Chapter Text
The farmer stirred awake to the bright golden sunlight beaming into her eyes. The storm was only a memory now, the entire valley had been washed clean.
Shifting under her blankets, her gaze dropped to Hotdog curled at the foot of the bed, his snoring filling the quiet farmhouse.
She couldn’t help but smile. “My little goober,” she whispered, reaching down to scratch behind his ear. He gave a sleepy attempt of a tail wag, thumping against the mattress, not even bothering to open his eyes.
Sitting up, she stretched her arms and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Sunlight spilled across the wooden floorboards in warm stripes, catching dust in the air and giving everything a soft glow.
For a moment, she just sat there.
Something about the valley felt different this morning.
By the door, her boots waited as she reached for them, fingers brushing over the worn leather before she pulled them on.
Her eyes drifted to the hoodie draped over the back of her chair. Crossing the room, she picked it up carefully. The fabric was worn soft with age, the bottom hem speckled with tiny burn holes and patches carefully sewn up the sleeves. She traced the stitching around them with her fingers before she slipped the hoodie over her body.
The early mornings of the valley had a certain chill to them, especially after a storm. There was always a cool breeze that swept off the ocean and drifted into the town.
The sleeves draped down to her hands and it still smelled faintly like rain, smoke, and something distinctly him. She pushed the hood back and bunched up the sleeves.
“Okay.” She muttered to herself, steadying her thoughts.
Hotdog jumped down from the bed as she headed to the door.
“C’mon, Goober. We’ve got work to do.”
Outside, the farm glistened. Puddles reflected the blue sky in broken pieces and the crops shimmered in the sunlight, still beaded with water from the sprinklers. The tomatoes were coming in strong and the progress of the melons was slow but promising.
Crouching beside the bushes, she picked the ripe blueberries, tossing them into her basket. By the time she’d gathered them all, it was so heavy she could barely lift it. Straining against the weight, she carried it over to the bin beside the farmhouse and dumped the blueberries inside.
After the crops came time for the animals.
The coop door creaked open and a swarm of birds greeted her with eager clucks and quacks. She scattered feed, topped off the water trough and moved from nest to nest collecting eggs– brown, white, the occasional larger one from her pride and joy hen, Shelly.
Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Twenty-three…
Twenty-four.
Two dozen.
She smiled.
The past few days she’d been setting eggs aside for Gus after he’d posted a request on the special requests board outside Lewis’ house.
I've got the urge to make my famous giant omelet... but I'll need two dozen eggs. Any takers? - Gus.
The farmer carefully placed the final egg into her basket and stepped back out into the morning sunlight. The air was still crisp with the chill from the night’s storm, but the warmth of the day was already beginning to creep in.
Alright. Now the barn.
Just like the birds, the cows greeted her with low moos, shuffling across the hay covered floor.
Setting the basket of eggs on a nearby crate, she grabbed the milk pail.
The morning chores settled into their usual rhythm.
Milking. Brushing. Refilling the feed trough.
One task led to the next until time seemed to move on without her noticing.
At some point in the middle of it all, between gathering the eggs and milking the cow, her thoughts drifted away. The storm, the lake, their conversation under the rain. It all slipped to the back of her mind.
She didn't even notice the irony.
The memory of yesterday faded away all while she was still wearing his hoodie.
The oversized sleeves hung past her hands as she worked, occasionally slipping down and getting in her way, but the farmer was too busy moving through the rhythm of her chores to think much about it.
By the time she finished with the animals, the sun had climbed higher over the mountains.
The rest of the day passed quickly.
Afternoon slipped by as she cleared branches that the storm had scattered across the field. Hotdog followed her everywhere, occasionally chasing butterflies or trying to play fetch with the sticks the farmer was attempting to clear from the ground.
Cleaning the field took longer than she expected; by the time she was done, the sun began dipping towards the horizon and the sky was painted orange.
Inside the farmhouse, she grabbed the basket of eggs she left on the table.
The walk to town was quiet. Evening had settled over the valley, and the lanterns along the paths flickered softly as crickets began to chirp.
Warm light spilled from the windows of the Saloon and the muffled sounds of music and laughter drifted through the door.
The familiar warmth washed over her, the scent of fried food and beer, the low hum of conversation filling the room.
Everyone was exactly where they usually were. Elliot and Leah sat at their usual table near the jukebox. In the corner, Robin and Demetrius swayed slowly to the music like they did every Friday night. And over by the fireplace, Shane leaned against the brick, likely on his sixth beer of the night.
Gus stood behind the bar polishing a glass. When he spotted her, his face lit up. “Good evening!” He boomed.
“Hey Gus.” She lifted the basket up onto the bar. “Delivery!”
His eyes widened as he peered inside. “Two dozen?”
”Fresh from my chickens.”
Gus let out an impressed whistle. “You might be my favourite farmer in the whole valley… don't tell Marnie.”
The farmer laughed softly, leaning against the bar as he carried the basket of eggs to the fridge behind the counter. She lingered there, content to listen to the buzz of conversation filling the saloon, when the sound of slow, exaggerated clapping cut through the chatter.
She turned towards the noise.
Sam stood beside the pool table, cheering. “There he is…” he called.
Her eyes followed the direction he was looking.
Sebastian straightened up from the pool table, cue still in his hand. He brushed a strand of hair from his face before glancing up towards the bar.
Towards her.
Their eyes met across the saloon.
It was only for a second, but something about the way he looked at her made her stomach dip slightly, like she'd been caught doing something she wasn't supposed to be.
Her gaze dropped to the sleeve of the hoodie, the memory of yesterday flashing through her mind.
That’s when Sam glanced up at her too.
She lifted her hand in a small wave.
Sam waved back immediately, big and enthusiastic.
Sebastian on the other hand only gave a short, stiff nod.
A small smile lingered on her face for a second before she turned back towards Gus who was sorting the eggs into the fridge.
“I owe you big time,” he said.
”It’s no trouble at all,” she replied. “I'm just glad I could help.”
”No, I mean it. Whatever you want tonight— on me.” He paused, then slid a small pouch of coins across the counter. “Oh, and this is for you”
The farmer picked it up, tucking it into her pocket. “Thanks.”
She found herself unable to resist glancing back towards the pool table.
Sam and Sebastian were huddled close together, shoulders nearly touching as they whispered back and forth. From across the room she couldn’t make out their words, only the quiet hum of voices blending into the chatter of the saloon.
Gus noticed her gaze. “Those two have been coming in an awful lot lately.” He said, polishing another glass behind the bar. He paused, glancing towards the pool table with a faint smile. “Not that I mind. It’s good for business,” he added with a small shrug.
Across the room, Sebastian leaned over the pool table, lining up a shot that missed the pocket completely.
She turned back toward the bar before either of them noticed she'd been watching. But even then the faint sound of Sam's laughter and muffled murmurs carried across the bar.
Gus set the freshly polished glass back on the shelf and leaned his forearms against the bar. “So,” he said warmly, “what can I get you tonight?”
”What’s tonight’s special?” She sat down on one of the stools in front of the bar.
His eyes lit up at the question. “Well, tonight’s special is fried mushrooms,” he said proudly. “Fresh from the forest this morning. Nice and earthy, aromatic— crispy on the outside, tender in the middle.” He gave a satisfied nod. “They’ve been going fast tonight.”
”That sounds perfect,” she said. “I’ll take it.”
“You got it.” Gus reached for a pan behind the counter. “Coming right up.”
For a moment the only sounds between them were the soft clatter of dishes and the sizzle of hot oil behind the bar.
“It’s good to see that old farm up and running again,” he said. “Place looked pretty lonely for a while after your grandfather passed.”
She shifted slightly in her seat, offering a small smile. “I’m trying my best.”
”You’re doing more than trying,” Gus said kindly. “Those eggs you brought are proof of that.”
Before she could respond, a loud shout rang out from across the room.
”Victory!” Sam called out.
He threw both arms into the air just as she looked over. Sebastian stood beside him, watching him with annoyance.
Gus chuckled as he slid a warm plate in front of her. “Sounds like they're having a good time over there.”
The rich smell of mushrooms rose from the plate.
Across the room, Sam patted Sebastian on the shoulder and said something she couldn’t hear. A moment later they started towards the door.
The saloon door swung open with a creak before slamming shut behind them.
The farmer reached for one of the mushrooms and took a bite— it was exactly as Gus described. She hummed slightly in approval.
“Good?” He asked.
She nodded, mouth still full. “Really good.”
He grinned proudly before turning to wipe down another glass.
Eating quickly, her attention drifted across the saloon. Everyone stayed untouched, Elliot and Leah at their table lost in quiet conversation, Robin and Demetrius still moving in slow rhythm to the music and Shane now slumped over a little more than he was.
But eventually her gaze wandered to the window.
From where she sat at the bar she could see part of town square through the glass. The streetlamps cast a warm glow on the cobblestone.
Sebastian and Sam stood just outside the saloon.
Her elbow rested on the bar, chin settling into her palm as she continued eating, eyes fixed on the window.
A flicker of light briefly illuminated both their faces as Sebastian lit his lighter. Sam leaned in first, cigarette in his mouth, the small flame dancing in the breeze before Sebastian cupped his hand around it.
Sebastian then lit his own, before the two of them ducked out of view from the window.
For a moment she kept staring out.
“Something interesting out there?” Gus asked casually as he wiped down the counter.
She blinked, her gaze dropping back down. “Hm? Oh— no. Just— It’s nothing.”
Gus smirked before grabbing an empty beer glass from Pam. When he turned back towards her, his eyes drifted down to her clothes.
“Well now…” He dropped the glass into the sink.
Glancing up from her plate, her eyebrows raised. “What?”
He nodded towards her hoodie. “Pretty sure I’ve seen Sebastian wear that around here a few times.”
The farmer instinctively looked down at herself. “…Yeah.” Her voice came out quieter than she intended.
Gus let out a quiet chuckle “Well,” he tossed his towel over his shoulder. “Maybe it isn’t nothing after all.”
The farmer felt her face heat up. “It really is nothing.”
He didn't argue, just simply smiled to himself while going back to polishing glasses.
A moment later, movement caught her eye through the window.
Sam stepped back into view beneath the streetlamp. She watched him give a small wave and disappear down the path, hands shoved into his pockets.
Her eyes lingered on the empty stretch of cobblestone for another second before she looked back down at her plate. Only a few mushrooms were left now. She finished them quickly, wiping her hands on the napkin.
”How was it?” Gus asked as she slid the plate towards him.
“Fantastic as always.” She hopped down from the stool. “Thanks again.”
”Thanks for those eggs.” He replied with a warm smile.
“Have a good night, Gus.”
”You too,” he said, already washing her plate.
The farmer pushed open the saloon door and stepped outside, letting her eyes adjust to the dim streetlamps. The air outside was cool compared to the warmth of the bar, carrying the faint smell of smoke.
Sebastian stood against the brick wall of the saloon, one boot propped against it, the faint orange glow of a cigarette between his fingers.
For a second, she just watched him. The way he stared out into the night, like he was somewhere else entirely.
She stepped down the front stairs of the saloon.
Sebastian crushed the cigarette beneath his boot and pushed himself off the wall, turning around nearly walking straight into her.
He stopped short.
“Hey.” She smiled. “There you are.”
Sebastian blinked, caught off guard. “Oh—“ he rubbed the back of his neck quickly, glancing past her before looking back again. “Hey.”
Neither of them moved.
The warm glow of the saloon floodlight spilled across the cobblestone between them.
His eyes dropped briefly to the hoodie sleeves hanging over her hands.
His hoodie.
“…You’re wearing it,” he said quietly, almost more to himself than her.
She glanced down at it, tugging at the cuffs slipping down her fingers.
“You told me to keep it.”
“Yeah,” he muttered.
Another small uncertain silence washed over them.
She shifted her weight slightly before speaking again. “I watched a bit of your game in there, looked like Sam beat you pretty bad.”
Sebastian huffed softly through his nose. “Yeah. Don’t remind me.”
Her smile grew a little. “First time?”
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, staring down at the cobblestone. “…Maybe.”
She laughed quietly.
Neither of them said anything right away. The saloon music muffled behind the door and the rest of the town settled into the quiet of the night.
Finally she tilted her head up towards him. “You heading home?” She asked.
Sebastian hesitated. His eyes flicked broadly down the dark path up the mountain, then back to her.
“…eventually,” he said.
They paused again.
Then he nodded towards the hoodie. “...Looks better on you.” He said it quickly, like he didn't mean to say it out loud. Then he immediately looked away.
“I don't know about that,” she said, pushing up the sleeves again, “it's a little big for me…”
He didn’t say anything in response, just exhaled softly through his nose.
She looked down the road towards the farm. “I should probably get going,” she said. “Early morning.”
He nodded. “Right.”
The farmer stepped back, turning slightly towards the path out of town. “Night, Sebastian.”
“…Night.”
She started down the cobblestone path, her boots echoing under the streetlamps. After a few steps he glanced back over her shoulder.
Sebastian was still standing there beside the saloon, hands in his pockets watching her leave. When he noticed she’d glanced back, he quickly looked away towards the river.
Turning forward again, she continued down the path.
A moment later, behind her the sharp flicker of Sebastian’s lighter cut through the night air.
She didn't turn around this time, but she couldn’t help but to smile slightly as she walked. Smoke drifted faintly in the breeze while the saloon lights faded behind her.
Ahead of her the road turned off to the bus stop, she continued on the path leading to the dark fields of her farm.
Tomorrow was going to be a long day.
Clint had mentioned earlier that week he’d pay good money for some iron ore, and the farmer had been putting it off for days. That meant an early morning trip deep into the mines.
Not exactly the most relaxing way to spend her day, but that was life out here, and she could never go back to what she once had.
Her farm came into view in the distance, a single lantern burned by the door of her farmhouse, casting a soft glow across the porch steps.
Inside the farmhouse she pulled off Sebastian’s hoodie and draped it over the back of her chair, before kicking off her boots by the door.
Shuffling into her bedroom, Hotdog was already curled up at the foot of her bed, snoring softly as he always did. She pulled the blankets back, careful not to disturb him and she slipped underneath them, the mattress creaking softly beneath her weight. Outside, the wind stirred through the fields, brushing faintly against the farmhouse walls.
And somewhere back in town, beneath a flickering streetlamp outside the saloon, the faint orange glow of a cigarette burned in the dark.