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Chapter Text

Year 1

Spring 1

You step out onto your porch, taking in the sight of the barren farmland before you. It’s a wide expanse of land, full of promises… hidden under a helluva lotta sticks, stones, trees, and boulders that need clearing.

“Nothing to it but to do it,” you say under your breath as you move to take a sip of—

Oh, right. Your fist is curled around an imaginary mug handle. You don’t have any coffee in the farmhouse.

“After coffee,” you amend. Thrilled by the prospect of procrastination, you tighten the straps of your overalls and move toward the exit of your newly inherited land. 

What time does the saloon open again? you wonder as you pass the bus station. It had been almost ten years since you stepped foot in the pub, and throughout that final summer you spent in the Valley, breakfast was always had with Grandpa in the kitchen.

As you admire the surrounding trees on the path, you make a prioritized list of your To-Do’s:

One: Secure Coffee.

Two: Clear the farmland, grow and sell a lot of crops, and become very rich and successful despite your limited expertise in farming.

Should be easy enough.

You always had a “Can do!” attitude, which is probably why your grandpa willed you the farmland to begin with. You had never expressed an interest in taking over the family farm, but then again, he knew you hadn’t ever expressed an interest in being a barista or a party princess or a dog walker, and all those were jobs you held for short stints before the next thing caught your eye. You didn’t know what it was you were looking for. You just knew you hadn’t found it yet.

Why not add Farmer to the list?

You take in the sight of the saloon, and a smile breaks across your face with the rush of memories. The last time you visited the establishment, you were living wild and free, nearing a drunken blackout from the celebration that you were 21 with your whole life ahead of you. As the memory comes clearer into view, you see him, his black hair, his rolling eyes, and his cheeky smile. 

Your cautiously optimistic drinking companion, Shane, who, by some stroke of luck, was visiting his aunt the whole summer you stayed with your grandpa.

“Hey,” he says with a half-smile, raising the pint in his hand, “To you and your future.”

“To you and yours,” you slur in reply, cheers-ing a little too heartily.

The moment your glasses collide, you spill half your ale over his knee, which is nearly brushing yours from sitting so closely.

“Sorry!” you apologize immediately, moving to blot at the wetness with a flimsy bar napkin. The moment your hand meets his knee, a surge of electricity shoots through you. Your eyes snap up, catching a flash of heat mirrored in his gaze before he settles back into his usual impassive expression.

“Smooth move, Sunshine,” he jokes.

You thought of Shane often since that summer you shared as drinking buddies. He'd been about to become a professional gridball player, so clear in his goal it was intimidating. You were more flighty than him, just excited for some kind of adventure without being set on the details. Not Shane... he knew without a doubt where he was going.

You never did catch his last name, but occasionally, over the years, you would try to look him up on a gridball team list. Though you never found him, you were certain he had made it big, just as he said he would. He definitely wouldn’t be like you, walking into the little old town you both once visited, now a permanent resident…

Well, actually...

You stop short, seeing the hooded figure heading up the path you’re walking down. His head is hidden under the blue hood of his sweatshirt, but you could recognize the faded green jersey anywhere. 

“Shane?” you blurt excitedly. Yay!  you internally cheer, First day in town, and I already have a friend!

His head snaps up at your greeting, his eyes rimmed in red and looking menacing. His jaw is peppered with stubble, and he has more dark circles, but the surprise that briefly flashes across his face confirms, yep, that’s Shane.

“I don't know you. Why are you talking to me?” he grunts.

You falter. Maybe you got it wrong after all. Maybe Shane has an evil twin.

Before you can remind him of your name, he turns and high-tails it away from you.

You find yourself pouting as you stare at his retreating back.

What happened to him? you wonder with an aching heart. He was missing so much of the playful light you’d seen that summer you spent together. The more you come to think of it, however, the more you recall he’d been a bit of a grump at the start of that summer, too… until you forced him out of his shell.

Sensing your stare, he looks over his shoulder to glance back at you, his lip curling when your eyes connect. He whips his head back forward and walks even faster.

Immediately, you amend your To-Do list:

Step One: Get Coffee

Step Two: Fix Shane

After that, you can do the whole become-rich-and-successful thing.

Chapter Text

Year 1 

Spring 5

“Why are you bothering me? I want to be alone.”

“What? What do you want? Go away.”

“Don't you have work to do?”

Shane’s constant dismissal of you stings every time, but you’re relentless in your goal to make him your friend again. Every morning that you go to spend your limited funds on coffee at Stardrop, you time it perfectly with his morning commute, calling out a warm greeting the moment you see him coming up the cobblestones. He’s still pretending not to know you, seemingly irritated beyond measure by your friendliness, but deep down, you know, if he didn’t want to see you, he could always take a different path to work.

Instead, he keeps to his same routine, as do you. It’s the only thing that drags you out of bed on time. Were it not for the mission to break down Shane’s walls, you would be spending a full day in bed, recovering from the aching in your muscles from all the seeding, hoeing, and chopping you’ve been doing.

This morning, in particular, feels harder than the others. You wouldn’t admit it out loud yet, but the work on the farm is already starting to feel mundane. The little money you have is draining fast, and you’re beginning to feel the same itch you did in your last roles… when you’re just about ready to throw in the towel and give up on yourself for the next new shiny thing. You stand outside Stardrop, waiting for it to open, and feel a crack go through your resolve.

As you see Shane coming up the path like clockwork, your mouth twists into a frown. Exhaustion allows darkness to flood your usually sunshine-y outlook, and sleep-deprived tears flood your vision as you think:

Maybe he really doesn't remember. Maybe he really wants to be left alone. Maybe the farm won’t be successful. Maybe, just maybe, there isn’t delayed gratification waiting for you at the end of this long road, but total and absolute failure, just like all the other roads you’ve tried.

As if hearing your internal monologue, Shane looks up at you, his eyebrows a little less furrowed than usual as he takes in your dejected expression.

“Hey,” you say quietly with a stiff nod.

“I'm surprised that you're still trying to make friends with me,” he says. “Haven't I been rude enough to you yet?”

Old Shane would have said that as a joke. New Shane is harder to read. You don’t have the energy to sort out which one stands before you.

“Not yet,” you reply with false encouragement, “but keep trying you're almost there.” 

He opens his mouth as if he were about to say more, but then he looks down at his watch. He sighs and keeps walking. You watch him depart and shake your head vigorously as if it will send all negative thoughts flying out your ears.

You know you can help him with whatever he’s going through if only he would drop the I-don’t-know-you act and let you! Not to mention, fixing him would be a great distraction from dealing with your own shit! Frustrated, you grimace and hold out both hands to his departing back, miming the motion of grabbing his shoulders and giving him a hard shake.

He looks over his shoulder suddenly, finding your arms outstretched for a quick second before you drop them and look away with the overwhelming horror of being caught.

“You’re really weird,” he calls out, pausing his walk again, “You know that?”

“Quite aware,” you mutter, your cheeks burning. Suddenly, you’re the one making a hasty departure from the conversation, and it isn’t until you reach the beach that you realize for the first time you got him to stop and talk to you twice.

The quick getaway proved fortuitous, as you discover fishing is a much-welcomed change in your routine. You’ve just stepped out from Willy’s boat house after selling some freshly caught herrings when you spot a tall and long-haired ginger man standing on the peer.

“Elliott, right?” you ask, moving to stand beside him. He isn’t fishing, but from his warm smile, you figure he wouldn’t mind you keeping him company as you try a new spot.

“Ah, the new farmer we've all been expecting,” he says, his eyes scanning you with appreciation, “... and whose arrival has sparked many a conversation!”

“All good things?” You express the hope out loud before casting out your line.

“Of course!” he agrees, “Everyone’s excited to get to know you better.”

Not everyone, you silently amend.

“I'm kind of new to this town myself,” Elliott continues, not noticing the disagreement in your expression, “But I really feel at home. I moved here only a year before you.”

“You must tell me your secrets, then,” you plead. “I haven’t visited since my grandpa was still alive, and the solitude from being the newcomer is… solitude-ing.”

Elliott throws his head back with a hearty laugh. “Come out for a drink with me and my friends tonight,” he offers, “We call ourselves The Lonely Hearts Club. You’ll fit right in.”

That evening, you find yourself stepping inside the Stardrop Saloon for a night of fun with your new friend. As you cross the threshold, a familiar warmth envelops you in the same way it always did years ago. The lights are just as warm, and the jukebox is playing the same old songs, but there’s one stark difference between this night and the ones in your memory:

As your eyes lift and meet Shane’s, he immediately looks away from you. He’s in the same corner you once shared, right by the bar, but from the way he’s gritting his teeth, it’s clear he wants to drink alone.

“Farmer!” you hear Elliott call out. You turn your head to the opposite corner and find the writer waving emphatically from where he’s sat at a table with the doctor and another redhead. 

With a grateful smile and an unsteady breath, you approach your new drinking buddies.

“So this is The Lonely Hearts Club?” you ask as you take a seat.

The doctor immediately groans. “Elliott, please tell me you didn’t.”

The redhead woman leans over to you with a warm smile. “Ell’s been trying to give this group a name for the better part of a year.”

“I’ve yet to hear you come up with something better, Leah!” Elliott argues.

“Do we need a name?” the doctor asks. He looks up at you with a nervous smile, clearly more comfortable talking with his friends than new acquaintances. “It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Harvey, the local doctor. I perform regular check-ups and medical procedures for all the residents of Pelican Town. It's rewarding work. I hope you'll find your own work equally rewarding in time.”

Now it’s Elliott’s turn to groan. “Did you start to rehearse that little speech from the moment I told you she was coming?”

“Shut up,” Harvey grunts through clenched teeth, looking down with reddened cheeks.

“Ignore them,” Leah intervenes, “It is nice to meet you! You picked a good time to move here... The spring is lovely.”

“It really is!” you agreed, “I’ve only experienced summers here before.” 

“Visiting your grandpa,” Harvey guesses, much to your surprise. He reads the shock on your face and hastens to explain himself, “I, um, I treated your grandfather before he passed. He mentioned the fond memories of your summer visits often.”

“I’m sensing a story here!” Elliott raises a finger. “But first, we must secure you a beverage.”

“I’ve got the first round,” you offer, knowing your pockets will be hurting for it later. You move to the bar to put in the order, and on a whim, you add one more beer to the tab. “For the grump in the corner,” you tell Gus with a whisper.

As you collect the drinks and bring them back to the table, you fight the urge to look up and see Shane’s reaction to your gift. It had been an old tradition of yours. Whoever got to the saloon last had to buy the first round of drinks. 

Would he remember?

Unwittingly, you raise your eyes to the corner, finding him looking at you with a conflicted expression. Goosebumps raise along your arms in anticipation until, at last, the corner of his mouth deepens into a very small semblance of amusement. Subtly, he raises his pint another inch in the air.

You lift yours, unable to help the smile breaking across your face to be sharing a toast with your friend once more.

To you and your future, he’d said on that final night.

To you and yours, you’d replied.

But what had happened after that? The memory was hazy, and the more you tried to chase it, the more it turned to mist. Something involving the maple tree outside, panting breaths, Shane’s strong fingers gripping your thighs…

You swallow harshly, forcing yourself to look away. No, not that!   You remind yourself to quell the sudden heat in your abdomen, That was a dream. A very cruel and lovely dream that came to haunt you whenever you felt exceptionally lonely.

The fact that the dream had come to visit you while you were awake was all the sign you needed to work on subverting your solitude. You focus your attention on your new friends with hearts as lonely as yours, and you don't look back at the corner for the rest of the evening.

Chapter Text

Year 1

Spring 11

Marnie had stopped by Wednesday morning to offer you the gift of a cat (which you gladly accepted), and subtly, over the course of your conversation with his aunt, you finally solved the riddle of how to get back in Shane’s good graces: 

Bribery.

Now, as he came up the path, you are prepared with two coffees in hand, one exceptionally hot, freshly poured, and poised at the ready for him.

“How’d you know this is my favorite?” he asks quietly as you pass him his cup.

You resist the urge to groan at the act he’s refusing to drop. 

You resist the urge to say, Duh, because I know you, you idiot!  

You fail to resist the urge to lightly punch his shoulder with your free hand. “Call it a hunch,” you say with a roll of your eye, taking a sip of your own caffeine supply.

He brings his own coffee to his lips, and from over the lid, he squints at you as if trying to figure out your whole deal.

It finally dawns on you that if he truly didn’t remember you, you’re coming off like a total stalker. Yikes.

“Gotta go!” you squeak, moving quickly to escape him. Maybe it’s the caffeine hitting too quickly, but you practically run from Shane in the opposite direction, barely taking notice that he’s watching you with a lot of confusion and a small hint of wonder. Your retreat brings you to the beach, hoping to fish some more and re-earn some of the money you lost to drinks at the Saloon.

Elliott is standing out on the shore, and he breaks into a warm smile at the sight of you. “Hello, farmer!” 

“Hello, writer!” you reply smartly, “How’s it going?”

“Good, just out for a stroll and brainstorm! The fresh air of this valley is good for body and mind. A quick stroll outdoors always invigorates me.”

“Is that so?” you wonder, “Works well for me, I guess, since I’m outside a lot these days.”

He smiles, taking a moment to admire the waves before him. “Have you been to the forest yet? It’s a wonderful place. Leah lives there, you know.”

Shane lives there, too. You shake the thought away. “I’ve only passed through, but maybe tonight I’ll give it more of a gander… if I can wrap up my farmwork early.”

“Leah’s hosting the next book club night,” Elliott reveals, “If you can’t give it a tour tonight, you’re more than welcome to join us at hers… this Sunday at 3. It’s usually Saturday, but that’s the Egg Hunt.”

Your first Spring holiday in Pelican Town. A shiver of excitement runs down your spine. “Really?” you re-affirm the invitation, “I passed the test at the Saloon?”

“There was no test,” Elliott corrects, “Our club is open to any and all who want to join.”

Then maybe one day Shane could join us, you privately hope. You never saw him talking to anybody other than Marnie or Jas.

“I can’t say I have the time to read whatever book you’ll be discussing,” you warn.

The writer laughs heartily. "No, no, the book club is when we meet to discuss my book. The book I'm writing! You need only attend, listen to me read the next chapter, and shower me with compliments."

"Sounds easy enough. I'll see you there!"

As you move to fish on the pier, you feel your heart warm with gratitude for Elliott’s openness. Usually, you’re the one trying to bring someone into the fold. The thought triggers a memory from one of your very first nights at the Saloon:

You move to sit over the empty stool beside him. 

“Hello. Shane, is it?” you say with a smile, holding out a hand for him to shake. “It’s me, again. Ya girl. Daring to ask once more, ‘Will you be my friend?’”

“Yoba,” Shane groans. “You’re like pure sunshine, aren’t you?”

You laugh. “You say that like it’s a bad thing!”

He says nothing, staring down at his beer with the doomed hope you would give up so easily.

“Come onnn,” you press, nudging his knee with yours, “You have to see the great opportunity here! We’re both stuck here for the summer, two out-of-towners of a similar age, similar height—”

“I’m almost five-eight,” he defends himself almost immediately, just like you suspected he would, “You’re like, what, four feet?”

“Five-five!” you correct, “Even so, would you really rather drink alone all summer long?”

“Yes! You should try it sometime.”

“Okay, I will,” you lightly feign surrender, turning away from him to face forward with a broad smile.

A brief moment of silence passes between you both before he sighs and speaks up again, “Ya wanna try a stool on the other end of the room?”

You flash him a wink. “Nah. I like this one.” You reach for the menu, drumming your fingers on the wood as you peruse the limited list. “What’s the difference between ale and beer anyway?” you wonder out loud.

He groans again. “What are you, new?”

He’d taken the bait once more, and you try to hide your victorious smile. “New to drinking? New to town? Both have the same answer.”

“You just turn 21 or something, Sunshine?”

“Indeed I have. How old are you?”

“I turned 22 last month.”

“Ah. The perfect age to corrupt a naive drinker such as myself.” You quirk an eyebrow as you glance at him from the corner of your eyes, thrilled to discover something about what you just said has finally piqued his interest.

“Alright, fine. Here,” he says, offering you his beer, “Try this first, and let me know if you like it.”

As you bring the glass to your lips, his eyes drop to your mouth, and a flash of some undecipherable emotion crosses his expression before he transitions into an amused half-smile when you begin to splutter and gag at the metallic taste that burns your throat.

“Fantastic! I’ll take seven more,” you manage to rasp out when you catch your breath.

He laughs at that, actually laughs, with his head thrown back and everything.

You had him hooked on your friendship from that day on. You smile at the memory and cast out your line, wondering what you’ll manage to reel in today.

You could have sworn the sun was still up when you stepped off your farm, but the moment you step into the Cindersnap Forest, you find yourself enveloped in total darkness. Thankfully, a small light shines through the shadows, and you near it with a hopeful smile. You'd met him here once before.

The friendship Gods have truly smiled upon me today, you think as you spot him, dimly lit by the lantern light that rests beside him at the edge of the dock. Shane hears your tentative step onto the planked wood behind him and jolts in surprise at the noise.

“Of course it’s you,” he groans, looking over his shoulder at you, “Up late, huh?”

“Elliott told me to check out the forest, and I ran out of time,” you explain, taking another gentle step closer. “It’s still spooky at night!” You don’t hide the tremor in your voice as you take in the surrounding darkness and mysterious noises, half-hoping he’ll take pity on you and offer you the comfort of his company.

Surprisingly, he does. “Here,” he says with a sigh, holding up a spare can. “Have a cold one.”

You know he’s only being more amenable because he’s had a lot to drink, but it doesn’t deter your enthusiasm. With great excitement, you close the rest of the distance and sit down next to him on the edge, kicking your legs in the open air with glee as you crack the tab open. 

He watches you, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he’s fighting a smile. When he looks out at the dark lake, you take the opportunity to admire his face in the lantern light. He still has the same classic good looks: jet black hair and green eyes, only now his handsomeness is more subdued under his resting-grump face. The hefty amount of stubble is new, but you find you don't mind that at all. Your fingers almost itch to reach out to touch it. Is it scratchy?  You look away before your hand gets any bright ideas, your eyes dragging down his brawny figure before settling on the water ahead. He still has those strong arms and legs, but his middle's gotten softer. This is also a welcomed change for you. He looks more... huggable.

“So…” you say after a hefty sip, “How’re things?”

“Buh…y’know,” he says dully, “Life.”

You wait patiently, remembering that if you gave Shane a moment to sit with a question, he’d always say more than his initial monosyllabic answer.

“You ever feel like…” he starts, his eyes remaining on the dark lake before you. “No matter what you do, you’re gonna fail?” 

For a moment, you find yourself speechless. The negative outlook is so different from the one of the Shane you once knew. He’d always been a little prickly, sure, but the Old Shane had always been certain he’d succeed as a gridball player. Again, you find yourself asking, What happened?

He keeps talking. “...Like you’re stuck in some miserable abyss, and you’re so deep you can’t even see the light of day?”

“No,” you reply honestly, “Not yet in my life, at least, but hey! There's still time.”

He sighs. “Right. How could I forget?” he mutters to himself, “You’re Sunshine.”

“So you do remember me!” you exclaim, relishing in the sound of your old nickname as you move to shove his shoulder with admonishment. 

The briefest of smiles flashes across his face as his hand wraps around your wrist, off-setting your momentum away from his shoulder. The feeling of his strong hold on you pools a warmth in your lower abdomen, and you know when you sleep tonight, you'll have the same dream of the two of you against the Stardrop Maple, one of his hands holding both your wrists above your head.

Yoba, you internally groan, I need to get laid.

As if he can read the thought on your face, he drops your hand like it's a hot potato.

“Of course, I remember. You refuse to be forgotten,” he says with a raised shoulder, chugging more of his beer, “I wish I was the same.”

You frown, uncertain of what he means by that.

He suppresses a burp, tossing his now-empty can aside. You aren’t sure how many he’s had already, but he’s clearly going through his supply quickly. “I just feel like no matter how hard I try, I’m not strong enough to climb out of that hole,” he speaks quietly as if he isn’t certain he wants you to hear this confession.

Instead of pouting further, you down the rest of your beer, determining if you drink more, he’d have less to drink himself, and maybe that could help clear the darkness clouding his judgment.

“Still a fast drinker?” he asks in amusement, watching your failed attempt to cooly crush the emptied can in your fist, “You always were a woman after my own heart.”

You turn to him, an eyebrow arching. Was I? you wonder. It’s the first time you’ve heard of it.

His eyes flicker down to your lips, and for a moment, you wonder if perhaps you have a foam mustache before he turns his head away from you completely. “I hope you haven’t made a habit of drinking like that,” he says quickly as you wipe away at your lips with the back of your hand, “You got a future ahead of you still.”

“You do too!” you assure him, raising your crushed can, “Hey. To you and yours.”

This was the wrong thing to say, apparently, as he jolts in rejection to the toast and stands up quickly. “My liver’s begging me to stop,” he announces, “Better call it a night.” He’s halfway down the dock before you call out after him,

“Will you pretend not to know me again tomorrow?”

He pauses, and you can barely make out the hint of the smile on his face in the shadows. “That depends,” he answers cheekily, “Will you bring me coffee?”

Chapter Text

Year 1

Spring 13

The Egg Festival

You toss and turn in your sleep, lost in the dream that was really just a memory: 

“What are you even doing here?” he asks you one night you decide to go drink-for-drink with him.

You look down at the beer in your hand with confusion. “I thought we were—”

“No, Sunshine,” he corrects, a grin breaking across his face. 

It may have been the beer talking, but you found he was so beautiful when he smiled… even if the smile said I-find-you-so-fucking-annoying. 

“I mean, why are you visiting Pelican Town alone for a whole summer?”

“Oh,” you answer. “I don’t know, really. We used to visit as a whole family when I was a kid, but this time I was told to come alone. My parents said they thought it would be good for me, like helping Grandpa on the farm would somehow straighten me out. You can probably tell I’m a bit all over the place. Secretly, I think they just wanted to be rid of me for a summer.”

“No way that’s true,” Shane disagrees.“You’re pure sunshine.”

“It is true. They’re quite… serious people,” you reveal, “They’re both workaholics. Lawyers. I think I was born with all the colors they buried deep inside themselves, and now they're just gray. I’m more like Grandpa.”

“He’s good people,” Shane agrees immediately.

“What about your parents?”

“My parents are also the reason I’m here,” he says after a deep breath, “They’re dead.”

It had been a poor choice to take a hefty sip at that moment, and as he speaks the tragic truth, you splutter on your beer. It shoots out your mouth, your nose, and from the moisture pooling your vision, you wonder if it’s even coming out of your eyes.

“As good a reaction as any,” Shane comments dryly.

“I’m so sorry!” you continue to choke, completely unable to get a grip.

“It’s fine. You mostly sprayed on yourself,” he replies, passing you some bar napkins.

You shake your head at his misunderstanding. “W-when did they…?”

“Last year. I managed to finish up school alone, but Marnie insisted I come here until I move to the city for gridball in the Fall.”

“Oh, fuck,” you mutter, slapping a hand to your forehead. “Oh, shit. Oh, fuck.”

“You said that last one already.”

“So you mean, this whole time I’ve accused you of being a grump, you’ve really been… grieving?”

“Let’s say that was true, and this is not just my natural disposition… what would you do to make it up to me, Sunshine?”

You can think of a couple of ideas, but settle on the one you know he’d be most interested in. “Buy the next round?”

“It’s a start.”

After your third sip of your next beer, you shove his shoulder. “I can’t believe you played the orphan card to get a free beer.”

“And I’ll do it again,” he assures you with little shame.

An impertinent rooster fills the air with its screeching, and your eyes fly open. Shane had been through so much at a young age and still had so much determination for where his life was heading. You can't even imagine what he else could have gone through over the last ten years that could make him as defeated as he was now.

How could you make things better?

You think another gift might help, though it's a holiday and a Saturday, which means you can’t meet Shane on his normal commute. This time, you'll just bring the coffee right to him at home.

“Adults can participate in the Egg Hunt, right, Bartholomeow?” you ask the small ginger cat that passes you in the kitchen.  He’s so apathetic to your presence you ponder if you should change his name to Shane.

Undeterred, you pull out the coffee you saved and begin the trek down your farmland to Marnie’s ranch house in the forest, trying to picture what Shane’s grateful smile will look like when he sees what you’ve delivered.

“Thanks!” you imagine he’ll say, “I love it!”

Or, maybe he’ll say, “Wow! You’re an unforgettable friend!”

Or, a quieter hope whispers, Maybe he’ll be so overcome with gratitude that he’ll grab the coffee from your hands and toss it to the ground in passion as he charges toward you, pulling you up into his arms—

You shake the thought from your head vehemently. Shane can barely tolerate your friendship, you remind yourself. He quite obviously has never shared your interest in taking things beyond that.

The moment you step inside Marnie’s ranch house, nothing goes the way you anticipated. She isn’t at her usual counter at the front, and you only find Jas in the kitchen. You give the small child a friendly smile as you move onward to seek out the adults. You find Marnie standing in the doorway of Shane’s room, and as you follow her inside, you find Shane passed out on his floor, surrounded by empty cans.

Had he been drinking alone, in his room, all night? You had thought the pier had been the result of a bad day, but was this a nightly occurrence?

Marnie says your name, taking your worried attention from your friend on the floor. “Can you do anything to help? He’s out cold.”

You do the first thing that occurs to you, which is to use your watering can to splash some cold water on his face. He jolts awake with a loud string of curses, and you wince.

“She made me do it!” you say quickly, jutting an accusatory thumb toward his aunt.

Marnie looks unimpressed with your cowardice, her frown deepening as she focuses on her nephew. “Shane!” she admonishes loudly. “What is the matter with you? All you do anymore is mope around and drink beer!”

You wince again. Surely, that’s not the way to go about helping him…

“You wouldn’t understand,” he grunts, moving to stand. His eyes are bloodshot as they settle on yours. He doesn’t even look surprised to see you in his bedroom. “Neither of you would understand.” He turns away, kicking the cans that litter the floor to send them right into the overturned trash can in the corner.

Your eyebrows raise, distractedly impressed by his form. He still has that gridball aim.

“What’s your plan?” Marnie continues as Jas enters, investigating the commotion, “Don’t you ever think about the future?”

“Plan?” Shane scoffs without humor. “Hopefully, I won’t be around long enough to need a plan.”

Jas reacts to his words in the same way you feel tempted to: she bursts into tears. 

Shane whirls around with a panicked expression, realizing his goddaughter has heard everything. As the little girl runs away, Marnie chases after her.

“Fuck my life.” Shane sighs, moving to sit on the edge of his bed. A long silence weighs heavy in the room, and he barely raises his eyes with the acknowledgment you haven’t moved to follow the others.

“What happened?” you ask quietly.

He gestures to the mess of cans on the floor. “Is it not obvious?”

“No. I mean, what happened to you?”

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I did everything I told you I would. In the Fall, I moved to Zuzu City to be a professional gridball player.”

That part doesn’t surprise you. “And then…?”

“And then,” he says bitterly, “I got injured during training. My left knee was fucked, I was put through a series of surgeries and injections, fell into a massive medical debt that my inheritance was lost to, and it was all for nothing because the team ended up dropping me. I floundered about for ten years and was really starting to embrace living in the city as a has-been… until my best friends in the whole world died in a car accident, just like my parents. Were that not a sick joke enough, I then found out they somehow thought it would be a great idea to leave me with the custody of their daughter when I could barely manage to take care of myself. So I crash-landed in this shitty town to take advantage of my aunt’s heart that bleeds for orphans and sell my soul to JojoMart. That’s what happened. Any questions?”

The inhale you take is unsteady, barely filling your chest with the air you need to process everything he’s just laid out. It’s too much tragedy to even fathom, and yet, by some miracle, he survived it all. You want to say the perfect thing, the exact words he needs to hear that could make it all better.

"I get it," you say, looking down at the cans, “I just... um, listen… sometimes in life, we got knocked down, but we get up again…”

His brow furrows, staring at his feet. “Are those the lyrics to that Chumbawumba song?”

“Shit. Yeah.” There may not be any perfect words to say, but on the small chance there were, what you went with certainly wasn’t it.

He looks up, a conflicted expression crossing his face, before falling back to his usual stony mask. “Well. It’s been great catching up, Sunshine. If you could, please, leave me alone forever now.” He throws a hand out toward the door as he says the words.

You can't be pushed away. Instead, you take a small step forward, holding out the coffee.

His breath hitches when he sees it.

“Your goddaughter will forgive you if you sober up, shower, and take her to the Egg Festival,” you assure him. 

He grimaces at your unshakeable optimism.

“Come on,” you gesture, waving the cup enticingly, “It should be your favorite holiday of the year. You love chicken stuff.”

“You remembered,” he murmurs quietly, accepting the cup.

His head bows, and you raise a hand, wanting to run it through his dark hair and tell him everything is going to be okay. Instead, you move to give him some space but find yourself pausing once more in the doorway. 

“You just need a new thing,” you tell him. “Something to work towards. We’ll figure it out.”

“We?” he asks with an almost sneer.

That stings. “You seem to have forgotten. I, too, have ‘crash landed’ in this ‘shitty town.’” Your voice softens, “We can help each other get through… just as we did that summer. If you want me around, Shane, I will be. ”

An unfamiliar emotion sparks in his eyes. 

“See you at the festival,” you say, turning away. One final urge strikes you, and you turn back around. “If I don’t see her on my way out, please inform Jas that I’m going to kick her little butt in the competition.”

A snort escapes him, and he looks as surprised at the amused sound as you are.

You move toward the exit, but Marnie stops you before you can leave. “Wait!” she calls out, running out of her bedroom. 

You turn to see Jas sniffling on the edge of Marnie’s bed, and as you spy further in the room, you spot a brown men's belt and a pair of purple boxers on the ground. Your eyes bulge at the sight of them.

They’re not what you’d imagine to be Shane’s style, purple and polka-dotted… so whose are they? Is Marnie seeing someone?

“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Marnie says, guiding you to the front as your eyes remain fixed over your shoulder at the mystery boxers, trying to mentally measure the waistband.

“Hm?” you ask dismissively as you wonder, Who is Marnie’s secret suitor? Does Shane know?

“That summer Shane spent with you, I saw a light come out from him that I’d never seen before. He’d always been so serious, so determined, but after spending time with you he seemed, I don’t know, happier. Could you do that again?”

“Do what?” you ask dismissively, your mind too preoccupied with every eligible bachelor in town.

“You know... make him happy,” Marnie says with an odd wink.

“Oh, yeah,” you don't know if you've said the right words, still wondering if maybe it isn’t a single man who left his boxers in Marnie’s room. What a scandal that would be!

“Good! So we’re in agreement!”

“Hm?” you ask, finally paying attention to the woman in front of you. “Oh, um, okay.” You aren’t certain what you just agreed to, but you feel pushed to endear yourself to this woman so that you can eventually get the opportunity to sleuth in her bedroom further. “Say, how much is a duck?”

“I’m not selling anything right now,” Marnie says, taken aback by your transition. “It’s a holiday, remember?”

“Oh, right! The festival!”

Eggs: Collected.

Prize: Won.

Jas’s Butt: Thoroughly Kicked.

When the timer first started, you thought for a moment it might be nice to let Jas win, especially given the rough morning she’d had. But then you saw her run off with Vincent, forming an unfair alliance, and you determined they had to be crushed.

“Nice work,” Shane says when the crowd begins to leave. He approaches you with a seemingly unbothered Jas by his side, and you’re happy to see he’s in slightly better spirits as he looks down at his goddaughter with a soft smile. “Okay, Jas, what did we practice?”

“Good game,” Jas tones, the line well-rehearsed. She offers you her little hand.

You drop to a knee, shaking it heartily. “Keep practicing,” you tell her with a smile, “Next year, I’m sure you’ll kick my butt.”

“Hey, she just said the B word!” the little girl gasps with the accusation.

You grimace. “Let’s keep that between us,” you mutter, sliding her the ancient-looking doll you’d discovered on your walk into town.

“Are you bribing my goddaughter?” Shane asks in horror. “With a seemingly cursed object? Where did you find a dingy-looking thing like that?”

“Buried in the dirt,” you answer honestly. Before Shane can intervene, Jas runs off in delight to show Vincent. “Enjoy your new poltergeist!” you pretend to call out after her. You stand and dust off your hands. “You guys are too easy. Like giving candy to a baby.”

“I’m pretty sure the saying is taking candy from a baby,” Shane corrects, stepping closer as he fights a smile.

“Not for me,” you disagree with a shrug, “I’m a giver. That’s my love language.”

He searches your eyes. “I can see that. You just can’t help yourself.” He sounds like he's complaining, but there’s a little more light in his tone than there had been in the morning.

“I really can’t,” you assure him. There’s a beat of silence between you.

“Listen,” he says quietly, breaking the eye contact at last, “About what I said this morning…”

You shake your head to cut him off, knowing he doesn’t want to get into it now but appreciating the attempt all the same. You hold out a hand to him.

“Am I expected to congratulate you on your win as well?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. "You were up against children. It wasn't much of a fair fight."

"And Abigail!"

"Also unfair. She's the size of a child."

"I'm only five inches taller— Ugh." You refuse to get distracted and push your hand out further with meaning. “Friends?”

He looks irritated by the question but surrenders and wraps his strong hand around yours. The moment you feel the warmth of his palm, your skin hums with the memory of that damned recurring dream, remembering all too well how his hands felt gripping your thighs, squeezing your ass–

“Friends,” he says, pulling you from the fantasy with a roll of his eyes.

Just friends!! you remind yourself, shoving the forbidden dream in a box to forever remain hidden in the dark corners of your mind.

Chapter Text

Year 1

Spring 20

“You got a girlfriend back home?” you ask with a fake accent. You lean your elbow on the bar and give him a wink.

As expected, Shane groans. “Is that your usual pickup line?” 

You can’t help but grin excitedly at the idea. “I’ve yet to try picking someone up in a bar. Do you think that would work?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“I meant, no, I don’t have a girlfriend. You got a boyfriend?”

“I did. A couple, actually.”

He chokes on his beer.

“Not at one time!” you explain with a laugh, “I was a serial monogamist for a little bit, jumping from one relationship to the next. But I finally kicked the habit.”

“Of getting boyfriends?”

“Of trying to convince myself I was in love.”

He places his glass down and angles his head to stare down at the space in front of you. It was the expression he always made when he didn’t know what the hell you were talking about but was too stubborn to express any interest and ask you to clarify.

You appease his unspoken curiosity. “I just like the idea of it so much, you know? I want to be in love, but I don’t know what it looks like outside of movies and books. Every relationship was like I was trying to act out a script, playing the part of The Perfect Girlfriend for four very different guys. But it always ended the same way: I realized I was just in love with the idea of us being in love. And because I never acted like my real self, it always felt like they were only in love with the idea of me, too.”

He’d watched you talk with such a dazed expression it took him a moment to realize when you’d stopped. “But… you’ve kicked the habit now?”

“Indeed,” you say, raising your glass in a toast. “I plan on only being in a relationship with myself until something real comes along.”

“Good,” he says, “Fuck those four guys.”

You wait until his drink has reached his lips. “At one time?”

He splutters again, and you burst into an evil laugh. 

“I’m sorry. I just had to see if I could get that reaction out of you again.”

“Let’s table this topic of conversation forever.”

 

You wake up with a smile. It’s Shane’s birthday, and you have a solid plan to make it a good one with a gift he'll love. Marnie informed you she would cover the morning with breakfasts and presents with her and Jas, and it was up to you to cover dinner. You could have made him pepper poppers, a recipe Shane had sent you in a first official act of friendship, but you’d never been a great cook. Pizza was a safer bet.

“Pizza party! Tonight!” you announce when you find Shane at Pierre's and saunter down the aisle to him.

“Why are you yelling?!” he shushes you, looking around with pink cheeks, “I don't care for people to know it's my birthday, so lower your voice.”

“I'm excited. It'll be great, just you, me, and The Lonely Hearts Club.”

His expression is bored as he acknowledges you. “What’s that, a smooth jazz band?”

“I’ve told you this before. It’s a group of people from town.”

“I don’t like town people.”

“You like me.” He'd shown you as much in the last week when, instead of brushing past you every morning, he asked you to walk alongside him so that you could still chat without making him late to work.

“You’re not town people. You’re Sunshine.” You’re about to break out in a touched smile when he continues, “Abrasively bright, harsh on the eyes, nearly impossible to avoid during the day—”

“Yeah, yeah, alright,” you say, shoving him before he can insult you further. “I’m serious about this. I won’t take no for an answer. It’s your birthday! You can’t drink alone.” Especially since you noticed that when you’re drinking alongside him, he drinks a lot less.

“One drink with the Loser Hearts Club.” he surrenders.

“Lonely Hearts—”

“Whatever. That’s all I’ll do, and then I retreat back to my safe corner of solitude.”

“Our corner—”

“Our corner,” he amends quietly, looking back down at the baking mix in his hand.

You drop a chaste kiss on his cheek, enthralled to see his blush that floods the area. “Happy Birthday,” you whisper in his ear as you squeeze his arm with excitement, “See you tonight!”

As you exit the general store, the feeling of Shane's cheek on your lips lingers. You raise the pads of your fingers to hover over your mouth, a flash of the dream striking you once more.

Your lips drag over his cheek with a gasp as he breaks the kiss, moving his mouth to the crook of your neck.

“Fuck, Sunshine,” he groans as he pulls you even closer and burrows his head, “I’ve wanted this for so long. I’ve needed this—”

You let out a loud squeak of surprise, batting the air around you as if the dream was just a smoke surrounding your head that needed to clear. 

"Everything okay?" Harvey asks, spotting your crazed performance from the entrance of his clinic.

"Cave fly," you lie awkwardly.

You see his eyes flash around the empty air surrounding you, his eyebrow quirked in curiosity.

"See you later tonight, Harv!" You run away before he can ask you any follow-up questions.

“Next round is on me!” you announce, moving quickly to the bar before Shane can remind you he’d agreed to only one drink with the others. Thanks to the club members’ generosity, you were about to start your fourth round in celebration of Shane. As you await your turn to put in the order, you can’t help but subtly spy over your shoulder to see if the man of the hour is still behaving well in your absence.

Thankfully, Elliott has taken the newest member under his wing— literally, as he drops an arm over Shane’s shoulder and begins to whisper to him conspiratorially.

Shane looks up at you just as Emily approaches to take your order. By the time you return to the table, Elliott looks absolutely thrilled by his conversation with Shane, and your hope soars that maybe, just maybe, Shane is finally making friends.

“How we doin’?” you ask as you pass Shane a beer, Elliott an ale, and Leah and Harvey a glass of wine.

“This will be my last one,” Harvey reports, his lips almost purple from the three glasses consumed already.

“Can I tell her?” Elliott asks, looking at Shane with bouncing eyebrows.

The birthday boy pales as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “ Can you—?!”

“My new friend here has a crush,” Elliott says, looking back at you.

“Dude, what the fuck?!” Shane hisses.

“On Emily!” Elliott whispers with glee, leaning over the table further.

His words hit you like a knife in the stomach. Your throat thickens so terribly that you struggle to swallow your sip of beer. Slowly, you manage to put the pint down on the table and turn to look at Shane. “Really?”

He looks down at the table, frustration etched across his face. “And so what if I did?” he asks lowly.

“He won’t admit it outright,” Elliott assesses him with another hearty laugh, “But I asked him if his lonely heart yearned for anyone, and his eyes immediately went to the bar.”

You feel ready to drink again and take another heavy sip, swallowing disappointment with your beer. What did you expect? He is never going to see you that way, you remind yourself. Just this morning, he said you were harsh on the eyes. Emily could be good for him!

“I didn’t say anything about a crush. I just looked away,” Shane grumbles.

“The eyes never lies,” Elliott sings.

“Grammatically, that sentence doesn’t make much sense,” Harvey corrects him succinctly.

“Yeah, grammartically, or whatever the doc just said,” Shane agrees, “You’re a writer. You should know that.” He downs the entire contents of his drink and stands, grabbing your hand. “Well, this was fun, but my friend promised me we’d spend the rest of the night just us.”

His confident grip on you pulls you from your thoughts, and you smile down at your conjoined hands. You’d been thinking he’d planned to spend the rest of the night in the corner alone, but he still wanted to spend the rest of his evening with you.

“Thanks for sharing in your celebration with us,” Leah says with a friendly smile.

“Yes, go have fun on your own!” Elliott encourages. “Until we meet up again!”

You can’t stop grinning as Shane pulls you away, taking a private moment to enjoy the feeling of him leading you around the room like you’re something that belongs to him. Like you're his.

But he drops your hand the moment you reach the corner, and he releases a frustrated sigh as he drops himself on his favorite stool. "I knew I would have to drag you away," he mutters.

Ah. Hence the handholding. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” you ask as you move to sit beside him.

He rests his elbows on the bar and looks over at you with half a smile. “No. Not nearly as bad as I expected.”

Pleased, you look down at your beer, subtly watching how he raises a hand and gestures for Emily to bring him some water. You should be thrilled he's taking a break to hydrate, but watching their interaction, your smile drops completely. He doesn’t seem enamored, but then again, he always wore a mask over his feelings…

“Emily, huh?” you ask once the bartender in question has dropped off his order and departed. “You never said…”

“You and I don’t talk about that kind of stuff,” he reminds you gently.

“That’s because I don’t have much to share on the subject. I’m addicted to singlehood,” you argue, “But if you have something to share, please do! I’ll have you know I’m a great matchmaker!”

“Can we leave it for now?" he pleads.

“Okay,” you agree, “But only because it’s your birthday.”

“I was hoping to forget that.” He pauses for a moment. “Did you just say you’re addicted to singlehood?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I go on dates when I need to… let out some steam,” you vaguely explain, “But I haven't been in a relationship.”

He’s quiet, looking down at his glass. “Since the one before we met?”

You look away in thought, trying to recall. “Hm. Yeah.”

“Interesting,” he mutters, “I always pictured you’d end up with some fancy surgeon or a foreign prince.”

“I got an email from a prince who needed money once.”

“Sunshine, I’m one hundred percent certain that was a scam. Are you really that gullible?”

You flash him a guilty look, and he laughs.

Your heart warms at the sound, wanting to encourage his positivity. “Are you having fun? Did you like your birthday present?”

His annoyed smile returns to his face from your prodding, though there’s a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Yes, thank you. But now I want another.”

“Another pizza?”

“Another present. Elliott told you a secret of mine, so I want to hear a secret of yours. A good one.” He raises his eyebrows in playful emphasis.

The way he looks at you is so seductive, and you do not know if it's that or the four beers hitting you at once, but you're suddenly feeling very willing to give him whatever he asks. 

“Okay, here’s a secret,” you say, taking a large and emboldening sip of your beer... which transitions into full-on chugging.

He watches you, his gaze darkening. "Wow, if it takes all that, it better be good."

You slam the emptied pint glass down on the table. “I… once had a dream that you and I… that we…” You look up at him with an embarrassed wince.

His expression shifts one much more withholding. “We... what?” he prompts, his voice barely audible.

“Well, you know,” you indicate with a wave of your hand. You're bold enough to admit it for a second, but after his reaction, you don’t have any courage left to say the words explicitly.

“You had a dream,” he repeats quietly to himself, looking down.

“I did,” the words spill out of you, “More than once, actually. Though what happened was always the same.” You smack a hand over your mouth as you feel your cheeks heat. Oh, Yoba, SHUT UP. You’ve shared enough! Maybe it's time to switch to water, too.

“A good dream, is it?” he asks, his responding smile smug.

“Better than the duckbill one.” His brow furrows with confusion, and you hasten to explain. “I also keep having this dream where I suddenly grow a duck bill over my mouth, and I can’t speak. I can only quack. And no one understands me because no one speaks Duck.”

“This conversation took a weird turn."

You laugh. “I’m just saying, if Real Shane is anything like Dream Shane—” You try to whistle but only end up blowing out an empty breath. “You will make someone very happy.”

His grin is boyish and wide now, and he rests his elbow on the edge of the bar as he leans over closer. “Is that so?”

You try not to sigh wistfully. He’s just so beautiful when he smiles. You have to look away, your eyes landing on Emily… who just so happens to be watching Shane lean toward you with curiosity in her gaze.

“You should dance with me at the flower dance,” you say, your eyes still on her.

He blinks repeatedly in surprise. “W-What?”

“It’ll make Emily jealous. I’m certain of it.” You turn to face him, the plan formulating perfectly in your mind. Shane had been defeated by his past, and he needed the promise of something good and real in his future to keep him going. If he truly liked Emily, then maybe she could be that thing for him.

Your resolve is firm. You’re going to fix them up… even if it shatters your heart in the process. 

Chapter Text

Year 1

Spring 24

The Flower Dance

Shane should have known better than to visit during farming hours. The moment Grandpa sees his healthy back coming down the path, he begins to devise an entire list of things for your friend to do around the farm.

He has a separate list for you, too.

You are given the task of dropping new seeds on the freshly hoed plots of soil, a task that was increasingly difficult to focus on after Shane removed his sweatshirt and jersey to repair the wooden fences in only his fitted white undershirt. Never before had you seen so much of Shane’s skin, shattering the illusion you told yourself that your friend didn’t have any biceps or chest muscles…

Grandpa clears his throat suddenly, and you nearly jump out of your skin at the sound. You turn to look over your shoulder and find the old man walking over to where you’re crouched on all fours. 

“When you’re done here,” he says with a hint of a delighted smile, “Would you mind giving your friend a hand? I’m going to go inside to make some lunch.”

“Sure, Grandpa!” you say, your voice a little too high as you turn back to the plot in front of your knees. After a few seconds of seeding, your eyes can’t help but rise to find Shane once more. You're pleased to discover he is looking at you as well; only his gaze is tunneling right down your chest.

You sit up, worried he may have just seen all the way down your shirt.

He coughs and returns his focus to his work, and with a smile, you work quickly, eager to join him and watch how his arm muscles flex with his hammering up close.

“How's it going?” you ask, sliding the gardening gloves from your hand as you approach.

“Good,” he answers, hammering the final nail in the wooden post. “I don’t think this will come down again anytime soon.”

“Let’s see.” Before he can stop you, you jump to sit atop the new hardwood fence.

“Hey!” he yells, his hands flashing out. He stops himself from touching you in the last second, his fingers hovering over your hips. “Be careful! You could get a splinter up your ass.”

“I’ll be fine.” You swing your feet, testing the durability of the wood. “You did a good job!”

He rubs the back of his neck with a sheepish smile, and you try not to stare at the bulge of his bicep with the motion. “Thanks.”

“I’m sorry he put you to work. You don’t regret coming over here, do you?” you ask, playfully nudging his leg with the toe of your sneaker.

He drops his hand, taking a step closer, and your legs immediately part for him as if they’ve gone rogue and didn’t need any command from your brain to invite him in even further.

The suggestive movement didn’t go unnoticed. “No,” he says, his eyes down at your knees. “I don’t regret it.”

As if saving you from yourself, Grandpa calls out from the porch at that moment, announcing that lunch is ready.

Your cheeks burn. “Come on, buddy,” you say, emphasizing the platonic term as you shuffle your hips to slide off the edge of the fence. “You hungry?”

Suddenly, Shane’s big hands are on you, and he’s helping you down, your chest dragging over his torso as he drops you to the ground slowly. When you land, neither of you makes the move to put an inch of distance between you. 

“Sure, pal,” he says with a sardonic half-smile.

 

You open your eyes and immediately grab a pillow to muffle your embarrassed scream from the dream.

Yoba, you really tried to stay strong all summer, but you were so desperate for him, there were moments like that where you slipped .

You remind yourself you have to stay strong once more and remain in full control of your faculties around him. You are Shane’s friend , and he needs a friend these days. You can’t be automatically parting your legs whenever he steps close to you.

Especially today.

As you get ready for the flower dance, donning a white sundress and tying some of your hair back with a ribbon, you start to wonder if you can actually pull this off. The more the sexy dream visits you, the harder it is to keep your thoughts platonic, even when he acts like his usual self, annoyed by your very presence. If you were to see him put on an act of romantic interest, even if just for the sake of making someone else jealous, you can only imagine how The Dream would absorb every morsel and torture you for it later. 

Can you actually do this? you wonder. There’s a soft knock at your door, and you curse under your breath. “Only one way to find out,” you mutter as you move to open the door.

The moment you see Shane on your doorstep, you know you are fucked.  Completely and utterly fucked.

He doesn’t just look good in a suit. He looks downright delectable. Elliott had shown you his outfit planned for the dance, and you had expected Shane would be dressed in a similar foppishly-ruffled shirt. Instead, under his light blue suit jacket, Shane’s shirt is crisp white with no tie and some top buttons opened.

Four buttons open, you silently count, staring at the triangle of his chest revealed. That’s just cruel. 

He doesn’t look like he’s going to a frilly little flower dance in a field. He looks like a professional gridball player dressed up before a big game. 

Bartholomeow brushes past your leg as if subtly signaling you to stop ogling your friend like he’s a tree you’re desperate to climb. In a way, it’s nice to discover it hasn’t been just you making things awkward. You’ve both been silently staring at each other’s outfits.

“Can I…?” you start to say, but your words cut off when you hear how breathless your voice sounds.

His head snaps up, and he clears his throat, one hand casually slipping into his pocket. “Can you what?”

“Can I give you a compliment on your appearance? Would that be ok?”

He lets out a short, incredulous burst of air as if he’d been holding his breath.  “Why wouldn’t that be okay?”

You blink. “I don’t know. We don’t do that.”

“We don’t?” 

“Not usually.”

“Oh…” Either he’s back to his Resting Grump Face, or he doesn’t look too pleased by this discovery.

“Yeah. So maybe we shouldn’t start.” If you compliment him, he might feel pressured to compliment you, and any kind words from him will just send you into full arrhythmia . “You ready?”

“I don’t know…”

You suspect his dazed tone is all attributed to his nerves over finally pursuing Emily. You take a deep, emboldening breath, refocus your attention on the mission at hand, and wrap your arms around his elbow to lead him from your porch. “Come on, let’s get your girl.”

“She’s not my girl,” he grumbles, allowing you to pull him along.

“Not yet,” you correct, “So, how do these things usually go?”

He sighs. “I’ve only done it once before. I ate a lot, I drank a lot, I danced very little, and then I went home.”

Sounds easy enough. “Who did you dance with?”

He glances at you from the corner of his eyes, saying nothing.

“Emily? Really?” Mentally, you’re throwing slingshots at the pangs of jealousy that swarm you like cave flies, but on the outside, you appear thrilled. “Is that when your crush began?”

He sighs. “Not exactly, no.”

“That makes it even better that we’re each other’s partners today, then,” you say. “For the record, we shouldn’t do too much. She’s a girl’s girl, so she can’t think we’re in a full-on relationship, or you’ll be deemed off limits.”

“What does that mean, ‘Do too much’?”

You wince, uncertain of what your heart can handle. “I guess we’ll find out.”

“Put your arm around my waist,” you mutter into your glass as you stand by the refreshments. 

Shane pulls in a quick and harsh breath at your command. “What?! Why?” 

You look up, feigning an amorous smile as you speak through your teeth. “If there’s one thing that encourages a girl to make a move, it’s a little competition.”

“Really?” he asks in wonder, his strong arm slowly weaving around you as you directed. You try not to dwell on how right that feels for you. “Is that what you need to show interest in someone?” he asks you quietly, tilting his head to speak softly in your ear, “Someone else has to be in line?” 

“Not me, personally,” you murmur with total honesty, “I’m the kind of gal where as soon as I see there’s another prospective lover for them, I think, ‘Oh hell yeah! Be with that person, they’re great! Forget about me! In fact, where’s the door?’”

“Yoba,” he groans, removing his arm. It had only been a few short seconds, but you feel cold in the absence of his embrace. “This isn’t going to work—”

“It will! Trust me!” you assure him, placing a hand on his chest with encouragement.  “Emily’s confident enough to go after what she wants. I’m an anomaly.”

“You can say that again,” he mutters. 

“Shush,” you silence him, “She’s getting closer.”

You reach for his arm to place it over your shoulder, but he stubbornly pulls it from your grasp. You then search for his hand, but he boorishly pulls that from you, too. Childishly, you turn and face him, trying to grab some part of him that could look convincingly romantic, and he continues to evade or smack away your touch. You gasp and smack his hand right back, entering into almost a full-on slap fight until Emily arrives and, in the nick of time, you wrap your arms around him tightly and rest your head on his chest, your hands clasped over his that are still fighting behind his back.

“Hi Emily!” you greet her when she approaches. You can hear Shane’s heart hammering in his chest under your ear, no doubt from his crush’s sudden arrival.

“Oh, hey!” she says with a friendly smile.

“You’re looking beautiful today,” you say. You rest your chin on Shane’s chest to look up at him with an encouraging waggle of your eyebrows. “Doesn’t she look beautiful?”

Shane says nothing, only nodding slightly as his eyes remain fixed on yours.

Yoba, he’s too nervous to even look at her? You internally groan. It’s going to be harder than you thought.

“Thanks!” Emily accepts the compliment happily, “This year, I'm giving my sister competition for the flower queen title.” She moves further down the table, admiring the food.

“Well, you have our vote!” you call out after her. When she’s out of hearing distance you break from the embrace, taking a step away from him. He remains very still.

“Hoo,” you fail to whistle as you reach for your drink, “That was close. Almost missed it by a bee’s dick.”

Shane lets out a snort, your words bringing him back to life. “Pardon?”

“That’s a farmer saying,” you dismiss him. “What is up with you? Is it that hard for you to put an arm around me?”

He shoves both hands in his pockets and looks down. “I don’t want you to force anything…”

You wince. Is that how it feels for him? Forced?  “Try talking to her alone, then,” you suggest, moving away from him.

Suddenly, it’s Shane who’s panicked and reaching for your hand, silently trying to get you to stay, but you slip away from him easily.

“Have you tried the red jelly yet?” you hear Emily ask him. 

You privately hoped she would strike up a conversation with Shane the moment you left, so why does your stomach hurt the moment your wish comes true?

“You and Shane make a fine pairing!” Elliott greets you with an impish smile.

You smile at him, grateful for the distraction. “It’s all for show,” you whisper, raising a hand to shield your mouth from any lip readers.

“What delicious scheme are you concocting, farmer?” he asks, leaning closer with delight.

You look over your shoulder, watching how Shane is anxiously stuffing his face with the red jelly right next to Emily. He isn’t able to do much talking with his mouth full, but at least he’s doing something to engage with her. “I was hoping to make her jealous enough to make a move. I think it’s working already.”

“Indeed,” Elliott echoes, though his tone is distant, and his expression remains steadfast on you. "I think this is a wonderful plan!" he says, full of enthusiasm once more. "Please, allow me to use my expertise as a romance writer to assist."

"That would be great, actually!" 

The time for the dance has arrived, and you stand nervously in the horizontal line, your place directly across from Shane. Your eyes flash to Emily, who is standing with the other adults, watching the proceedings with a pleasant smile on her face. You then look at Marnie, who is strangely giving you an enthusiastic two thumbs up. You then look back at Shane, who has both fists clenched and is staring at the grass between you too.

“Try to look like you’re having fun,” you whisper. 

“I hate dancing,” he grumbles.

“You’ve danced with me before,” you remind him. During a very drunken night at Stardrop, but it was a dance all the same.

“If only I was just as intoxicated,” he jokes.

You try not to show how much you disagree.

The music starts, and while his first moves are awkward and stiff, the more he sees you enjoying yourself, the more he begins to relax into the choreography. By the end of the song, the corner of his mouth has deepened into almost a half-smile.

You’re so full of joy in that moment that you can’t help yourself. You close the distance, throwing yourself into his arms with a happy laugh. 

He stumbles back as if his knees have suddenly gone weak, and you worry you might have upset his old injury until you feel his arms wrap around you tightly. He lifts you off your feet as he slowly turns you in a circle, his soft laugh rumbling in your ear. If you did upset his knee, he isn’t punishing you for it.

You get too carried away and make the hug go on too long, clinging tightly to him as you sway. When you finally come to your senses, it feels like someone has dumped a bucket of ice over your head. You push yourself away from him harshly, forcing an apologetic smile on your face as you glance over to Emily.

He follows your stare, a question in his gaze. When he sees Emily, his expression hardens.

“That was maybe too much?” you guess, your hands curling around the fabric of your skirt in shame.

He sighs, looking down. “I don’t stand a chance, do I?” The words are so quiet you almost miss it.

Your heart breaks at the hopelessness in his tone. “Don’t say that!” you disagree, placing your hands on his shoulders to give him a shake. “You and Emily going to happen! Elliott's even going to help."

"I find that very hard to believe."

Chapter Text

Year 1

Summer 3

You wake up to the pitter-patter of rain hitting your window and immediately break into a smile. You had spent the first two days of Summer setting yourself up for a big harvest, and thanks to the rain, you wouldn’t have to take the time to water it. You get to spend a lazy morning in bed with Bartholomeow.

When you eventually pad over to the kitchen with a sleepy stretch to search the fridge for coffee, you’re struck with a sudden memory:

There’s a pounding at your door, and for a moment, you imagine it is just the wind crashing some waterlogged debris against the side of the farmhouse. After the third round of knocking, you realize someone is actually at your door in the middle of a crazy rainstorm.

You race to see who it is, shocked to find Shane standing with his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt. His hood is up over his head but it’s soaked, dropping heavy droplets onto his cheeks, and his eyes are hollow.

“What are you doing?” you ask, quickly pulling him inside.

He doesn’t answer. “Where’s your grandpa, does he need help with anything?” he asks instead, tilting his head to look down the hall.

“He’s at a doctor’s appointment. He’ll be there for most of the day,” you answer, “Why? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. I was just hoping for a distraction…” He heads further into the kitchen. “Does he have any alcohol?”

“There’s some wine, I think. Do you really want to start drinking now? It’s barely noon.”

“I hate rainy days,” he mutters, slamming the fridge door after he finds it void of beer. He drops back the hood of his sweatshirt, a spasm running through him as he runs a hand through his wet hair. 

“You’re shivering,” you admonish, moving over to him. Before your brain catches up to stop you, you grab the hem of his sweatshirt and start to pull it up his torso.

“What are you doing?!” his voice squeaks as he jumps away from you.

Your cheeks flush. “Relax, Casanova,” you try to play it cool, “I’m just going to hang your sweatshirt to dry. You can borrow one of Grandpa’s flannels.”

“It’s summer,” he argues as he pulls the wet garment off himself and hands it to you, “I don’t need a flannel.”

“Then wear nothing!” you call out over your shoulder. When you return to the kitchen, you realize he might as well be wearing nothing. His wet white t-shirt clings to him like a second skin, and you can see all his defined muscles underneath. Moving your eyes away quickly, you start a fire in the fireplace. “Sit here,” you demand, pointing to the couch, “I’ll make us some coffee.”

He remains silent, staring at the fire until you return with two mugs in hand.

“Do you even like coffee?” you ask in wonder as you join him on the couch.

“Love it,” he says, accepting the cup. Finally, a semblance of a smile starts to grow on his face. “It’s my favorite, actually.”

“Why do you hate rainy days?”

“Yoba,” he groans, “Nothing gets past you.”

You simply sip your coffee, waiting for him to fess up with a patient smile.

He sighs. “It was raining that night… my parents’ car accident…”

“Fuck I did it again, didn’t I?” you groan, throwing your head back with the regret you’ve triggered his life’s greatest tragedy once more. “Okay, yeah, let’s find some wine.” You move to stand, but he wraps his hand around your wrist and pulls you back down. You crash against him, almost landing in his lap before clumsily shifting to a seated position closely beside him.

“That’s okay,” he says, the corner of his mouth lifting at your awkward performance, “Coffee’s good for now.”

You decide to distract him as best you can from the sound of the rain, talking loud and emphatically about any topic that comes to mind. He entertains your effort with quiet amusement, occasionally saying a word or two but mostly just watching you pontificate with enraptured attention.

“Sunshine…” he says softly after a lull in your ramblings.

You turn to face him fully. Rarely does he speak so gently with you.

He looks down at his mug. “We shouldn’t… we should just be friends.”

A sudden heat floods your cheeks, and you look away, your spirits plummeting. “Uh, ok?” you say, forcing a laugh.

He groans, “Not that I’m assuming you aren’t already on the same page, but just… for the record.”

“Yep. Got it.” You don’t mean for your voice to sound so stiff, but it does.

“I don’t have many good things in my life,” his voice lowers, “But this summer so far… it’s surprisingly been good. Really good. So good that I wouldn’t ever want to do anything that could ruin it.”

You close your eyes, trying not to reveal how much that simple sentiment means to you. “What about when you’re a rich and famous gridball player?” you joke to break the tension, “Could I marry you for your money?”

He grins in relief before pretending to think about it. “Hm, I’d consider you to start as one of my many mistresses…”

“Well, it’s an honor to be nominated.”

The memory fades, and you find yourself still staring at the couch. Did rainy days still bother him? There had been a couple of rainstorms in the Spring, but you hadn’t noticed a significant change in his demeanor.

Maybe because he acted now like all days were rainy days.

You’re determined to hug your livestock quickly, hoping it will carve out some time in your day to go and check in on him.

“Shane?!” You stand frozen, the pouring rain pelting your face and almost keeping you from seeing the devastating image in front of you.:

Shane is passed out drunk, lying on his stomach on the grass dangerously close to the cliffside.

You run over, rolling him on his side so that you can cup his face and make sure he’s conscious. His gaze is bloodshot and unfocused.

“Sunshine…” he mutters, his eyes half-closed, “I’m sorry…”

“What are you doing here?!” you bellow. “Why didn’t you come see me instead?”

“My life… it’s a pathetic joke. Look at me. Why do I even try?”

“Come on,” you insist, trying to pull him upward, “I’m taking you to the clinic.”

He keeps drunkenly rambling, “I’m too small and too stupid to… to take control of my life.”

“You don’t feel small,” you wheeze, struggling under the weight of him. He’s completely limp and it’s nearing impossible to get him to his feet when the grass is so slippery.

“I’m just a piece of soiled garbage flittering in the wind…”

“Poetic as that may be, Shane, it’s not the truth. You’re not garbage.” You finally get him to sit up, and his head lolls forward, staring at the cliffside below.

“I’ve been coming here often lately, looking down…”

You freeze, choosing to listen instead of brushing what he’s saying aside. The more he speaks on his dark thoughts, the more you realize these aren’t just mindless and drunken ramblings…

You’re sat in the clinic lobby, shivering for reasons beyond the chill of the cold rain that clings to every inch of you. Everything Shane admitted in the forest… you know the words will haunt you forever. 

Shane needs help. Real, professional help that goes far beyond whatever you’ve been doing for him. He needs a true friend, something good in his life, and you feel like you’ve been failing him by refusing to acknowledge how serious things have become. 

Harvey enters the lobby, his lab coat on over his pajamas, and you try to stand, your legs shaky, but he gestures for you to relax. “I’ve pumped his stomach and rehydrated his body. He’s going to be okay.” His eyes are kind as he moves to sit next to you. “It’s good that you brought him in, though. Too much alcohol is terrible for the body, but after what you told me what he said, I’m more concerned with his mental health.”

“How can we help him?!”

The doctor’s soft smile is encouraging. “When he comes to, I’ll have a chat with him about his treatment options. I know an excellent counselor in Zuzu City.”

You nod, looking down at your lap as your eyes flood with heartache once more. 

“Life can be painful sometimes,” Harvey says softly, “But there’s always hope for a better future. You’ve got to believe in that.”

You nod at your lap, more determined than ever to get Shane to believe that, too.

Chapter Text

Year 1

Summer 4

The next morning, as you wake, you don’t hear any rain and are immensely grateful for it. You'll never take the sun for granted again, and as easy as rainy days make your personal life, you don't want to see another for a long time. You’d only slept in one of your grandpa’s old flannels, but don’t even bother to put on shorts as you go to blow a kiss at the sun and thank the sky for staying clear. When you step outside, you’re shocked to see Shane coming up the porch steps.

“Oh,” he says, seeing you freeze in surprise, “Hey…”

You can’t move, can’t speak, for fear that you will burst into tears and make things harder for him.

“Oh man…uh, how do I say this?” he mutters. His eyes drift down to your bare legs, and his voice becomes strained, “Might be easier if you were wearing pants.”

The joke snaps what little restraint you had, and you can’t help but throw yourself at him. He somehow catches you easily, his arms moving around you swiftly as you cover your face and sob against him.

“I’m really sorry, I’m so embarrassed,” he mumbles, patting the back of your hair with his hand, “Agh, fuck, can you please stop crying? It’s driving me crazy.”

He’s right. You need to be positive, not make him feel worse. “I'm just… so happy you’re still here,” you sniff, huffing in a staggered breath as you lightly beat a fist against his chest.

“Was it that serious?!” he asks, his tone suddenly edged in panic, “I hardly remember.”

You lean your head back, searching his eyes with the horror that he doesn’t even recall what he said. He raises his palm and lightly cups your face to wipe a tear with his thumb as he takes in the true devastation in your expression.

He closes his eyes. “Fuck, Sunshine. I can barely stand to look at you right now.” 

“Don’t look at me,” you agree, moving to hug him and shield your face again, “I know I’m a hideous crier.”

He scoffs. “That’s not it, I…” He takes a deep breath, giving up on whatever he was about to say. “I’ve decided I want to see a therapist,” he transitions, “Harvey got me in touch with a colleague of his.”

You squeeze him, inhaling a loud and wet sniffle. “That’s great news.”

“And I was hoping…” his voice trails off. “Well, my mental breakdown was a little ill-timed because today is Jas’s birthday. Do you think you could come over and help me make it a good day for her? She said she wants a tea party…?”

“Yes!” you cheer, wiping the wetness from your cheeks as you pull away. Finally, he asks for help! “Yes, of course!”

“Okay, great.” He looks immensely relieved. “I called out of work, and she won’t be up for another couple hours or so, so I thought maybe—”

“Come on,” you insist, pulling him up your porch steps. “We’ll bake her a cake.”

“You can bake?!”

“Not well, but when it comes to her birthday cake, a seven-year-old girl only cares about three things.”

“Which are…?”

“If it’s edible, if it’s loaded with sugar, and if it’s pink.”

“How’s the icing looking?” you ask, coming out of the bathroom after changing into a simple pink sleeveless dress.

“Woah,” Shane says when he looks up at you. As he stares, he continues to squeeze the frosting bag in his hand, and it plops an extra-large blob of pink onto the small cake on the counter.

“A tea party calls for girly dresses,” you explain with a curtsy. 

He swallows heavily, blinking repeatedly before he finally speaks, “You got one I can borrow?”

“I wish,” you answer with a laugh, moving beside him to pull some heart-shaped candles from the back of a kitchen drawer, “Back when I was a party princess—”

“A what?!”

“A party princess? Someone who dresses up like a princess and goes to little kids’ birthday parties?”

“Do the parents know?!”

“It’s a hired job, Shane, not a creepy hobby.” You roll your eyes, moving to place the candles in the cake. “Anyway, back when that was my gig, I had a huge box of pretty pink tutus in the trunk of my car. If only I’d kept them, you could’ve used one.”

“I think you look pretty and pink enough for the both of us.” 

You cease all movement, the candle in your hand hovering over the cake. Did Shane just say you were pretty?

“Everything okay?” he asks softly.

“Yep!” you say a little too lightly, “Just making sure I got the candle count right. I think it looks good! Come on, let’s make a little girl’s day.”

You wave goodbye to Marnie and Jas as they set out to the playground for an afternoon playdate with Vincent.

“Buh,” Shane groans, slumping against the doorway. He tugs on the elastic strap under his chin and slides the paper party hat off his head with a tired sigh. “Who knew tea parties were so tough on the body? I think I could sleep for seven years and still not feel recovered.”

You bite your lip to keep from mentioning that perhaps it was his evening and the subsequent hospitalization that had taken such a toll on him. 

"Have a seat in the kitchen," you say instead, "I’ll cut us some more cake." The moment he leaves you in the hallway, you quickly sneak into Marnie’s room. You’d been thinking about it since the moment you stepped in the house, and now the opportunity had finally arisen to snoop some more.

Much to your luck, the purple boxers are still on the floor. Not very clean, is she?  You wonder, looking around the room with a grimace.

“Where’d you go?” Shane calls out.

You don’t know what makes you do it, but suddenly, you’re shoving the boxers in your bag and quickly returning to the kitchen.

“I think you made Jas’s birthday super special, don’t you?” you ask conversationally as he bends over to search the fridge. You desperately hope he isn’t about to reach for a beer, and thankfully, when he stands, there’s only a cola in his hand.

“You think? You’re the one who took the lead as party princess and taught her that dance. All I did was sit on the floor and pretend to gossip with her stuffed animals for a couple of hours.”

You cross your arms, shaking your head. “You really can’t see it?”

“See what?”

“How you make her whole day just by being around. Shane, spending a little time with her is enough to keep her smiling for hours. You don’t have to do anything. You are enough.”

Suddenly, he’s marching across the room to you, and before you can even prepare yourself— in a historic first— Shane has pulled you into a hug.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” he murmurs, “I’m going to take things a little more seriously from now on.” 

“Good,” you say, cozying up in the embrace. “Wow, it’s like all of you lines up perfectly with all of me.”

He stiffens.

“Was that a weird thing to say out loud?” you ask, your voice pitched high.

“Um,” he says, but there’s laughter on the edge of his tone.

You bury your face against his chest with a wince so he can’t see the embarrassment flooding your face.

“I can’t believe I’ve been calling you Sunshine when all along I should’ve been calling you Princess,” he says softly. There’s a low rumble in his voice that stirs a warmth in your gut.

“Save that nickname for Emily,” you insist, breaking the embrace to get a hold of yourself, “I prefer Sunshine.”

Thrones and titles change constantly, after all. There was only one sun.

Chapter Text

Year 1

Summer 11

Luau

When you step onto the beach, you immediately realize the grave mistake you’ve made in your choice of outfit. No one else is dressed to the theme of a Luau. In a panic, you cross your arms over yourself and seek refuge close to Elliott’s cabin, wondering if maybe you can hide inside until the event is over.

“Elliott!” you whisper-yell when you see him stepping out his door to greet Leah who’s come over as well. “Hide me!”

“Goodness!” he exclaims as he visually takes in your bikini and grass skirt, “I’d forgotten that today was the Luau, but it seems like you came prepared.”

“Wow, you look amazing,” Leah greets you.

“Indeed!” Elliott’s smile is wicked. “But why no coconut bra?”

“Very funny,” you say through gritted teeth, “I don’t understand this town. Everyone dressed up for the flower dance!”

“Didn’t you go to the Luau your other summers here?” Leah asks gently.

“Only when I was a kid, which I barely remember.” That last Summer you’d been in the Valley…

 

“Come on,” Shane whispers, pulling you down the steps of the farmhouse. “Quickly, before your Grandpa sees you and forces you to go.”

“I wouldn’t mind going to the Luau,” you argue, but you hasten your steps to match his strides, “I’ve never gotten to try the soup!”

“ Who wants soup in the summer, anyway?” Shane scoffs, “Look, the whole town is going to be on the beach. It’ll be like we have the rest of Valley to ourselves!”

“Where are we going, anyway?”

“First stop: swimming in the lake.”

“Shane! You could’ve warned me! I’m not wearing a bathing suit!”

“ So? Keep your shirt on. In fact, I’d prefer that.”

You shove his arm, laughing and evading his attempt to push you right back.

Some time later, you clumsily pull half your body out of the water and drag the rest of yourself onto the dock. You’re shivering from head to toe as you roll over.

“Why is the water so freezing? It’s summer,” you protest at the sky with a pout. You’d hoped the sun would warm your skin, but it slips behind a cloud instead.

“You get used to it,” Shane says, still floating on his back, “Once I’m in pro gridball training, I’ll have to do ice baths almost daily.”

Your teeth are starting to chatter. “I-I d-don’t think—”

“Are you really that cold?” he grumbles, swimming over.

“K-keep s-swimming.” You sit up and wrap your arms around your knees. “D-don’t let me r-ruin the f-fun.”

“It’s not fun to swim next to a frozen corpse,” he argues. He swiftly pulls himself up onto the dock, and you have to turn away to avoid ogling his bare chest or admiring how the feat of strength accentuates all of his muscles. He shakes the water from his black hair and leans down to grab his sweatshirt from his pile of clothes before laying it over your shoulders and rubbing your arms. “I guess I didn't think this through. We probably should have brought towels.”

“I-it's f-fine.”

“Sunshine… “ he says softly as he reaches a hand to cup your chilled cheek. “Your lips are turning blue.” His thumb flashes across your bottom lip, and you can't help but take in a soft gasp of surprise.

He drops his hand immediately and looks away, looking annoyed again. 

Your face flushing, you cover your nose with the sleeve of his hoodie, making it appear as though you're just trying to warm your face and not at all breathing in his scent and hoping to commit it to memory.

“You look beautiful, farmer,” Elliott assures you, pulling you from the memory, “You’re at the beach. Bikinis are perfectly normal! Right, Shane?”

You wrap your arms around yourself again as you whirl around in a panic to see your friend approaching from behind. The moment his eyes fall to your outfit, he stumbles, and you wonder if the sand levels unexpectedly dropped a few inches.

He suddenly looks irritated, holding out an arm as if tempted to shield you from others’ view. “Sunshine, what on Yoba’s green earth are you wearing?”

“Give me your sweatshirt,” you beg him, closing the distance to move your hands to the zipper of his blue hoodie.

“No!” He objects, his hands wrapping over yours to stop you. “It’s not…” His cheeks are now as red as yours. “It’s really stained, and I’ve been sweating. It probably… smells bad.”

Undeterred, you press your nose to his chest and take in a big whiff. Same Shane smell that you know and love. “It’s fine.”

He blinks repeatedly. “Did…did you just sniff me?”

“Come on!” you plead. “If anything, it might make Emily feel a certain way to see me wearing your jacket…”

“Ah, yes,” Elliott chimes in, “Excellent point.”

“Not you, too,” Shane grumbles, looking over your shoulder at the writer with a frown.

Elliott raises his hands in innocence. “I say our farmer should own it and strut around in that grass skirt for all to see.”

“Our farmer?” Shane mutters.

“I second that notion.” Leah raises her hand.

You let go of Shane and look back at your friends, beginning to feel swayed by their encouragement. You were once a party princess, after all. This wouldn’t be the first time you were the only one at a party in a silly outfit.

“It’s a good thing I brought sunscreen!” Harvey declares as he comes over. He holds up the bottle in the air and smiles broadly at you. “I was about to see if Maru needed any rubbed on her shoulders, but perhaps it’s best I start with you?”

“Easy there, Doc,” Shane speaks up, evidently changing his mind as he quickly unzips his hoodie, “You can keep your hands off her. I’ve got her covered.”

You expect him to just pass you the garment, but instead, he puts it on you himself, guiding the sleeves over your arms and dragging the zipper up to the very top.

“Thanks,” you mutter, feeling childish as you look down at the sand between you.

“You do look nice,” Shane murmurs, his hands moving to pull your hair free from where it was tucked under the neckline.

It’s such a simple gesture, but the intimacy of it, paired with the compliment, has you blushing all over again.

As if disturbed by your reaction, his words falter, his hands falling awkwardly to his side. “Just… yeah… as Doc said, you could burn.”

“I kinda wish we’d just gone to the lake again…but you should be here,” you argue with yourself out loud, your eyes moving to watch Emily’s arrival at the event.

Shane follows your gaze. “Right…” 

“Well!” you announce to your group of friends. “I’m going to add my ingredients to the soup.”

“What’d you bring?” Leah asks excitedly.

You reach into your bag and pull out two of your best bottles of pineapple wine, smiling cheekily.

“Wow, the governor was right. This soup is gooood.” Somewhere between the first and second helping, you lost your spoon, but it’s no matter. You're in good spirits, and more than okay to sip straight from the bowl as you giddily swing your legs off the edge of the pier. You turn to Shane, who is sitting right beside you, “Don’t you think it's good?”

“Couldn’t say,” Shane quips as he leans back on his hands. “Didn’t try any.”

“Why not?”

“Because thanks to you and some other lushes in this town, that soup is insanely alcoholic…and I’m taking a break from drinking at the moment.”

You’re tempted to throw the rest of your soup in the ocean. “Oh my Yoba, Shane! You should have told me! I’m so sorry!”

He rolls his eyes. “Relax, Sunshine, it’s fine. I've realized in therapy that I’m not addicted to alcohol; I just drank irresponsibly to dissociate from my depressing reality. You’re more than okay to drink around me.”

“Even so,” you insist, moving the soup to the opposite side of you so he doesn’t see it anymore, “If you’d rather go dance with Emily, I’d understand.”

You both glance over your shoulder, watching Emily going absolutely ham on the dance floor. It’s like she’s in a trance, completely lost in the music.

“Must be some soup,” Shane mutters, taking in the inebriated state of the other adults. He looks back at you. “I’m okay to stay here.”

You frown. “Shane…”

“Sunshine…” he mocks your serious tone.

“You should dance with Emily.”

“I've already said—”

“Ugh, I’m hot,” you distractedly speak the complaint out loud. You unzip the hoodie, cooling your body with the beachside breeze with a sigh of relief. As you turn to face him, you fail to notice how his expression froze from the sudden strip-tease. “Shane,” you say again, “If something your heart wants is within your reach, why deny yourself the happiness?”

He stares at you starry-eyed for a moment before clenching his eyes shut. “Yoba,” he groans, “You have to stop saying shit like that to me.”

“Too cheesy?” you wonder out loud, “I guess that was pretty bad. I don’t even think I came up with that on my own. I think I heard it in an ad for pizza rolls.”

He laughs and flashes you his You Annoy Me smile. “I don’t think I should be with anyone right now,” he reveals, “I have a lot of work to do on myself first. I don’t want to be a burden.”

“I can accept that,” you say. “...For now. But my matchmaking days are far from over.”

He snorts, looking down at his lap with a shake of his head.

“And just for the record,” you continue softly, resting your head on his shoulder, “You could never be a burden to me.”

He leans his head against yours, and you close your eyes.

“Alright,” he says, sensing you start to doze off,  “Time to take you home.”

You were a little unsteady on your feet on the beach, so Shane insisted on carrying you on his back the entire walk back to the farm. The entire trip, you try not to dwell on how good his hands feel cupped under your legs to hold you upright.

“Wow,” he says, slightly out of breath as he looks around your land, “I was here a week ago, and it looks completely different.”

“Look over there!” you say excitedly, pointing over his shoulder, "Robin just built that shed for me. I’m gonna fill it with casks and preserves jars to make a bunch of wine and pickles.”

“So next year’s soup can be even more alcoholic?” he jokes, “Maybe then I can try it. I’ll pass on the pickles, though.”

“Well, then, look over there!” you declare, moving your gesture to a large plot of soil filled with green sprouts. “Those will all be hot peppers in like three days.”

“You planted that many?!” he asks in delighted surprise. “Why?”

Because you love them, you think. You won’t admit it out loud for fear it would just annoy him. “I’m about to do a big renovation on the house, too,” you say instead as he carries you up the porch steps. “Robin’s gonna build me two extra rooms.”

“So things are going well for you, then?” he asks, finally setting you down gently to allow you to open the door.

“It was pretty rough at first, but with the help of fishing and mining, it’s getting there,” you affirm, “I think by Fall, I’ll really have the hang of it doing it all.” You step inside and turn to him with a smile. “Well, thanks for carrying me all that way…”

“Hang on,” he says, moving past you to your kitchen, “I want to see you down a whole glass of water before I go. Between the hoodie, the soup, and the heat, you’re probably crazy-dehydrated.”

“Oh, right,” you say, looking down at the sweatshirt as you watch him fill you a glass. “You probably want this back, huh?”

He turns around, handing the glass to you, and you accept it with a wide smile. As you begin to take your first greedy gulps, his hands move to the zipper, slowly pulling it down again. You nearly choke from the sudden desire that pools in your abdomen, and you move the glass away from your mouth with a loud swallow.

“I have to admit, it looks way better on you,” he says softly, his eyes assessing you with abandon. “I almost don’t want it back.”

Shane had been right to give you water. From the way he’s looking at you, you feel hot and thirsty as hell.

Slowly, you place the glass down and drag the hoodie off your shoulders. As you slide it from your arms, your chest flushes under the heat of his gaze. “If you want it, take it,” you insist, breathless and too drunk to realize how inappropriate the double entendre is.

His eyes snap up to yours, and the annoyed look in his eyes clues you in on your mistake. He snatches the garment from your hands, clutching it in a fist by his side as he quickly moves past you to leave. “See you around, Sunshine,” he says before shutting the door closed behind him.

You fan your face and chug the last of the water, hoping that minor lapse in judgment will be forgiven and forgotten by the time you see him next.

Chapter Text

Year 1

Summer 26

For the rest of the Summer, you are so swept up with your grand schemes for the farm (and the subsequent fishing and mining to help pay for it) that you fall out of the routine of joining Shane on his morning commute. Thankfully, Shane doesn’t drift too far and instead just starts walking through your farm on his way home. 

He claims it's a faster route, and you let him get away with that terrible lie of an excuse so as not to deter him from keeping it up.

You really like seeing him at the start of your evenings— sitting together on your porch steps with a cola in hand, swapping stories from your days. You really like that he is fully committing to the friendship, seeking you out to vent or celebrate the small losses/wins of valley life. You really like, most of all, that he is beginning to remind you of his former self.

“I have a lot of work to do on myself first,” he’d said at the Luau. And from that day on, he seemed to be doing it. 

His desire for Emily was that powerful a motivator. As if the thought summons her, as you step out of Stardrop with a late-morning coffee, you spy her coming up the path and flash her a nervous smile. “Hey, Emily. Headed into work?”

She looks up, her face bright and friendly. “Oh, hey! It’s good to see you!” She breaks into an adorable little jog to quickly close the distance between you, her smile widening. “Actually, it’s perfect timing. I was just thinking I wanted to ask you something…”

You grip your coffee tightly in your grasp and swallow your discomfort, expecting her next words to be related to Shane in some way. 

Instead, she says, “I was too swept away by the music to say anything at the time, but… that grass skirt you wore to the Luau. Did you make that yourself?”

You try not to grimace, not yet recovered from all the blunders you made that day. “Yeah…” you reply, shuffling your foot in embarrassment, “I made it out of hay.”

“That’s so cool!” Her enthusiasm shatters any shame you feel. “I'm just working at Gus' to make ends meet... but my real passion is tailoring. I made these clothes from scratch, see?”

Of course, she’s that cool. “Wow! I’m nowhere near as skilled as you,” you say, admiring her outfit. “Maybe you could teach me some things.” 

She grips your arm in earnest. “I would love that! You’ll be an expert in no time!”

Her positivity is infectious, and you find yourself smiling so wide that your cheeks almost hurt. She’s too easy to get along with and makes it very difficult to harbor jealousy over Shane’s crush on her. Hell, you might even have a crush on her. She brings the exact kind of optimism Shane deserves in a partner. 

You jut a thumb out over your shoulder. “Well, I gotta get back to the farm, but let’s meet up and talk tailoring sometime?”

“Definitely,” she affirms, “We could even chat more about it tonight if it’s not too busy. Will you and Shane be in your usual corner?”

“Maybe, or maybe it’ll just be Shane!” you say awkwardly, “He’s a free agent, after all. We’re not, like, a couple or anything…”

Her eyebrows raise in surprise for a brief moment before she settles back into her usual friendly smile. “Alrighty. Either way, I’ll see you around!”

As you walk back home, you find yourself scheming up ways to get Shane to chat with Emily in the corner alone. Perhaps you should sit with the Lonely Hearts Club, or maybe just stay home entirely. You aren’t certain how easy it’ll be for you to watch Shane pursue her, as you’ve never seen him sincerely flirt with anyone. Unfortunately, you can’t strategize together during an evening porch visit. On Fridays, you and Shane usually just met up at Stardrop. 

You’ll have to find him before he gets there.

“Hey lady, guess what?” you greet Jas when you find her in Marnie’s kitchen. You drop to a knee to meet her height and show her what you have hidden in your bag. “I found another doll. This one was buried in my yard. Can you believe it?” It is strange-looking and yellow, but from the way she immediately embraces it, you know she’ll care for it all the same.

“Oh, I like him!” she says, confirming the assumption, “He'll fit right in with my other friends.”

Just then, you hear the front door open. Shane has come home, and he’s whistling.

You overhear Marnie make a comment about his good mood, and as their conversation continues, you find your eavesdropping is quickly overpowered by a sudden train of thought:

Who knew Shane could whistle so well? You’re surprised he’s never rubbed it in your face before. You cannot whistle for the life of you, and yet you try all the time. But what was that tune? It sounded familiar.

WAIT— another thought interrupts — Did Shane just say he hasn’t felt this light in years?

You slap a hand over your heart with joy, but your eyes and nose are clenched in a tortured expression. They aren’t even together yet. Just the idea of winning her affections has that effect on him.

“And I sometimes forget that I have…” Shane says as you tune back in, “People that care about me, and it doesn’t make me weak to rely on them.”

“It certainly doesn’t,” you agree, spinning around the corner.

Shane jumps slightly at your sudden reveal, but the smile that follows is deeply amused. “Couldn’t wait to see me, Sunshine?”

“I’m not here for you. I came to give Jas a gift," you speak the half-truth quickly.

His eyes narrow at your words. “Not another cursed doll, I hope. I already have to circle the other one in salt every night."

"You do not," you snort at his dramatics, “And you can't make me take this one back. She already loves it.”

“Well, she better not love it more than my gift,” he says, following you into the kitchen. He surprises his goddaughter with an expensive new pair of shoes, and as she leaps into his arms with gratitude, you find your eyes tearing up slightly. It’s really nice to hear Shane’s laugh, and you would love nothing more than to spend a night at the Saloon, basking in this good mood of his, but you can’t be selfish. You will spend the night at home and give Shane the opportunity he needs to get things started with Emily.

Your matchmaking efforts shall resume immediately…

“Hey,” Shane says, turning to you with a soft smile, “What say we skip the bar tonight and hang out here and watch a movie with Jas instead?”

…Your matchmaking efforts shall resume in one day.

After the movie, Shane silently lifts a softly snoring Jas from where she rests between you and carries her in his arms from the couch to her bedroom. Wow. Tender Shane. The sight of it feels like an arrow through your heart, but the sweet moment is interrupted when Marnie leans her head around the corner.

"Keep up the good work, and I'll give you a goat!" she whispers, broadening her smile and giving you a thumbs-up. "I'm really glad you took our agreement to heart."

You frown in confusion, not catching her drift. You're about to ask her to clarify, but she disappears again— seconds before Shane re-enters the room.

"Hey," he speaks quietly as he rests against the entryway with his arms crossed, "Um, do you...?"

As you look up at him and see his sexy and confident lean, you feel a sudden surge of desire flood through you. You lick your lips unwittingly and are half-tempted to go so far as to pat the cushion beside you to entice him to come closer...

...but then his words drift off, and an awkward tension in the space between you thickens. His expression becomes pained, like he's in physical discomfort

Yoba, stop looking at him like that! you chastise yourself. You're making your friend uncomfortable.

You force a cough, looking away to break the uncomfortable silence. "It's getting late," you force a congenial tone, "I should probably head back."

"I'll walk you," he offers quickly.

You flash him a reassuring smile. "That's okay. I know the way."

But he's already left the room to grab his sweatshirt. 

The stilted silence continues between you as you start the walk through the forest, and internally, you're screaming in agonized regret. You can only imagine how hot for him you must've looked, and it's painfully obvious he also has yet to recover from the awkward moment. 

"Listen, Sunshine," he says, his voice gruff as he shoves his hands in his sweatshirt pockets.

You wince, grateful he can't see your blushed cheeks in the dark. "Hm?" is all you can let out.

"Do you remember—" He shakes his head, deciding to use different words. "That summer we met, I told you that... that we shouldn't—"

"Oh fuck," you blurt out the moment it dawns on you: Shane thinks he has to turn you down again because you didn't take the hint the first time.

He's confused by your outburst and looks over at you. "W-what?"

"Nothing," you dismiss, deciding to derail the conversation before he can inflict any more damage to your pride, "I thought I stepped on a squirrel. Hey, did I tell you I saw Emily today?"

He stutters, letting out a string of broken syllables as if his mind is glitching over the change in topic.

"She even mentioned you," you tease, "I think she misses seeing you at Stardrop. Maybe next Friday we can just hang out in our corner and drink cola, and then I'll give you some space to chat with her alone. Does that sound good?"

"What?' he asks distractedly, as if he was preoccupied with his own thoughts.

You've reached your front steps, and you pause, turning to face him. "I was saying, Shane, are you ready to make a move?"

He freezes. "M-make a move...?"

"On Emily," you snip, your frustration increasing. Yoba and you thought you had a bad attention span. You're trying to show him he doesn't have to worry about your attraction to him and that you can be an excellent wingwoman... and he isn't even listening!

He throws his head back and groans. "You're still stuck on that whole matchmaker idea?"

"I can help!" you insist. You blow out a breath, devising a quick scheme to prove it to him. "Let's meet up again tomorrow night."

"What?!"

"Just relax," you assure him with a confident smile, "And say yes."

He blinks repeatedly. "Y...yes?"

"Good boy," you joke, patting the top of his head, "There's hope for you yet. I'll explain everything tomorrow. Goodnight!"

His expression shutters to his usual annoyance, and he grits his teeth. "You know, I get whiplash from our conversations sometimes," he mutters under his breath as he turns to leave.

"I know," you quietly affirm.

As you start to close the door, you can't help but leave it open a crack to subtly spy on his departure. He walks with his shoulders slumped, his head down and slowly shaking. Suddenly, he crashes to a halt and whips his body back in the direction of your house as if he's considering coming back to say something. But then he second-guesses the notion and turns himself back around just as quickly, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He kicks up some dirt and keeps walking.

Chapter Text

Year 1

Summer 27

“Wow, Shane,” you say thoughtfully, leaning your head on your hand as you admire him from across the table, “In candlelight, your hair looks almost purple.”

“Is that so?” he softly taunts your assessment with a lighthearted roll of his eyes. He shakes out his cloth napkin and lays it over his lap, looking around the private room with sincere consideration. “Okay, Sunshine, I’ll admit it. This is nice.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

He gestures to the candles. “I didn’t even know Gus could pull something like this off.”

“He says he’s done it before. He could even play the violin for you if you want.” You waggle your brows.

Shane narrows his eyes at your expression in pretend scrutinization, but you can see he’s fighting a smile. “A violin, a fancy meal, candles… call me crazy, but this feels eerily like a date. Did you trick me into going on a date with you, Sunshine?”

Your cheeks redden at his jest. “This is a practice date,” you remind him, “A walk-through of the date you’re going on with Emily. Tomorrow.”

He splutters on his water. “Really? It’s supposed to be tomorrow?”

“Yes!” you emphatically explain, “Tomorrow morning, you’re going to ask her if she wants to share a private meal before heading to watch the Dance of the Moonlight Jellies together. It’ll be the perfect summer date if you do everything right. Hence, practice. I booked Gus’s private dining room for two nights with the exact same menu options.”

“It seems like you have it all planned out,” he says with a wickedly warm smile.

You frown at the expression. Either a "gotcha" moment is coming, or he’s finally on board with you helping him win Emily’s heart…

“There’s just one problem…” he continues, and your optimism plummets. “This is where Emily works.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Well, there is only one restaurant in town.”

"But you didn’t consider that Gus maybe wouldn’t be too happy if I took his employee out on the same date I’d gone on with you just a day before?”

“I…”

“Or that, given this is a special event, he may need the help of said employee for this secretly-not-real date?”

Just then, the doors swing open, and your jaw drops in absolute horror.

No, no, no….

Emily strides in with a professional smile, carrying a bread basket and a bottle of oil in her hands as Gus follows her with the wine. The entire time Gus prattles on about the specials for the evening, you cannot bring yourself to look at Shane or Emily.

You try to resist the urge to slip from your chair and hide under the table.

How could you not think of this?! And how did Elliott not see these flaws, either?! When you shared your practice date scheme with the writer in the morning, he laughed and said it was a brilliant idea! Oh, you realize, He laughed. The mischievous imp knew it'd be a disaster.

Your eyes flood as you stare unblinkingly at the napkin in your lap. You can feel Shane’s gaze upon you but are too much of a coward to meet it, knowing he is likely pissed that you just went and ruined everything. He will never be able to take Emily on the perfect summer date now. Even worse, if he’s going on romantic dates with another girl right in front of her, Emily likely wouldn’t see Shane as a dateable bachelor anytime soon.

“And how about you, miss?” Gus asks, turning to take your order.

“I’ll have the same,” you mutter breathlessly, uncaring whatever it was Shane had picked.

The moment Gus and Emily leave you alone, silence envelopes you. A single tear drops to your lap, and you close your eyes, challenging yourself to be brave and face Shane’s severe disappointment head-on.

Strangely, when you open your eyes at him, he doesn’t look annoyed, pissed, or even depressed at all. 

Instead, he’s hiding his smile behind his palm. “You are…" he finally speaks with a slow shake of his head, "a terrible wingwoman." His laughter breaks loose with a snort. “Do you realize you just took me out to a surprise dinner date and hired the girl you’re trying to set me up with to serve it to us?"

“I know you really like being proven right, but how is this at all remotely funny to you?!” you hiss across the table, “Do you not see how much this will delay any hope of getting with her?”

“Oh, I do,” he answers, his tone still light, “We’ll probably have to fake play out a whole relationship now.”

“What?!” You straighten in alarm. “You want to keep at it? I thought you said I suck at this.”

“You really, really do. But I’m starting to enjoy watching you fail, so I’m willing to see you give it another try."

You take in a deep breath, re-centering yourself with the determination that you can still prove yourself. This is just a minor setback, but the damage is reparable.  

“Tomorrow, we should try the spaghetti,” Shane says conversationally as he reaches for the bread basket.

You look up at him with confusion, and he flashes you another Gotcha smile as he chews. “You booked this room for two nights, remember?” he says through a full mouth, “Tomorrow night, we’ll have to come back and have dinner here again.”

You smack a palm to your forehead, and he chokes on his roll from the sudden laughter that escapes him.

Later in the meal, you catch him looking at you thoughtfully.

"What?" you ask warily. More gloating?

“Maybe we should dress up tomorrow, you know? Like, really go all out. If I’d known what you had planned, I might’ve cleaned up a little.”

You grin at his sudden enthusiasm. “Brilliant! We can think of it like a dress rehearsal.”

“So long as you're the one in the dress.”

Year 1

Summer 28

Dance of The Moonlight Jellies

“Woah,” Shane says when you open the door. His arms are clasped behind his back as his gaze trails down your outfit. “I know I mentioned a dress…”

You look down at your simple little black dress. “Emily will probably wear something more elaborate when the time comes. I promise you that.” You take a moment to appreciate his outfit as well. He’s wearing khakis and a black button-down shirt that hugs his broad chest and clings to his brawny arms. Apart from his Floral Dance suit, you didn’t even know he owned clothes like this. “Hey, we look good together!”

His eyes flash up to yours, and your cheeks redden. “I mean,” you clarify immediately, “We match.”

“Hm," he grunts, biting the inside of his cheek, no doubt to keep himself from grinning his annoyed smile. "Oh! First things first." He moves his hands from where they'd been hidden behind his back and presents you with a sunflower.

“Shane…” you say softly, as you graciously accept it, “Did you take this from my garden?”

He snorts. “Busted. It was a last-minute decision.”

“That’s okay,” you chuckle softly as you tuck the flower stem behind your ear, “I love sunflowers. Oh! If you ever find out Emily’s favorite flower, let me know so I can grow those, too.”

“Right…” he says, his eyebrows furrowing in disgruntled confusion.

You resist the urge to sigh. He’s acting like he doesn’t know to gift the girl he likes her favorite flower. You clearly still have a lot of work to do.

“I will never ask her that,” Shane immediately rejects the idea as he refills your glass of wine. 

“You may think what’s your sign is a cheesy line, but I bet you 100g Emily is an astrology girlie and would appreciate it!”

He scowls at your words.

“Don’t make that face,” you admonish, “I think an astrologist could be good for you. You could be all like, Ugh babe, my day sucked, and she could be all totally valid since the such-and-such planet is currently spinning backward.”

"I don't think that's a thing," he grunts with a roll of his eyes.

“It is,” you argue, “Or it’s something like that. I don't know. I can never remember things well.”

A peculiar flash of acknowledgment crosses his face for just a second before he settles back into his scowl. “I don’t want to be told after a bad day that there’s some cosmic excuse for it.”

“Okay. What do you want after a bad day?”

“You,” he blurts before quickly stuttering to finish the sentence, “You- you know… just a person that makes it a better day just by being there.”

You’re silent as you consider this, trying to keep your heart from pounding at the simple sweetness of that sentiment. Your eyes settle on the corner of his mouth.

“You have some marinara right there,” you whisper, your finger tapping the side of your own lips. He’s such a messy eater, but it’s not something you want to correct in the name of dating etiquette because, personally, you find it adorable.

“I know I do,” he lies, his cheeks going pink, “I’m saving it for later.”

You grin, and as you move to sip some wine, he quickly flashes his napkin across his face to clean it. “Have you ever been on a fancy date like this before?” he asks casually, returning the stained fabric to his lap.

“Once or twice,” you say with a thoughtful nod. “You?”

“Once,” he reveals, and a stupid pang of jealousy shoots through you, “It was a disaster. My friends— Jas’s parents— tried to set me up with another friend of theirs.”

This is the first he’s ever spoken of them casually, and you try to tread on the subject carefully. “What happened on the date?”

“She cried and left before the main course arrived.”

“Oh no,” you groan, fighting a smile, “What did you say to offend her?”

“Me? I didn’t say anything!”

“You must’ve done something.”

“I’m telling the truth,” he insists, shaking his head, “I didn’t say anything. Like… barely a word came out of me. I didn’t know how to speak to her.”

You bite back a sympathetic pout. “Oh, Shane…”

“Meanwhile, she had just gone through a terrible breakup and was not ready to re-enter the dating scene. So the moment it got painfully awkward, she started crying... and I ate all the bread to pretend to have my mouth too full to say anything about it until she got up and left.”

You throw your head back with laughter, pleased to see he is smiling just as brightly when your head comes back down.

“Not everyone commandeers a conversation quite like you, Sunshine,” he quips, “Some of us struggle.”

“I don’t believe that. I think you, too, have the gift of the gab."

“Only with you,” he says under his breath as he twists his fork around his spaghetti.

As you step onto the dock to find a place to watch the jellies dance, you feel a warm hand rest on the small of your back. A thrill of excitement shoots down your spine, and you try not to let your thoughts get swept away by Shane’s simple touch.

“Let’s go over there,” he says softly, nodding further down.

His hand is only there to guide you, you argue with the flutters in your heart.

You move closer to Willy’s boathouse, looking out at the dark water with excited anticipation. When you come to a standstill, Shane’s hand remains on your back. You want him to wrap it around your waist completely or to pull you in his embrace, but you slash at the desire with a mental broadsword, your spine stiffening with the imagined scene.

He feels the tension in your back and slides his hand away quickly.

“Do you remember watching these together last time?” you murmur before you can fall into an awkward moment again.

He nods. “It was my favorite summer event.”

The water starts to glimmer with the jellies’ arrival, and the crowd naturally falls into an awed silence as the dance begins.

“I can see why,” you whisper, your face glowing in their soft light.

He looks down at you, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Yeah, nature is amazing,” he agrees quietly, “But I think I really just liked the notion of it all… that the jellies will be here again next year... that something so bright and beautiful can come into your life for what feels like a fleeting moment, but it isn’t actually lost forever… that some things come back to you.”

For the rest of the jellies’ dance, neither of you watches the water. You only look at each other.

Chapter Text

Year 1

Fall 5

Elliott’s Birthday

You walk up to Marnie’s door in the dead of night, your fist poised to knock politely.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” Shane hisses suddenly from behind you, his hand clamping over your mouth to keep you from shouting out in surprise.

“Mhmmhpmhmpmh,” you try to explain into his wide palm.

He turns you around, holding up a camping lantern that illuminates his frown so spookily in the dark of the forest.

“Wow, you’re like the Grump of Winter Star Past,” you whisper.

“I don’t understand half the shit you say, Sunshine,” he mutters. He grabs your wrist in his free hand and pulls you away from the house, holding his lantern over the path ahead of you. “Why were you about to knock? I told you I was sneaking out so we could drink at the dock.”

“Oh, right,” you recall quietly. You’d forgotten about the sneaking part. “Will Marnie be mad if she catches us?”

“I don’t know,” he mutters, “She did try to have The Talk with me the other day.”

“What talk?”

“You know what talk. The birds and the bees.” 

“Like ranch work?” you ask with feigned innocence. 

He turns on you with another flare of irritation, only to find you grinning up at him cheekily. He rolls his eyes, and keeps leading you to the end of the dock. “Very funny,” he grunts, setting the lantern down by the beer he’d already placed by the edge.

“Why did she want to have The Talk?” you ask as you sit next to him.

“It was mostly about using protection,” he mutters, passing you a can, “Even though I told her we’re only friends and that isn’t going to happen. What about your grandpa, does he think we’re up to something?”

You shrug, “All he’s said is that he likes that I don’t act differently around you in the way he’d seen with others.”

“One of your boyfriends, you mean.”

“He only met two,” you clarify after a long sip, “But each time he mentioned I didn’t seem quite like myself. Like I was trying on a different personality.” 

Shane looks at you with slightly furrowed brows. “And he thinks you don’t act differently around me?”

You grin. “Hate to break it to you, but this is really me in all my upbeat glory.”

“That’s annoying,” he grunts.

“And that’s why I like you so much, Shane,” you retort lightly. 

He freezes, his can raised half-way to his lips as his eyes look over at you warily. 

You explain quickly, “I never feel pressured to act a certain way to win your approval because I likely wouldn’t get it no matter who I tried to be. It’s nice to just be myself and torture you with my sunny disposition.”

He snorts out a laugh, chugging on his can for a while. When the can comes down, he looks pensive. “You said once the other guys only loved an idea of you, but…”
You don’t know what he intended to say, but whatever it is, he gives up on it.

Moments like these, when he cuts himself off mid-sentence and retreats behind his built-up walls again, are so maddening.

A mysterious rustle erupts from somewhere nearby, and you yelp, throwing your limbs over Shane as you grip him in fear. “What was that?!”

“Relax, Sunshine,” he says, leaning his face down to flash you a confident smile. “I’ve got you.”

You turn back to him, and your noses collide, the unexpected proximity surprising you both.

Only… he doesn’t immediately move away. So, neither do you.

His eyes are downcast, and he moves forward another centimeter.

But then there’s a similar rustle coming from the other side of you, and you jolt with a yelp again, shattering the moment.

For the best, you think. From the anger that etches across Shane’s face, you imagine he probably regretted the kiss before it even could happen.

The memory fades as you step into the warmth of the Saloon. Fall has begun, and it’s Elliott’s birthday.

“Over here, Farmer!” the writer waves you over emphatically. From the sloppiness of the gesture, it seems as though the Lonely Hearts Club has already treated him to a couple of rounds.

As you approach the table, you’re quite pleased to see Shane is there with them, drinking a cola. “Happy birthday, handsome,” you say to Elliott, laying a brief peck on the top of his hair as you present him with his gift of a duck feather. 

“I'm honored that you would remember my birthday!” Elliott replies, accepting the gift with glee.

“You wouldn’t let us forget,” Harvey murmurs cheekily before taking a sip of his wine.

Elliott ignores that. “Thank you!” he says, flashing you a smile and gesturing for you to sit on the stool between himself and Shane.

As you take your seat, you look over at Shane with a grin only to find he’s looking particularly grumpy. Had it been difficult watching them drink when he only has a cola?

“You kiss everyone on their birthday?” he mutters.

“I think,” Elliott intervenes before you can respond, “The real gift will be watching my favorite faux-mancers put on their show tonight!”

“Oh, right,” Leah remembers with a nod. “How’s that fake dating thing going?”

“It’s going,” Shane’s words are clipped.

You frown in disapproval at his rude dismissal before looking at Leah with warmth. “The beginning of the month is always a crazy time for me, and I have Robin making some changes to my home, so we haven’t done anything of note since that dinner Emily walked in on.”

“I’ve barely gotten to see you at all,” Shane continues to grumble.

“Well, Emily’s just behind us,” Elliott says, gesturing to the bar, “Perhaps tonight is the night to show her something… or she’ll think Shane is the type to easily move on. Do you move on easily, Shane?”

“Or,” you start to speak as Shane leans over to the ground. You wonder if he’s dropped something and refocus on Elliott. “Maybe we can just say we tried one date and determined we’re better off as fr—ah!” Your words cut off to a yelp of surprise. Shane had been reaching for the leg of your stool, and he yanked it across the floor to pull your seat up closer against him.

“How’s that?’ he asks Elliott, his shoulder brushing against yours as he leans over to the writer with a challenging raise of his eyebrow.

“It’s a start,” Elliott teases, leaning over to meet Shane’s glare with a mischievous look of his own.

Your gaze volleys between their silent stand-off. “Am I missing something there?”

“I find when it comes to Elliott, ignorance is usually bliss,” Harvey advises you.

“Have you told anyone you’re dating?” Elliott speaks once more as if he didn't hear the doctor.

You shake your head, but Shane surprises you a second time:

“I told Sam.”

You look at him, grateful the proximity allows for a little more privacy. “You did?”

Shane nods, his scowl finally softening as he meets your eyes. “He came up to me at work and started asking about you. I thought… it would be a good exercise.”

“Oh, of course,” Elliott chimes in melodically.

“Is that okay?” Shane asks you more quietly, “I know I don’t have any right to…”

“It’s fine,” you assure him, turning back to the table with a smile, “I’m fully committed to the bit while it lasts. You can claim me anytime, anywhere.”

He splutters on his cola and sets it aside. “This one tastes a little off,” he mutters.

“I’ll get you another,” you offer, moving to stand. You’re starting to feel like an ant under Elliott’s magnifying glass and are eager to escape the heat for a bit. As you move to the soda machine, your eyes catch on Sam, who’s standing by the pool table, shaking out his blonde mullet as he prepares for his next move in his game against Sebastian.

Sam asked about me?  you wonder with a small smile as you feed the cola machine your money. You had never before considered dating anyone yourself but are starting to wonder if it might be something worth considering... particularly once Shane gets with Emily. 

When you return to the table with two sodas in hand, your friends are still on the topic of your fake dating scheme.

“How does this work, exactly?” Leah wonders, doubt clouding her tone, “I mean, when does it end?”

“We can’t let it go on too long,” you agree. Your heart couldn't take it. “We’ll have to find some way to ‘break up’ soon in a way that doesn’t paint Shane in any bad light. Maybe I should start acting mean!”

“Sunshine, I don’t think you could be mean even if you tried,” Shane taunts you as he opens your can and hands it back to you. 

“Maybe I could woo her away from you,” Elliott offers.

Shane bristles. “Excuse me?”

Elliott’s smile is impish. “Am I not allowed to have my fun, too? It is my birthday, after all. Perhaps we can say the story is a long-haired gentleman caught her wandering eye, and she was helpless against my wicked wiles.” 

He then leans down to pull your stool closer to him, but Shane immediately slips his foot through the rungs, holding you still in your place at his side as he glares silently at the writer. 

Shane’s practically snarling at Elliott, who, strangely, doesn't look bothered in the slightest. As bewildering as Shane’s expression is to you, it almost looks like this was the reaction Elliott had been hoping for.

“Let’s table this topic for now,” you suggest desperately, “When’s our next book club meeting?”

This, thankfully, sufficiently distracts the writer. “I’ve recently become very inspired by real-life events,” he reports happily, “I’m doing a complete re-write, but I should have a new chapter for you all to hear very soon!”

The conversation transitions to more stories and anecdotes from Elliott, but unfortunately, after a couple more rounds, he returns to the fake-dating subject with even more gall.

“Why don’t you two act more physically romantic in this ruse of yours?” he asks, “Perhaps a little kiss in public to sell everyone on the chemistry?”

You swallow your soda harshly, trying not to choke at the recurring dream that floods your thoughts from the mere suggestion. “Well, because…” You look at Shane for a moment before you turn back to Elliott, and your fake boyfriend offers his excuse at the same time you do:

“—He doesn’t find me attractive.”

“—I don’t like PDA. Wait, what?!" Shane blurts, looking down at you with incredulous fury.

You wince, looking to Elliott as you gesture to Shane’s face with a smile. “See? He can barely tolerate me.”

But then Shane’s hand is grabbing ahold of yours in earnest. “Is that really what you think… that I don’t find you attractive?”

“Um, do you?!” you whisper, your voice almost squeaking.

“Well I…I mean.” He looks around in panic, breaking the handhold. “Come on, anyone with eyes…”

“Hm,” Elliott hums thoughtfully, “Perhaps you’re right. I’m not convinced of the chemistry here.”

“I know what you’re doing!” You point a finger at Elliott with the accusation. “This may be just some lighthearted teasing for your own enjoyment, but Shane’s already stated he’s not comfortable with PDA. Childish reverse psychology isn’t going to change either of our minds. If he doesn’t want to kiss, we aren’t going to.”

With that, you lay your palms on the table and rise to close your tab as Shane stands abruptly as well. You figure he’s about to storm off with you and start to lead the way, but suddenly, his hand is wrapping around your bicep, and he’s yanking you back to face him.

Before you can utter a question, his mouth is slanted over yours, his hands gripping tightly to your arm and waist as he conquers your lips like the hero on the cover of a vintage romance novel. The moment you feel his kiss, your knees weaken, and he pulls you in closer, hauling you up against him to keep you upright in the strength of his arms. He holds you safe in a firm and steady possession of your lips, and over the explosion of endorphins in your brain, you think you might hear the sound of a whistle and some applause.

You’re kissing Shane, you realize, Oh my Yoba, you’re kissing Shane. Or, more accurately, Shane is kissing the hell out of you. 

On their own accord, your fists curl around the fabric of his jacket, clinging to him as you wonder, Why do his lips feel so familiar? Why does his kiss feel like coming home instead of feeling new and unfamiliar? It’s almost as if the recurring dream was more of a psychic premonition, knowing exactly how Shane’s brawny arms would feel enveloping you like a warm comforter on a cold Fall night.

The kiss breaks, and you grieve the blissful moment is already over until you feel both his large hands move to wrap around the side of your neck, his thumbs angling your face upward again as his mouth softly drags across yours before he presses the fullness of his lips against your once more. Unwittingly, you sink even further against him.

The first kiss felt like it was done for them. This one feels like it’s just for you.

But this sweet brush of his lips is brief, and all too soon, he pulls his head back, followed by the rest of his body. He removes his touch from you completely, and as your eyes flutter open, you find yourself feeling very cold in the absence of his warmth. 

“Okay?” he asks breathlessly.

You look up, only to find him glaring at the Elliott. He’d asked the question to him.

It was all for them, you mentally correct yourself. You place your hand over the hammering of your heart, willing it to calm down and accept the truth that the moment was a fabrication. 

Elliott sees your gesture and breaks into a wide smile. “More than okay. This is my best birthday ever,” he reports.

“Good,” you say firmly, acting as though you’d been in on the plan all along, “Well, now that you’ve had your fun, I’m going to head home. I’ve had a lot of caffeine, and I have to be up early for the end of Robin’s renovations tomorrow. Happy Birthday, Elliott.”

Before Shane or anyone else can say anything, you make your quick escape. As you step outside and are finally alone, you feel an onslaught of brokenhearted tears threatening your vision. You’re too overwhelmed by the disappointment that a simple kiss from Shane has your world spinning right off its axis, and for him, it had just been a winning move in a game against Elliott.

Damn him and his competitive spirit, you think, He can’t ever know what that moment meant to you.

You’ve only taken a few steps before the Saloon doors open, and Shane is standing at the entryway. “Hold on!” he calls out, “Let me walk you home.”

“That’s okay!” you say, your tone edged in panic as your steps quicken. You wave him back in. “Keep the birthday boy company!”

“Sunshine, wait,” he presses.

Something in the softness of his tone forces you to stop, and you slowly turn around, a modicum of hope rising in your chest.

“I’m sorry,” he continues, and your hope falls once more.

“You’re sorry?” you repeat.

“Well, not really— or— yes! I mean…”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. He doesn’t know what to say, he just wants to say the right thing that helps you get over what just happened as soon as possible so you can return to being his friend. And Shane needs a friend. You open your eyes, putting on a fake smile. “It’s all good, Shane. You don't have to apologize. I was just caught off guard at first. Actually, could you do me a favor?”

His eyebrows pinch together as if he can see the mask you’re wearing for him. A fake persona you’d never put on in his presence before. This time, for his sake, you’re playing the cool best friend who’s down for anything and definitely not falling head over heels for him after one pretend kiss.

“What?” he asks wearily.

“Could you close my tab for me?” you ask, tossing him the Gs, which he catches swiftly despite his wary confusion, “I totally spaced and forgot I covered a round for the club.”

“Um, ok?” he asks quietly, looking down at the money in his hand.

“You’re the best!” Your plastered smile widens as you turn and walk away, and you keep that fake smile on until you’ve made it into the safety of your farmhouse.

The moment you make it inside and hear Bartholomeow call out to greet you, you drag your back down the wood of the door and collapse to the floor.

“Fuck, Sunshine,” he groans as he pulls your hips right up against his and burrows his head, “I’ve wanted this for so long. I’ve needed this—”

You wince, fisting your hand around the roots of your hair to quiet the dream from torturing you in this already low moment. You now know for certain the vision of you and Shane against the Stardrop Maple is only a dream because, in the real world, Shane kisses you with abandon like it doesn't affect him in the slightest. You imagine he'll keep his distance from you for some time, too uncomfortable to witness your failure to recover from the fake kiss firsthand...

...You do not foresee that the next morning, he'd be waiting for you on your doorstep.

Chapter Text

Year 1

Fall 6

“Ugh, does the jukebox have any other music?!” you slur grumpily as you stand with your pint to drag your feet across the floor to the machine.

Your mood is slightly appeased to see Shane immediately follows.

“What’s going on with you tonight?” he asks as you angrily flip through the limited song options. “You’ve drunk twice as much as I have, and that’s not easily achieved.”

“Nothing,” you mutter, feeding the machine your money, “I’m just tired of hearing this song. It’s the same thing every night.”

As the new song begins, you glance over your shoulder and find him watching you with an affectionate smile.

“W-what?” you ask warily, taken aback by the softness in his gaze.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you angry,” he says, “It’s kinda hot.”

He’s making fun of you, you think. “Oh, shut up,” you groan, your sour mood returning as you look back to the jukebox. You can’t admit out loud that the real source of the anger isn’t the music at all. It’s the fact that for the fourth time, your scheduled call home has gone unanswered by your parents.

As if sensing your shift into sadness, Shane wraps a hand around your bicep and tugs on your arm, pulling you to him. Only he didn’t prepare for your feet to be full of lead, and your steps stumble over each other, sending you careening into his chest.

“Maybe I have had too much to drink,” your words are muffled by your squished cheek, “Did anyone see that?”

“Don’t worry,” Shane assures you. He helps you upright, his arms wrapping around your waist as he starts to sway, “They’ll just think we’re dancing.”

You close your eyes, moving your arms to drape over his shoulders in relief. “Thanks,” you say, collapsing against his chest once more. As your head nuzzles into his warmth, you feel yourself start to drift off. “Sorry I’m being a grump tonight.”

“You should be sorry,” he speaks so softly to himself you almost miss it, “Now that I know you’re flawed and human, I won’t be able to keep myself from falling for you.”

 

You open your bleary eyes, squinting at the ceiling of your bedroom in confusion. Had Shane really said that? Or was it just your brain inventing a new dream of a false memory to torture you?

You roll over, look at the clock, and groan to see it’s the mid-afternoon. Your grand plans for the day had been ruined, thanks to spending the whole night tossing and turning and screaming in your pillow. It was long after the rooster crowed and you fed your animals that you finally collapsed into some semblance of sleep.

For the umpteenth time, your mind flashes to the night prior: the feeling of Shane’s confident hold on you, his lips moving against yours. You imagine what that delicious stubble of his might feel like rubbing against your—

“Ah!” you yell out loud as if you could verbally interrupt the thought. 

There’s a sudden anxious pounding on your door as a muffled voice calls out, “Is everything okay in there?”

Huh? Who’s here?  You’d been hoping to spend the afternoon sulking in bed, but perhaps Robin has come to check in and see if you approve of the finished floor. Your eyelids heavy, you trudge over to open the door, your free hand running through your bedhead as you yawn— 

And freeze.

Shane is standing on your porch with his goddaughter smiling beside him. His eyes widen as he takes in the state of your hair, plagued with the gnarls of all your restless hours. Then his eyes narrow as he takes in the state of your bare legs under a vintage flannel.

“Yoba,” he groans, “Do you always open the door without putting pants on first?”

“What are you doing here?!” you snap angrily.

A flash of desire heats his gaze for such a brief moment that you convince yourself you imagined it. “Easy, killer,” he says, “I was just telling Jas about your renovations, and she insisted we come over and see.”

“What?” Jas asks, looking up at him in confusion, “That’s not—”

He claps a hand over the little girl’s mouth and flashes you an innocent smile. “So? Can we come in?”

Your eyes narrow at his good mood, even more bewildered by how it contrasts with your terrible mood. You wonder if kissing him set off some sort of spell cast by the wizard, and now you’ve somehow swapped bodies overnight.

“Hello?” Jas asks warily as if she fears you’ve suddenly become frozen.

“Yes, come in,” you say, coming back to life as you open the door and gesture them inside, “Sorry. I haven’t had any coffee yet today.”

“I brought you some,” Shane reveals, holding out a warm cup. “Think of it as a new housewarming gift.”

Once more, your eyes narrow. Why is he being so nice to you? Is it because he feels guilty about last night?

He bites his cheek to keep from grinning at your doubtful expression. “You gonna glare at me all day, Sunshine, or will you put on some pants and give us a tour?”

“Wait, right here,” you order in a suspicious tone as you press the coffee cup back against his chest.

He takes it, both his wide hands covering yours as you slide your fingers away from the cup. You look down, your cheeks warming at the prolonged skin contact. When you look back up, the heat you thought you saw before has returned to his gaze with unmistakeable force.

“Take your time,” he says, his tone unusually light.

You move away from him quickly, retreating to your bedroom to slide on some jeans as you fail to steady your heart that's beating erratically from the look he’s just given you.

What the hell has gotten into him? 

You sneak into the bathroom to splash some cold water on your face and tame your hair. Before you kissed, you might not have cared if Shane saw your bedhead. Now, you find yourself scrutinizing your appearance in the mirror and fluffing your hair. You halt the movement and groan, gripping the edge of the sink with dismay.

That kiss changed everything. You could barely keep your feelings at bay for the sake of your friendship before, but now that you knew what it could be like to be with him, you would forever be in wanting of more.

For Shane, apparently, nothing was different.

“Okay, follow me,” you force your tone to sound casual as you re-join them, “It’s just up the new stairs there.”

“Lead the way,” he replies as he returns your coffee to you.

You devour the caffeine eagerly and gesture for Jas to start in the room on the right. “Robin built me two extra rooms on this floor.”

“Cool,” the little girl says, though it sounds forced, and you wonder if she’s actually interested in these renovations in the slightest.

“You really need all this space to yourself?” Shane asks as he follows her.

“Not at this precise moment,” you declare from behind them, “It’s an investment for… the future…” Your voice falters when it falls upon a wooden crib placed in the corner of the room. 

Did Robin mean to leave that there?!

“Is that for your dolls?” Jas asks, finally sounding excited.

Shane is just as red as you as he turns from the crib to look at you. “Investment for the future? I didn’t realize…that you…”

“That’s not mine, I swear,” you whisper breathlessly.

“You’re just holding it for a friend?” He tries to keep it light, but his voice trembles slightly on the punchline.

You cough into a fist and turn away quickly. “Come on, Jas, the next room is much more interesting.” You refuse to meet Shane’s eyes as you lead the little girl across the hall. “I’m going to make this one a craft room and fill it with all kinds of storage for the things I make.”

“What can you make?” Jas asks, opening a chest without permission to peer inside.

“Oh, a bunch of things,” you reply lightly, kneeling beside her, “I’m always trying a new hobby. Mostly I like to scrapbook with pictures from my life.”

“Can I see?”

“Sure!” you offer, reaching inside to pull one out that might interest her. “You wanna see pictures from when I was a party princess?”

“Yes,” Shane and Jas reply at once.

Early evening falls, and as Jas and Shane flip through your scrapbooks at the table, you work in the kitchen to make dinner. You still can’t bring yourself to look at Shane much, and as bewildering as his surprise visit still is, you’re immensely grateful he brought Jas along. She’s a nice buffer against the awkward tension between you.

“I like this one!” she says for the fourth time, pointing to another picture of you in a party costume.

“Me too,” you say softly, your eyes remaining focused on the meal you’re preparing.

Suddenly, you feel the briefest brush of a hand across your lower back.

“How’s it going over here?” Shane murmurs, crossing his arms as he turns to lean against the counter. He looks down and smiles hungrily at the ingredients you have spread out. “Pepper Poppers?”

You swallow, trying your best to ignore how that faint encounter with his hand sent a flurry of butterflies to your stomach. “You gifted me the recipe, remember?”

“I do,” he answers as he nudges his hip against yours, “Though I should confess the gift wasn’t entirely selfless. It’s my favorite meal, and I secretly hoped you would grow peppers and make it for me one day.”

“Well, don’t get your hopes up too high,” you warn him, “It’s my first time trying it, and I—!” Your words hitch on a soft gasp as you feel his hands move to either side of your waist, softly moving you aside so that he can take over. 

Never before has Shane been so… touchy-feely. His eyes flash up to yours, sensing your tension.

“You ok?” he asks.

You don’t answer, clearing the thickness in your throat with another awkward cough as you escape and join Jas at the table. What the hell has gotten into him?  you ask yourself again.

As you look down at once of the open scrapbooks, you see a blank space in the center of the page, where you know a photo of you had once occupied. You frown, looking all around and under the table. Did it fall off and land somewhere?

“Maybe we could eat this on the couch and watch a movie,” Shane suggests as he wraps up.

“Okay,” Jas tones, flipping to the next page.

You purse your lips, looking between the two of them. You really wanted to spend the entire day in bed, getting over Shane and the earth-shattering kiss you shared. But here he was, butting in on your plans and holding you hostage in your own house.

As if sensing your hesitation once more, Shane glances at you from over his shoulder, a question in his gaze. Whatever he sees in your expression is satisfying enough, and he flashes you an encouraging smile and winks.

You tear your eyes away, a heat flooding your cheeks as another tornado of butterflies storms in your gut. 

Maybe, a distant hope whispers, the kiss has changed things for him too…

You sit upright on the couch with your eyebrows furrowed in scrutinization as you swirl the last of your wine around the interior of your glass. Like a detective standing in front of a board of evidence, you assess every clue at once:

Shane hand-fed you a bite of the pepper poppers, innocently asking if you thought it was ready. But then he brushed the extra cheese off the bottom of your lip with his thumb as you chewed. When you sat for the movie, Shane opened a bottle of wine. He poured you a glass and sat between you and Jas on the couch. Halfway through the movie, Shane forced a yawn and draped his arm over the back. If you were to lean back right now, you would find yourself in the warmth of his embrace.

It all so eerily felt like a date. Had Shane somehow duped you into going on a date with him, using a child as his wingwoman?

“Shh,” Shane whispers as if he can hear your thoughts. He turns off the TV and gestures to Jas, who is snoring softly in the fetal position beside him. 

You look back at him, opening your mouth to ask the bold question, but he lays a finger over it to stop you. 

“Let’s let her sleep,” he insists quietly, moving to stand. He gathers the dinner plates and moves to the kitchen to place them in the sink.

You down the rest of your wine for confidence and follow him. “Shane…” you start softly.

“I wash, you dry?” he asks, passing you a hand towel. He snorts at your confused expression, tapping the tip of his finger over where your eyebrows pinch. 

“Shouldn’t we… talk?” you wonder out loud as you dutifully start drying the first freshly cleaned plate.

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly, much to your relief, “We’re in a bit of a predicament.”

“We are?”

He sighs, though it sounds feigned. “We can’t get Jas up. Once she’s out, she’s out, and if anything wakes her mid-sleep, she doesn’t go back down. She’ll be up all night if we try to move her.”

This was not the topic you had wanted to discuss, and as you move your towel over the next wet plate, you wonder if what he’s saying is even true. The last time you had a movie night, he was able to move Jas from the couch to the bedroom with ease. But maybe the long walk home would be different?

“So…” you clarify, drying the final plate. “You’re leaving her with me?” You open the cabinet above and try to quietly place the plates on the pile of others inside. You don’t mind babysitting, but after putting off your moping for the day in the hopes you could wallow in the evening, a little heads-up would’ve been nice.

It’ll be hard to get over your feelings for your best friend if his goddaughter is honk-shoo-ing in your living room.

You feel a presence and turn around quickly to find Shane right behind you. He cages you in where you stand, his palms resting on the countertop on either side of you.

“Or…” he says, his head tilting, “I could stay too?”

“Stay?!”

A familiar flash of irritation crosses his face as one hand clamps over your mouth, the other gesturing for you to lower your voice. “Yes, Sunshine,” he says, his expression relaxing as he drops his hands back to the counter. “I can take the couch with Jas. I don’t mind.”

You look over, eyeing the little space of cushion the now fully stretched-out child would leave him to sleep on. “Or…” you counter, your eyes flashing to the large bed before turning back to him. 

“Or…?” His eyes flash in a triangular motion between your eyes and your lips as he intently reads your expression.

You take in a deep breath, frustrated that he won’t just come right out and say whatever it is he’s thinking. He’s a curmudgeon, but he isn’t cruel. If he knew the kiss had rocked your world, he wouldn’t be here subtly scamming his way into your bedroom unless he felt the same. So why can’t he just come out and tell you the kiss meant something?! If it’s a game of withholding he’s playing, you can play, too.  

“Friends can have sleepovers, right?”

His smile drops slightly, and he leans back, nodding. “I think that is an activity some friends partake in, yes.”

“Okay, then, we can share the bed,” you say, your tone a little high-pitched as you duck under his arm and escape him, “Do you need pajamas?”

“I’m okay to sleep in just my boxers, thanks,” he replies casually.

You freeze in the doorway and watch as he tenderly moves to lay a blanket over Jas, a brief smile of victory flashing across his face before he moves to turn off the lights and follow you into the bedroom.

You hug the pillow tightly, your body lining the very edge of the mattress as you blankly stare out at the darkness of the room. 

You’re in bed with Shane, you’re in bed with Shane, Shane’s in bed with you, and you’re in bed with—

“Do you want to come any closer?” his voice breaks the silence. “If you’re not comfortable, I can—” He’s suddenly silent, watching the awkward butt wiggle you’ve started to back yourself up closer to the middle. “C’mere,” he mutters, his arm wrapping around your waist and hauling you into a cuddle against his chest.

The way he so easily manhandles you across the mattress sends your heartrate into a tailspin, but the rest of you strangely relaxes, as if the feeling of his arm around you is comforting enough to settle your nerves. You close your eyes, relishing the feeling of his warm, soft, and broad body lined up against all of you. 

“Thanks for entertaining Jas again,” he murmurs into your hair. 

“I don’t think she actually cared about the renovations,” you whisper.

He rests his forehead against your shoulder, and even though you’re facing away from him, you know he’s smiling guiltily. “No, she didn’t. I just wanted an excuse to come over here.”

“Why?” your voice cracks.

“Because you left so abruptly last night,” he answers, his tone irritated, “You didn’t even give me a chance to…” The sentence trails off. “Anyway, Jas made a comment about her parents this morning, and I thought it might help to spend the day with her and take her mind off it.”

You turn over and face him, and his arm immediately threads through the space between your pillow and your shoulder as you look up at him. “Is it okay if I ask about them?”

His mouth parts with hesitation, but he eventually nods, rolling onto his back with a soft sigh. “Their names were Brad and Taylor, and I met them at a little pub in Zuzu that would offer happy hour pricing during Tunnelers games. They were gridball fans like me, so for the first few games we watched together, we got along on a surface level, but pretty quickly after that, they took me under their wing and made me their official third wheel. I was there when they got engaged. I was a groomsman at their wedding. When they had Jas, I was one of the first to visit them at the hospital. They were my best friends, and then, in a single night, they were gone. Just like my parents. It was raining, and they were driving home…”

You throw an arm and leg around him, squeezing him tightly as you bury your face in his neck. He returns the hug, his arms enveloping you to keep you in that firm entanglement against him.

“What was the pub’s name?” you ask, raising your head as you try to come up with something lighter to transition the conversation to.

He smirks at your obvious attempt at derailment. “Sparky’s.”

“No way!” You slap his chest. “I used to walk by it all the time when I lived in the city. If only I had known I could find you in there.” 

“Brad and Taylor would’ve loved you,” he grunts playfully as if he finds the concept annoying.

“I would’ve loved them too,” you say firmly. “As for you… if I had only stepped in once and found you there, it would’ve been Game Over for you, buddy. You wouldn’t have been able to evade me even if you tried.”

“You’re probably right about that,” he agrees, tilting his head down to look at you with an irritated smile, “You are… undeniable.”

His eyes drop to your mouth, and his smile drops to a hungry expression that sends a warmth flooding your lower abdomen. 

Undeniable.

Without thinking, your hand moves to the back of his neck, pulling him down to you as you raise your face to kiss him. The instant your lips connect, he springs into action with a rumble in his throat, like he'd been waiting desperately for this. It feels like he’s everywhere at once, his mouth devouring yours as he shifts his position to leave no space between you, one of his hands diving into your hair as the other rakes its fingers down your thigh that’s hitched against him.

The feeling of his hand on your leg is too similar to the cursed recurring dream, and the realization is like a splash of cold water in your face. You suddenly can’t help but worry, Is this a dream come true… or a terrible mistake?

“Shane,” you say on a gasp, laying a hand on his chest to push him back.

He pulls away, but only slightly, his gaze half-lidded like he’s drunk. “What?”

“E-Emily…” 

He blinks a couple of times as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing. Finally, he lets out a groan and rolls away from you, leaving you nothing other than a cold shoulder.

Dread overwhelms you. “I just…” You want him to assure you that he doesn't care for her. You want him to say that this last day has changed things. You want him to say that you're it for him, that it isn’t a casual thing while he waits for Emily to come around, and that he wouldn't pursue you both at once.

“Just forget it,” he mutters instead. He even says your name this time, not Sunshine. “Just go to sleep.”

You roll over to hide the hurt flooding your eyes. If the first kiss changed everything, this one might've ruined everything.

Chapter Text

Year 1 

Fall 7

The rooster crows, and you hear a responding groan directly in your ear. Your eyes fly open with the realization that, at some point in the night, Shane pulled you back in his arms and wrapped himself tightly around you. With another grunt, he stirs awake and immediately tenses with the same realization

He’s pressed up against your back, his heavy arm laying limply over your waist.

You bite back a smile. Does this mean he’s not mad anymore?

You can’t tell because suddenly, he’s carefully lifting and pulling his arm away from you. Oh no, you don’t. Faking a yawn and pretending to wake up as well, you turn and roll over quickly, your eyes catching his before he can escape.

He freezes and looks at you warily. It could be the early morning affecting his mood, but the undertone of his look is pure grump.

“Good Morning,” you whisper, offering him a tentative smile as you nestle into your pillow.

Your greeting softens his gaze a little, but before he can respond, you both hear Jas call out:

“Uncle Shane?!”

He groans and rolls out of bed, quickly dressing back in his pants with his back to you. “I should take her home.”

“I’ll walk with you,” you say, immediately moving to put on some pants yourself. The events of the night linger in the air between you like a bad fart, and you can’t go on any longer without addressing it.

He doesn’t argue, and as you all make your way to the forest, you discover Jas is quite chatty in the morning. Her random musings are once again an excellent buffer for the awkward tension between you and Shane.

“Where did you sleep, Uncle Shane?” she asks when Marnie’s Ranch is in sight.

You bite back an embarrassed smile as his face floods with crimson. So much for being a buffer to the awkward.

“In the crib,” you tell her.

The little girl bursts into peals of giggles as Shane shoots an annoyed glare at you. “Gee, thanks,” he mutters, “Won’t be hearing the end of that for a while now.”

“Anytime,” you promise with a grin, and a mischievous glint echoes in his eyes.

“Do you want some coffee?” he asks politely as he steps inside. Jas immediately runs off in search of Marnie.

“Love some,” you accept the offer heartily as you follow him into the kitchen. From the adrenaline coursing through you, however, you aren’t certain you need the caffeine.

Finally, you and Shane are alone.

“So…” you say as he moves to start the coffee machine.

“So…?” he replies. When you don’t answer, he puts both hands on the counter, his head hanging limply as if he’s accepting some doomed fate. He turns around to face you, crossing his arms.

You open your mouth to speak, but no words come out.

The corner of his mouth deepens with rueful amusement. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you speechless, Sunshine.”

You lay a palm over your forehead and smile sheepishly. “I just don’t know how to say it.”

He looks down. “Just say it,” he says quietly.

“You once told me this friendship between us was good,” you start, “And that you didn’t want anything to ruin it…”

He’s nodding along to your words, his expression grave.

“And I’m trying really, really hard to be a good friend to you, Shane,” you continue, “But it isn’t always easy for me because… well, last night, for example, when I mentioned Emily—"

He groans at the sound of her name again. “I don’t like Emily, okay?!” he blurts out angrily, gripping the counter behind him, “I never did! When Elliott asked me that stupid question, it was you I looked at, not her.”

Your jaw drops as his words sink in slowly.

He doesn’t like Emily?

He never did?

It was you… all along?

A laugh of surprise spills from your lips, and you clamp a hand over your mouth to silence it.

He looks furiously incredulous. “You’re laughing?!” he asks, his tone full of offense, “That’s funny to you?”

You chew your lip, but it does little to hold back your smile. “Shane, what have we been doing?” you ask, another giddy laugh seeping through your tone, “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

He blinks repeatedly as if his brain is glitching and failing to process your positive reaction to his news.

With a soft smile, you take a little step forward, and finally, he gets the hint.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep sigh, a broad smile of relief etched across his face. “I don’t know,” he says, taking a tentative step forward.

“You don’t like Emily,” you repeat, just to be clear.

He takes another small step. “No.”

You can’t help but argue, “But she’s so nice!”

“She is,” he agrees, “But she’s not you, Sunshine. And it's always been you.”

When you see the unabashed longing in his eyes, you know you’re about to close the distance between you completely and for good. All it would take is one small step forward. A small step more akin to a step off a cliff that will send you falling, head-over-heels, for Shane. Once you take this step, you know there will be no going back.

Unless, of course, Marnie was about to intervene and ruin it all.

“What’s this about Emily?!” she asks, barging into the kitchen. She looks at you with stern disappointment. “This isn’t what we agreed on.”

“What?” you ask her, a dumb smile still on your face.

“Agreed on?” Shane echoes, no longer smiling.

Marnie stays looking at you, lowering her voice conspiratorially, but not enough that Shane can’t overhear, “The deal we made was that you would… you know. Make him happy.” Your mouth drops in horror when she winks.

You and Shane respond at once:

“We did what?!”

“You did what?!” 

Your tone is confused, his is furious.

You look back at him with a nervous smile. “Shane, I swear, I don’t know what she’s—”

He glowers at you. “Is that what all this was? Just some agreement to appease my meddlesome aunt?”

“No,” you swear, looking back at Marnie with full sincerity, “Marnie, I honestly do not recall any conversation—”

“Oh, that’s fucking rich,” he grumbles, “You and your selective memory.”

You bristle, looking at him in confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“You know what I think?!” he demands, getting more heated, “I think you should focus on making yourself happy because you’re so busy being concerned with everyone else’s happiness that you don’t know who the fuck you are.”

Marnie raises a hand to prevent him from lashing out any further. “Now, Shane—”

“I’m serious, Marn,” he continues, “She doesn’t know who she is or what she wants. She’s had a million jobs, a million boyfriends—”

“Not a million,” you murmur to Marnie out of the corner of your mouth.

“And each time, it’s like she’s trying on a different personality. She told me so herself!” He turns his head back to you, and you flinch under the fury of his gaze. “At the end of the day, you don’t know who you are or what you want. So where do you get off making deals that you can fix my problems? What makes you think you are in any position to make me happy?”

“Shane!” Marnie yells, but it’s too late. His words hit you like a slap across the face.

You drop your eyes to the floor, tears flooding your vision. “Um, I have to go,” you mumble, turning away to leave. He doesn’t stop you, and you run home.

Year 1

Fall 10

“I could really use some emotional support here!” you call out to Bartholomeow, who’s ignoring you.

The cat looks up at you with utter disinterest before he saunters away to the bedroom.

“That’s why I’m here,” Elliott answers, coming over to join you on the couch.

“I should’ve just gotten Shane together with Emily,” you mutter.

“No,” Elliott disagrees. He sighs forlornly, “I only wish I hadn’t pushed the ruse so far.”

“You knew Shane liked me?!”

“He made it quite obvious to everyone but you,” he scoffs, “But even if he hadn't... I’m a writer.” You look at him with confusion, and he hastens to explain. “In books, the fake dating trope usually ends with the couple confessing their shared feelings. If it had followed my intended script, it would have been a beautiful ending. I just didn’t have all the pieces laid out before me to see how things might go awry. You really don’t remember making some kind of deal with Marnie?”

“I wasn't paying enough attention,” you answer honestly, “Looking back, I now understand why she randomly told me she’d gift me a goat if I kept it up.”

“Like some kind of dowry?” Elliott sheaths his lips, trying not to laugh. “She really is something, that nosy spinster. I think it comes from a place of love. She wants Shane to get better. She just doesn't realize the change has to come from him.”

“I’m really worried about him,” you say, “Whether I intended to or not, I broke his trust. I ruined our friendship.”

“He played his part in ruining it, too,” Elliott reminds you, “Call it self-sabotage, or what you will, but he chose not to listen to a word you said and just attacked you instead.”

You shake your head. “He made some good points. I’m too eager to ignore my own wants and needs to make everyone else happy… like that would keep me safe from their rejection. Even these last few days, as I recover from a shattered heart from his rejection, I find myself only thinking about how he’s coping in the aftermath.”

“Well, scrub those thoughts from your brain because tonight is all about you and your broken heart.” There’s a knock on the door, and he launches from the couch. “Speaking of which, my shift is nearly over.”

“Shift?” you question as Elliott ushers Leah inside.

“I’m next,” Leah explains, “And Harvey will stop by in the morning.”

“Why the morning?” you wonder with a confused grin. Doesn’t the doctor have to be at work?

“For the hangover,” she answers with a cheeky smile, showing the two bottles of wine she’s carrying in each hand.

The knock on the door in the morning is like an axe hitting your skull.

Mumbling a string of curses, you sit up from the hard floor where you and Leah passed out.

“Am I dead?” Leah mutters, her cheek squished against the carpet.

“No,” you reply, your voice raspy.

“Can you kill me?” she asks.

The knock comes once more, and you wince in pain. “Come in!”

“Hello?” Harvey asks, stepping inside. He comes around the couch and looks at the two of you with a sympathetic smile. “Sorry I’m late! I thought today was Shane’s day.”

“Shane’s day?” you ask, wiping the drool from your cheek.

“He’s a lonely heart, too,” Leah reminds you, “We’re doing this all over again to help him feel better tonight. Only Elliott will be doing the drinking.”

“And cola, at that,” the good doctor clarifies. “Now, come with me to the clinic so I can administer you both an IV.”

“Oh, hell yeah,” you cheer, shakily moving to stand.

“Make no mistake,” Harvey corrects as he reaches out an arm to steady you, “I’m going to charge you for it.”

“Aw, come on, Harvey!” Leah whines.

When you return from the clinic, feeling slightly better, you look out at your farmland with pride. You were only in your third season, and you'd come a long way in your strides to bring the farm back to life. If your grandpa were here to see it, you know he would be proud, too.

Shane was wrong.

You do know who you are.

You're a farmer. The repetition and routine do wonders for your mind, and you're good at it. You're also great at fishing, mining, and slaying monsters. You're also a great friend.

And you do know what you want.

You want Shane. Happy, sad, angry, whatever form he comes in, you want him.

You see the light over your mailbox, and a quiet hope starts to whisper. Did Shane leave you a note of apology?

Nope. It's a letter from Mayor Lewis, asking you to locate his lucky purple shorts and return them to him discreetly.

You read the note three times before bursting into laughter. You want so badly to run to Shane and tell him the great mystery you've just solved, but you know he doesn't want to see you yet. So you keep laughing to yourself because if you don't, you'll cry.

Chapter Text

Year 1

Fall 12

Part One

You hold up your playing cards over your face to cover your smile.

“I can tell you’re grinning, Sunshine,” Shane snorts, shaking his head, “You have the world’s worst poker face.”

“How can you tell?” you insist, laying your winning hand directly over your mouth, “I’m covering it completely

"Yeah, but when you smile, it’s like the whole room shines with it.” He freezes as if he didn’t intend to say those exact words out loud.

Grandpa lowers his cards slightly, his eyes flashing between the two of you with curious delight. The phone rings, and he gets up from the kitchen table to answer it. The moment you hear their voices on the other end of the line, you sit up with a yelp of excitement.

“It’s my parents!” you lean over to Shane to whisper with glee. “They finally reached out! Do you want to talk to them?”

“Me?!” he pales, “Why would I…?”

“Yes, she’s doing very well,” Grandpa tones, flashing you a soft smile.

You hold your hand out in an eager wave, gesturing for him to pass you the phone.

But then his expression shutters, and he turns away from you while lowering his tone, “Well, hang on just a moment, don’t you want to…? Lucy, she’s right here…”

You drop your hand.

“Very well,” Grandpa sighs.

You look down at your cards, no longer feeling like a winner.

When Grandpa hangs up and returns to the table, there’s a heavy silence in the air. “How about some wine?” he asks to break the tension, escaping to the other room.

You’re too embarrassed to look at Shane’s face, but you can see his fists are clenched on the table.

“I’m sorry, Sunshine, but that’s fucking bullshit,” he says finally, “I can’t imagine knowing you and not wanting to talk to you every day.”

“I thought the things I say annoy you,” you murmur pathetically.

“Even so. No matter what,” his tone is firm, “I would always want to talk to you.”

 

Elliott was playing the role of an impish matchmaker once more, only this time, you didn’t mind. After his night with Shane, he came over and shared Shane only had two beers despite being overwhelmed with regret for the things he’d said. The writer also reported Shane was certain you would have nothing to do with him from now on. His despondency was so strong that Elliott was positive he would not consider making any first move toward reconciliation.

Thus, the first step had to come from you, and you knew exactly where to find him.

As you step through the doors of Stardrop on Friday evening, and Shane’s eyes meet yours from the corner, his face displays a flurry of conflicting emotions. Finally, it settles into a glare, his fury flashing to Elliott across the bar.

“You promised me she wasn’t coming!” he yells to him as you approach.

“I’m a writer,” Elliott replies lightly with a shrug, “I do things for the plot.”

“Sorry for the ambush, but we have to talk." You sit on your usual stool without waiting for Shane’s permission.

He sighs and moves to the one beside you. “Listen—”

You hold up a hand, silencing him. “Hold on. I think I would like a drink first.”

“I’ll get it,” he offers eagerly, gesturing to Gus to bring one over.

“But you beat me to the bar,” you argue, referencing your longstanding tradition.

His voice drops slightly. “Consider it an apology.”

You're quiet for a moment. “It’s a start.”

When Gus drops off your beer, you give the bartender a grateful smile, taking a long sip. The butterflies in your stomach feel more like stones with wings, and you would love nothing more than to skip over the awkward apologies and go right back to how things were before that awful moment in the kitchen.

“Um, okay,” Shane starts weakly, “So, I don’t really know—”

You hold up a hand again. “I’ll go first if that’s okay?” He flashes you a grateful smile, but his expression becomes nervous as you drop your bag into your lap and start digging inside. You speak as you search, “The day Marnie and I supposedly made that deal, I was only half-listening to what she was saying… if that. The truth is I couldn’t pay any attention to her because I had just seen this in her room and was completely distracted.”

"Okay...?"

You pause, glancing upward. "What I'm about to show you, you can't reveal to anyone else. Promise?"

His eyes narrow in irritation.

"Promise?" you repeat.

"Okay, Sunshine, yes, I promise," he grunts with a roll of his eyes.

You move the shorts to the top of the bag and tilt the opening in his direction for him to see.

His eyebrows furrow in confusion as he leans forward. He pinches the fabric between two fingers, and he tentatively starts to pull it out. “Sunshine, what the fuck is this?” he mutters.

“Boxers,” you answer, and he immediately drops the fabric like he’s been burned. “Specifically, Mayor Lewis’s boxers. Found on your aunt’s bedroom floor.”

“What?!”

You shush him, tapping a finger frantically to your mouth. “Keep your voice down! Anyway, now you can see why I was a little out of it when she started talking to me.”

He blinks repeatedly, his brain glitching. “What the fuck… wait—” He suddenly looks angry. “How do you know they’re the mayor’s shorts?”

You sigh, reaching into the bag to pull out Lewis’s letter and slapping it on the bar counter.

Shane takes a sip of his drink as he reads it, which is a poor choice, made evident by his subsequent spluttering on the carbonation. “Holy shit,” he croaks as you pat his back to aid in his recovery. “My aunt is fucking the mayor.”

"Shane!" you hiss.

He rolls his eyes again. "No one heard me. And if they did, with my reputation as the town drunk, no one would take it seriously, anyway."

You quickly hide everything back in the bag and put it away. “The mayor is trusting me to be discreet. I'm only telling you this so that you believe me when I say... at the time, I really didn’t really hear what she was saying. I didn’t know I made any kind of agreement in poor taste. I’m really sorry I didn’t pay more attention... Shane, I’m so sorry.”

He reads the sincerity in your gaze before breaking into an incredulous laugh. “If it were anyone else, I’d call bullshit, but because it’s you, I know what you’re saying is true. Only you could stumble into a situation like this.”

“I suppose that’s true,” you ponder with a pout before taking a long sip.

He runs a hand through his hair. “Shit,” he groans, “I did not see that coming. You never fail to knock me on my ass, Sunshine. I don’t even know how to begin my part now.”

You swallow the heavy sip, shaking your head as you look down. “If what you said is truly how you feel—”

“It isn’t,” he swears, moving a hand under your chin to force you to meet the truth in his eyes.

You blush furiously from the intimacy of the movement.

“I’m an asshole,” he continues, “That’s not news. My feelings were hurt, and I only said what I did because I knew it was the exact words that could hurt you, too. I’m sorry for everything I said. I don’t believe a word of it. Not one word.”

You chew your lip to keep from pouting, and his eyes drift down to follow the motion. He closes his eyes, slowly shaking the hunger from his gaze. “My aunt acts like I’m something broken, and it’s up to her to find the thing that could miraculously fix me. Meanwhile, she hasn't given me any credit for the strides I've made thus far. I just couldn’t stand the thought that you might feel the same, so I pushed you away.”

“I don’t feel the same,” you assure him.

“Then why did you force Emily on me?” he lowers his voice as he says her name to avoid her overhearing from across the bar, “After I was hospitalized, you were so emphatic about the idea of me dating her… like she was the solution to all my problems.”

“Shane.” You shake your head. “If there’s anything in this life that could bring you some semblance of joy, I would do whatever I could to make sure you get it. Because you deserve good things. I always knew dating Emily wouldn't change what goes on in here,” you say, tapping his forehead. “I just hoped it could help things by fixing this.” You lower your hand to tap his heart, and he immediately moves his hand to flatten your palm over his chest. Your throat thickens, and your eyes start to mist. “You’ve had to deal with so much heartbreak…”

He groans, pulling you against him as his arms wrap tightly around you. “Please don't cry,” he begs, “I’ll go crazy.”

You hug him tightly, your tears breaking loose. “Sorry."

"No, I'm sorry."

"No, I'm—"

"Okay, I get it," he lets out a frustrated laugh as he hugs you even tighter, "You're sorry. I'm sorry. We're sorry."

You suddenly hear applause and break away from each other, turning to see Elliott giving you both a standing ovation. Thankfully, Leah grabs his arm and yanks him back down into his seat. Knowing you have an audience, the air between you and Shane becomes tense and awkward.

"Just ignore him,” you mutter, reaching for your drink.

“I wish I had in the beginning,” he grunts, taking a sip of his own.

You look at him with an unspoken question, and he sighs. “He pressured me into going along with the whole fake relationship thing,” he reveals, “He said that it would force you to face your true feelings in time.”

"Me?! I always knew how I felt.”

Shane’s responding grin is so boyish and adorable that you have to look away.

“So, Elliott pulled you into his schemes, and Marnie pulled me into hers,” you realize, shaking your head. "This town has a real meddling problem."

“No one has a say in our future but us, Sunshine,” Shane vows. “Hey.” He holds up his beer. “To you and your future.”

You grin, mirroring his pose. “To you and yours.”

The toast gives you an immediate sense of Déjà vu, transporting you back to that final night you shared that summer:

Your glasses collide too harshly, and your drink splashes upward before spilling half the ale over his knee, which is nearly brushing yours from sitting so closely.  

“Sorry!” you apologize immediately, moving to blot at the wetness with a flimsy bar napkin. The moment your hand meets his knee, a surge of electricity shoots through you. Your eyes snap up, catching a flash of heat mirrored in his gaze before he settles back into his usual impassive expression.  

“Smooth move, Sunshine,” he jokes. He moves the back of his hand to brush some foam from your cheek.

Your eyes settle on his dimple, where some drops of beer have landed on him as well. You’ve had so much to drink that the room is spinning a little, and at first, it helps to focus your gaze on the droplet to remain steady. But then you find you can’t look away, nor can you help yourself. Without thinking, you lean forward, your tongue flashing out to lap up the foam.

He hisses in a gasp, and you pull away immediately with a wince. You just licked him.

“It’s our last beer together. Can’t let it go to waste,” you weakly explain.

His gaze is dark, heated, and hungry. “No,” he agrees, his voice gruff, “We can’t let it go to waste.” Before your brain can catch up to his movements, he wraps his hand around the back of your neck and pulls you forward, his lips crashing against yours.

You let out a happy hum of surprise at the kiss as a long exhale of relief escapes his nostrils. As you melt into the fullness of his lips, you feel like you’ve been set on fire and dunked in ice all at once. Your hand curls around the fabric of his sweatshirt, pulling him closer, and feeling encouraged, his mouth starts to move more hungrily against yours. You feel completely devoured by the passion of his kiss, his teeth softly nipping at your bottom lip before flashing his tongue across it. When his tongue enters your mouth, an embarrassingly loud moan escapes you.

Hearing it, he pulls back suddenly, but only far enough so that he can read your half-lidded eyes. You can see in his drunken expression that you’re both thinking the same thing… that this was always going to happen… that this should’ve been happening all summer… that now you only had one night left.

“Close tab!” You both call out at once, you’re eyes remaining fixed on each other.

Once the bill is paid, Shane grabs you by the wrist and drags you outside. Your steps are clumsy, and you can’t stop giggling as he pulls you over to the shadows of the Stardrop Maple tree, the town’s go-to make-out spot. You imagined he’d be so tentative about crossing the line, but he doesn’t hesitate for a moment as he pushes you against the tree, his hands gripping your hips as his mouth tackles yours again, his tongue delving into your mouth with a growl. He angles his head, kissing you so deeply that you forget to breathe.  

Your lips drag over his cheek with a gasp as he breaks the kiss, moving his mouth to the crook of your neck.

“Fuck, Sunshine,” he groans as he pulls your hips right up against his and burrows his head, “I’ve wanted this for so long. I’ve needed this—” His words cut off with a rumble in his throat, and his lips start sucking on the nape of your neck.

The heat you feel is unbearable, and you need some relief, some friction. “What about being friends?” you ask breathlessly, your chest heaving with panted breaths.

He growls, his tongue flashing across your skin. “Fuck friends.”

“We’re ‘fuck friends’?”

He straightens immediately in rejection at the thought, his jaw flexed with the irritated grinding of his teeth, but an annoyed smile breaks out across his face when he sees your cheeky grin. He cups the sides of your face and says breathily, “Sunshine, for once, please shut the fuck up.” 

“Make me.” You rock your hips against him, and he groans, kissing you with smiling lips as he pulls you back in. Suddenly, you both feel like you aren’t close enough, and he moves his hands to pull you upward, wrapping your legs around him. His palms squeeze your ass before his fingers drag across your thigh, pressing you so hard against the tree you’re worried you might leave an imprint in the wood.

Good, you drunkenly think, Let the town forevermore see this tree as a memorial to this historically sexy moment.

Blackness starts to cloud your vision, and you close your eyes, losing yourself completely in the feeling of Shane’s hands, lips, and body all over yours.

“Fuck. Where can we go?” he whispers, undulating his growing erection against you in emphasis, “Is there somewhere we can go? Sunshine, it’s too dark, and I need to see all of you.”  

“Right here’s good for me,” you mutter. You’re not sure you can manage a walk anywhere else.

“What?! No! Our first time is not going to be outside, against a tree.” He groans again. “But the fact that you would even be down for that is just so fucking like you. Everything about you drives me crazy.”

“Shane?” you both hear Marnie’s voice from somewhere in the darkness, “Did I just hear you? Where are you?”

You both freeze until, very slowly, he drags you down his body until your feet touch the grass. You look up at him in a panic, and he raises a finger to his lips, his other hand gently hovering over your mouth in case he needs to clamp it over any sound you make.

“Shane, is that you by the tree? It’s getting pretty late, and your flight is early tomorrow morning…”

He leans his forehead against yours. “You gotta be fucking kidding me…”

The memory flashes through your mind at top speed, and you let out a horrified gasp. You look at Shane and his withholding expression, feeling your cheeks heat with a fiery warmth.

“My dream,” you whisper, “Our final night…it wasn’t…That really happened?!”

He leans his head back and releases a loud groan of relief, and his classic You’re-So-Annoying grin is etched across his face when it comes back down.

“Yeah, Sunshine, that really happened,” he says wryly, his hand sliding along your neck, “and it’s about to happen again.”

Chapter Text

Year 1

Fall 12

Part Two

“My dream,” you whisper, “Our final night…it wasn’t…That really happened?!”

He leans his head back and releases a loud groan of relief, and his classic You’re-So-Annoying grin is etched across his face when it comes back down.

“Yeah, Sunshine, that really happened,” he says wryly, his hand sliding up from your shoulder to your neck, “and it’s about to happen again.” He yanks you forward, his lips crashing against yours without hesitation as his fingers wrap around the sides of your face, tilting your head upward to receive the full onslaught of his kiss.

He pulls away suddenly, looking deep into your eyes. “No more games,” he growls, “From here on out, we're not pretending to be strangers or just friends, there’s no deals or fake relationships, and you’re not my matchmaker… you're mine. Okay?”

You grin and nod excitedly, and he groans in hunger at the sight of your broad smile, kissing you quickly once more before he takes your hand and pulls you from your stool, leading you down the dark hallway that leads to the barrel storage room.

You’re so excited you're practically running ahead. When you reach the secluded space, you jump into a seat atop a barrel, grabbing him by his sweatshirt and dragging him back against you.

A beatific smile flashes across his face before his lips descend, kissing you deeply as you wrap your arms around his neck. You feel his shoulder muscles tilt slightly, and you curiously open your eyes, catching sight of his fist held up in the darkness.

“Shane,” you whisper, pulling away as your eyes follow the extension of his arm. “Are you… fist pumping in celebration?”

Immediately, his arm drops. “Shut up,” he mutters, moving his hands to your neck as he kisses you again.

You giggle against his lips, and he releases a snort of his own upon hearing it.

“You looked like you’re watching a Tunnelers game,” you can’t help but tease him.

He pulls back, angling his head the opposite way with a cheeky smile. “So? Am I not about to score?”

“Oh,” an unexpected voice replies.

Shane jumps away from you, and you both find Harvey’s tall outline shadowed at the entrance of the room.

“Sorry to interrupt,” the doctor stutters in a panic, “I just— Elliott said you guys needed me for something?”

You all hear the impish writer’s mischievous laughter echo down the hall.

“I’m so sorry!!” Harvey apologizes again, making a quick escape. You can clearly hear his embarrassed admonishment of Elliott, and it’s very obvious you don’t have the privacy you thought you did.

“Your place?” Shane grunts, looking back at you.

“Let’s go.”

He grabs your hips and helps you down from the barrel, his hand wrapping around yours as he leads you back through the bar. He ignores the doctor and writer completely as he passes them.

“Have fun!” Elliott waggles his fingers in a wave. As annoying as his antics are, it’s hard to stay mad at him when he looks genuinely happy for you both.

When you’ve stepped outside, the cold Fall air cools the heat between you, but only somewhat. Your eyes flash over to the maple tree as you walk, another blush warming your face.

“Oh,” you realize, “Now I get what you meant about selective memory.”

He looks at you with a wry smile, saying nothing.

“I can’t believe I told you it was a dream,” you moan, smacking a palm to your forehead. “That is so embarrassing. Why didn’t you correct me?!”

“Are you kidding? Can you imagine how embarrassing it was for me that the single most hottest kiss of my life was entirely forgotten by the other person?”

Hottest kiss, huh? “It wasn’t entirely forgotten,” you argue, “I just thought it was too good to be true and convinced myself I dreamt it. In my defense, I’d been drinking a lot.”

“I had more to drink that night than you, but the moment we finally kissed, it was like a defibrillator that jolted me back to full consciousness.”

You bite back a smug smile, wrapping your arms around his as you drop an apologetic peck on his shoulder. “Your aunt has an uncanny knack for getting in between us at the most inopportune times.”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “Which is ironic, given she’s been dead set on getting us together since you arrived… like it’s her idea.”

You shake your head. “What happened after she called out to you? I don’t remember getting home.”

His steps falter slightly at your words, and he looks away from you. “Um…”

His tone has you ceasing all movement, even though you’re almost to the farmhouse now. You pull away from him and cross your arms. “Shane. What happened?”

“You…”

You wince. “Oh, no. Did I throw up?”

He snorts. “No…you said we should come back to Stardew the next summer.”

“What?!”

“You said, if it was meant to be, we would find a way to come back and do things right the next summer.”

You look off in the darkness of the surrounding trees as you try to remember, but you’re drawing a blank. It does sound like something you would say, stupidly whimsical and romantic. “But... we didn’t come back the next summer.”

“You didn’t.”

You snap your gaze back at him, horrified.

“I did,” he continues, looking down to hide his blush. He tries to keep his tone casual, “I had just been let go from the team, so I had the spare time to visit.”

You cover your mouth as your eyes flood with tears. With everything else he’d been going through, you cannot imagine how it must’ve felt for him when you weren’t there to meet him. “Shane…”

“Oh, no, you don’t,” he orders, pulling you into a hug to stop you from crying. “It’s fine, Sunshine.”

Tears of absolute horror stream down your face. “It’s so not fine! I can’t believe I forgot I said that!” you wail, “When you saw me again, you should have pretended not to remember me at all!”

He pulls away and looks at you like you have three heads. “I did exactly that, actually.”

“Oh… right…” You pout, and his thumb flashes across it as his hands move to cradle your face.

“You drive me crazy,” he speaks through clenched teeth as he flashes you an irritated smile. The hungry look in his eyes, however, sends a shiver down your spine. He misinterprets it. “Come on, Sunshine,” he says, throwing an arm around you as he resumes his steps, “Let’s go home.”

Home, you think to yourself, I like the sound of that.

“I am so going to make it up to you,” you promise, quickening your pace. Now you’re the one pulling him along. “Just you wait and see.”

“Oh, yeah?” he asks, sounding enticed by the idea. “Just to be clear, you don’t owe me anything—"

“Just accept what’s coming to you,” you order as you drag him up the porch steps and into your farmhouse. When you’ve both made it inside, you shove him against the door, practically climbing him like a tree as you move to kiss him.

“Wait,” he says, pausing you with a firm hand on your shoulder. “Before we go any further… I have to know…”

“What?” you ask breathlessly.

His responding smile is sardonic. “Can you say the alphabet backward?”

“What?”

“Better yet,” he says, removing himself from your clutches completely. He gestures a hand to the floor, “Could you walk in a straight line for me?”

“What the hell?!”

“No? Okay.” He holds up his forefinger. “Follow the path of my finger with your eyes… if you can.”

Finally, you catch on to his meaning. “I’m not drunk!” you argue, lightly smacking his hand away from your face, “I had like three sips of a beer tonight.”

“We were too drunk to do as much as we did last time,” he insists with full sincerity. “We can’t be too careful this time.”

You groan and roll your eyes but decide to humor him with his sobriety tests. You spread your arms out beside you like a tightrope walker, and he tries to fight his grin as he mirrors your stance.

From opposite sides of an imaginary line, you both focus on putting one foot in front of the other, walking along the edge of one of the floorboards. As you get closer to meeting him in the middle, you sway slightly with excitement, and he kisses his teeth in pretend admonishment.

“Come on, that’s not fair! I have terrible balance!” You laugh and stomp your foot in protest. “And I don’t know the alphabet backward apart from Z-Y-X-W-V-U-T, but if you show me your finger again, I can prove to you that I am completely conscious and consenting—”

He cuts you off with a kiss, and you collapse in relief against him, throwing your arms around his neck as you meet his lips with equal passion.

He pulls back an inch, his hands curling a fist around your hair and tugging slightly to force you to look at him. Heat pools in your lower abdomen from the ferocity of his gaze. “You won’t forget this.”

He isn’t exactly asking, but you shake your head furtively. “I won’t.”

“I’ll make sure of that.” Before you can respond, he bends down and hauls you over his shoulder, running you into the bedroom as you squeal with surprised laughter.

Fully spent and sprawled out across the mattress, you find your eyes fluttering closed. You think you’re about to enter into the most restful sleep of your life, but then you feel Shane dropping kisses on your bare shoulder, and you start to wonder if he’s somehow ready for another round.

And if he is… maybe you are, too.

“What time is it?” you mumble sleepily into the mattress.

“Late. Early morning,” he answers, moving his kisses across your back. “Which means I have to go.”

Now, you’re awake. You move quickly, turning over to throw an arm and leg on him in protest. “No,” you grumble. “Stay.”

You feel a soft laughter rumble in his chest as he drops a quick kiss on the top of your head. “As much as I would love to sleep here, I’m not yet ready for the smug look on Marnie’s face when she catches me doing a Walk Of Shame. If she finds out about us, she’ll think it was her doing.”

You look up at him, your eyebrows furrowing slightly at his words. Does that mean you aren’t telling people…?

He pulls you in for another deep kiss, a soft sigh exhaling from his nostrils. “If it were up to me,” he says against your lips, “I would bury myself inside you and not let you go for a week.”

You blush furiously at the thought, but your smile is cheeky as you rest your chin on his chest. “Sounds good to me.”

He groans, throwing his head back on his pillow with a pained smile. “Of course it does.” But then he keeps moving, extricating himself from your grasp as he moves to get dressed. “Will you come over later, sometime around the afternoon?” he asks as he slips his boxer briefs back on, “I have something I want to show you.”

“Oh, really?” you ask, propping your head up on your hand. “I’m pretty impressed with what I’ve been shown already.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” he chastises you, flashing you an irritated grin over his shoulder, “It’s something I’ve been working on at the ranch.”

“Then I’d love to see it,” you affirm.

He moves to stand, and you get up quickly to follow him, wrapping a flannel shirt over your naked body.

“You could stay in bed,” he grumbles in protest, but from the twitch on the corner of his mouth, you can tell he secretly loves that you’re escorting him to the door.

“I could,” you agree, hugging his arm as you walk with him, “But I don’t want to.”

A peculiarly goofy smile suddenly breaks out across his face, one that spreads warmth across your chest, and you halt your steps, looking at him curiously.

“What?” he asks warily, catching on to your staring.

“What’s this?” you ask, motioning your hand over his expression.

He rolls his eyes, looking away. “I don’t know. I’m happy.” He shrugs.

His words send a surge of delight through you, and you pull him into you, burying your head in his neck as you hug him tightly. “Me too.”

He laughs softly in the embrace, his hand playfully patting your ass. “You have to let me go, Sunshine.”

“Never,” you promise, but you slacken your grip so he can break from it and move to the door.

He pauses with it halfway open, casting one last look at you. “You’ll come over to see me later?” he affirms.

You smile and nod. “I won’t forget.”

He raises a teasing eyebrow, and you realize it was a poor choice of words.

“I’ll be there,” you rephrase with a huff.

He grins goofily once more, leaning over to kiss you quickly one final time before he departs. As you slowly close the door behind him, you watch him walk off into the darkness, his sweatshirt bunched in a fist by his side.

His other fist slowly raises in the air.

“Busted!” you call out.

He drops the fist pump and pretends he was just running a hand through his hair, refusing to look back at you as he continues his strides, whistling casually.

It’s then that you finally catch on to the tune he’s been whistling every time you've caught him:

“You Are My Sunshine.”

Chapter Text

Year 1

Fall 13

“Hey little lady,” you greet Jas when you find her in Marnie’s kitchen. You peer down the hall but see no sign of Shane. “Any chance you know where your godfather is?”

“He’s in the barn,” she answers quite seriously. “He wants to show you something. Follow me.”

Like a little creepy butler, she turns ominously and walks through the door to the backyard.

“Alrighty,” you mutter, a shiver running down your back. You used to work with kids, but sometimes their weird behavior still gives you goosebumps.

She leads you to a small barn, and as you step inside, your jaw drops at what you see inside:

Shane.

In.

Overalls.

His back is turned to you as he raises himself on the tip of his toes to finish painting a sign that says Fresh Eggs.

“That should do it,” he grunts to himself as he drops his brush.

“She’s here!” Jas announces your presence.

He turns around, his face brightening into his new goofy grin as your eyes slowly drift down his stubble to his chest.

Why is the sight of a grown man in overalls so sexy to you? If it were anyone else, it wouldn't be doing anything for you, but seeing Shane's straps digging into the breadth of his shoulders and the flannel shirt underneath hugging his brawny arms has you sweating in the middle of Fall.

When you move your eyes back up with a heavy swallow, you find his eyes are just as heated. He charges forward automatically, grabbing your face in his hands as you lift your head to meet his kiss—

Only he just ends up squishing your cheeks together. Hard.

You open your eyes in confusion, a mumbled bluh sound of surprise escaping through your fishy face as you watch his eyes move down to your side in a panic.

Oh, right. Jas is right there next to you, watching you two.

He clears his throat and takes a full step away, his cheeks pink. “Hey, Sunshine… what do you think?” he gestures around, drawing your attention to how his forearms look in his rolled sleeves.

“Hwee-Hwoo.”

“Pardon?”

“Sorry, I was trying to whistle at you. I think you look good.”

He looks at you like you have three heads, but the threat of a smile is twitching the corner of his lips. “I’m talking about the chickens, Sunshine. Look at all these chickens!”

It’s then that you finally spot them, a bunch of hens ambling around the barn… and some of them are blue.

Once more, but for a different reason, your jaw drops.

“My special blue hens,” he says proudly, sticking his hands in his overall pockets. “I’ve been raising them in secret for the last few months. No matter their color, we’ll have the best eggs in the whole Valley, with rich golden yolks. Nothing like pale and sickly Joja eggs…”

You drop to your knees, examining the brilliant blue of one hen’s feathers up close. “Shane…” you whisper, “They’re incredible.”

“I’ve been teaching Jas how to take care of them. Right, Jas?”

The little girl nods distractedly, chasing a white chicken that’s clucking irritably and trying to evade her little arms that are outstretched in front of her.

“Leave Charlie alone,” he orders sharply. It’s clear the little girl and this particular chicken have a long-standing rivalry. He moves to crouch beside you, lowering his voice. “I just wanted to pass on something to her since I won’t be living here forever.”

Your head jerks up. Won’t be living here…? Where’s he going?!

He doesn’t catch your expression as he places a blue hen in your lap with a soft smile. “I want to feel like I’m not just a leech on the world. I want to contribute somehow, even if in a small way like this.”

“This is not small,” you insist firmly as you lay a gentle hand over the blue hen, “It’s incredible.”

“You said that already,” he mutters with a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his neck.

“My poultry production is ruined,” you continue without remorse as you admire the chickens, “No one will take any eggs from me now that you’ve become the Blue Egg King.”

“Their eggs aren’t blue,” he scoffs, “And I’m showing you this because I want to share them with you.”

You look up in surprise again. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” he insists, straightening his legs. Once he’s fully upright, he offers his hands to bring you to your feet as well. He doesn’t let go of your hands, squeezing them in earnest. “You do so much for me. This is just a small way I can bring something to the table.”

“I think you did a lot for me last night,” you murmur suggestively, taking a small step closer to run your hand along one of his overall straps.

His nostrils flare as the heat returns to his eyes. “Jas?” he asks roughly, his hungry gaze remaining heavy on yours, “Do you want to help Marnie out with the cows?”

“No,” she replies lightly.

“Do you want to go play with your creepy dolls?”

“No.”

“Jas,” he says, breaking out in a frustrated laugh as he reluctantly breaks your eye contact, “You’re killing me here.”

“What?” she asks, still oblivious.

He picks her up in his arms despite her protests and marches out of the barn. “Be right back,” he tells you quickly.

You grin and hug yourself excitedly as you look around the space some more. In the corner of the barn room is a wooden table in front of a corkboard mounted on the wall. The closer you get to it, the more curious you become. There’s a number of magazine clippings displaying positive words and images pinned all over it, but the most eye-catching image is the one in the corner:
 
It’s a photograph of you dressed in one of your party princess costumes. He’d stolen it from your scrapbook!

You hear him re-enter the barn with a sigh. “Alright, where were we?” he asks cheekily.

“Shane,” you start delicately, “What is this?”

You hear him curse under his breath as he runs over. When he reaches you, his hand quickly cups your chin and pulls it away from the board, his lips catching yours as you turn. He kisses you hungrily, moving his arms to wrap around the small of your waist and haul you up against him, taking you off your feet completely.

You hum in delight at his eagerness, but it’s not enough to pull your thoughts from what’s behind you. You lay a hand on his chest and pull your head away, a teasing grin on your face. “A valiant effort at distraction, but I’m afraid I’ve already seen it.”

He lowers you to your feet, suddenly looking irritated as his cheeks redden. “I can’t believe I forgot to hide that,” he grumbles, looking down as he takes a step away. “This space is usually all mine. Marnie accepts she isn't allowed, and only Jas can come in with permission. It’s the only privacy I really have on the ranch.”

“So… what is it?” you ask again, crossing your arms.

He refuses to meet your eyes, speaking low and through his teeth. “It’s a vision board.”

A warmth spreads across your whole chest from his words, but he rolls his eyes at your giddy expression.

“My therapist had me do it early on in our sessions, okay?” he grunts, “And it was a one-time thing, so don’t be expecting me to sit and scrapbook with you anytime soon.”

“You put me on your vision board?” you ask, your tone pitched high.

He inhales sharply, but the irritation in his expression wavers. “Yeah, Sunshine,” he mutters breathlessly, wrapping his arms around you again, “I’ve wanted this for a very long time.”

You cup his face, your smile ecstatic, before you pull him down to you. He meets your eager lips with equal passion, a slow rumble of relief vibrating in his throat as he kisses you again and again. These are slow, unhurried kisses, a sharp contrast to the desperate and ravenous ones you’ve shared so far. You can’t tell which kind you like more. The frenzied make-outs last night turned you on to no end, but the way he’s kissing you now, pressing the fullness of his lips against yours in a way that’s both possessive and soft, sends a shiver of pleasure down your back and has you feeling blissful and dreamy.

“I want to do right by you, Sunshine,” he mutters, leaning his forehead against yours, “I’ve done a lot of work on myself, but I’m still far from perfect—”

You shake your head, cutting him off. “I don’t want perfect. I want you. And I’m so proud of you, Shane. Look at all you’ve accomplished! I can’t believe you’ve been working on this for months!”

He looks around at your words, a small smile of self-satisfaction growing on his face. It would be a perfect, heartfelt moment were it not for the thought he expresses next:

“I don’t want to tell Marnie or Jas about us yet.”

The warm and fuzzies you’d been feeling dissipate into a cold chill. “What? Why?”

“Because,” he says, taking a step away, “She’d be so smug and think that this—” he gestures a finger between the two of you— “was her idea, her doing. I’m just not ready to see her take credit for it.”

You frown. “What happened to ‘We aren’t pretending to be friends, you’re mine’?”

“Is that how I sound to you?” he asks, offended by your attempt at an impression, “Like Batman?”

“When can we tell them?” you press, “Because if they can’t know, it means the rest of the town can’t know either.”

“Just for now,” he replies vaguely. He takes a step closer, his large hand cupping the side of your neck as his thumb drags across your jawline. “I just want to keep this between us.” Before you can protest further, he silences you with a heated kiss, moving you back up against the table. With a hungry growl, he wraps his hands around your thighs and lifts you onto the table. The commotion sends the hens into a clucking chorus, and you push him away in shock, glancing down at your audience.

“You should know... I’m not really an exhibitionist,” you mutter, your cheeks blushing.

“Their brains are the size of walnuts,” he insists, “They have no idea what we’re doing.”

He reads the sincere wariness in your expression and sighs. “Be right back. Stay right here. Don’t move.” Suddenly, he’s opening the coop doors and ushering all the hens out. “Come on, chicks,” he softly guides them, “You too, Charlie. Mommy and Daddy need some alone time.”

You splutter on your gasp, breaking out into an incredulous laugh. He did not just say that—

But suddenly, the coop door is closed, and he’s back between your legs, his mouth devouring your neck. You feel the urge to clench your thighs together, a breathless gasp escaping you from the feeling of his tongue on the most sensitive part of your neck. You’re feeling increasingly desperate for him, and you unwittingly shuffle your hips in a failed attempt to ease some of the desire pooling in your lower abdomen.

“Shane?” You’re surprised by how raspy your voice sounds, “Don’t you want to go inside… to your room… where you have a bed?”

He shakes his head furtively, moving his mouth to the other side of your neck to give it the same amorous attention. “Not with Marnie on the other side of the wall,” he mutters against your skin, “She’d be utterly aghast to hear some of the noises I plan on getting out of you.”

You giggle softly as he softly nips you. “I think she’d be fine. You know she's getting her socks knocked off, too,” you counter.

He stiffens and straightens up fully to glower at you. “You’re really killing the mood here, Sunshine.”

“Oh, am I?” you ask with a sarcastic smile. You gesture around at the small barn room. “Because this otherwise screams romance?”

His eyes narrow in determination, and he reaches over your shoulder to the shelf above you. He keeps you caged with his other hand on your waist as he drags a flannel blanket down. Quickly, he shakes it out and drapes it over the bales of hay beside you.

“Better?” he asks, sarcastically presenting the makeshift bed with a dramatic flourish.

Your eyes fall on his overalls once more. Damn, those overalls. There’s just something about seeing him dressed in ranch clothes instead of his usual jersey and sweatshirt… like he belongs on a farm. Your farm.

“Alright, yeah, why the hell not?” you answer quickly.

With a goofy grin, he lifts you in his arms, carrying you like a princess on his vision board until you've reached the blanket, and he lowers you down.

You sigh wistfully, curling your hand around the straps of his overalls as you pull him down over you. "If only there was a way for you to keep these on."

He snorts in surprise, dropping his forehead to your neck as he continues to laugh quietly. "You're so weird sometimes."

"Sorry." You wince.

"Don't be." His tone is firm as he brushes some hair out of your face. "It's the kind of weird that works out in my favor. You weirdly have no idea how out of my league you are."

"Shut up," you scoff, lightly pushing his shoulder.

He hitches your leg up to his waist, kissing you so deeply you feel pressed into the hay. "Make me."

Chapter Text

Year 1

Fall 16

Stardew Valley Fair

The fair is bustling around you, but your gaze is zeroed in on the space directly in front of you. You’ve used eight slots of your Grange Display with the perfect blend of iridium-quality and artisanal items, but there’s one slot left to fill. You open your bag and peer inside with a frown as you consider what else you brought that could make it the perfect First Place-winning array.

You feel a heavy arm fall over your shoulder and smile, not even needing to look up to know who it belongs to. You love how familiar you’ve become with his touch.

“How’s it going?” Shane asks huskily, his lips playfully brushing the edge of your ear as he pretends to casually look behind you.

“I don’t know what to put in that final space,” you say, looking up at him. You raise an eyebrow with suspicion, moving your eyes pointedly from his arm to Marnie, who’s standing directly to your right and setting up her own display. So much for keeping this a secret…

“What?” he asks quietly, trying to appear innocent. “Friends can’t embrace like this?”

Your eyes narrow at his cocky smirk, but quickly your stare at his lips turns hungry. You remember what those lips felt like all over you just hours ago, and as the memory returns, you hitch in a soft breath and unwittingly lick your lips, your eyelids drooping slightly.

“Fuck, Sunshine, you can’t look at me like that,” Shane groans, breaking the eye contact as he looks away in pain. His posture stiffens, and he shuffles his weight from one foot to the other as if it’s suddenly become very uncomfortable in his shorts. “Um. I might have to go for a walk in the cold Fall air for a bit.”

“No!” you argue, wrapping an arm around his back to hold him at your side. “You have to help me. Should I add another artisan item or something else?”

“Fine. Give me a second,” he grunts, closing his eyes with complete concentration. “Lewis’s boxers,” he mutters. “Yeah. Lewis’s boxers.”

You laugh loudly in surprise. “Is that some mantra to cure you of your boner?” you whisper.

“Yes,” he admits, opening his eyes. He looks down at you, his sly smiling returning. “But also, it’s what I think you should display in the final space.”

You break away from in horror. “What? No!”

He says nothing but continues to look at you, nodding slowly in encouragement.

You flush and look away, perplexed that one devilish look from him has you even considering it. “You are such a bad influence on me,” you protest as you chew your lip in consternation.

Now he’s laughing. “I’m just following your instructions,” he says simply, “Do you remember? The first time we ever really talked, you said you were my girl, and I was perfect for corrupting you.”

You gasp again. “I did not say that!”

“You said all those words.”*

You narrow your eyes and purse your lips as you try to recall. “Well… maybe not in that exact order.”

“Put the boxers on the display,” he insists, leaning in closer to murmur in your ear, “Do it. Peer pressure.”

Though his low voice erupts goosebumps across your skin, the words themselves have little effect on you. “You can’t peer pressure someone just by saying peer pressure. Your game is weak.”

“Is it?” he asks softly, casually shifting his hips to press against you. He’s still sporting some growth down there. “Strange, I remember you saying quite the opposite last night—”

“Hi, Shane!” Marnie says, loudly approaching.

Shane jumps away from you, but it’s too late. Her expression is absolutely smug from noticing how close you two were standing together, and she looks at you both like she’s an artist admiring her own painting.

You can finally see why Shane’s pride doesn’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing you’re together.

“Heya, Auntie,” Shane’s tone is cautious. “How’s your display looking?”

“I tried my best, but my display is pretty weak compared to Pierre’s,” she says with a frown, “I hope the mayor judges fairly, with all things put into consideration.”

You pout in confusion as her expression becomes boldly confident once more.

“Well, good luck to you!” she says cheerfully as she walks away.

“Okay, now you have to do it,” Shane insists as he turns back to you, “She basically just admitted to using their relationship to sway his vote. The competition is rigged. He deserves this.”

You frown, realizing he may be right. But that’s not fair… you worked hard on your items!

“You do it,” you say, shoving your backpack into his hands and covering your eyes. “I can’t watch.”

A quiet and evil laughter rumbles in his chest as he takes your bag. “Go tell Lewis you’re ready for judgment.”

With a heavy pit of guilt weighing in your stomach, you march up to the Mayor and nervously blurt that you’re all set to begin the competition. The pit lessens significantly when you turn and catch Marnie sneaking a wink at him, inducing a blush that spreads across the mayor’s cheeks like wildfire.

You stand off to the side, some distance away, as you anxiously await your fate. Shane returns with your bag, an evil grin on his face.

“Hey, so quick question… why do you have so many weapons in here?!” he asks as he helps pull the straps back over your shoulders.

“The mines,” you answer ominously, your eyes glued to the mayor as he ambles over to the grange displays.

“What?! What the hell is down there?” Shane drops his voice to a grumpy mutter, “I don’t know if I like you going down there alone, Sunshine…”

You ignore him, practically trembling with adrenaline as you watch the mayor slowly move down the line, examining the various displays. Marnie stands off to the other side, also watching Lewis closely, and when she catches sight of the lucky purple boxes on display at the same time he does, her smug grin is replaced with abject horror, her cheeks turning crimson.

Lewis’s face is almost purple in rage when he marches over to you.

“You!!!” he yells loudly.

Shane immediately puts his arm around you again, standing tall and ready for a standoff with the mayor. He doesn’t fear Lewis’s reaction in the slightest, and his cocky grin almost emboldens you to stand tall too. Almost.

“Was that some kind of sick prank?!” Lewis bellows when he reaches you. Others are starting to notice, and he drops his voice. “Those are very private.”

Marnie appears by his side, looking just as upset.

“I…I…” You’re squirming under their punishing stares.

Shane saves you. “It was me. I found them and put them there.”

Marnie gasps. “Shane?!”

“What do you know about those shorts, Auntie?” Shane asks her loudly with feigned confusion.

“N-nothing, of course!” she lies before running away.

“Here,” Lewis mutters, passing you a handful of tokens, “Take 750 star tokens, and don’t tell a soul.”

You finally can speak. “I’m so sorry—"

When he sees the remorse on your face, his scowl lessens slightly. He raises a hand to cut off your apology. “Go clean up your box… and bring me my… item… tomorrow.”

When he’s gone, Shane cups his hand over yours and drags all the tokens into his other palm. “That went better than expected,” he comments, his tone light, “I’m going to go double this supply at the color wheel, and then I’ll crush you in the other games, okay?”

“Are you serious?!” you hiss at him before stomping away to go back to your display.

He keeps up with your hastened pace. “Okay, okay, maybe I'll let you win some of them."

“I’m not talking about the games,” you grumble as you shove everything back into your bag, “I can’t believe you just got me into so much trouble.”

He looks genuinely confused. “What do you mean? We were just gifted tokens.” 

“He told me to see him tomorrow!” you argue. When your bag is full of your display items, you turn around and fix him with a glare. “Do you know I was never sent to the principal’s office? Not once. My record is clean, Shane, and I'm proud of that.”

He fights a smile. “That doesn’t surprise me in the slightest, actually. But he’s not our principal, Sunshine. He’s just our town’s elected official who's long overdue for retirement.”

“Which is even worse! My record here is more permanent. I’m so glad you’ve had such a great time corrupting me, but I actually take my role in this town seriously. People count on me. They ask me for favors and expect me to deliver. Lewis thought he could trust me, and he relied on me to be discreet—"

Your words cut off as Shane wraps his arms around you tightly.

You drop your bag to the ground, your arms immediately accepting the hug. You want to stay mad, but the way his large arms envelop you completely… it makes his embrace feel like a fire blanket that immediately snuffs out your fiery temper.

“It’s actually annoying how much you inspire me,” he murmurs in your ear, “Here I was thinking I was seducing you to the dark side, getting a small and petty revenge on my aunt who’s allergic to boundaries, and then suddenly, you have me wanting to be a better person. How do you do that?”

You pull back to scrutinize his face, your brows furrowed.

“I’m not bullshitting you. You’re too good for me, Sunshine,” he promises you as his palms move to the sides of your face. “Fuck. I want to kiss you so badly.”

“Well, if you want…” you tease, biting back a smile.

“No, no. You can’t forgive me,” he insists, breaking the embrace. “I don’t deserve it yet.”

“Yet?” you repeat, crossing your arms with an excited grin.

“Give me two minutes,” he says. “Stay right there.”

You stand and watch as Shane shoves the rare-crow’s stake into the ground. As an apology, he had gambled and increased the token amount just enough to cash them in for a dapper-looking scarecrow that now decorates your farm.

“Good?” he asks, turning back to you.

“Good,” you affirm.

He nods once before throwing himself at you with an eager smile, tugging your face up to his without any more hesitation. “Good,” he murmurs before crashing his lips onto yours.

He groans the moment he feels your kiss, his hands moving to your waist to push you backward up your porch stairs as his lips work over yours with heated abandon. His strides forward are so powerful that your back crashes against the door. You gasp in surprise and only have a second to breathe before his mouth returns to yours, his tongue slipping into his kiss with desperate hunger.

Frantically, your hand blindly searches for the knob beside you. Once the door is open, you stumble backward, grabbing a fistful of his sweatshirt to tug him inside with a seductive smile.

He groans at the sight of it. “Maybe it’s because I haven’t allowed myself to want something in a very long time,” he muses huskily as he backs you up to the kitchen table, his eyes half-lidded, “and I have too much of a build-up of unused desire. Maybe that’s why I can’t seem to stop wanting you, not for even a second.” His tongue drags up your neck before he growls in your ear. “I want to take you again and again and again—”

“Oh my!” a voice interrupts, and for a second, you wonder if your ovaries have become sentient and verbal.

But it didn't come from you. You and Shane fly apart and turn to face the source of the noise:

Elliott is sitting at your kitchen table, looking very pleased, next to Harvey and Leah, who look absolutely mortified.

“That is an excellent line, Shane!” the writer compliments, “I should use that. Harvey, write that down for me.”

Harvey doesn’t move a muscle, too busy staring at your table with misty eyes.

“What are you doing here?!” you demand, your cheeks hot with embarrassment. “How did you get in my house?!”

“It’s Book Club night,” Elliot reminds you, “And you always leave the door unlocked.”

“I thought meetings were postponed around holidays,” you grumble.

“Not this time. This meeting is too important.”

“Did you write a new chapter?” Shane asks, crossing his arms. His tone is forcibly bored, which tells you Shane secretly loves Elliott’s writing and he’s genuinely interested in hearing more of the irksome writer's book.

You smile at the thought.

Elliott kisses his teeth. “Actually, we’re here to kick you out of the club.”

Your smile drops.

“What?!” you, Shane, Leah, and Harvey say at once.

“Clearly, you aren’t lonely hearts anymore,” Elliott asserts, his hand gesturing between the two of you with a graceful wave of his hand. “Ergo, you cannot remain in the Lonely Hearts Club.”

“Or,” Leah argues, “We could just change the name.”

“Or,” Harvey adds, “We could just not have a name at all.”

“I’m with the Doc on this one,” Shane asserts. He mockingly imitates Elliott’s gesture between the two of you. “This was your design, was it not?!”

“I am so pleased you are finally giving me credit.” Elliott grins widely. This, apparently, had been his ulterior motive all along. “Alright, you can stay in the club!” he says lightly, “Now, take a seat.”

You look at Shane with a blush, not ready to let go of the mood the writer had interrupted. “Actually, we were about to…”

“I have a new chapter,” Elliott continues.

Shane takes a seat.

Hours later, Shane bids them all goodbye at the door and individually thanks them for their discretion over what they witnessed on your arrival home.

You lean against the table with a pout, wondering how long he is going to push the whole secrecy thing. Was publicly embarrassing Marnie today not enough? Your frown deepens when you see how your apathetic cat rubs against Shane’s ankles as if Shane is his favorite person in the world.

“What the fuck?” you mutter, feeling utterly betrayed. You fought hard for Bartholomew’s affections, and even still, the most you got was a few seconds of bored eye contact from him.

Shane hears your cursing and looks over his shoulder at you with concern. “What?”

You gesture to your traitorous cat. “Et tu, Bart-è?”

“Huh?” Shane asks again, closing the door. He looks down at his feet and smiles at the little ginger cat rubbing up and down him affectionately. “Oh, Bart. What can I say? Animals love me.”

To prove his point, the cat even goes so far as to start licking Shane’s legs.

“Look at him,” you growl. “It’s like he’s mocking me. ‘I licked him, so he’s mine.’”

“Isn’t that what you did?” he says slyly, stepping closer.

Now you’re confused. “What?”

Shane smiles, stepping carefully over Bartholomeow as he continues to approach you. “You licked beer off of me in the bar before our first kiss.”

Your cheeks flush at the memory. “Ah, yes. I did do that.”

“You licked me,” Shane repeats, moving his hands to your hips seductively. “So I’m yours.”

You search his eyes, which are getting hungrier for you by the second. If you’re mine, then why are we hiding it?!

“When did you know you first liked me?” you can’t help but ask.

He drops his forehead to your shoulder, playfully groaning in agony.

“I’m serious.” You nudge him with a soft laugh.

He straightens, looking off at nothing in particular as he sincerely contemplates his answer. “For a long while, I couldn't figure out if I wanted to kiss you or kill you," he says wryly, "But I knew for certain I was gone for you that day it rained. Do you remember?”

“You came over and told me about your parents’ accident,” you murmur with a nod.

“And you tried your best to distract me from the darkness with your mindless ramblings. You weren't subtle, and I knew what you were doing the whole time, babbling just loud enough to cover the sound of the rain and keep me from thinking too much about it. I knew for certain then.”

“Shane…” you say softly, your voice thick. “The day you knew you liked me was the day you told me we should just be friends?”

His expression shutters. “Ah… yes. I did do that.”

You break into an incredulous laugh. “You absolute weirdo—”

“Shh,” he hushes you, his lips brushing across yours. “We’re here now.”

Chapter Text

Year 1

Fall 18

Marnie’s Birthday

You wake up and roll over, stretching out a lazy arm that falls to the empty space of the mattress behind you.

Oh, right, you remember with a pout, Shane didn’t spend the night.

You’ve tried to be supportive of his request for secrecy, but the fact that he repeatedly sneaks back to his place in the dead of night just so Marnie doesn’t suspect a thing is starting to weigh on you. You want to wake up with his arms around you. You want to cut off his snores with kisses as you ask him if he wants a cup of coffee. You want to spend lazy, sleepy mornings under the covers with him.

Isn’t that what a normal boyfriend and girlfriend would do?

Shane isn’t your boyfriend, you argue with yourself. Not yet at least.

You keep thinking about the status of your relationship as you pack up and set out for your errands. Strange as it may be, you’d rather focus on the uncertainties of what you and Shane specifically mean to each other than dwell on what’s on your itinerary.

Your first stop is the mayor’s house. You’d put off your meeting for one day but couldn’t avoid it any longer.

As you step inside his home, fearing the worst, you find Lewis appears somewhat recovered from his shock at the fair. Perhaps waiting a day had been a smart move.

“So, you found them,” he mutters when you politely place the folded shorts on his kitchen table. “Um, where?”

“Um,” You echo, swallowing harshly. “Marnie’s—"

“I have no idea how they could have gotten there,” he interrupts you, “This entire ordeal stays between you and me. Got it?”

“Of course,” you agree immediately before a second thought hits you, “But also, as you know, Shane too is familiar—”

“Speaking of Shane,” he interrupts you again, gesturing for you to take a seat at the table.

You grit your teeth in annoyance that the mayor isn’t letting you finish a single sentence, but it transitions back to anxiety as you take a seat. Is Shane in trouble for what he did at the Fair?

“What I’m about to say also stays here,” he declares, joining you at the table and clasping his hands together, “Because Marnie would not be pleased to hear this, and I value my… friendship with her. I know she cares deeply for her nephew. Her priority is his happiness. My priority as mayor is the happiness of the town overall.”

“Um, okay—?”

“This town does not have a shortage of eligible partners,” he continues over you, “And as far as our single citizens go, I dare say you are the most esteemed of the bunch. You have given a second life to what was once decrepit ruins, re-building an increasingly successful farm while also becoming a very well-rounded citizen. You give back to your community often, and your kindness is noticed and appreciated by all. Truly, you could have your pick of any of the single gentlemen or ladies that catch your interest.”

You blush deeply at his flattery. “Wow. Thank you,” you murmur softly with a shy smile.

“As your mayor, my hope is for you to make a home here so that your business continues to flourish, thereby contributing to our economy for many years to come. Forging a strong partnership with someone who can meet your greatness is the first step. And forgive me for saying so, but out of all our bachelors and bachelorettes... Shane…”

Your smile drops immediately.

“Well, it’s no secret to any of us that he’s a little lost.”

“He’s not—”

“Let me ask you this,” he interrupts you once more, “When you stand on your porch and look out at your vast farmland, who do you want beside you, bolstering your success? Wouldn't you consider a doctor? A teacher? An emerging novelist? Perhaps, maybe, a blacksmith?”

“Clint?!” you screech.

“He has his own business,” Lewis points out thoughtfully. “You could do a lot worse than Clint. For example... a bad-tempered JojoMart employee with no goals in life apart from getting drunk and exploiting his aunt.”

You grit your teeth. “If this is about the fair—”

“I have nothing against Shane personally. This conversation is strictly about you and your potential.”

You take a deep breath, a rage storming inside of you while, for once, he doesn’t keep prattling on over you. “Who told you Shane and I were together?” you ask under your breath.

“Mar—” This time, he interrupts himself. “Never you mind that."

“Marnie told you,” you push back, freely showing your irritation now.

He huffs out a frustrated breath. “Marnie thinks you alone can transform Shane into an entirely new man, having seen some evidence proving this already. She believes you have a profoundly positive influence to offer a partner. She thinks this makes you and Shane a perfect match. It is for all of those very reasons that I say you are not. And I believe any single citizen would say as much as well.”

“And I say,” you counter, standing up, “It isn’t up to a Yoba-damn one of you.”

He splutters at your language, and you hold up a hand, silencing him.

“Today is Marnie’s birthday,” you growl, “And since I know you have a valuable 'friendship' with her, I thought, as an apology for the events of the Fair, I could arrange for you and Marnie to share a meal in Gus’s private dining room this evening. The menu has been planned for apart from this one detail: lobster bisque or chowder?”

In a very rare moment for him, the mayor is suddenly speechless.

“Lobster bisque or chowder?” you repeat.

“Ch-chowder,” he mutters.

“You’ll have the bisque,” you reply pettily. You’re almost at his door when he calls back out to you.

“Wait! What time?”

“Seven,” you sneer. With your hand on the doorknob, you look over your shoulder. “You’re so wrong about him,” you say more softly, “You both are. You’ll see.”

You slam his door behind you and start grumpily marching over to Stardrop to put in the damn soup order. As you burst inside the saloon, you mentally add one more very important thing to the day's to-do list—

And crash right into Emily. She immediately rebounds backward, her torso flying in the opposite direction before you leap forward and swiftly wrap a hand around her back, catching her with the same grace as if you were dipping her in a waltz. It’s quite the feat, given she’s much taller than you.

“Hi!” she squeaks, her cheeks red as she looks up at you in surprise.

“Woah, that was smooth of me,” you accidentally murmur out loud as you bring her back to a fully upright and stable position.

“It really was,” she agrees, tucking a strand of blue hair around her ear.

You can’t help but smirk. “Usually, I’m the one that's falling over.”

Her responding laugh is melodic. “I know.”

Your mouth gapes in mock offense, and she breaks out into a more nervous giggle. “I just mean, I see you when you’re coming in from the mines for a drink, and you’re always so bloody and dirty—”

You gasp, your jaw dropping further, and she scrambles to explain, “Not dirty! I just mean—!”

“Hello!” Gus intervenes, calling out to you as he enters from the back. “Still on for tonight?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” you grumble, marching over to the counter. “It’ll be the chowder.”

“Having another dinner with Shane?” Emily asks softly with a slight furrow in her brow as she walks around the bar.

“Nope, I’m gifting another duo a private dinner between friends, Lewis and Marnie.”

“Wait, friends?” Emily clarifies, “You mean, you and Shane aren’t…”

You blanche at your blunder. What would Shane want you to say here? Once you cross off the final item on your To-Do List, things will be so much clearer.

“Need anything else?” Gus asks you.

“Coffee, please,” you beg him.

“I’m on it,” he affirms.

“You never came to see me about sewing lessons,” Emily says quietly after an awkward pause.

“Sorry.” Your apology is sincere as you deflate, “Things have been a little up in the air. And listen, when I said Shane was a free man and then accidentally hired you to be the waitress on our date…”

“So, it was a date?” Emily presses.

You groan, and a tortured smile breaks out across your face. “I’m so bad at this.”

“I am, too,” Emily assures you, “I just would like to know if you’re single.”

“Shane is— wait. Me?”

“If you are,” she continues, “I’d love to give you sewing lessons. And if you’re not… well, I would still love to give you sewing lessons.”

“I'm sorry, I'm not single," you say immediately, unable to hold back the subsequent, "W-why me, though?” Why not Shane?

She shrugs, her smile widening. “Because when you first moved here, I had a dream about you, and I knew right then that our life paths would intertwine. The moment I saw your grass skirt, I knew for certain we would have a special bond. I’d like to explore that bond, whatever it looks like.”

Your cheeks blush furiously. Maybe you really are the most eligible single in town. “I think we’d be really great friends, Emily,” you affirm with a growing smile, “I'd love sewing lessons."

"Great!"

“Here’s your coffee,” Gus announces as he reappears. “Would you like to start a tab?”

“That’s okay, I’m taking it to go.”

“Where are you off to next?” Emily asks.

“Gotta pick up a thing at Pierre’s.”

Marnie thanks you profusely for the gift as she saunters out of her bedroom, all dressed up for her birthday dinner with her "friend." She’s halfway to the door when she pauses slightly, turning back around.

“By the way,” she says to you, “That was some strange-looking purple lettuce in your grange display!”

She’s gone before you can even reply. “Really?” you ask Shane, who’s standing just over your shoulder, “That’s the story she’s going with, even after I've just set her up with a date with Lewis? It was lettuce?"

“She’s good at rewriting history,” Shane mutters. “Remind me again why you’re going out of your way to give her a night out with her secret boyfriend?”

You guard your expression. He has no idea what Lewis said to you, and you aren’t sure if he ever should. “I’m doing it so that I can give myself a night in with my secret boyfriend,” you murmur, turning around to wrap your arms around his neck. His eyes widen with delight and you realize you just called him your boyfriend before officially asking. Before he can question you further, you pull him down to you, and his lips are just about to meet yours when Jas interrupts the moment by calling out his name.

“Figures,” you mutter, dropping your arms, “That keeps happening to me today.”

“Relax, I’m not at her beck and call,” he argues on an exhale as he pulls you back up to him. He kisses you deeply for just a moment… until Jas calls his name once more, and he immediately moves to answer her.

You grin, watching him depart down the hall. He’s been showing up for Jas in so many wonderful ways. How can Lewis not see it? How can Marnie not give him credit?

You turn away from the hall, your fists clenching. “They deserve each other, and I hope they burn their tongues on the soup.”

“Are you talking to yourself?” Shane asks warily.

You whirl back around in surprise to see he’s quickly returned with Jas at his side. “I didn’t say anything,” you lie, “I think it came from one of them.” You slowly raise your finger to Jas’s pile of creepy dolls in the corner.

Jas giggles, but Shane’s eyes bulge.

“That’s it,” he grunts, moving to the kitchen, “I’m circling them in salt again.”

“Uncle Shane, noo!” Jas squeals, chasing after him.

“It’s either that or fire,” he yells.

You break into laughter, chasing after them.

As Shane puts Jas to bed, you find yourself pacing back and forth in the darkness of his bedroom. His room is a mess, and you aren’t sure how to go about giving him the bouquet you bought from Pierre's in a way that’s still romantic in such a setting. You also wish you had put more thought into your outfit.

Unless…

You turn to face Shane’s closet, an idea popping into your head.

By the time Shane comes into the bedroom, you’re posed on top of his bed in one of his Tunnelers jerseys… and only one of his Tunnelers jerseys.

“Is it my birthday?” he whispers, frozen in the doorway.

“Get over here,” you order quietly, pausing your bouquet plans to satisfy a different desire first.

He stumbles as if his knees aren’t working properly but quickly closes the distance.

“Sunshine… did you make my bed?” he mutters with a hushed laugh as he climbs over you.

You try to muffle your responding giggle, “Maybe?”

“What was the point?” he taunts you, “When we’re about to dive underneath the covers?”

He throws back the corner of the comforter, and you do just as he said, clumsily shimmying under his covers while simultaneously grabbing onto him to get him over you.

The moment he’s lying on top of you and kissing you senselessly, you feel absolutely feral with need. You start to tug on his shirt, and when he’s too distracted in devouring your neck to remove it, you haphazardly move your hands to grip the hem of your own.

“No, wait,” he stops you, placing a hand over yours. “Leave it on.”

He silences your laughter with his lips, and as his kisses become hungrier, it suddenly doesn’t feel so funny.

“Hi,” a small voice whispers in the dark.

You scream louder than a banshee, which has Shane yelling out obscenities in roaring harmony.

When your terrified yelling subsides, you both realize the voice hadn’t come from one of Jas’s strange-looking dolls who’d come to murder you, but Jas herself… who is standing right next to the bed and staring at you.

Shane and you are frozen, your cheeks only inches apart as you stare back at her with wide eyes.

“How’d you get in here?” he whispers.

“The door was open,” she answered simply. “What are you guys doing? Are you having a sleepover?”

“No,” Shane answers immediately, “I was just going to tickle her for a little bit, and then she was leaving.”

“Oh, really?!” you blurt, your gaze snapping to him.

“Can you read me another story?” Jas asks.

You push Shane off of you, moving to stand. “Come on, little lady,” you insist, taking her hand, “Let’s read another bedtime story, just us girls.”

Forty-five minutes later, Jas is definitely sleeping, and as you creep back into Shane’s room, you make sure to definitely shut the door. Shane is sat on the edge of the bed, his head hung in shame.

“She asked me if we were kissing,” you tell him.

He groans, wiping a hand over his stubble. “Thank Yoba that’s all we were doing. What did you tell her? You should know that anything she hears will go back to Marnie.”

“Oh, can we just drop that already? Marnie clearly knows about us!”

“What?!”

“Lewis… " You pause to take a deep breath. "...asked me about it today. Are you that surprised? We started this whole thing trying to convince the town we were dating, do you really think people didn’t catch on? Did you forget specifically telling Sam that we were together?”

“No, but—"

“And I’m sorry, but I also had to tell Emily today.”

“Emily?” He straightens in surprise. “Why?”

You chew your lip, uncertain of how to break the news.

“Sunshine…” he presses, “Why would you have to discuss it with Emily?”

“Because, as it turns out,” you say with a sigh of regret, “She doesn’t like you. She likes me… and she wanted to know if we were dating.”

“Oh, okay.” He looks at you with his annoyed smile. “So, then… what’s with your expression?”

Your sympathetic frown deepens. “Didn’t you hear what I just said?”

“Yeah, Emily has excellent taste in women. And?” He groans, finally catching on to your concern. “I’ve told you a million times, it was always you, I never liked Emily—”

“Then why are we a secret?!” You stomp your foot, irritated once more.

He pales. "It's too soon—"

"It's been ten years in the making—"

“I just can’t be seen as that guy, okay?!”

He speaks so quickly you almost don’t catch the words. “What guy can’t you be seen as?” you ask, struggling to hold off on being offended until you get more clarity. “The guy… that’s with me?”

“No, Sunshine,” he corrects you as he visibly deflates, “The guy that was with you. And subsequently lost you.”

You’re stunned into silence.

“First, I was the guy who lost his parents,” Shane explains as he looks down at the floor, “Then I became the guy who also lost his best friends. I’ve struggled to be that guy for so long, and I know how others look at me because of that, so I just can’t be the guy who also lost you in their eyes. I’ll barely be able to look at myself when that time comes.”

“When the time comes?” Your throat is thick, your eyes welling with tears. “How can you say that with so much certainty?”

“Let’s face the facts,” Shane argues, “You’re too good for me, and in my life, good things don’t last. Sure, we toed the will-they-won’t-they line for about ten years, and maybe that’s enough to keep you interested in me for a little bit longer while we’re screwing like bunnies, but eventually, you’ll realize I’m just weighing you down and will settle down with someone more deserving of you. I just can’t trust myself to be able to keep you, Sunshine, or I’ll be ruined when you go.”

You look down, your heart breaking over the realization this is what he truly believes. You refuse to adopt the same defeatist attitude. “Can you trust me?”

“What?”

You move to the corner, reaching into your bag and pulling out the bouquet. “Trust me to be able to keep you,” you elaborate, holding it out to him as you approach the bed. “Shane… will you be my boyf—?!”

Your words are cut off by his kiss, his lips crashing to yours as if he’s trying to swallow the words right out of your mouth and keep them inside of him forever.

Of all the interruptions in your day, this one’s your favorite.

Chapter Text

Year 1

Fall 27

Spirit’s Eve

You wake up with a disgruntled wince at the sound of the rooster. Shane had kept you up all night again, and if it weren’t for all the endorphins involved in that, you imagined the lack of sleep might make you cranky. Instead, you felt positively blissful. In the past ten days since you’d given him the bouquet, Shane slept over almost every night, proving what he’d said after the fair about wanting you again and again and again. You’d quickly adapted to the way he held onto you tightly, sleeping restfully in the cage of his cuddles, but then he would shift in his sleep, half-wake up in surprise at the feeling of you pressed against him, and initiate another round as if he’d just discovered he won the lottery.

You knew you could always just tell him you wanted to keep sleeping… if that were the truth. But every time you felt his palm ride up your bare leg, his nose nuzzling into the nape of your neck, you wanted him again just as badly.

Plus, there was always coffee to make the mornings easier.

On a mission to retrieve some, you slowly inch your hips away from Shane and raise your weight to your elbow to silently shimmy out of bed. You are almost to the edge of the mattress when he finally catches onto the movement and throws a heavy arm over you, tugging you right back to him.

“No,” he grunts huskily.

“Do you want some coffee?” you whisper.

Immediately, his arm moves off of you, and he playfully pushes you back to the edge of the mattress.

You laugh under your breath as you reach for your flannel robe and wrap it around yourself. As you move to the kitchen and grab a cup for both you and Shane, you see Bartholomeow pass you on his way into the bedroom. It was your pet’s new routine: he’d give you both your space in the evenings, but in the mornings, he’d stake his claim on Shane’s lap and demand his attention.

Sure enough, when you make your way back into the room with two mugs in hand, Bartholomeow is curled up against him, throwing you a very territorial look. Shane's looks equally possessive, but his eyes are on you as he straightens his posture against your headboard and runs a hand over his stubble. He shakes his head at you slowly.

“I thought you wanted some,” you misinterpret the gesture as you place your knee on the mattress.

He leans over and accepts the cup with an annoyed smile. “It’s not that. I just can’t believe it,” he says, his voice gravelly from sleep, “I’ve been a loser for so long. Now you’re my girlfriend? And you’re bringing me coffee in bed? I’m actually winning at life?!”

You frown. Though he sounds upbeat, his words are eerily similar to what he said in his room: I can’t trust myself to keep you. You made it your mission since then to prove to him there was next to nothing he could do to lose you. And you planned to keep him forever.

As you sip your coffee, you can’t help but slowly move your gaze down his stubble to the light expanse of black hair across his broad chest, to his thick thighs that could probably crush a watermelon between them. He’s both strong and soft in all the right places, and you’re looking forward to Winter when you can hibernate with this bear of a man all night long.

When your eyes return to his, you discover his cheeks are flooded with crimson. He looks away with an embarrassed cough. “Okay. Before that look starts something we can’t finish without traumatizing your cat, I’m gonna get going.”

“Why?”

He nudges Bartholomeow to his side, who protests with a soft meow, and moves to stand, stretching lazily. “I promised I would help Jas get ready with her costume before the day’s events begin. Thanks again for making it for her. She’s really excited to look like her Auntie Princess.”

You grin at Jas’s nickname for you. “She should thank Emily,” you correct him, as he tugs his shorts back on, “It was all her tutelage. If only she and I had met sooner, I could’ve made all my princess costumes by hand.”

When he pulls his shirt over his face, you discover his eyebrows are furrowed. Feigning apathy, he reaches back for his mug on the bedside table. “She hasn’t tried to make another move on you, has she?”

“She said she really liked our vibe and invited us to a threesome with her, but other than that—”

“What?!” he splutters, choking on his coffee.

Your smile is angelic. “Kidding.”

He groans, grabbing you by the necklines of your robe to haul you up against him. “You’re not funny.”

“Tell that to your hilarious face,” you counter with a giggle as you lay a palm on his chest, “But no, Emily and I have both determined our soulmate bond is purely platonic. Even so, never would I have imagined you’d find the idea of a threesome so horrifying—” 

“I don’t want to share you, Sunshine,” he interrupts, his tone serious. “I want to be the only one who gets to bask in you.”

His words send a bolt of electricity down your spine. “It’s a good thing I’m your girlfriend then.”

The corner of his mouth lifts slightly. “It’s a very good thing,” he mutters, lowering his lips over yours. “It might even be the greatest thing, actually.”

You raise your chin, encouraging him to kiss the hell out of you, but he pulls back with a sudden thought.

“Not to say I have anything against Emily! I’m glad you two have become great friends, and honestly, if you said right now you prefer her company to mine, I wouldn’t even question—”

“Shut up,” you grunt, curling your fingers around the back of his neck to haul his mouth down to yours. He wraps his free hand around your waist as you kiss him greedily, holding the mug out to your side so as not to spill any on your mattress. When you pull away, he looks dazed, like the kiss succeeded in dissolving his mean thoughts to static.

His eyes remain half-lidded, and he dips his head again. You can’t help but giggle at how his lips chase yours, but Bartholomeow protests with a loud yowl.

Shane drops his forehead against yours with a blend of a groan and a laugh. “I thought we had an understanding here, Bart,” he says, shifting his head to glare at your cat.

“Technically, it is his turn for affection,” you argue.

Shane looks back at you with a wry squint. “Whose side are you on?”

“Yours. Always.”

His pupils dilate as he reads the sincerity in your gaze. Slowly, he starts shaking his head again. “I really should go. I’ll see you later?”

You nod eagerly in reply with an excited smile.

“Any clues on what you’ll be wearing?” he prods as he moves to leave the bedroom.

You shake your head just as emphatically, your smile turning wicked. “Still a surprise.”

“Yoba,” he groans under his breath, “I’m nervous.”

When the front door closes, you roll over and flash your cat a tentative smile. “Guess it’s just us two.”

The treacherous feline immediately leaps from the bed and pads out of the room.

You stand in the shadows on the edge of town as you tug on the edge of your skirt. Had it always been this short, or did Emily secretly bring the hem up a few inches?

It’s difficult to gauge everyone’s outline in the dark of the night, but as far as you’ve been able to see, everyone else is in some kind of costume, too. You breathe a sigh of relief, realizing this event won’t be a repeat of the Luau.

As you step further into town, Marnie and Jas catch you almost immediately.

“Auntie Princess!” Jas cheers, running right up to you.

You drop to a knee to hug the little girl who’s almost drowning in ruffles and tulle. “How do you like the costume, little lady?”

“She loves it!” Marnie answers. She flashes you a grateful smile, and despite your complicated feelings about the woman, you give her a friendly smile right back.

“Marnie won’t let me go into the maze,” Jas pouts, “But I’m not scared.”

“Of course you're not!” Shane declares, overhearing as he approaches. “Your dolls are probably much scarier than anything in there.” He tilts back the last of his pumpkin ale, and as you slowly stand in anxious anticipation of his reaction to your outfit, his eyes fall on you and widen.

Immediately, the mouthful of ale dribbles down his chin, and he curses under his breath, wiping a frantic hand across his mouth as he closes the distance between you. When he arrives before you, his arms move like he doesn’t know whether to hug you, kiss you, or shield you from the other’s view.

“Go, win, fight!” you chant, popping a leg out from your cheerleader skirt and miming the waving of a pom-pom.

“Yoba, Sunshine, you look…” He shakes his head, his eyes scaling down your costume. He drops his voice to a murmur, “This is the picture I need on my vision board.”

“Me, cheering you on?” you clarify with a laugh. “You’re so cheesy.”

He snorts. “I have my moments. But don't tell the others, or you'll ruin my reputation as the town curmudgeon.” He looks over at his aunt, who is smiling beatifically and clutching her hands together with delight. “Is it okay if we—?”

“Go,” she encourages. “Have fun, you two!”

He takes your hand and pulls you quickly away from his aunt and goddaughter, a small smile growing on his face as he walks you over to the first table, where Emily is admiring the food. When your friend hears you approaching, she looks down her red nose at you. Even under her pastel clown makeup, you can see she is thrilled by the results of your sewing.

She grins. “I knew you would kill it.”

“It’s a little shorter than I remember,” you murmur thoughtfully, crossing your arms with the suggested accusation. 

Emily’s smile widens, and she throws her parting words to you over her shoulder as she makes a quick escape. “I don’t hear him complaining!” The bells on the collar of her clown jumpsuit jingle as she disappears.

“Indeed, I am not,” Shane agrees, looking down at you. “I’m a lucky guy. You're a lot better-looking than me, you know that?”

You shake your head, grabbing hold of his face and pulling him down to you.

He pulls away from the quick kiss with a goofy smile. “This is going to be a great night.”

“Except you forgot something.”

“What?”

“Your costume.”

He rolls his eyes. “You could never convince me to wear a costume, Sunshine.” You pout in disappointment, and he runs a thumb over your extended lip. “Actually, I immediately take that back. If you’d made this face, I would’ve been convinced. I’ll do whatever you want if you make this face.”

Your smile returns, and you kiss his cheek. “C’mon,” you say, taking his hand to pull him along, “I want some pumpkin ale.”

“I think they're out,” Shane reports sadly.

“Already? Why?”

“That’s what I’ve been askin’,” he replies with a shrug.

“Then I’m sorry you lost the last of yours drooling at the sight of me.”

“Shut up,” he grunts with a roll of his eyes. His blushing cheeks give his true feelings away. “It’s okay, though. I was about to switch to cola anyway.”

“Sounds perfect,” you reply, “Meet you at the skeletons? I’ll grab us two cans and be right back.”

As you move through the party on your quest for cola, you’re pleased to discover Elliott standing by the drinks table, classily dressed as a fancy vampire.

“Why, hello,” he greets you, his eyes moving down your costume with approval. “It's chilly, isn't it?”

“I feel plenty warm,” you insist, though you absentmindedly tug the top another inch over your midriff.

He laughs melodically, hooking his arm around yours to share in the warmth of his long black cape. “Where’s your beau?”

“He’s over there,” you answer, nodding to where Shane stands by the skeleton cage. As you pass Clint, who’s dressed as a medieval knight, you notice the blacksmith's eyes linger a little too long on your bare legs, and you grimace.

“No costume?” Elliott scoffs when you’ve made it back to Shane.

“Maybe next year,” Shane answers, taking a cola from your hand, “But it’ll take a lot of persuading from Sunshine here.”

“Don’t tempt me with a good time,” you answer slyly, leaning up to kiss his cheek again.

Shane blushes, turning back to Elliott. “Where’s the doc?”

“He’s gone into the maze, the madman,” Elliott answers with a dramatic sigh. “I don’t know why he felt the need to prove himself. He’s probably frozen in fear at some dead end.”

“Should I go and rescue him?” you ask with worry.

“You?” Shane questions.

“Need I remind you of the weapons I keep in my bag?” you say. “If I can handle the mines, surely I can handle the maze.”

“Prove it,” Shane challenges you, a wicked glint in his eye. “Go snag the golden pumpkin.”

“Okay, I will!” you accept the dare haughtily. You pass your cola to Elliott. “Be right back!”

You started your journey in the maze by quickly rescuing Harvey and showing him the exit before moving through the other areas. Shane had been right to assume Jas’s dolls were scarier than the hedges' decorations, and as you near the middle of the passageways, you start to wonder if there will be anything genuinely horrifying in this maze.

You get your answer immediately:

Yes. An Over-Confident Man.

Alex is dressed in a professional gridball uniform, and as he turns to face you, his grin becomes saccharine. From the smell coming off of him, you can guess where all the pumpkin ale went. You sigh in dreaded anticipation of his usual dumb jock antics.

“Hey, farmer girl,” he coos, “Looks like our costumes make us a perfect match. Want me to help you get out of here? There's something weird over there, and I’m thinking there's gotta be a secret passage somewhere around here.”

“Thanks for the hint, but I’d rather go it alone, thanks,” you answer quickly as you move to walk past him.

He steps in your way. “We could solve it together. Two brains are better than one.”

“I prefer going solo,” you insist, brushing your shoulder against his as you quickly move past him.

He follows you immediately, his steps quickly catching up beside you as you both break into a large opening. “I thought the whole point of being a cheerleader was to root for teamwork,” he teases, “You know, like, ‘Goooo Alex!’”

“Alex, goooo!” you echo as you gesture for him to go away from you. “How was that?”

Abigail snorts from where she stands by the fountain, dressed as a witch. “You need any assistance?”

“Thanks, but I’m getting that pumpkin by myself!” you insist.

She shakes her head with a snort. “I meant with doofus over here. I can’t go any further in the maze… spiders…”

“Sounds scary,” Alex feigns a shiver of fear as he tries to reach for your hand, “Don't worry, farmer girl, I’ll protect you.”

You evade his grasp and break into a run, feeling genuinely spooked by how the sound of his confident laughter carries over the foggy breeze behind you.

When the quest is completed, you quickly exit the maze and walk over to Shane, Harvey, and Elliott, holding your prize in the air.

“Never doubted you for a second, Sunshine!” Shane calls out as Elliott whoops and Harvey applauds. When Shane catches sight of your weak smile, he closes the distance. “Was it actually scary?” he asks you softly, stepping forward to cup your cheek, “You look a little frazzled.”

You shake your head. “It wasn’t the decorations, it was—”

“You’re kidding!” a voice interrupts from behind.

“That,” you finish with a roll of your eye. You turn around to face Alex, holding the golden pumpkin up with a proud quirk in your eyebrow. “Told you I would get it on my own.”

“Okay, well, I basically told you where it was,” he scoffs. He raises a finger that waggles between you and Shane, who has positioned himself confidently by your side. “I’m talking about this little pairing… when you just assured me in the mines you were solo!”

“What?” Shane snarls as you immediately protest:

“Oh, come on, Alex. That’s not what I meant, and you know it!”

Alex grins at Shane, seemingly thrilled that he took the bait. “Nice costume, Shane. What’d you come as, a washed-up has-been?” He turns back at you, gesturing at his jersey. “Whereas me… I have my whole pro gridball career ahead of me.”

Before, you were annoyed. Now, you're pissed off. You take a threatening step forward. “What did you just say to him?"

"Ignore him, Sunshine," Shane mutters.

"Sunshine?" Alex repeats. "If she's sunshine, what does that make you? Moonshine?" He laughs loudly at his own joke, but when no one joins in, his face drops to confusion. "Do you guys get it? Because he's a drunk?"

"He isn't," you immediately reject the notion.

“Oh, come on, farmer girl,” he continues, “I can accept that you have a history with him… but with me…”

“Oh, please don’t,” you beg quietly.

“He will,” Harvey mutters forebodingly.

“…You have a future,” Alex finishes confidently.

Everyone groans, but from the way Shane’s face murderously darkens, you almost worry that Alex won’t have any future at all.

“Go on! Hit him!” Elliott calls out.

You all turn to the writer, and he shrugs with a delighted smile and gestures for you to continue as if he’s directing a play.

Shane takes the direction, and before you can stop him, he dives forward, tackling Alex to the ground. It’s clear it’s been a while since either of them fought somebody because they mainly just sloppily roll over each other in an unskilled flurry of fists. When Alex’s punch lands directly on Shane’s mouth, however, you determine it’s time to end it.

You grab Shane’s arm and pull him from Alex, who is held back under Harvey’s grasp.

“Alright, alright,” Shane mutters as he moves to stand, spitting out some blood on the ground beside him. “Anybody else?!” he calls out like a gladiator prepared for another round, only he's out of breath, and his steps falter... and he shortly thereafter collapses back to the ground.

You smack a palm to your forehead.

“See?!” Alex yells to you, pointing at Shane like a toddler tattle-tailing, “He can’t even defend your honor! If this was a duel, you'd be mine!”

“Duel, you say?” you mutter, reaching into your bag.

Alex continues to spew his petulant insults at Shane, but his words trail off as his eyes drop to the edge of your broad sword that you’ve suddenly tucked under his chin.

“Not one more word against Shane,” you speak through your teeth, "Got it?"

“Oh my,” Elliott murmurs from behind. “Harvey, write this down! I want to remember every moment.”

The doctor looks exasperated, frantically nodding his head to his hands that are clearly preoccupied with holding tightly to Alex.

“Are we done here?” you ask Alex with a tilt of your head.

“Okay!” Alex whines, breaking free from Harvey’s grasp as he stands, “Yeesh. I was only kidding.”

Shane sits on top of your kitchen table as you hold up the bag of ice over his swelling lip, your cheeks flushing under the heat of his gaze.

“So hot,” he says under his breath for the fourth time.

You snort out a laugh in spite of yourself. “Shut up,” you mutter. “I’m still mad at you for getting yourself hurt. There was no need to hit him, Shane, he’s just a dumb jock.”

“So was I once,” he argues, “And trust me, I wish more people had knocked some sense into me back then.”

You shake your head in disagreement, looking down at the first aid supplies Harvey sent you home with. If anything, Shane had been forced to grow up too fast.

“Or, better yet…” he continues lightly, “If a hot cheerleader threatened me with a sword—”

You drop the ice. “Oh my Yoba, shut up—!”

He cuts off your words with a kiss but pulls away quickly with a wince. “Ow.”

Your smile twists as you look down at the cut on his lower lip. “Serves you right.” You move the ice pack to the redness on his cheek, and he keeps talking excitedly like he's amped up on cola.

“I haven’t fought for something in so long,” he muses aloud, “It’s nice to know I still got it."

“My hero,” you mutter wryly.

“You’re the hero,” he corrects, dropping his tone with awe, “Bringing a sword to a fistfight.”

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t like what he said about you,” you mumble, looking away with shame.

“Do not apologize,” Shane insists, laying his hand on your waist with earnest, “I’m not kidding when I say that was so hot. You, in that cheerleading skirt, defending me with a sword outstretched in your hand. That’s the vision board photo I need. I feel like I could conquer the world with you by my side.”

You’re silent, not willing to show how much his words mean to you when you’re still clinging to your anger.

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize how much of a badass you’ve become, but I see it now,” he promises, “You were already so far out of my league, but now it’s like you’ve leveled up even more.”

Your walls crack, and you blush at his praise, looking around thoughtfully. “I guess I have come a long way, huh?” you answer, sufficiently distracted. “When I first arrived, I kind of thought this would just be another passing career, another brief chapter in my tumultuous life that disappoints my parents. But I really like the work, and I’m surprisingly good at it. It’s funny to look back on my last summer here with Grandpa when I had little to no interest in farming. We had no idea I might one day wonder if it was my calling all along.”

“Your grandpa sort of had a feeling this would happen,” Shane disagrees.

You drop the ice in surprise at his words. “What?”

He lays another hand on your waist, pulling you closer. “The next summer, when I came back, I visited him. He said you were off living your life to the fullest and that he expected you would have many more adventures before coming back to the Valley to settle down. He even said, ‘I’m going to leave this land to her in my will. She has that farmer’s spirit: innovative, loving, nurturing growth all around her. She’ll come back one day and make this place even better.’”

Your eyes mist over, and your throat thickens at his words. “You should’ve told me.”

“He made me promise I wouldn’t give you any heads up… and he also made me promise that I’d come back again to visit you when you arrived. Clearly, neither of us realized where life would take me, but I’m glad it all worked out this way.”

You kiss the side of his mouth that isn’t injured. “So… you knew at some point I'd be moving back here? Is that why you came back, too, so shortly after Grandpa passed? You stalk the paper’s obituaries or something?”

“No,” he blurts, his face blushing, “I’d long lost any sense of hope for us. I came back for Marnie’s help with Jas.”

You bite back a smile.

“Okay, he did send me a letter," he relents, "And I considered his words briefly when determining where Jas and I could go, but it was only a whisper of a thought in the back of my mind. A brief glint of light in the darkness."

"Of all the people meddling in this relationship," you say fondly, with a shake of your head, "Who knew the real champion was Grandpa. Can I read the letter?"

Shane blushes. "Um... maybe someday."

You smile, wondering just what your grandfather might've said to induce such a reaction in Shane. "Either way, I'm glad he sent it."

"Me too," Shane agrees, his eyes raking down your body. "I mean... look at where it led me."

"Okay. Before that look starts something we can’t finish without traumatizing my cat," you declare, your eyes flashing to your ginger cat curled up by the fire, "Less talking. More ice."

Chapter Text

Year 1

Winter 12

Winter was taking a toll on Shane. Whether it was the season’s natural diminishing of Vitamin D or just shadows seeping into his mind after settling into the new norm of being with you, with each passing day, you could feel Shane start to withdraw into himself.

He was still around physically, lounging on your couch or sipping cola beside you at the Saloon, but his words were more often monosyllabic, and his eyes were more tired and dull.

“Come on,” you say, crawling over to him one of the mornings he stays in bed. “My whole day is practically free! Let’s go make a snowman with Jas. Or explore the forest. Or whatever you want! There’s a wide, wide world out there!”

He rolls away and only briefly glances at you from over his shoulder. “I’d rather stay in my room.”

You sit back on your heels, looking down at him. “Okay,” you say, “But I’m making you breakfast and coffee, and you’re going to finish both.”

“Oh, nooo,” he feigns horror, pulling the covers up higher over his shoulder, “Don’t do thaaaat.”

At least he still has a sense of humor. With a half-smile, you drop a kiss on his temple and quietly pad down the hallway to Marnie’s kitchen, dressed in one of Shane’s hoodies and some leggings. The mornings spent at Marnie’s weren’t your favorite, and it only has you wondering if it is still too soon to ask Shane to move in. You could even refurbish the craft room to be a playroom for Jas.

Marnie is sitting at the table, holding a coffee in her hand. The moment she sees you enter the kitchen, her eyes widen, and she frantically gestures you over to sit with her.

“What’s going on?” she whispers. “Are you two fighting?”

“No,” you whisper back with confusion, “Why do you ask?”

“You know why,” her tone is harsher, “He’s being lazy again.”

“He’s not being lazy,” you deny immediately.

Marnie rolls her eyes. “You’ll just enable him by ignoring there’s a problem with his behavior.”

“I’m not ignoring anything,” you insist, laying your palms on the table with sincerity. “I’m meeting him where he’s at. Winter’s tough, and getting out of bed can feel like an impossible task for us all some days. The last thing he needs is to be made to feel worse about the things he doesn’t have the wherewithal to fight against.”

She shakes her head with a sigh. “I’m sorry, I just… I want him to be better.”

“You need to give him more credit,” you insist. “He’s come such a long way. Shane—"

A cough interrupts you, and you turn to see Shane standing in the hallway, his eyes narrowed at you both with suspicion. “What’s going on here?”

“Nothing,” you squeak. “How does a nutritious breakfast sound?”

An awkward silence lingers in the air as he continues to look between you and Marnie.

“Actually, I think you should go home, Sunshine,” he says lowly.

You blush, his rejection stinging harder than a snowball to the face.

“Shane!” Marnie scolds.

His unamused expression settles on Marnie, but his words are directed at you. “I’ll come over yours later.”

“Okay,” you whisper, moving to grab your things and leave.

But Shane never came.

Year 1

Winter 13

You’d paced the same path up and down the floor of your room so much you practically removed the stain from the hardwood. It had been a sleepless night, and not for the usual fun reasons. Halfway through the night, you almost convinced yourself that Shane wasn’t just withdrawing into himself; he was pulling away from you.  Maybe he was giving into the mean thoughts that told him he didn’t deserve you; maybe he still believed you’d be better off in the long run if he just ended it now.

You sighed, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. If Shane thought he could push you away so easily, he had another thought coming. You would always fight for him.

From the moment he first glared at you in the bar, and you saw the sadness in his eyes, you wanted to shield him in your heart and protect him from anything else that could hurt him. From the moment he snarled at you and told you to go away, and you determined there was no fake version of yourself that could appease him, so you might as well be yourself, you craved his company like a breath of fresh air. From the moment he held your face and told you that you were his, you were irrevocably in love.

You jump up from the bed when the thought hits you. You couldn’t give a damn what anyone else thought about who you should be with or what you deserved. It was your call to make, and you’d choose Shane every time.

Determined to tell him before he could pull away any further, you move to the front door, shocked to find him already standing on your doorstep at 6:30 in the morning.

“Sweetheart, for the last time, can you please answer the door in pants?” he groans, his eyes falling on your bare legs. “It’s too cold to just be in a robe.”

Your heart zings at the term of endearment, and you throw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around him tightly.

“I’m sorry I didn’t make it over,” he says sincerely, hugging you back. “I hate that I kept you waiting and let you down, but I needed to have a long talk with Marnie, and it turned into a whole evening. It actually went well, though, surprisingly.”

“Come in and tell me all about it,” you insist, eager to pull him inside.

He stays firmly planted on your porch. “I can’t… I have some things to do first, but I just couldn’t wait any longer to see you. I wanted to tell you something.”

You hitch your breath. “What?”

The wariness in your tone makes him nervous. “I, uh, got two tickets to the Tunnelers game tonight.”

“What?!” you ask again.

He flashes you a soft, nervous smile. “If you want to come, meet me at the bus stop around 5 pm.”

“Of course, I’ll come!” you insist. I love you, you mentally add. You aren’t certain he’s ready to hear it.

He takes a step closer, cupping your face as he finally reads the restlessness in your eyes. “Hey,” he says softly, “You know if I ever seem cranky, you should just ignore it, right? I get in weird moods sometimes, but it's not about you... okay?”

“I won’t ignore it,” you mumble.

“I mean it, Sunshine. Yesterday I was only upset at Marnie… and myself.”

“Why yourself?”

“I’ll tell you later. Just come to the bus stop at 5.”

You hear Shane’s laughter before you see him, and the sound immediately fills your chest with warmth and soothes your nerves. As you walk down further the path to the bus stop, you can see Elliott, Harvey, and Leah are waiting for you and Pam.

“Hey, there you are!” Shane greets you, closing the distance to pull you into a deep kiss.

Elliott whoops and hollers, but Shane happily ignores it, his arms wrapping around your waist tightly to lift you off your feet into a bear hug.

“I’m glad you decided to come,” he says when he places you back on the ground.

“Are you kidding?”

“Well, I know gridball isn’t exactly your thing…” his voice trails off as he takes in the Tunnelers jersey you’re wearing under your coat. “Yoba,” he groans, “You look hot.”

You blush, moving your gaze to your attentive audience. “Are we all going?” you ask, looking at your friends with an excited smile.

“Just the guys,” Leah clarifies. “I didn’t feel like paying for a ticket, so I’m just seeing you all off. I’ll catch you at the Saloon later, and you can tell me all about it.”

“We better get a move on,” Shane adds, looking down at his watch.

You all hug Leah goodbye and board the bus. You and Shane take a seat across the aisle from Elliott and Harvey, and you squeeze his hand with excitement. “Can you tell me how things went with Marnie now?”

“Yeah,” he starts with a sigh, “I just didn’t like hearing her put the burden of all my happiness on you. Like it’s your job to fix me entirely whenever I’m in a funk. I know her heart is in the right place, but I thought it was long overdue that I stand up for myself. So, we talked a lot… and then I showed her the secret hen house.”

“Shane, that’s great! What did she think?”

“She was pretty impressed, actually,” he said, his cheeks going pink, “It was like for the first time she really saw me as more than a disappointment, you know? She even went so far as to say she can’t wait to tell the mayor about the blue chickens that will make his town famous.”

Your grin turns wicked. Tell him, Marnie. That’ll show Lewis.

“Shane,” Elliott sings his name from across the aisle. “Harvey and I just discovered we know next to nothing about gribball.”

“Gridball,” you and Shane correct immediately.

“Precisely. Care to fill us in on the rules before we arrive?”

For the rest of the bus ride, Shane goes in depth on how the game is played. You nod along as if you knew all this already, but secretly, you're grateful for the lesson as well. When you get to the stadium, he looks increasingly agitated.

“Pre-game nerves,” he mutters in explanation when you ask him what’s wrong, “I get them on or off the field.”

“I believe in them,” you assure him as he leads you all to your seats down the steps. “They’ll win.”

“Ever the unflappable optimist,” he says with a snort, “That’s what I love about you, Sunshine.” Your steps falter, hearing the L Word come out of his mouth, and his cheeks turn crimson. “Ah, seats are front row there. You guys go ahead,” he transitions, “I’ll go grab us some beers.”

“Ooh, I’ll take a cabernet sauvignon if they have it!” Elliott declares, “If not, I’ll take—"

“No names, just colors.” Shane glowers at him. “White or red?”

“Cabernet Sauvignon is red, Shane.”

“Same order for me, please,” Harvey adds politely.

“You got it, bub.” Shane turns back to you to drop a quick kiss on your cheek and climbs the stairs once more.

The moment you’re alone with Elliott and Harvey, you look at them suspiciously. “What exactly is going on here?”

Elliott grins impishly, as always. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Shane has always talked about taking us to a game,” Harvey surprisingly adds to the lie. “There’s nothing special about his hopes for this day whatsoever.”

“Very smooth,” Elliott mutters.

You roll your eyes with a smile, and as you move to take your seats, you find yourself feeling almost completely weightless compared to the way you started the morning. Shane had arranged an outing with his friends! Shane wanted to experience a real gridball game with you! Shane was being vulnerable!

Take that, Winter Blues!  

When Shane returns, he still looks a little keyed up. “Listen,” he says, once he takes his seat beside you. He has to almost shout to be heard over the noise of the crowd. “I’ve been meaning to say this for a while, and I’m really mad at myself that I don’t say it often enough… but thanks for sticking with me through everything… my anxiety, depression… you know. From the day we’ve met, you’ve always been a really good friend to me, and—”

Something big apparently happens in the game, and everyone moves to their feet with a shout, including Shane, who acts like he wasn’t just about to say something important.

“Your first gridball game, huh?” He yells over to you over the chanting cheers with a wide smile, “What do you think?”

“It’s noisy!” You yell back with a laugh. “Makes me appreciate the peacefulness at home.” If only we were there now, you think, and I could actually hear the heartfelt moment we’d been sharing.

“I guess that makes sense,” he replies with a laugh as the chanting only gets louder. “Me? I get bored with Pelican Town sometimes. But I like that you’re different. We balance each other out.” He quickly flashes you another grin. “In fact, I— gahh!” He jerks his face back to the game, his eyes widening with excitement. “Look, the Tunnelers are on the attack!”

“Shane,” you press with increased desperation, but your voice is lost to the chaos surrounding you.

“GOAL!” he yells, jumping up and down with the rest of the fans.

The entire stadium erupts with noise, and your head jerks around as you take in all the excitement. Elliott and Harvey are even clutching each other and bouncing with cheers, and you turn with a snort to point it out to Shane when all of a sudden his lips are upon you. He’s tossed his beer aside and is kissing you so heartily you worry you might fall to your knees from how weak they suddenly feel. His fingers delve into your hair, and his palms keep your head tilted to receive the full onslaught of his lips.

“I love you so fucking much,” he blurts, resting his forehead against yours. His confession is just loud enough to be heard over the calming din of the arena, and the moment the words slip out, his eyes bulge in horror. He drops his hands from your face like he’s on the verge of bolting. “I’m sorry! I got carried away there. Maybe I had one too many.”

“You had one and barely that,” you argue with a laugh.

He laughs sheepishly along with you, and the sound transitions to a groan. “Okay, fine, I mean it, I love you! I can’t wait any longer to say it, alright?! Elliott told me to plan a perfect day and tell you at the end, but I guess typical me just can’t help but ruin—”

You cut him off with a kiss of your own, one hand cupping the back of his neck to pull him down to you as the other holds tight to your beer. “I love you, too,” you say firmly.

His responding smile is beatific, and he releases a short laugh as if he almost doesn’t believe it.

“Yay!” Elliott yells loudly as he turns to face the crowd behind him.

“The other team has the ball now,” a fan a few rows back sneers.

“I’m talking about them!” Elliott gestures to you both. “They just confessed they love each other!”

He gets the entire arena to cheer along him as Shane pulls you into another kiss, not even embarrassed in the slightest. When he pulls away and fist bumps to his audience, inducing more cheers, you reach down for his discarded cup and pour in the remaining half of your beer into it.

“Hey,” you say with a sly smile as you pass him his drink, “To you and your future.”

“No, Sunshine,” Shane corrects, his free hand worming around your waist to haul you up against him. “To us and our future.”

Later that evening, as you lay in bed together, you lift your head from Shane’s chest, gesturing a hand to his goofy grin. “What’s this?”

He lifts his head from the pillow and looks down at you like you have three heads. “You're really wondering why I have this goofy grin on my face? You really have a short memory span, don't you?”

You gasp in feigned offense, but he pulls you on top of him, kissing you deeply. When you separate, his eyes are loving as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I told them about you, you know,” he says after a thoughtful silence. “Jas’s parents.”

“Yeah?” you ask quietly with a happy smile.

“Yeah. They used to call my sixth beer The Sunshine Round. Apparently, after my sixth, I would always find some way to bring you up. I called you The One That Got Away. You know what Taylor said?”

You shake your head.

He cups your cheek with his palm and pulls you in closer, his words a whisper against your lips before he kisses you again. “She said… she doesn’t have to be.”

You’d been best friends for a summer, strangers for ten years, close friends for a few weeks, and now you were officially dating and in love.

So... how soon was too soon to get a mermaid pendant?