Chapter Text
“Why has Ronan invited us to Parrish’s kid’s birthday party?” Declan says, frowning at his phone.
Arthur’s 1st birthday, 2ish, Friday 2nd @brns.
Jordan hooks her chin over his shoulder and reads the text. She turns her head a little and Declan can see her sly smile out of the corner of his eye.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he says.
“Maybe he’s invited you because he wants you to go,” Jordan says. She kisses the corner of his jaw. “Usually the reason.”
“I’ve met Parrish’s kid once. And I know he doesn’t have much of a family, but I’d hardly count myself amongst them.”
“You’re Ronan’s family though,” Jordan sings.
“Yeah, but—” Declan starts, but Jordan’s already leaving, walking away, coffee mug in hand, paintbrush behind her ear.
He texts Matthew.
Did Ronan text you about Parrish’s kid’s birthday?
Matthew’s reply comes a few minutes later, as Declan is rinsing his empty coffee mug.
Yeah!!! 🥳 Ronan said they’re getting a huge bouncy castle!!!
Right. That explains nothing.
Declan still has no explanation for the invitation, even as he’s climbing out of the car at the Barns.
Jordan opens the trunk and takes out a brightly wrapped present.
“What’s that?” Declan asks, and then sighs at his own question.
Jordan smiles at him, but she still rolls her eyes. “It’s a birthday party, Declan.”
Around the back of the house, on the wide stretch of lawn, scattered on battered deck chairs and old patio furniture, are most of the people that Declan would call Adam Parrish’s friends and family. There is, as Matthew said there would be, a huge bouncy castle, although there aren’t any children on it. Just Matthew, Hennessy and Blue Sargent, messing around on it.
Ronan walks up to them. “Hey, you’re here,” he says, like he hadn’t been expecting them.
“Well. You invited us,” Declan says.
“I’m just going to...” Jordan gestures at a small table of presents, and the gift in her hands, before wandering off, leaving Declan alone with Ronan. She starts to talking to Parrish at the table, and Declan watches them interact for a minute, the smiles on their faces, trying to ignore the way Ronan is staring at him.
“Papa!” says a little voice from somewhere around Declan’s knees. Arthur Parrish has made his way to them, and he’s standing, clinging onto the side of a plastic lawn chair on wobbly legs. “Papa!” he says again, more clearly than Declan would expect from a one-year-old.
Declan looks around for Adam, but he’s across the grass, getting drinks out of a cooler next to a table of food. He seems oblivious to his son calling for him.
“Papa!” Arthur says again several more times, but no longer from the floor, as Ronan has bent down to scoop him up and Declan—
Well, Declan has his explanation.
Arthur rests his head on Ronan’s shoulder and shows him a handful of dirt.
“That’s very nice. Do you want to give it to Declan?” Ronan says, and his grin is wicked.
Arthur makes a noise that sounds a lot like ‘Yeah,' and holds his pudgy little hand out to Declan.
Ronan raises his eyebrows expectantly.
Declan sighs and accepts the handful of mud. “Thank you, Arthur.”
Ronan smiles, and he looks properly happy. It’s a smile that, at more than one point, Declan would’ve thought impossible for Ronan.
“You know, it would’ve been nice to have been told,” Declan says. He discreetly drops the mud on the floor and tries to brush his hand off on his pants without getting them dirty either.
“I’m telling you now. It’s not like there was a moment where it was like ‘oh I’m a Dad now, better go tell everyone.’ It just sort of... Happened.” Ronan shrugs.
“You seem happy,” Declan admits.
“I am. You wanna hold him?” Ronan offers the baby to Declan.
If Declan had thought this through, when he got dressed this morning, he wouldn’t have worn such a nice shirt. “I... Yeah. Sure.”
Ronan looks exactly like he knows what Declan is thinking about his shirt. “Alright,” he says, and then looks down to address Arthur. “Squirt, this is Declan. Uncle Declan. Can you say that? Can you say Declan?”
Arthur opens his mouth wide and makes a noise that’s very loud, but doesn’t sound at all like ‘Declan.’
“Good try. How about ‘dickhead’?”
“Ronan,” Declan admonishes.
Ronan rolls his eyes and makes an exaggerated frown at Arthur. “That’s a bad word. Daddy will be cross if I teach you bad words.”
“Has the ship not already sailed on that?”
Ronan sticks his tongue out. Arthur laughs and copies. “But,” Ronan continues. “If you call Declan a dickhead, Daddy will find that funny, so I might get off the hook. It’s up to you, kid.”
Ronan hands Arthur over. He’s heavier than Declan thought he’d be and he fidgets in his arms a lot. “Hi. I’m Declan.”
Arthur shouts again. The sound he makes definitely starts with a consonant ‘D’ sound, but it sounds more like a very long “Da!” than Declan.
“Good job! Well done Arthur!” Ronan says anyway. “I thought he might get close, he’s better at D’s than most other letters.”
“Dada!” Arthur says, like he’s showing off.
“He’s got vocabulary range,” Declan says. It’s a compliment, he’s complimenting Ronan’s parenting. Maybe.
“Parrish brains,” Ronan says. “He’s not very good at walking though. Are you? Did you fall out of the back door yesterday?”
That’s more like it. “Jesus Ronan.”
“He was fine, kids bounce, it wasn’t far.”
“Dada?” Arthur says.
“Daddy’s busy at the moment, but maybe Gansey will take you on the bouncy castle?” Ronan says.
“Ga!” Arthur shouts and he kicks his legs and bounces in Declan’s arms. There’s definitely mud on his pants now. Ronan reaches out and takes Arthur back from Declan and then sets him back down on the ground. He’s very wobbly on his feet but he takes a step to grab hold of a lawn chair.
“Dick!” Ronan shouts. “Birthday boy wants you!”
“Ga!” Arthur agrees.
“We can go in,” Ronan says, jerking his thumb towards the back door.
Declan pours himself a glass of water inside the kitchen. On the wall, up by the window, beneath the clock that Aurora had hung there, is a framed picture of three hand prints; one tiny, baby green one, and two adult hands, one red and one blue. It’s the only new thing in the kitchen, and Declan can’t stop looking at it.
“I take it that you and Parrish are involved then,” he says to Ronan.
“Involved. Yeah…” Ronan scratches the back of his head. “I’m—I’m glad that you came today. I could’ve been better at telling you why it mattered to me. I didn’t know how—How to tell you that it’s important to me that Arthur has his—” Ronan shrugs. “His uncles.”
Declan nods. “I get it,” he says, and then, “I’m happy that you’re happy. I really mean that.”
“Wow. What a fudging day,” Ronan says.
Declan laughs. “Really? Fudging?”