everything he could to make sure he didn't leave his best friend. "I doubt that's true." As he spoke, he started the Pig again, the smile turning to a grin as it made its usual sound of protest. "You said that you wanted to send me a picture. If you do, I'll want to send one in return."

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