Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

***

There wasn’t all that much to see after they left the train station besides fields, trees, hills, cows, barns, and the occasional house. Or, there were a lot of things, just not the usual city fare. Minho assumed the ranch he was on the way to had all of those things in some fashion, picked up from the station by what seemed like a nice kid who worked there and swept along in an older but still nice sedan.

“Not much further,” Jeongin said. “It’s pretty out here, isn’t it?”

“It is,” he said.

Pretty enough. He was a couple of weeks into a forced sabbatical after his work contract had expired, giving him time to get driven out to the back of beyond farm country, invited by the ranch’s owner. Though, he adjusted his thinking on that a little bit. He, too, was an owner. They drove by a sign announcing the ranch’s name, by a stand of trees and down a sloping driveway. There was in fact a barn, a large two-story house with a wraparound porch. A porch swing, and an old beat up pickup truck. Beyond that, fence lines, cows, all of it. Everything he’d imagined. Some of it he’d seen pictures of at the lawyer’s office. But as he got out of the car, he also experienced the smells of it. Ah, cow. A lovely scent.

Minho almost stepped back against the car in case it’d protect him at the sound of hoofbeats and sudden movement. The horse was huge and black, and the man riding it was dressed in black as well. He swung down to the ground from the saddle, taking off his baseball cap and approaching with an outstretched hand and a firm handshake.

“Sorry I wasn’t able to go collect you myself,” he said. As Minho began to get an inkling of who he was, blinking as the man smiled at him. “I’m Chan. Welcome to Respite Ranch. It’s nice to meet you.”

That was definitely the man and the voice he’d spoken with over the phone. Chan, his co-owner.

The voice matched the face, he supposed. And he’d known Chan’s age. It was just that his mental expectation had been old and grizzled with skin like shoe leather. Years in the sun. Not dimples and a bright smile that was definitely a little wary. Minho got that, because Jeongin had been a little nervous at first too, opening up to chatting a little on the drive. He was the outsider. His presence put the ranch as they knew it in danger. The horse nuzzled up to Chan’s shoulder, and Chan stroked the side of its face. Nice to animals, at least.

“Did you have a good trip?” Chan asked.

“I did, thank you.”

“I’m glad you were able to come,” Chan said. And that time, he looked sincere. “Jeongin will get you settled. I can show you around in a little while?”

“Sounds good,” Minho said. Chan motioned to Jeongin where he was going apparently, before sticking his cap back on and with a little hop, mounted the horse as easily as he’d gotten down.

He smiled at Minho again and the horse turned seemingly without any input from Chan at all, picking up to a trot as they headed toward the barn.

“This way,” Jeongin said, having gotten Minho’s suitcase out of the trunk of the car while he talked with Chan. Jeongin carried the suitcase for him, despite Minho’s clearly ineffectual offer to take it. The steps leading up to the porch were wide and solid, and the door opened to a living area. A long couch, big TV, a few plants. Nice enough, simple. There was a staircase beyond the couch, and Jeongin led him up it to a room not far from the top. It was a nice room, a double bed, kind of a rustic headboard. Nothing too fancy, just clean and neat like the living area had been.

“Bathroom’s right across the hall,” Jeongin said. “Chan said to tell you that you can use anything that’s in there, soap or whatever. Towels are in the cabinet. Oh, and the drawer looking thing on the wall is a laundry chute, so you can just stuff things in there if you want.”

A laundry chute? When he peeked in, it did in fact look like a drawer on the bathroom wall, with a mismatched handle to any of the others. What happened if clothes got stuck in it? Were there missing socks littering the way?

“Do you live here in the house, too?” Minho asked as Jeongin lingered.

“Me? Oh, no. I mean, Chan offered, but I like the bunkhouse actually. There’s a fridge and everything there, good Internet, a shower. I have a room here in the house, downstairs, though, for when the weather gets bad. I’ll let you get settled or whatever. Chan should be back up soon. He just had to get his horse taken care of. Come down whenever, okay?”

“Okay,” Minho agreed. And Jeongin clattered down the stairs, leaving Minho in the small but quiet room.

The logical thing had been to accept Chan’s offer to go to the ranch and stay, to really see what he’d inherited. He could see the driveway out of his bedroom window, a distant field, and some kind of flowers below. Well, he was there. Short of borrowing a bicycle, he was pretty firmly there, too. It’d taken almost half an hour to drive from the nearest city where Minho had gotten off the train, though there was a village closer with a few stores that Jeongin had said they did most of their food shopping at.

He was the proud owner of 25 percent of the property, and 25 percent of the business being run on it. There was all kinds of legalese in the transfer of it, a lot of things that had made his brain hurt. His great uncle had bestowed it upon him. Apparently he’d made an investment in the ranch, and that was the bargain he’d gotten in return. And right on those documents was the fact that when he passed, his portion went to Minho. And if Minho didn’t want them for whatever reason, Chan had the first option to buy them back.

But if he couldn’t? Minho could sell his portion of the business, and Chan would still be fine. If Minho sued to force the sale of the property itself, there wasn’t anything Chan could do to stop it. So if everyone had been pleasant to him so far, he got why. He’d have been very, very pleasant. But he wasn’t some kind of tyrant, showing up cackling and planning to ruin their whole lives. If anything, he was just as much or more unsure about what was going to happen as they were. His instinct was to sell, get out from under everything. What did he know about cows? Or raising them. He also didn’t have any desire to fuck someone over. So that was why he was there. To see what and who his great uncle had hitched his metaphorical wagon to.

It was quiet downstairs by the time he washed his face and felt a little more human. No sign of Jeongin in the living room, or near the big dining table. Or the kitchen.

The kitchen. He paused in the wide entry, and just took it in.

Literal acres of counter space. A huge island. A full sized oven. No, two ovens. It wasn’t all brand new, expensive, or fancy, but it was clean and enormous. A two compartment sink, a stove with six burners. There was a stand mixer on the far counter, and who knew what the shelves and cabinets concealed. Windows made the space look even bigger somehow, bright and airy, overlooking part of the barn and pasture. He felt like he’d walked into the Sistine Chapel of kitchens, and he needed to get out his paints to continue the work.

“Hey, you hungry?”

He flinched like Chan talking to him was him about to get jumped. Luckily Chan didn’t notice because he’d gone straight to the well-stocked fridge to get out a cup of yogurt. He hadn’t wanted to just be caught staring around. The amount of bread that could be kneaded on those counters? The dough that could be rolled as wide as necessary. It was boggling.

“I’m fine, thanks. This is quite a kitchen.”

Chan nodded, looking around at it, too. “It really is. It’s meant for a big family, or a bigger crew at least. Or maybe someone who really loves cooking? There’s a kitchen out by the bunk house too, but it’s more rudimentary.”

Him. It was him, the person who really loved cooking. “Do you use it much?”

At that Chan did look a little guilty. “Enough. Obviously we have to eat. Jeongin usually just has cereal or something in the mornings, but I’ll make dinner sometimes. We have a lot of sandwiches. I have a grill?”

It was heartbreaking. A beautiful space not being used to its potential.

“Do you mind if I use it?”

“Not at all,” Chan said, gesturing at him with the spoon he was using for his yogurt. “Use anything you can find, food or whatever. You want something else, just put it on the list.”

And in fact, there was a list, hanging on the refrigerator by a magnet. Staples, mostly, snacks. He did take a water when Chan offered, and itched to start opening cupboards as Chan made short work of the yogurt.

“If you feel up to it, I can show you around a little,” Chan said.

“Sounds fine,” Minho said.

And Chan paused, clearing his throat delicately when he saw Minho’s shoes by the door. Canvas sneakers.

“Are those the only shoes you have?”

“Just about,” Minho said.

“We’ll stay out of the mud, then,” Chan said.

Chan got his cap off of the rack, and held the door open for Minho. The start of some kind of adventure.

***

Chan was true to his word, keeping them on well-worn paths as they circled the house first, pointing out various heirlooms or plants. They went to the pens, next, with the worn squeeze chute, and ramp he assumed was for loading a truck. Chan pointed out where the cows were with their babies, and the bulls. It wasn’t time for breeding, so they were separated, which made sense. Horses grazed by the barn, and Chan leaned on the wooden rails.

“We keep the horses pretty close. Sometimes they stay in the barn in bad weather, or if we can’t be bothered to try and chase them the next morning. Usually they’re pretty good at coming to us, but they have personalities, too, and some days are just not ‘I want to get ridden’ days. Unfortunately all days here are work days. Everything needs fed, or checked on.”

“Always on the go somewhere, then,” Minho said.

“For sure. Do you ride?” Chan asked him.

Horses? He assumed, since that was what they were looking at and talking about. The thought of riding a cow around almost made him laugh.

“Do you mean can I sit on a horse without falling off? Yeah. But at slow speeds, and not in a long time.”

“Maybe we’ll ride out one day and see things beyond the barn. They’re all well trained. Not today, though,” Chan said. And he seemed to inhale, like the words he asked next weren’t ones he wanted to verbalize. “You were able to meet with a lawyer, go over the papers?”

“I did,” Minho said.

“Like I told him, if I could buy it from you outright, I would in a heartbeat. Even if you sell your stake in the business, I’ll still retain control, but the land— If I sold all the cows, all the equipment, down to the bones— It’s appreciated so much since your uncle invested that I could give you back the amount he put in and then some, but I couldn’t touch what it’s actually worth right now.”

There was some frustration in that tone that Chan couldn’t come close to concealing. Minho knew why. Sure, he could sell his stake in the business, and get out of that. What did he know about raising cows? But the land? The way the agreement was written, Chan had right of first refusal. But because he couldn’t buy it outright, Chan had no way to keep Minho from forcing a sale.

“Why don’t you sell, then? Buy land somewhere cheaper.”

“There are investors who’d love for me to do that,” Chan said. “They’d buy up the land, the business, and also demand I sign a contract that I won’t go back into the cattle business for a period of time. But I grew up here. My mom grew up here. This is what I know. Everything I’ve ever wanted to do. Some of the land is leased out to farmers, so there’s income from that. The cows go back on those fields to graze after the harvests, depending on what they grew. I knew your great uncle wouldn’t live forever. I just desperately needed that infusion of cash to get in new bloodlines, equipment. I couldn’t find a bank that thought it was a winning idea. And it’s paid off! That’s the frustrating thing. The profits have really grown, year over year the last three years. I just need more time.”

“And you can’t even get a mortgage without my consent,” Minho said.

“Funny, isn’t it?” Chan asked, sighing. Though it was obviously not funny in the least. “Had your great uncle told you about this place at all?”

Minho shook his head. “No. No cow farms. No Willy Wonka factories. Whatever else we didn’t know about. Some of my cousins got other things. This is what he wanted me to have.”

Obviously to have. He wasn’t sure of to keep. Chan said he had correspondence, letters, he could share with Minho, that his uncle had visited the ranch a few times. There hadn’t been anything of that sort in the will. He half wished there had been, at least to get why his uncle would’ve left any of it to him. If he’d been so invested in Chan’s success, why hadn’t he left it outright to Chan? He imagined that was a question on Chan’s mind, too. Obviously so his own family would benefit from his investment, in a way. Investing, though, was a gamble. If Chan was right and all Minho had to do was hold onto his piggy bank to reap rewards, that’d be great. But it was equally possible there could be a few bad years, and the return dropped dramatically. No more babies cavorting around their mothers in fields, just pieces of things being sold for bills.

“The big conglomerates, they don’t want to raise cows like this,” Chan said, gesturing out at the grazing cows. “We do our best to make sure the cows here are on good fields their whole lives. Some people think it shouldn’t be done at all, raising them to eat. But I think if it is, it has to be done with as much care as possible. I want them to live as happily as they can. The ways my parents or their parents raised cows isn’t for me. And there might be some less profit in it, depending on how it’s done, but it lets me sleep at night.”

“So it’s kinder, gentler beef,” Minho said.

“I’d like to think so. But I think there’d be revolt if I tried to market it that way. I can show you kinder and gentler, though, if you like? It’s about time for her dinner.”

Her dinner? Minho let Chan lead him into the barn, passing a couple of curious horses on the way to a stall near the middle. A sign on printer paper in some kind of colored marker declared “Meadow” was in the stall. But what stared back at him was what looked like a pocket-sized calf compared to the size of the stall.

“Say hi,” Chan said. “I’ll get her bottle.”

“Hi,” Minho said, because he was clearly nothing but obedient. The calf, no surprise, did not say hello back. She did come up to the stall door, though, smelling up at him like he might have whatever food Chan had gone to get. He put his hand out, letting her nuzzle into it, stroking along her pink nose and the white above that a little until she decided she wanted to try and mouth at his hand. He wasn’t dinner. But Chan was back, opening the stall door and shepherding her back - and holding the door open so Minho could join them. He did, though not enthusiastically. She was small, but not that small. Then again, Chan was there, too, and he looked like he could haul up the calf and Minho both.

“Her mom is still alive, but ended up rejecting her even with us doing our best,” Chan said. “So, Meadow is a bottle baby.”

“Do all the cows have names?”

“Some of them. The bottle fed calves always seem to end up with them since we spend so much time with them.”

She had ear jewelry, a tag in her left ear probably to tell her apart from everyone else. And she was impatient, nudging up to Chan and trying to get at the big white bottle in his hands.

“Want to feed her?” Chan asked.

And why not? He’d never fed a calf before. To go with all the other things he’d never done in life.

“Sure,” Minho said, stepping forward.

“Hang on tight, because she’ll try and bump it for more,” Chan warned. “She’s pretty good about it, though.”

The second Minho had the bottle and got the nipple pointed in the right way, Meadow was all over it. She was all big doe eyes closing and long lashes as she went after the bottle, eating like it was going to run away from her. He understood why Chan had warned him to keep a good hold on the bottle as a few seconds later she acted like she was trying to bunt him and the bottle into next week.

“It’s a reflex,” Chan said. “When they’re nursing on the udder, it helps with stimulation to get the milk to where they’re drinking.”

“It’d be stimulating all right,” Minho said. No need for that on a plastic bottle, but she couldn’t know that. It was cute. Kind of messy with milk slobber dribbling to the floor. Not the cleanest eater in the stable, clearly. Movement had him glancing to his left, and then doing a double-take to see a large orange cat staring back at him. Chan laughed when he saw where Minho was looking.

“Ah, one of the barn cats. They keep the mice down, but they’re not above stealing a baby’s leftovers when she gets sloppy.”

There were more? He felt the urge to look around and see just how many eyes he had on him.

“How many are there?”

“Cats? Four. All of them but one are friendly, and you’ll know the one because he’ll slink off into the shadows. All fixed, so we don’t end up with 40 cats by accident. Learned that the hard way after a couple of litters.”

Minho huffed in amusement.

“So this is how you raise dinner, then.”

“Well, Meadow’s female, and sometimes bottle calves are a little smaller for a while than calves on the cow. It’s more likely she’ll join the herd at first, have babies of her own if it works out that way.” And Chan laughed a little, when Minho sent him a look. “I have a soft spot for them. I do that when I can.”

And then Meadow was done, or the bottle was because she was still interested. Chan rattled a bucket near him, and she ambled his way, nosing into it.

“We’ve been starting her on some feed meant for calves,” Chan said, stroking along her back. “They get going fairly young, and it helps get all the nutrients she needs, too.”

He said a bunch of other stuff about a cow’s stomachs getting ready to digest things, and what not but Minho was listening politely and not absorbing much. They left her to munch on that, and Chan let them out of the stall. As soon as they were out, the barn cat was in.

“Every day there’s more to do, and more that can be done in one day,” Chan said. “Jeongin is here full time, though he still has classes and school work part of the year. There are a couple of local guys I hire for day labor when I need extra hands.”

“It’s a nice place,” Minho said.

It was. The barn was solid, as clean as could be. The air still smelled faintly of cow, but nothing to do about that, and it’d seemed to fade since he’d gotten there. The house was nice, too, situated overlooking everything. He could see why Chan liked it.

“I just needed you to see it before…making a decision,” Chan said. “If you ever want to walk around, feel free to. Just, not into the pens with the cows, and definitely not the bulls. Anywhere that’s not fenced in, I guess.”

“Got it,” Minho said.

They walked together back up to the house and Minho understood that, too. He just didn’t know what would happen because of it.

***

Chan, as promised, provided a rudimentary dinner. With Jeongin there also, the conversation at least was easier. No more talk about the business of things. Jeongin was going to school to be a veterinarian - made sense working on a ranch. Jeongin and Chan were easy with each other, trading stories, giggles. Not excluding Minho, but more to amuse him like they were his dinner entertainment. He was company. He got that. It was charming, most of it. And Jeongin prompted him to tell them more about him, too, where he lived, what he did for work. He did that, after Chan came back to the table with a plate of fruit. He half wished he’d brought someone with him. Though there’d been skepticism among his friends that he was going, and if he’d stay. A couple of weeks in the country? Nothing to do, or see. Well, there was plenty to do, he could see that. It just wasn’t the typical stuff he’d have done in a land made out of concrete.

Minho excused himself upstairs after that, needing some sort of down time. He showered off the travel and relaxed on the bed as he tried to do just that. It’d been a long day. And the later it got, the quieter it got. He heard Chan come up the stairs after a while, passing by to his room beyond Minho’s. If Chan had been a jerk, he still wouldn’t have screwed him over. Or at least, thought twice about it.

When Minho woke in the morning, it was still early, but the house was empty. There was the lingering scent of coffee in the kitchen, dishes left in the sink. There was a note on the counter.

Feel free to eat anything you can find. Come down to the barn if you like, or hang out in the house.

There was a smiley face, and a squiggle that definitely said Chan’s name.

He made himself a quick breakfast of eggs using the stove, and gave in to his base instincts with the house to himself. He snooped. The cupboards did in fact hold more treasures. Serving dishes, a food processor, all variety of mismatched cutlery and drinkware. Things collected over time, it looked like, and used until the end. He found the cooking pans - hence the eggs - roasting dishes, casserole dishes, cookie sheets and full sized pans that would’ve never fit in his apartment oven. He hardly knew where to start, and he knew starting was a bad idea right then.

Putting on his shoes made him think about Chan’s question the day before. Packing, he’d thought about shoes that would be comfortable to walk in, not necessarily shoes he wouldn’t want to be in the mud or droppings. Though, he wasn’t sure he owned any such thing anyway. He’d just have to continue being careful, and he did, making his way to the barn where he’d seen activity. He went to the first familiar place, Meadow’s stall, and was gratified that she came right up to him, nuzzling into his hand as he began to pet her. Movement and sound had him looking down and across the aisle to one of the horse stalls, and he recognized Chan at first by the black shirt he was wearing.

There wasn’t anything the matter with watching a handsome man work a shovel. He’d obviously been at it a while, because there was a faint sheen of sweat on him. He hadn’t missed that Chan was good looking. Jeongin still had the shine of cuteness on him, but Chan was something else. His face, sure, but he was sturdy like he could toss Minho over his shoulder and carry him off into the tree line. Why he’d have wanted to do that didn’t matter, it was just that there was something attractive about it. Meadow was unsatisfied with his performance, nudging at his hand for more petting, so he turned his attention back to her, watching her eyes close in bliss. She had no care for Minho’s distraction. He assumed Chan wouldn’t have either, unless it floated through Minho’s brain that finding him handsome meant doing exactly as Chan wanted regarding the business. Then he figured Chan would have been very on board, but what Chan didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

So at least he hadn’t been caught staring when Chan realized he was there.

“Ah, Minho!”

Minho watched as Chan put away the shovel and pitchfork he’d been using, and made his way to Meadow’s stall.

“Did you sleep okay?”

“I did, thank you,” Minho said. Well enough that he hadn’t even heard Chan leave the house. “I saw your note, too.”

“Good,” Chan said, taking off his work gloves and jamming them into his back pocket. “In a perfect world I’d have liked to be there to greet you when you got up, and all that. It’s not that you’re not a priority.”

“Don’t worry, I get it,” Minho said.

He hadn’t been there 24 hours yet but he understood as well as if Chan had spelled it out on a sign. The animals came first, and they should. Not only for the sake of the animals, but the longevity of the business. As a part owner, and it was bizarre to think of himself that way, he figured he had to admire that also. No pandering to guests when it was a matter of survival.

“Want to meet the horses?” Chan asked.

“Sure,” Minho said, giving Meadow a last pat.

A couple of heads popped out of stalls at the sound of Chan rustling in a bag on the wall. Some kind of treat, clearly as he passed Minho one. And yeah, he’d fed a horse before, so he held out his hand flat, letting the first horse lip at his palm and crunch happily on whatever kind of biscuit it was.

“This is Red,” Chan said, stroking the neck of the horse who was nosing at Minho in case he had more. “He’s a red roan, so he didn’t get much in the way of creative naming. Jeongin rides him most of the time that we go out. We’ll swap out with one of the other horses sometimes to give them a rest or keep their skills fresh.”

“Alternates, then.”

“Yeah. One of them’s a bit older, but in case one goes lame, or is just having a bad day, it’s important to keep them around. Costs money to keep, but would cost more money not to have them when really needed.”

The next stall held a black horse, the horse Chan had been riding when Minho got there, he thought, and Chan confirmed it, handing Minho another biscuit.

“This is my boy,” Chan said, stroking the horse’s neck. “He’s been with me since he was about six months old. I think he taught me about as much about riding as I did him.”

“Let me guess, Black?”

Chan was covering the stall marker so he couldn’t see it.

Chan laughed. “Shadow. When he got here, he just wanted to be close to me. He’d follow me around the yard like a puppy and my parents joked he was my shadow, so it stuck.”

The other horses were outside in an adjoining paddock, but they got pats and biscuits, too, before Chan gave him a more thorough tour of the barn and another outbuilding and garage. There were a lot of necessary things, medical equipment for the animals, feed, tools.

“Do you do your own mechanic work?” Minho asked.

“I mean…as much of the basic stuff as I can because it’s a lot cheaper to do it myself, even if it’s not great fun. I have the books for everything, and if I can’t figure that out, there are videos on the Internet because someone’s struggled through it before if I haven’t. If I can’t, I have a neighbor who’s a bit better at the more involved things. If he can’t, then… Well, I tried. A mechanic gets called in, then.”

“But you weren’t trained for it.”

“Not mechanical work. If you count trial, error, and fetching tools for someone as a kid as training, then sure. I never went to school for any of this. I have a lit degree and business minor. A very good accountant, and neighbors who aren’t afraid to give good advice. Every time I put out a new fire I feel like I’ve leveled up, and then there’s something new coming along that makes me feel like I don’t know anything.”

“Glad to know that stands for business and adulthood,” Minho said. And Chan wasn’t too proud to say so, which said something about him as a person and as a business owner. He figured it was the ones who kept racing straight ahead without a second thought that ended up in the most trouble. Sure, Chan had needed investment, but that was because he’d seen the need to make a change, and so far it’d paid off.

“Thanks for showing me around,” he said, after they’d gotten back to the barn itself.

“Any time,” Chan said. “There are some pretty views in the upper pasture. We could take a ride one day, and I can show you.”

Minho nodded, though he wasn’t sure exactly how that’d work out. He fended for himself for lunch, and he figured they did, too. Chan seemed content to let him be, to let him go at his own pace and not push him, but Minho ended up in the barn that night again under Chan’s tutelage - after Chan had scooped aside some filthy straw for him to get past into the stall - to feed Meadow her bottle.

“If you want,” Chan offered, “this can be your job.”

Feeding a desperately slobbering calf suckling at a bottle. Yeah, his life had definitely changed.

***

It took another day of having to dodge Meadow’s poop and stepping in some that belonged to who knew what else, before Minho realized he was going to be spending more time cleaning his shoes than any other task if he didn’t make a change. Sure, when Chan had offered to let Minho feed Meadow regularly, he’d expected Chan to do as he’d done the first couple of times and ease Minho’s way. The last couple of times though, Chan had demonstrated how he made the bottle up, heating the water, weighing the power, and after it was ready he handed to Minho, and— And went to another part of the barn. At least he hadn’t left the barn? He knew Chan wasn’t just going to run off into the countryside and leave Minho to put himself or Meadow in danger. It left Minho to unlatch the stall on his own, to urge Meadow back and then pay attention to where he stepped at the same time. Plus to feed her. Confirming his theory that Chan was lingering, he appeared after the bottle was empty and Minho slipped out of the stall to show Minho how much of the calf feed to give her also, getting it into her cleaned-out bucket. She had free access to water, salt, hay. She’d need more of everything as she got older, but it wasn’t like that was going to sneak up on him with Chan around.

That morning, he’d made the bottle on his own as Chan watched and nodded. The powder had fat in it, so it needed to be mixed with water they heated, and Chan had a thermometer to test it to be sure it was the right temperature for a baby calf. It was a strange feeling of accomplishment as he got out of the prep room with the bottle in his hands to see Chan giving him a thumbs up.

“You’re ready to fly alone,” Chan said, graduating him from his class of milk replacer making.

He was a whole adult. He could keep a cow alive. And Chan oversaw the growing up of dozens of babies, just not as many hands on.

Minho had poked around the kitchen after getting himself breakfast to see what ingredients he needed for his next goals. The most shocking thing was that they seemed to have the smallest sack of flour known to man. It was barely the size of his hand and nearly expired. That evicted his dreams of making bread for the time being. Maybe it’d make one slice of bread. So, flour went on the list. More than one stick of butter. He trawled through the spices, the freezer, humming and adding to the list. Thing was, he didn’t know which of them usually went shopping. He could’ve added 300 notes, or went with them. But he had other things to get, too, if such things existed in the nearby village.

“I was wondering if I could borrow the car to drive into town today,” Minho asked. “Maybe after lunch. I have my license and everything. I can pick up groceries while I’m there, too.”

Chan nodded, putting down his drink to go pluck a set of keys off the key hanger to set near Minho on the counter. “If you want to fill up with gas while you’re out, just bring the receipt for that and the food and I’ll reimburse you.”

Just like that. Ask for a vehicle, and Minho, nearly total stranger, was granted one. At least it was the car, the older tan-colored sedan, and not the work truck. It was a vehicle they wouldn’t need in the course of the day. He waited, as he’d said, until after lunch so that any last requests could be added to the grocery list, listening to Chan and Jeongin debate the pros and cons of brands of lunch meat that were on sale as he drank his tea.

It was a nice drive, anyway. His city eyes weren’t as unaccustomed to all the empty spaces even after just a few days. And the town wasn’t absolutely saturated with shopping options, but there was a clothing and catch-all shop that ran more toward functional clothes than it did fashionable ones. His main objective, boots that wouldn’t soak through with cow dung in a half second flat, were acquired, and a couple of pairs of sturdier jeans. On impulse he added a couple of dark blue long sleeved shirts, for if they were out long enough to warrant keeping his arms covered. He was probably a curiosity, an unfamiliar face, but no one hassled him. Groceries took longer, making sure to get everything on the list that Jeongin and Chan had added, but also his own list plus a few extras towards using the kitchen to its fullest potential.

Nothing too wild and expensive, since even if Chan had said he’d get reimbursed, he didn’t want to rack up a bill that’d make Chan’s eyebrows climb. Even if they were feeding an extra person. After getting gas as Chan suggested, he left the window down on the drive back, enjoying the breeze it created. It wasn’t really hot out yet, but it was a bit freeing driving without a ton of traffic, just the occasional truck passing and waving like they knew who he was. A different type of living, that was for sure. He parked in the same spot the car had been in to begin with, carrying in his prizes in a few trips. He tried to put everything away in the fridge in about the same place he was replacing things, and found an empty spot in one cupboard for the new ingredients he’d bought. The clothes he put in the washing machine, and the tags got cut off the new boots. They were dark brown and weren’t going to win any fashion awards, but Chan really hadn’t been kidding the first day asking him if he had any other shoes. It was too late to do any of the cooking he wanted to do that day, so he went to the barn instead, checking on Meadow who was romping in her pen and scoping out her stall. It was pretty clean, and the stalls for the horses were too, and he knew Chan would take care of feeding them when he got back. The horses in the paddock were happy for pats and biscuits.

City boy, fancy boots, cow feeder. He wasn’t sure who he was any more. He’d gotten the bottle ready for Meadow by the time Chan and Jeongin clattered in. He’d lured her in from her little outside pen with the bottle, closing the door so she couldn’t escape.

“Dinnertime, huh?” Chan asked, leaning on the stall door for a second with Shadow looming behind him. “Got your shopping done okay?”

“We won’t starve for a few more days,” Minho said.

It seemed like Chan had eyes like a hawk, spotting Minho’s new boots. He didn’t know what to do with the smile they exchanged because of it, but his mind had to focus on keeping the nipple in Meadow’s mouth after that, and less on Chan.

***

The urge for a snack after dinner took him downstairs after he’d showered. It was the nice thing about a bigger house, not having to worry about waking Chan up as he poked around. He settled on an orange out of the bowl, getting a towel and sitting at the dining table to peel and eat it while he scrolled on his phone. He’d barely gotten halfway through when he heard footsteps on the stairs. He saw the second Chan realized he was there, hand and towel paused on top of his head and the vast majority of his very toned torso on display.

“Oh— Hey! Sorry, I didn’t realize you were down here.”

“Don’t worry. Don’t mind me,” Minho murmured.

The towel went back around Chan’s neck and as he turned into the kitchen, it gave him a prime view of Chan’s back as well, with his pajama pants clinging low to his hips. No, the views at the ranch were very nice.

Instead of Chan heading back up the stairs, he came to the table, irrespective of him lacking a shirt. He had nice arms, too, but Minho was ahead of him on looking at those just from earlier watching Chan haul a few bales of hay into the barn. What was new was without a shirt in the way there was a continuous line from the edge of his collarbone all the way down that was very aesthetically pleasing.

“Forgot to take a drink up with me,” Chan said as he relaxed in the chair. “How was the drive today?”

“Good,” Minho said. It hadn’t really taken all that much longer than it took him to get groceries in the city. Sure, he could’ve had them delivered at his apartment, but he actually liked going, picking out his own produce, and meat. “Hard to get lost, and it’s pretty quiet.”

Chan laughed at that, the towel slipping a little. Well, it was. The road going to the town Minho had shopped at might’ve had turnoffs, but there wasn’t any way to stray from it without doing it on purpose.

“Not many pedestrians to dodge out here,” Chan agreed. “The occasional horse and rider, or cattle drive. I had to stop for some goats once. Deer, sometimes, though that’s more when it gets dark.”

“I’ll have to try and miss that much entertainment,” Minho said.

“It’s live entertainment at least,” Chan said, grinning. Like it was a bar, or something. “Everything else okay? I saw your new boots. I felt bad I forgot to tell you to bring something that’d hold up better.”

“My shoes were going to end up a new permanent color if I didn’t do something,” Minho said. “But it’s been fine. It’s a lot quieter. No sirens waking me up in the middle of the night, or people fighting next door. Jeongin offered to show me how to muck stalls tomorrow.”

“You never know when that’ll be an invaluable skill,” Chan said. “If there’s anything I can do or anything you need while you’re here, just… Let me know.”

As high energy as Chan was outside when he was working, he was comfortable there. Settled. Minho had been a little bit concerned to spend too much time with them, if they saw him as some kind of interloper.

“You mentioned you had letters from my uncle?”

“Oh yeah, I have those upstairs. I’ll be right back.”

Chan had hurried off before Minho could tell him it was okay, that it could wait. His biggest regret when Chan came back down was that he’d put a shirt on. Maybe he routinely wandered around without a shirt when there wasn’t company? It was a nice thought.

“Here you go,” Chan said, setting the pile in front of Minho. “Take your time with them. There’s no rush. I’m going to head up and get to bed.”

Minho nodded, looking up at him.

“I’ll cook dinner tomorrow, if that’s okay?” Minho said.

Chan nodded. “Yeah! Of course. I think it’s Jeongin’s turn anyway, so he’ll thank you for that for sure.”

“Payback for the stall mucking, then,” Minho said, and Chan grinned.

“You bet. Have a good night.”

“You too.”

He watched until Chan disappeared up the stairs, and sifted through the stack of envelopes. There were nine altogether, each spaced a couple of months apart, and Minho recognized the handwriting. He opened the top one. It wasn’t terribly long, mostly thanking Chan for his hospitality during a visit and for showing him around. It made something nag in his brain. Had his uncle really never mentioned the ranch when he’d written to Minho? He’d been adamant that he hadn’t since he’d learned about the will. He had to check again when he got back to the city. It was possible there was something just mentioned at random. Or maybe not at all.

He took the letters with him up to his room, and read the rest before he slept. It sounded like Chan had sent regular pictures of the ranch, of the cows, even a paw print from one of the cats. Keeping his uncle involved, emotionally, not just financially. From the way his uncle wrote, he’d been appreciative of it. He wrote like someone who’d been very fond of Chan, and looking forward to coming back. The next to last letter, though, had him holding his breath. My nephew’s oldest son will enjoy this place, the one we spoke about. I think you two would get along. One of these times I might ask him if he’d like to come there with me.

That was him. Even if they’d been separated by an extra generation, his great uncle had always referred to him that way among the family. If he’d lived longer, would Minho have gotten that invitation? He’d have been skeptical to be sure, why he’d have wanted to go out to hang around some cows. Maybe his uncle had wanted to introduce him to the place, to Chan, knowing that one day part of it would be Minho’s. He’d sounded so confident that Minho would like the ranch. And like Chan, for that matter. He imagined them drawing up the contracts that had given his uncle’s portion to Minho. His uncle telling Chan who he was leaving his part to, and Chan’s understanding of it. If he’d been dead, too, it would have gone to Chan after that. Luckily Chan hadn’t made any moves to knock him off. Though around a place like that, who knew how many ways there were to do it.

***

Minho had a general idea of how the day would go. Of course, in the world of cooking, he knew those plans could go out the window. A recipe’s estimated time versus how long it actually took him to make it were two vastly different things. He gave into his first impulse, to make bread, since he wouldn’t have to start dinner until well after lunch. The counters had had him envisioning making bread, or pastries, or something to utilize that space. The stand mixer, though, made easy work of the ingredients, the motor humming as the dough hook slapped the dough against the bowl and kneaded it. He kneaded by hand if he had the urge to make bread in the apartment, because there was barely room on the counter for a bowl, much less a mixer, and there was a pleasure to that, too, feeling the supple dough. But he had little desire to work harder on that morning, anyway, when the mixer bowl was already dirty from mixing the ingredients to begin with.

He washed up the dishes he’d dirtied as the dough rose, and aimlessly watched TV for a while. The counter finally got a workout as he put down flour and shaped the two loaves before getting them into the pan to rise again. And then, more waiting. That time he cleaned the counter, swept the kitchen floor, and pre-heated the oven. Putting the loaves into the oven was satisfying - but not as satisfying as the first scent of baking bread. It floated through the house like the scent of heaven.

And tasted like it, too. In theory, he should’ve let the loaves cool, let the moisture stay inside. And one, he did. But he didn’t deny himself the first slice while the other was still hot. He’d almost finished his own piece when he caught sight of Chan and Jeongin coming in from the barn. He cut two more pieces, assuming correctly they’d be interested since they were on the way in for lunch. He could hear as they processed what they were smelling as they stomped around the mud room getting their boots off. It wasn’t quite like a cartoon character following a waft of scent but almost.

“Wow, is that bread?” Chan asked, coming right up to Minho by the counter and accepting the slice of bread Minho offered him.

He handed Jeongin his piece over Chan’s shoulder, since Chan was hogging the space, but Chan took a bite, and his eyebrows rose.

“Wow. You made this?”

“Wasn’t dropped here by aliens,” Minho said.

Chan did his best to laugh with his mouth full again and not choke. “I’m pretty sure the cows think I’m an alien sometimes.”

“What else would you be?” Jeongin asked, and skittered off before Chan could respond. But Chan turned his attention back to Minho, focusing on Minho’s face. Minho stood still as Chan’s fingers brushed his cheekbone.

“You had flour,” Chan said, though he immediately laughed at himself. “I think I just smeared it, though.”

He was pretty sure swiping at it with the back of his own hand didn’t do much more.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Any time. If it gets me this, really any time,” Chan said, brandishing the rest of his bread. “Can we make sandwiches with this?”

“I don’t see why not.”

So that was what they did, digging out the meat and vegetables that Minho had bought the day before, eating like they hadn’t had food all week.

“This is way better than store bought. Can we keep him?” Jeongin asked, as though he was asking Chan, but the grin he shot was at Minho. “You want to muck some stalls after?”

“Maybe we’ll move that to tomorrow,” Minho said, and Jeongin accepted that.

He was cutting up vegetables for a side dish for dinner by the time they finished, and Chan paused behind him, a warm but cautious hand touching his back.

“Thanks for lunch,” Chan said.

He’d already stopped using the knife when Chan had approached. But he was glad then, because something about the soft words, meant just for him, had him repressing a shiver. He blew out a breath, and grinned over his shoulder.

“Just wait for dinner, then.”

Chan grinned right back at him. “Can’t. We’ll be back after while.”

“Don’t work too hard.”

“I’d say you, too, but…” Chan held a hand over his stomach as he backed away, and Minho waved him off.

It wasn’t until ten minutes later that he realized he’d forgotten to ask an important question. As the mushrooms cooked, he pulled up his messaging app and sent a message to Chan.

Forgot to ask what time I should have dinner ready?

It took about 30 seconds for Chan to reply, so he wasn’t out riding or anything yet, clearly.

Technically any time. We can always finish up after if we need to. Hang on let me ask the boss.

Minho was concerned for a moment wondering if he was going to get a reply from Chan’s hat or something. But a new message came in with a video. He clicked to see Jeongin in the frame.

“Hey, Minho wants to know what time he should have dinner ready.”

“Now,” Jeongin replied cheekily. “Wait are you recording?”

Chan’s laughter, then the video ended.

A text message followed that. Apparently any time between now and six. You want me to feed Meadow?

No, don’t worry I’ll get her.

It didn’t take that long after all, and there’d be a portion of time where there was nothing left to do but wait for the oven to do its job.

You’ve already worked quite a bit already making the bread.

Minho snorted. Between making bread and feeding a calf, the first one is easier.

If you say so…

Minho thought that was the end of it too until another minute had passed and his phone dinged again.

We’re skeptical, it read. But the picture was of Chan with his cheek pressed up against Meadow’s, Chan’s face indeed verging on skeptical and Meadow clearly two seconds from shoving her nose forward to see if Chan’s phone was edible.

It was. Cute.

The next text he got wasn’t from Chan, but from Jeongin. He was clearly standing at the stall door taking the video that he sent to Minho.

Chan was the only one talking from start to finish.

Here we go. Time to get your picture taken. We need a cute picture to send to Minho. No, that’s not food. I’ll get you a treat after. Come here. Pretty girl, yeah. Put your head on my shoulder. Just like that. That’s my baby girl. Okay say cheese. Ah— No, that’s not your bottle. Okay, we got it. Look how cute you are. No, Meadow!

Chan going from the door, getting posed with his knees in the straw, scratching at her face to keep her interested, her trying to eat his phone at least three times, and almost knocking him over at the end to get to the strange thing in his hand as Chan giggled and hugged her . He sent Jeongin a laughing and thumbs up emoji.

But he still hadn’t replied to Chan.

I’d be happy to teach both of you.

Meadow maybe lacked a little in the way of opposable thumbs and hygiene, but he figured Chan had a little better chance at it.

***

The beef was taken out of the oven to rest by the time Chan and Jeongin came in, and it was like living in a small space with two hungry bears. He banished them to wash up somewhere that wasn’t in the kitchen because yes, he knew everything smelled good, and yes, it was going to be ready to serve soon. Goodbye. He’d gotten back from feeding Meadow half an hour before that, so he’d already gotten cleaned up and was well ahead of them. He set the table himself, because he had a feeling that was going to be the next thing out of Chan’s mouth to offer. He appreciated it, really. But even if he’d been snacking on his own leftovers all afternoon, he almost made himself groan as he started plating. Smelled great, looked great, undoubtedly tasted amazing.

Confirmed, when Chan took a big bite once he’d gotten everyone a plate, and held up his hand, taking Minho’s confused one in his and closing his eyes like he was having some kind of religious experience.

“Yeah, we’ll keep him,” Chan said after he’d swallowed, answering Jeongin’s question from lunch.

He patted Chan on the shoulder and went to get his forgotten drink. But secretly… Yeah, he was definitely pleased.

***

After Meadow was fed the next morning, Minho was granted a pair of gloves and given Jeongin’s best and enthusiastic stall mucking tutorial. Chan wasn’t present for all of it, but Minho was fairly sure he heard a suspicious chuckle from the tack room at one point. He got introduced to the shovel. And two kinds of pitchforks. Where to put the wheelbarrow, and where to dump the wheelbarrow. Well, he knew that part already as it was kind of hard to miss. The horse stalls weren’t so bad. They didn’t take all the bedding out, not every time, just where it was dirty, and then added more bedding where they’d cleaned up. The pitchfork got the horse poops which held together easily, the shovel scraped more where urine had been to get it nice and clean. He only missed the wheelbarrow once. Well, one and a half times, and the half wasn’t his fault. There was a broom, so there was that.

“We scrape it straight down every so often and clean everything really good. There’s some products that take away smells and stuff, so it just sets it up to be nicer for a while,” Jeongin said.

“Mm-hmm,” Minho said, breathing through his mouth. It wasn’t bad? Comparatively the horse stalls versus Meadow’s stall almost smelled like a daisy, but there was still the ammonia.

“Horse manure doesn’t smell that bad, really,” Jeongin said, and that agreed with Minho’s thought.

“It is a delicate bouquet compared to some others,” Chan confirmed as he passed by with Shadow being led behind him. “I’m going to go check on the calves. Good luck!”

Minho stared after the cheery directive, and sighed. They did get all the horse stalls done, and then Jeongin took him to Meadow’s, letting her out into her pen first before Minho got in there with him.

“This is a little different,” Jeongin said, like Minho hadn’t noticed. The splats. How she’d delicately walked through one and spread it. “Good news is it looks healthy. Calves can get really sick sometimes. We had one last year we had to separate out with his mom - and he had a mom! Luckily it was just one but it can really get around. Chan’s done a lot of research on how to keep them safe. Anyway, you want to try doing this yourself? I’ll watch and give you pointers.”

How nice. What a delightful offer as Minho grimly took up his tools and planned his attack. He worked from the stall door in, getting the splats first, and poking around for wet spots because it was straw for Meadow, instead. There was a plaintive little moo, and Minho looked to her, shaking his head. She was outside in her pen, trying to look at him over the half door as though he was there to feed her and not clean her stall.

“You poop a lot, and your poop is stinky, and it’s not nearly as nice to clean as the horses. Could you please poop outside?” Minho asked Meadow, feeling like he was being very polite. No wonder Jeongin had been so eager to show him the delights of stall mucking. Oh, he was feeding the calf? Why not clean up after her, too! Really experiencing all of the joys of life.

Jeongin helped him add more straw, and declared him a graduate of Stall Mucking University. And then Minho went back to the house, showered, and ate a piece of his bread, toasted.

***

“Did Jeongin work you to the bone today?” Chan asked, joining Minho on the porch swing after dinner.

“Not quite. There really is always something to do.”

“Always,” Chan agreed.

Even though Meadow had had access to her pen all day, she’d still had access to the stall for grain, hay, and water, and had still managed to get part of it dirty again. Minho had gamely cleaned it back up before letting her in and getting her bottle. Since it was just the one stall, and he’d already done most of it, it hadn’t taken long. But he let Jeongin deal with the wheelbarrow after. He wasn’t that ambitious.

“If it’s ever too much, any of it, just tell one of us. There are a lot of aspects of it that we enjoy, like it’s…satisfying? In a way not everyone would find it,” Chan said. “We want you to enjoy it too, not just think we’re using you as free labor.”

“Jobs the new guy can’t mess up. Though, Meadow’s important.”

“You paid attention to detail, so I knew I could trust you on that,” Chan said. “You proved me right.”

“I’m sure you checked up after me a lot.”

“Not a lot, but sure. She’s one of my babies. I have to check up after myself, too. She’s growing well, though, so you know you’re doing good.”

“And she’s almost unfairly cute,” Minho said.

Chan laughed. “Isn’t she? I put a couple of younger mothers and babies next to her so she could get a little interaction. I don’t want her in the pen with them because she doesn’t have a mom to protect her if one of the cows get protective. Or if she tried to nurse off one of them, or something. She might lag a bit in social aspects. We’re kind of her funny looking herd for now.”

“Speak for yourself,” Minho said, making Chan laugh. “I did see her playing with one of the calves today. Running up and down the fence with them.”

“It’s good. She’ll get integrated when she’s big enough.”

“Like sending a kid off to college.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Chan said, and sighed, like a parent who’d seen it too many times.

They swung in silence for a little bit, just enjoying it. It wasn’t dark out, not yet, so the view was nice. And the quiet part definitely true, because there wasn’t even any noise from the road. He half wished he had a swing to sit on at his apartment, but all he would’ve done was look out at high rises and concrete. Not quite the same. He imagined his uncle sitting right there, looking out at the same things, and that reminded him.

“I read the letters,” Minho said. “It’s so weird to see him mention me, that he thought I’d like it here. When I get back home I’ll have to look up the letters I have saved. Maybe he referenced it somewhere, and I just didn’t register it? It sounds like he enjoyed his visit.”

Chan nodded, turning his head back to look at Minho.

“He did! He got to ride Red, and we went out into the pastures and showed him around in the truck. Didn’t have a bottle calf at that point, or would’ve showed him how to do that, too. He was really nice. I mean, I can’t say enough how… That he was willing to take a chance was everything to me. It was more than money. I believed in myself, too, but just having someone else say yeah, I think you can do this, Chan. Do a good job, and I’ll support you— It was like having my grandfather back in a way.” Chan shook his head. “My parents stuck it out long enough for me to finish middle school, and I stayed here with my grandfather to finish high school.”

“How long has he been gone?”

“He passed a couple of years before I met your uncle. I mean, I was terrified. It took a while to sort everything out, legally. I didn’t realize he was going to leave everything to me. And I wasn’t used to… To making all the decisions on my own. I always had someone there I could confirm with, and brainstorm with. Training wheels were off, grief was on, and I was on the way. And we did okay. Profits dipped the first year because of my own stupid fault. Picked up the second year. But it was flat. I knew enough to know that that wasn’t going to be enough. I know it was the money and not just the self-confidence.”

“Is it kind of strange that our lawyers are negotiating and we’re just…not really talking about it?” Minho asked.

“I guess not really. I feel like if I tried to say too much… All I can do is show you what it is I’m trying to do. I’m not great at negotiation. I mean, I can bargain with my grain supplier just fine, but this is bigger than my good customer discount. It’s…everything.” Chan shook his head. “I mean, I guess in a way we are negotiating, just with the lawyers mediating. No hurt feelings that way. Good thing he’s getting a flat fee.”

Minho laughed. “And you know I’m not trying to screw you over.”

There wasn’t any law that said Minho had to be paid outright. That was one of the options presented by the lawyer, at the behest of Chan’s lawyer, in fact. A contract could be written up that Minho could be paid over time, with the possibility of a clause that adjusted that based on lean years. It’d guarantee Minho couldn’t sue to sell the property out from under Chan’s feet, and more or less guarantee Minho an income. It was better in the long run for Chan, from what he’d heard, because it kept him from mortgaging himself to the teeth. The bank wouldn’t be nearly so inclined to add clauses and kindnesses, they’d just want their money.

“Yeah,” Chan said, and reached out for a moment, touching Minho’s wrist where it rested on the back of the swing. “No matter what happens, I’ll know I did all that I could. And hey, it turns out I do like you! Your uncle was right. I like your bread, too.”

Minho waved that off. “Didn’t know what I was going to think. Plus, what you were going to think. Like I was some city guy trying to waltz in and rip you off.”

“I’m usually a pretty good judge of character,” Chan said, nodding and complimenting himself. Grinning as Minho stared at him. “I am! I think we do well together. Like, with your uncle, he was a pretty silent partner. Obviously I was ready to account for anything if he asked, but I knew he existed. Would you like to see the books? I’ve shown you about everything else.”

“Why not,” Minho said.

Chan disappeared into the office for at least a little while almost every day from what Minho could tell. He laid it all out for Minho, spreadsheets of information, receipts, inventory, future orders, and orders for cows themselves.

“There’s a few local restaurants who buy exclusively from us,” Chan said with some pride in it. “Everything like that helps, every contract, all of it. Any commodity is prone to going up or down, so when you think you’re beating the game, it all crumbles. Not all of them go to be eaten. We obviously keep some heifers back ourselves, which is what Meadow will be, or sell extras to others who need replacements.”

He wasn’t sure how long they sat there, Chan explaining different terms, different products he used. It wasn’t just the cows, but taking care of pastures so the cows would have more to eat than the hay that Chan both grew and purchased. He pulled out some old books - actual books - too, showing Minho how his grandfather had kept his records. There were pictures on the wall, too, that Chan referred to, pointing up to pictures of cattle special to his grandfather. A prize bull, in one. There was a wistfulness to it. Like it had been simpler when his grandfather had started out, and everything had gotten easier with machinery but so much more complicated in other ways.

It was all as integral to Chan as the lines on his palm were.

***

Minho was communing with the porch swing when a fancy car drove down the driveway. There wasn’t anyone else in sight. He knew he’d seen Jeongin on a horse at some point, but he wasn’t sure where he or Chan were. If it was someone there to see one of them, Minho could call them, and take a message if they weren’t able to get back, he supposed. The sports car seemed out of place somehow. Minho went warily down the steps, as there hadn’t been many visitors while he’d been there, and Chan had taken care of those.

“Can I help you?” Minho asked, when a man in a nice suit got out of the car. He half wondered if it was Chan’s lawyer for a moment.

“I’m looking for, ah… Lee Minho?”

Minho frowned. “You’re speaking to him. Who are you?”

“My name is Dukhyun. I’m a part owner in a cattle operation nearby. We’d heard there’d been a changing of hands. It was your great uncle who had owned part of this place, wasn’t it? I wanted to extend my condolences.”

“Thank you,” Minho said. Though the contrast was night and day. Chan rarely was seen without jeans and a long sleeved shirt, some kind of hat, and work gloves. The man in front of him looked like he’d stepped fresh out of a store window. Chan worked his own ranch. He owned it. The man in front of him was either an owner in name only, or he’d just come back from a fancy lunch.

“I don’t know if you’re interested in selling your stake. You live in the city, don’t you? It’s a bit of a different venture than the usual. But, if you were, I wanted to make sure my hat was in the ring.”

The man was several inches taller than Minho, a smile as bright white as he’d have seen in a magazine ad, but one that didn’t seem genuine. Like he saw Minho like a mark.

“Cattle operation? What kind of business do you do?” Minho asked.

“We’re primarily an investment group that’s been buying land in the area, letting local ranchers get out of the business and retire.”

Oh, letting them. Really, granting them their dreams. He thought of one of the first conversations he’d had with Chan, Chan telling him about the big cattle conglomerates. Maybe this guy was from one of them. And like his thoughts had summoned him, he saw movement, saw Chan. He leaned against the barn, watching, like he wanted the man Minho was speaking to to know he was there. He wasn’t sure why he was so confident it wasn’t directed at himself, but he was.

“I’ll be honest with you, I’m not looking to sell at the moment,” Minho said. Until everything settled, until there was a total breakdown with Chan that they couldn’t overcome, he felt a personal, moral obligation not to.

“Of course, of course. Here’s my card, though, if you ever want to discuss anything.”

It was the dark outline of a cow with two red lines above and below.

“Thanks,” Minho said.

He felt like he was supposed to go after it like a fish after a baited hook. He didn’t bother ripping it up in front of the man, but after he waited for the fancy car to turn back onto the road, he did walk over and hand it to Chan, whose lip curled in immediate disgust like Minho hadn’t seen before.

“These jerks. This guy, particularly. They’ve bought up land on all sides of us it seems like. There’s a few of us left in a row, but it feels like they were picking us off. Some of what they bought was land we used to let cattle graze on, and they stopped that, obviously, because they wanted us to fail. Made it harder, but not impossible.”

“So you’ve run him off, if he came around trying to buy.”

“I have,” Chan said. “He knew he wasn’t welcome here. But they’re like vultures. Worse than vultures, because they’re not just eating what’s dead. They’re trying to kill it.”

He could see Chan’s instinct was to trash the card immediately, and also saw when Chan collected himself, handing the card back to Minho.

“It’s always been your choice,” Chan said. “I’m not going to tell you what to do one way or the other, not that you’d have to listen if I did.”

“Are you in the middle of the ones left?”

“Yeah,” Chan said.

“So he’d really want this place bad. A wedge. A barrier. The other ones would be squeezed from all sides.”

“There’s always talk of stuff… Rumors, from the others who sold eventually. Clipped wire on fences, broken equipment, things like that. I haven’t seen it myself, any kind of sabotage like that. But it’s always in the back of my mind. Like if they can’t entice me to sell, would they make it so I almost had to?”

“They’d be the worst possible people to get a stake in things, then,” Minho said.

Chan stood for a moment, thinking. “I mean, besides the most evil people on the earth, yeah, that’s pretty much it. There are some people I just…can’t. That’s one of them.”

“I get it,” Minho said. And he was the one who tossed the card in the trash. “Anyway, I told him I wasn’t interested. I could feel your glower at him from across the yard.”

Chan grinned sheepishly. “That bad, huh?”

“I’m surprised it didn’t just pick him up and carry him off the property like a rip tide.”

“It can’t be that bad,” Chan protested.

“It was!”

No amount of convincing from Minho changed his mind on that, though Minho tried. Bickering helped wash away some of the sticky feelings the investor had left, like he was about to get played. And Chan with his hands on his hips, clicking his tongue at him was a much more natural state than disgust had been.

“Want to be drafted for a job?” Chan asked as they approached Meadow’s stall.

“Sure?” Minho said, though with some amount of skepticism in case Chan decided to have him climb up to the roof or something.

Instead of that, though, Chan lifted a bucket that had been set near the wall.

“Just getting some cleaning up done. Before the interruption, I collected all the brushes and curry combs. Some are getting a little gross with mud and stuff. You game?”

“Sure,” he said, and that time actually meant it.

He washed the brushes and curry combs in batches, based on how Chan had instructed him. Each one had a tag on it indicating which horse it belonged to - or cow, because Meadow had a set as well - so he was able to fill up his bucket with sudsy water and make his way back to wash each set of brushes. As he finished each one it was laid out on an exterior shelf to dry so the dogs wouldn’t grab them for chew toys and ideally the cats wouldn’t knock them to the ground. He was focused on that, trying to get dirt out of the crevice of a comb, when a stream of water cut across the dirt beside him, splashing little dirty drops of water onto his pants.

Chan’s expression was apologetic where he was rinsing out buckets and cleaning tools. “Sorry! Got away from me.”

Minho raised an eyebrow at him, but accepted the mistake. Because once was a mistake. But, there went another splash a few minutes later. Twice? No. That was deliberate. Chan? Oh, he tried to make his face look like he was sorry as Minho stared up from even more muddy water on his pants. The glee was a little hard to hide, though, as Chan struggled not to grin.

At first, Chan was unaware of Minho’s plan, he could see that by the awkward, still half-apologetic but amused expression. The closer that Minho got, though, the higher his eyebrows got, mouth opening like he was going to say something. He never got the chance though, because as soon as Minho dropped the comb, bent down and picked up the hose - intending to yank the sprayer out of Chan’s hands - the game was on. And so was the sprayer. Instead of an accident or a tease, it was intentional that time, self defense as they played tug of war with the hose and sprayer both. Minho gasped as water caught him full in the chest, leaping forward as the water kept spraying, laughing as they wrestled with the sprayer caught between them and water flying upward like some kind of a fountain show. And then it stopped, Chan gasping as the last spurt just about hit him straight in the face.

Minho was pretty sure he had water up his nose, but it was definitely dripping off of it, off his hair, his eyebrows. The only thing that made him feel better was that Chan was equally as wet, laughing so hard it was shaking both of them as they gripped at each other’s arms.

“Truce,” Chan said, grinning, panting. On some kind of silent pact, they let go of the sprayer together, letting it fall and bounce off their boots. “Good thing you look good wet.”

He looked good wet? Chan should’ve seen himself, like he’d just come up out of a pool or something. It was a tease, Chan using his fingers to catch at the water dripping off Minho’s chin. He might’ve answered in kind, maybe pinching Chan’s cheek, but he was caught by Chan’s lips parting as he focused on Minho’s chin. Or maybe, Minho’s mouth. He couldn’t see what was going through Chan’s head, his nice and sparkly eyelashes hid that from him. All he knew was that when he leaned closer, he wasn’t the only one, Chan humming against him as Minho pulled him in by the front of his soaking shirt.

The hand that Chan stroked over his drenched hair was gentle, but his mouth was even softer, meeting Minho kiss for kiss. He just— Forgot. Forgot the combs, the hose, as Chan drew him in. Chan made the softest sound, like a man getting something he’d dearly wanted, that he wanted more of. That instant assent as Minho’s hand tightened in his shirt, a hand finding, sliding up Minho’s back, the other on his neck, and just…kissing him.

“Did we— Oh!”

Chan startled against him like he’d forgotten anything else existed, and Minho was tempted to guide his face right back to his. But it was Jeongin standing still in the barn doorway with his eyes closed as though the sight of them kissing had frozen him into stone, the bucket in his hand still swaying. It made Chan laugh as they took a step back from each other.

“It’s safe now,” Chan said, and Jeongin’s eyes opened in stages. And then blinking as he realized they were both soaking wet.

“Did the hose break?” Jeongin asked.

“Yeah,” Minho said, picking up the comb he’d been working on from the ground. “Lucky I was here to resuscitate him or he would’ve drowned.”

The way Chan laughed when Minho smirked at him was gratifying. But Chan went off to help Jeongin with whatever he’d had a question about, and Minho finished washing up the brushes and curry combs. It hadn’t seemed cold while he was in the sun, but as soon as he got in the shade, he went straight to the house to change. That time on the porch swing, he had other thoughts as he watched Chan and Jeongin work. Kissing Chan? He hadn’t missed that Chan was attractive, and not just his face and body. Smart, a nice if dorky sense of humor. A nicer sense of responsibility. Not a stuffed shirt by any sense. No, he’d felt some of those muscles first hand. If it had been a thought, then it definitely hadn’t been an expectation. Much like his assumption on what Chan would look like, he’d apparently let his brain fall too far afield on what Chan would want besides everything he already had. A nice wife, a few kids to fill the house with. He could still do the latter. But he hadn’t kissed Minho like the man in Minho’s little heteronormative assumptions. That was— It was more than interesting. And from what he knew of the world, a terrible idea. The unknown of Minho’s part in the ranch and business had to feel like an axe hanging over Chan’s neck, and for him to want to kiss Minho despite it? Hormones were a risky business.

He wasn’t going to be offended or surprised if Chan ended up saying it was a terrible idea. Because it was, for Chan most of all.

Jeongin didn’t treat him much differently at dinner, but there was the faint feeling of a lecture being held back by a parent. It was a protectiveness, one he’d seen between them before and appreciated. Though, Jeongin clearly was holding back until he could get Minho alone, and Chan was a bit in the way of that. So it was left, for the night anyway. He wondered what Jeongin would say, how he’d describe Chan. If he’d just be clinical about it, or say something along the lines that Chan cared about everything a lot, as though Minho had missed that part.

“Did he scold you?” Minho asked as he waited for his tea to steep. Jeongin had left a few minutes earlier, and Chan still lingered at the table.

Chan scoffed. But he looked up at the ceiling, his head bobbling a bit. “Okay, a little.”

“Is it wise to get up to hanky panky with the man who’s putting you in financial and existential danger?” Minho theorized about the lecture.

“Hanky panky,” Chan said, belly laughing.

“Whatever word he’d have used,” Minho said, dismissing it with his hand.

“Fooling around, I think were the words he used, but yeah. Want to come sit on the porch?”

Minho was fine with that, following Chan outside and then down the porch to the swing. It was anchored into the boards above it, wide enough for three people. But Chan sat first, holding it steady so Minho could sit easily on the other side with his tea safely cradled. The space gave him the opportunity to bring his legs up with him, mug tucked between his chest and thighs and partially turned in Chan’s direction.

“Nice out here,” Minho said. “Peaceful.”

“One of my first memories is sitting out here with my grandma. Not in this swing. The old one was starting to get unsafe, so I replaced it with this one a few years ago, but in a swing similar,” Chan explained, using the longer path to get to his point. “But yeah. It is nice.”

“A good choice,” Minho said. It swung easily and quietly, undeterred by the weight of two men on it. There were tie downs, he could see that too, for storms he assumed. Ever cautious, Chan. But not afraid, as Chan looked at him.

“You’re into guys, then, I guess? I mean, unless you just go around kissing random ranchers.”

Minho laughed into his mug. “No, you’re definitely the first. Rancher. Not man. You?”

“I mean. Yeah. I can’t say this lifestyle gives me a lot of options or makes me particularly in demand. A lot of late dates would make the mornings more painful than they already are. People want to, you know. Go shopping. Go to clubs, and stuff.” Chan made a thoughtful sound. “I could open up Club Cow, I guess.”

“Cows in glitter?”

“Nah, they’d hate glitter. Makes them sneeze,” Chan said. That time Minho’s head fell back as he laughed, and Chan laughed with him. “I can safely say I didn’t anticipate that happening when you got here. I hope it didn’t make you feel—”

Chan’s hand flailed in lieu of actually stating whatever he hadn’t wanted Minho to feel. Anything negative, he got that.

“No, you’re good. But yeah, same here. I thought you were going to look like something out of an old western movie.”

“Howdy pardner,” Chan drawled, and then capped it with a cheesy wink that had Minho groaning.

“No, bad. Don’t.”

“Yet another reason I’m not in demand,” Chan said, giggling.

“If anyone knew you existed you would be,” Minho said. “I mean, you could make a profile to suss out outdoorsy kind of people. Wouldn’t even have to have a picture of you, just your kitchen.”

“What’s the kitchen got to do with being outdoorsy?”

Oops. “Outdoorsy people who like to…cook?” Minho ventured.

Maybe Chan was too kind to call Minho out on him accidentally calling himself out. Less likely, he hadn’t realized that was a rather limited demographic that Minho himself inhabited a corner of. But the point hadn’t been to out how much Minho fit in, but to point out how Chan could find someone else who did. There were men out there who liked that kind of thing, men with bigger ambitions to live in the stinky silence than Minho did. It was a bad idea, everyone agreed. The disappointment on the other hand was a fresh and living thing, something that hadn’t existed until that day. He’d have liked to have kissed Chan a little more, felt the sure touch of his hands, and definitely felt more of being pressed up against Chan’s body. That was what Minho wanted. But that wasn’t necessarily what was fair to Chan.

“What would your profile be looking to attract?” Chan asked.

“Smart, reliable. Funny. Successful? Though that’s vague. What would draw that in, anyway? Cheese in a trap?”

He could’ve added more. Handsome, strong, affectionate. Someone who understood boundaries and gave him his space when he needed it. A good kisser. It felt like the further he got down the line, the more he realized he was describing the man looking at him.

“Maybe,” Chan mused.

And his tea was gone, so he swung his legs down and stood. “My turn on dish duty, so I’ll get to that before it’s a fiasco.”

Chan met his fist bump as Minho went back inside, but stayed on the porch for a while after. Minho didn’t see him again until morning.

***

Minho got to understand when Chan was bored or wanted a chat. Were there other things to be doing? Sure, but he was the boss. He got to take a break when he wanted. Sometimes it was just a chat as Chan went along, or sometimes he was more obvious, planting a stool in Meadow’s stall while Minho fed her. And of course, planting himself on it. Minho didn’t envy him the stool, because if he’d tried, he was pretty sure Meadow would’ve bunted him straight over, and it would’ve all ended in tears.

“She’s really sweet,” Chan said, admiring her like a proud dad.

“Most of the cows out there seem pretty wary.”

“Beef cattle aren’t handled as much, or bred for it, so they tend to be a little wild. Dairy cows are different, obviously, because you don’t want a cow busting through fences when you need her to give milk. Hand raising them like this, though, they’re like big dogs with hooves sometimes.”

Even with the bottle out of milk, Meadow stayed pressed against him as she lipped at her grain, like he was a source of some kind of comfort.

“Seems like she’s eating more of the feed lately,” Minho observed.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed that, too. I like to make sure she has enough to where she’s not licking it clean, but not so much it’s just wasted. It’s nicer to eat when it’s fresh and not all slobbery.”

There was another small diversion of Chan explaining again in a little more detail how it was getting her stomach ready for digesting things, and his brain fuzzed out for a little bit. It was important, that part he got. And the more of it she ate, possibly the sooner she wouldn’t need the milk. They grew up too fast. Though Chan clearly wasn’t in any rush either way.

“Hard to think she’ll grow up to be on someone’s plate,” Minho said.

Chan hummed, rearranging his feet on the stool and bouncing a knee.

“You want to keep her?” Chan asked.

“I think she’ll outgrow the bathroom in my apartment,” Minho said. Were there miniature cows? Probably. But if it smelled that strong in a barn, it’d be deadly in a bathroom. Could they be toilet trained? Nah.

Chan laughed, shaking his head. “No, I mean, keep her with the herd. I can record her so she won’t be sold. Like I said, it’s likely that’d happen anyway, but we can formalize it. She’ll be Minho’s cow.”

“Minho’s cow,” he repeated. “Sounds like I’m in some historical drama. Ah, there goes Minho and his cow.”

That delighted Chan also, and he petted Meadow as she came up to the stool and put her head on his leg.

“It’s an important distinction! She’s one of the last of the babies from the new bull we got last year. So far he’s throwing nice calves that aren’t too big, so time will tell,” Chan said.

“Not too big?” Minho asked.

Chan nodded. “Even if you want bigger cows in the end, bigger babies makes it harder on the cows, because it’s harder to get the calves out. Then you end up maybe losing calves or the mamas both, or having to spend a lot of time and maybe money in vet visits helping pull the calves. So it can just be dangerous all around.”

He was, if he admitted it to himself, a tiny bit jealous of a cow. Chan was petting her so gently, her eyes closed in bliss as she just communed with him.

“Good girl,” Chan said softly. “I have to stop bothering Minho and go back to work so I can eat dinner. There you go.”

He moved so he didn’t startle her, and Minho hoped he didn’t stare after Chan with the same expression she did.

“You coming out?” Chan asked, holding the stall door partly open still.

“Going to see if I can’t get a few of the dirt clods off of her.”

He hoped it was dirt anyway. With Chan and the stool gone he got to work on that, feeling her shudder as he used the comb and brush on her and got her looking back a little more normal. She shook off some dust, and with a groan like he’d pummeled all the energy out of her, sprawled right down on the straw. It made him laugh, first crouching down to check the straw to see if it was dry, and then sitting next to her. He probably wouldn’t have, if she was standing up, but he was about as agile as she was to stand. Much as she’d done with Chan, she moved her head to his leg and he scooted to let her be more comfortable.

Yeah, she was cute as she rubbed her head on him a little and settled, heaving a giant sigh.

“Yeah, really working hard, kid,” Minho said. Though, the growing part of life was probably exhausting. He could hardly believe how much bigger she’d gotten just from the time he’d gotten there. All that effort trying to keep the bottle in her mouth had paid off. Minho’s cow. It made him chuckle, still. And wonder, because he wasn’t sure what he was going to do. He couldn’t stay forever, and Chan certainly hadn’t invited him to. But he also wasn’t ready to go, yet. It felt like a lot of the stress he’d been carrying had been falling away. Good nights of sleep, exercise, good food. There was the company, too.

“Maybe a little longer, huh?” Minho asked her, and watched her ear twitch.

“Minho? You still in here?”

Minho looked up. “Yeah, with Meadow,” he called.

Chan’s head and shoulders appeared over the stall door, and he leaned on it, watching Minho stroke Meadow’s face and neck as she slept.

“Hard baby business,” Minho said.

“I see that. She’s really comfortable with you,” Chan said, and just stood there for a moment. “We probably should head up and eat before Jeongin sends out a search party.”

Minho lifted her head gently and set it back down, but he needn’t have been concerned. She woke, of course, but was well on her way to being asleep again by the time Minho made it out of the stall.

“Ahh, I can almost taste it!” Chan half bellowed, the sound bouncing off the flat surfaces of the house and barn. Turned out the laughter did, too.

***

Chan finally got him on a horse. He wasn’t sure if he was amused or terrified that the horse’s name was Jolly, though he was certainly a little smaller than Chan’s Shadow. He got a whole lesson on tack, on safety, and he listened, nodding. This meant stop, that meant go. He got it. It wasn’t quite like going from newbie to flying a jet, but he gave it his full attention anyway. Chan could’ve done that for a living, somehow upbeat about it, informative, and even making the side journeys sound interesting. Nothing went off, no sirens sounded, as Chan gave him a boost onto Jolly’s back. The horse shifted a little, of course, as Chan made sure he was firm in the stirrups, but he stood calmly as Chan mounted Shadow. The one very leisurely ride he’d taken, the horses had mostly followed each other nearly nose to tail. Jolly certainly seemed very content to follow Shadow out of the barn. Chan let them through a gate that he then closed, and held Shadow back so Minho could come up beside him.

“Good time to do this,” Chan said, nodding decisively, as though the nice weather was reason enough.

The morning was warm, not too hot. There was the faint creak of leather from the saddles, Shadow mouthing at his bit a little. There were cattle distant - very distant - in the way they were going.

“Some of them are up higher, and the cows and calves will join them soon,” Chan said, pointing up towards the hills. “They can’t stay any one place too long, depending on how many there are. We like them fertilizing the grass and all, but if they get too enthusiastic eating it, then we just have more problems. The more grass they can eat naturally, the better it is for the bottom line.”

“And by the time winter rolls around again and they come back down, the herd’s smaller,” Minho said.

“That’s right. Calves are sold, herd thinned a bit. Just have to keep all the expecting mothers healthy to do it all over again.”

Well, then. Minho could give himself a pat on the back for listening comprehension.

“You get a lot of thinking time out here like this,” Minho said.

“Oh yeah,” Chan said. “I’d drive, if I was going up in the hills. We’ll trailer the horses up if there’s too much to do. I keep a four wheeler up there for between times. We’re lucky this year because the neighbor to the west has his cattle up there, too, and has a cabin up there, so he’s able to poke around, check for predators, or make sure no one’s found a fence line they couldn’t get back out of. One of us still goes up there about once a week. It’s remote enough there’s not much chance of stealing, so that’s one less thing to worry about.”

“So it really is a western movie around here,” Minho said.

“Sometimes! Jeongin is going to be heading into the city tomorrow to pick up a package they won’t bring any closer, so if you need him to pick anything up?” Chan said. “I suppose you could ride along with him, too, if you didn’t have anything else to do. I say, as though I’m the one driving. I’d ask him if he wants company first.”

It almost made Minho laugh, Chan casually volunteering Jeongin’s time like he was his older brother.

“Do you do the drives in sometimes?” Minho asked.

“Oh, sometimes. More likely to just go to town and shop. If the weather’s bad I’ll drive or go with him. Before I hired him, of course I did all of it. I napped a few times in the barn, I can tell you that.”

It made him think, because he’d been pondering when a good time would be to go back to the city and get things in order. He couldn’t just stay at the ranch indefinitely. He needed to sure his apartment hadn’t flooded, that there wasn’t any important mail he’d missed. Even if it felt like a vacation, it both was and wasn’t. He could get more clothes, breathe in emission-filled air, maybe get his head out of things so he could think clearly.

“Maybe I will ride in with him. I was thinking about it, that maybe he could drop me off at the train station while he’s there.”

“Going home?” Chan asked, after a moment of silence as Minho watched for his reaction, curious.

“Yeah, for a little while maybe. I didn’t bring enough clothes, for one thing. Your invitation was a little open ended, and I didn’t know if I was going to want to run away screaming,” Minho said, and Chan did grin at that. “I can get my mail situation sorted out, get clothes, make sure the building’s still standing. Four or five days, so Jeongin’s not having to race back and forth every second. If you don’t mind me coming back.”

“Of course not, you’d be welcome. You sure you’ll want to come back once you stay in the city that long?” Chan asked. His tone was light, but Minho kind of got the impression that he really questioned it. He really wanted Minho to come back? He’d have tried to look further but Chan was determinedly not looking at Minho as though he realized Minho was going to be examining him as surely as if he wore magnifying glasses.

“I’ll keep in contact, then, so we can choose a day that works best for me to get picked up. I don’t want to have to rent a bicycle.”

Chan’s expression seemed to indicate he might like to see that one.

“Maybe I’ll be the one to drive in and pick you up, then,” Chan said.

“Ah, trying to bribe me, I see. I’ll have to come back, then.”

Chan sputtered with the laugh, the mood easy again. The horses definitely didn’t mind. And he enjoyed it, the ride, the conversation, even if he did walk a little funny when he got back on solid ground.

***

He was ready at the time Jeongin intended to go, and Jeongin looked surprised to see it was just Minho, no luggage except his laptop bag, ready to go. Why would he take anything? He wasn’t staying away indefinitely, and he had clothes at his apartment. He’d said his goodbye to Chan that morning at breakfast, so all he had to do was buckle in and enjoy the ride.

“What do you think of Chan now that you met him?” Jeongin asked.

Minho wasn’t sure which angle Jeongin was attacking the question from. From the angle of Chan the business owner, or Chan the man Minho had kissed.

“He seems like a good guy. Hard worker. Cares about the ranch, the animals. Definitely deserves not to get shafted.”

Jeongin’s laugh was easy. “Yeah. I’m glad. He’s a good boss. When school’s in session, he makes sure to give me plenty of time to study when I’m not at classes.”

It was a testimonial Minho hadn’t received on the first drive in, which indicated to him that Jeongin was maybe more comfortable making a plea to him then, too.

“It’s kind of a commute to school, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. But it’s worth it! I get so much hands on experience, way more than most people. I want to specialize in large animals and stay close to here if I can.”

Chan would have added a lot more to his plate when Jeongin was gone part of the week. Those guys he’d bring in part time maybe would fill in if there was something Chan couldn’t do alone. He could’ve let Jeongin go, too, just hired someone else full time, but he knew Chan wasn’t like that. If Jeongin wanted to be there, Chan was going to let him.

And apparently if Minho wanted to be there, Chan would welcome him, too.

***

Minho’s goals in life were fairly simple. He flopped on his own bed after he’d showered off the train ride, and found it a little irritatingly hard compared to the one he’d gotten used to at the ranch. He wandered to his favorite restaurant for dinner, and made plans to meet with his lawyer, and afterwards with Jisung for lunch the next day. Everything was just as he’d left it, though it wasn’t that much a surprise. It felt comfortable. It was its own kind of quiet, though he could hear the neighbor’s TV, and occasionally someone walking overhead. So there was that.

Minho read over the draft contracts that were mocked up in the lawyer’s office. He’d seen some of it over e-mail, but it was different reading in real time with his lawyer to answer questions. One of the newest ones had been received the day before from Chan’s lawyer.

“I see you put some question marks about selling the land back to Chan on something like a real estate contract?” Minho asked.

The lawyer hummed, and laid out Minho’s options. It was possible, though it tied their fortunes together stretching out into however long the contract was written up for. And it was also possible Chan at some point would be able to pick up and pay him off in full, or that the Earth would float off into space. A lot of things were possible. But if he wanted to divest himself entirely, and not screw Chan over in the process, then they were going to have to get creative.

“I’m fine with these concessions,” Minho said, marking each of them. “Chan is already paying the taxes in full, so there wouldn’t be any extra liability on my end. When he would pay, it’d be extra income I didn’t have before anyway, so…?”

“All I can do is give you my best advice and guidance,” he was told.

And first and foremost, Minho wanted to do the right thing, for both of them. It wasn’t like he was just handing Chan everything outright.

“Can we add some kind of profit-loss caveat? I’m his business partner, too,” Minho said. “It complicates a lot of things.”

On one hand. Also more clearly defined his obligations on another.

***

It was nice to sit in the shade of an umbrella and eat good food, and have nice, familiar conversation. Most of it was his own conversation, telling Jisung about his adventures, what he’d learned about his surprise new business. For someone who spent their time in the city - not that Minho had been any different - it was probably interesting, boring, and unrelatable all at the same time.

“I’ll be going back in a few days,” Minho said. “Something like that.”

Jisung blinked at him. “Why?”

“I’m helping bottle raise a calf.”

He knew he deserved the side-eye, but it was also at least partially true in terms of reasons he was going back. There wasn’t anything holding him in the city for right then, and it was kind of hard to explain having the heavy weight of Meadow’s head on his legs, trusting him. She’d have done that for Chan and Jeongin, too, and it wasn’t like they neglected her. Minho was like a baby duck imprinting on the first thing that had needed him. She didn’t have a mom to nuzzle her, and there were so many tasks around the ranch that it was hard to spend too much quality time with her. So he could let her in the paddock to run, and all the other stuff. He knew it sounded ridiculous. Though Jisung had appropriately laughed at Minho’s plight with trying to keep his shoes clean, and cooed appropriately over Minho’s 37 pictures of Meadow and the cats being cute.

“So you’re not going to sell?”

“Maybe back to the owner,” Minho said.

“I thought he didn’t have enough money?”

Minho shook his head. “It’s complicated.”

“You have a picture of complicated?” Jisung probed.

Minho squinted at him, but pulled out his phone, showing Jisung the picture of Chan posing with Meadow. He could almost hear Chan’s laugh as Meadow had almost knocked him over a few seconds later. Say cheese? No, say milk.

“Looks like a good complication. You think he’s into guys?”

Minho waited until Jisung looked at him to raise his eyebrows, and Jisung whistled out a breath.

“Is that a good idea?”

“Can’t say a lot of foresight went into it,” Minho said. “Not much has happened anyway.”

“Is he trying to seduce you into helping him out? Or is he just trying to snag you into getting attached to a baby animal so you don’t sell?”

The immediate laugh had Jisung looking offended.

“No. No, if you knew him, you’d laugh at that, too. Anyone else and I might think it. You should hear how he talks to his horse. He’s…nice. Not fake nice, either. If he thought it’d help, I imagine he wouldn’t be too proud to get on his knees and beg, but that? No. I don’t think that’d even occur to him.”

“You could have a marriage of convenience. He gets the land back, you get his hot body. Everyone wins.”

“I don’t know if ranch life is exactly in the cards.”

“You could visit like you do now,” Jisung said. “Conjugal visits, with optional stall mucking. Get them to take pictures of you! I want to see Minho who’s all covered in cow manure.”

“Luckily that hasn’t happened yet,” Minho said. “Nor do I intend that to happen. But I could probably bribe someone to take pictures.”

“Good,” Jisung said. “I’ll wait.”

He might be waiting a while, but that was perfectly fine.

***

Minho fit in a trip to the dentist, shopping for more clothes, and another dinner out on the second full day in the city. He felt like he was accomplishing everything he’d set out to do. He’d started packing his second suitcase, and was getting regular updates from Chan on Meadow’s progress.

Have a surprise for you when you get back ;)

Not the surprise but just getting my paperwork in order

A picture followed, showing a line correction with Meadow’s tag number and the addition of “Minho’s cow.”

It made him cackle out loud in his apartment.

He typed back, That looks better. What day works best for you to come get me?

Please hold while I check my incredibly detailed schedule.

That man. He wondered if Chan could feel Minho judging him through the cell connection.

Friday or Saturday would be best. Someone’s picking up cows Thursday so I’ll need to be here until that’s done.

Would Saturday be better to give a buffer in case things get pushed back?

Stranger things have happened. What time Saturday?

Minho gave him the timetable for Saturday and Chan picked an early afternoon time.

I’ll be counting on you, Minho sent.

Can’t wait to see your face.

He told himself it was because Chan was going to show up to the train station in a clown suit. But, he didn’t actually believe it.

***