Archive of Our Own ^beta

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Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Gus unlocked the front door to the saloon at exactly noon, just like he always did. He didn’t really expect somebody for a couple of hours, but sometimes a few folks will wander in for lunch or a midday refreshment. He doesn’t expect much on a random rainy Tuesday, but he’s consistent—an important trait in a business owner. He takes great pride in being dependently consistent.

He walked back to the bar counter and picked up a couple of glasses that needed to be polished. He kept everything perfectly spic and span, homey, and comfortable. It was important that the other townsfolk felt cozy in the saloon, that’s why Gus kept a bit of ragtag furniture, warm lights, and the scent of delicious food at all times.

And it worked! Friday nights especially were so busy that he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if not for Emily helping out part time. Robin and Demetrius usually play some nostalgic song and dance together, Shane hangs out by himself with a sparkling water these days, Pam sits by the bar and gets intoxicated while chatting with him, Mayor Lewis and Marnie flirt in the corner, Elliot and Leah share some wine, Willy orders himself something strong and indulges Clint, who just stares at Emily and mopes, Harvey gets and strong coffee and tiredly enjoys the show, Pierre escapes his family to get some scotch alone, Abigail claims her favorite couch to watch the weekly pool games, where Sam and Sebastian play until Sam gives up on trying to win a single match.

And sometimes, Sebastian’s wife tags along. Not always, she doesn’t come every week. Farming is a taxing job, Gus imagines, and she does a whole lot more than just farming, so it makes sense that she has less time than her househusband. She rarely showed up at all before they got married, and even then, she showed up solely to see Sebastian before sprinting out the door again.

Gus liked the farmer; she was a nice woman. She helped Gus out on more than one occasion when he was in a pinch, she was a great listener, a valuable customer, and a friendly, albeit unpredictable face. When she shows up on Friday nights, she usually hangs around her husband, watches them play pool, sits with Abigail, and then stares. She does a lot of staring, not usually at people or anything, but at the wall, or the ceiling, or the floor. It seems like she sees things that aren’t there, like she’s reading or browsing through sometimes. Most of Pelican town doesn’t question it, it’s just something she does.

Other Friday nights she seemed to be in a more excitable mood, which meant that she didn’t smile more or anything, but continuously paid for a variety of food from Gus then distributed them among at least half of the customers in the saloon. Salad for Leah, beer for Pam, spaghetti for Robin, pizza for Sam and Shane, coffee for Harvey, and whatever the special is for anybody who wants it. She was a very generous person, a little odd, but undeniably generous. She brought him a crate of oranges from her orange tree every time she had a good harvest, which he would thank her for by sending her and Sebastian something special for dinner.

Gus is interrupted from his thoughts when the door swings open.

Standing in the door way is one sopping wet farmer, who smiles at him as she drips all over his welcome mat. A cold draft breezes into the room, clashing against the warm saloon air. Gus pauses from polishing.

“Hey,” Gus says with a wry smile, “you look like you could use a beverage. And maybe a towel,” he tosses the rag he was using at her. Her arm shoots out without her glancing at it, and she snatches the rag out of the air like an instinct. He’s heard things about her skill in the mines, maybe the reflexes are a result of that.

“Sorry,” she says, dabbing some of the water off of her skin and wiping her feet on the mat politely. She’s still extremely damp, but not quite dripping wet anymore.

“It’s no issue, make yourself at home,” Gus said kindly, picking up another rag and gesturing with his chin at some of the bar stools. The farmer slid into a seat and picked up a menu, though any resident of Pelican Town knew exactly what was on it save the special.

“Thirsty?” Gus offered. “There’s nothing like a glass of dry red wine on a day like this, huh?” he chuckled, but raised his eyebrows, wondering if she’d be swayed into a drink. He knew she didn’t drink very much at all, but every so often she indulged herself.

Today, it did not seem to be the case. She shook her head and pointed at the menu with a shy smile.

“Oh, a pizza? Good choice, for here or to-go?” Gus asked, rolling up his sleeves.

“To-go, please,” she said politely.

Gus nodded, and began to walk toward the oven to put a few in. “Just one?”

“No.”

“Two?”

“Thirty-five.”

“Thirty-five?” Gus repeated her in disbelief, eyes widening. He turned back to gape at her, to see if she was trying to be funny or something, but she looked completely serious.

“Yes please,” the farmer said with a little nod.

Gus blinked slowly. There weren’t even that many people in all of Pelican Town. What could she possibly do with thirty-five whole pizzas? She and Sebastian couldn’t eat all those. Did the rain mess with her head?!

“… so, you want thirty-five pizzas to-go,” he said slowly, waiting for her to stop him. She didn’t. “Alright. Well. That is going to be, um, 4200 dollars.”

“Okay,” she said before digging around in her bag before pausing to look back up at him. “What’s the special today?” she asked, tilting her head.

“… pumpkin soup.”

“Two of those as well please.”

“Right. Why not? Yes. I’ll have that right out for you,” Gus said a little faintly as he rung up her total and accepted her payment, which she handed over without any hesitation.

She nodded patiently and began to organize her backpack as Gus crept away to go get her food ready.

Twenty minutes later, Gus managed to get everything done. He was sweating and a little frazzled, but he did it. Though he would have killed for Emily’s help. He had half a mind to call her in desperation, but he pulled himself together and got the food. The money was more than worth it.

He had all thirty-five pizzas and two pumpkin soups laid out on the counter in some Styrofoam containers, ready for her to somehow transport it all in the torrential rain.

“Are you having a party or something? That’s quite a bit of pizza for two people,” Gus said casually, trying not to seem invasive. Usually, people just told him all kinds of things about themselves and their days, the farmer wasn’t quite as much of an open book. Though even if she was, Gus wasn't so sure he'd be able to even understand her language.

“The soup is for Sebastian and me. For dinner,” The farmer said quietly, popping open the lid to one of the pizza containers.

“And the thirty-five pizzas?”

“I’m going mining. Keeps up my energy,” she said as she picked up the open Styrofoam container in one hand and her open backpack in the other.

“And you’re bringing full pizzas with you? Thirty-five of them?”

She nodded once, before tipping the to-go box over, forcing the pizza to fall with a wet squelch directly into her open backpack.

Gus stared in horror.

The farmer proceeded to do this exact same thing to every single one of the remaining thirty-four pizzas, dropping them face first into her bag and neatly stacking the empty to-go boxes. When she was done, her bag was full of pizzas stacked on top of each other upside down with absolutely no container. She gingerly placed the soup bowls on top of the pile of dough and sauce and cheese. It made a squishing sound. She didn't even bother with lids for the soup.

Gus did not manage to find a single word to say for the entire duration of this.

“Should last me a few trips, thank you, Gus,” the farmer said chipperly before putting her backpack on, turning around and sprinting out the door, back into the rain, before Gus could so much as wave her goodbye.

Gus considered calling Harvey and telling him to expect a case of food poisoning but thought better of it. She was a successful farmer, friend, businesswoman, and wife to her husband. The farmer must know what she was doing. She could have her … eccentricities, he supposed.

Chapter Text

Harvey’s mustache twitched. He was standing over the sleeping farmer, carefully tucked into white sheets on a hospital bed. She looked paler against the sterile room, like the sun was being sucked from her skin. He didn’t like having to see her like this—frail, sickly, injured. She never so much as stirred whenever she slept. It only added to the deathly aura around her.

He sighed and leaned into the bed behind him, taking off his glasses to massage the spot between his eyes. The farmer really did a number on his poor nerves. She seemed to think she was invincible, like every fiber of her being was convinced that death would never be an option. Harvey tries to tell her to be careful, to slow down, to not go so deep, not travel so far. It’s difficult to navigate the patient/doctor relationship when she’s also his friend. He worries about her. She does not seem to pay that any mind.

One desperate part of him wants to scream (and possibly cry) that she absolutely should never do anymore exploring. No more mining. No more monster hunting and solo quests. Harvey can’t even pretend to understand just how much she does, how far below the earth she has delved or how much that adventurer’s guild has pushed her into doing. He knows it’s more than anyone will admit to.

But he knows she’s an adult, and as a medical professional, his only right is to advise. He can’t force her to change her lifestyle, no matter how dangerous of one she had. As her friend though, he’s routinely fighting the urge to beg her to stop. He wants to do something he shouldn’t, like conspire with her husband to put an end to her injuries, find a way to seal her from the mines, talk with the mayor to get her banned. Something. Anything.

Though something stops him. Common sense of course, warns Harvey against trying to force her to change her life, but something else does to. He’d never admit it, even to himself, but she’s built for such reckless days. She heals so quickly, scars fade, and wounds close faster than they should. Her nutrition levels are always … perfect. Never deficient in vitamins. Her blood tests always come back unusually healthy. Her husband has expressed some concern that she’ll go days eating the same nutrition-less algae soup, but her results always say otherwise. The farmer usually has that strange youthful glow, like her body really was at his best. No matter what, she’s healthy. Always healthy, save when somebody drags her to his clinic half dead and bleeding profusely, of course.

That night, at the delightful hour of 2:30AM, Robin knocked on his door, hefting up the farmer in her arms. If he hadn’t immediately begun preoccupied treating the injured farmer, he would have been surprised at how strong Robin was. Carpentry, he supposed, built more muscles than model plans and stethoscopes.

The farmer had been beat to a pulp, by what? He did not know. Long deep scratches, bite marks, freezing cold patches, slime, blood, dust, her skin told a story he did not wish to hear. It took time to disinfect and clean the injured skin. He had to cut away her ripped up clothes, which were a laughable defense against whatever she had encountered below the surface of the earth. A half dozen emeralds rolled out of her pocket and tumbled to the floor. Harvey ignored it in favor of searching for broken ribs. That damn massive eyeliner wing of hers was still intact and had to be washed away before he could tend to the cut on her temple. Her hair was still strangely clean, and he did not find any sweat on her person, only blood. Though only half the blood was hers, it seemed.

Two different wounds required deep pressure to halt the bleeding. She was half mummified in bandages by the time he was finished. He wished this wasn’t the first time he’d have to do this for her. At this point, Harvey had made a small fortune patching her up. It was not something he was overly happy about. Scolding her did not seem to have any effect. He sometimes received an apology, but only for upsetting him. She did not seem to like upsetting him, but her desire to mine and work herself to the bone seemed a greater motivator.

Robin had already offered to call Sebastian, so Harvey could focus on the farmer. He was probably almost to the clinic. Now that his work was done for the moment, he could take a second to collect himself before he arrived. It would be best if they were not both panicked.

He looked back at her, each breath small and almost robotic. She was a puzzle, that was for certain. He loved the farmer. They all did. Nobody could care like she could. Nobody could do most things like she could. She was incredible. She was an enigma.

Harvey sighs to himself. His eyes trail to the bin of bloodied rags he’d been using to clean her up. He would dispose of them properly, of course. Though for the moment, he just couldn’t look away, wondering how she could bear to go through so much pain, time and time again.

The first few times this happened, Harvey took it as a grave reminder that even she was human. The perfect lonely farmer girl herself was only flesh and bone. Are they not the same? No matter how collected and mysterious she had seemed, she still bleeds like the rest of them.

Now he’s not so sure.

A mouse bleeds just like a wolf.

Harvey is pulled from his thoughts when he hears the front door open loudly and slam with a rattle. He collects himself and rushes out, paying no mind to his bloodied lab coat.

“Harvey?” Sebastian says hoarsely, eyes darting around frantically. He’s a mess, still in pajama bottoms and a hoodie thrown over top. His hair is frazzled and he’s wearing two different sandals. Robin is standing beside him, one hand gently on his forearm.

“Hello, Sebastian, why don’t you come in? Come see her. She’s alright, just asleep,” Harvey says softly, holding open the door for him.

Robin gives her tall son’s arm a squeeze. Her own clothing has a blood splatter on it. She looked calm in the face of it. “You call me first thing tomorrow morning and let me know how she is, Sebby, please?”

He nods and wordlessly and distractedly pats her shoulder before moving past her. He’s agitatedly biting his bottom lip, chewing on chapped skin. He shoves his shaky hands in his pockets.

As soon as Harvey opens the door, Sebastian rushes to her side, checking her over and seeming to count each bandage and scrape. He takes her tanned hand in his own pale one, running his long fingers over each of her knuckles. He looked relieved, in spite of her state.

“She’ll be alright, but she has to take it easy for at least a few weeks,” Harvey said firmly, “change her bandages every day, keep the wounds clean, and for Yoba’s sake, please keep her out of those mines until she heals at least.”

Sebastian smiled wryly. “I’ll try my best, Doc, but you know how she is.”

“I am imploring you, Sebastian. She can’t keep going like this.”

“Has she been struggling to recover? Or seeing long term damage I should know about?” Sebastian asked, his gravelly voice still soft and almost humorful. It was weird.

“Well. Er. No,” Harvey admitted awkwardly, “but it’s common logic. This isn’t good for her.”

“I’ll ask her to take a break,” Sebastian said, having never let go of her hand, “Because believe me, I’m pissed. I told her to take an extra Muscle Remedy and she forgot, then she didn’t head home at 11:00, which is not part of our deal, but let’s be honest. She’ll be back the moment somebody asks her for some topaz or some shit.”

“She has to stop, for her own wellbeing,” Harvey said quietly, keeping at bay his frustration and worry.

“Can you stop the sun from coming up in the morning, Doc?” Sebastian asked lightly, eyebrows raised.

Harvey was not amused by that.

“She’s not like us,” Sebastian said, smiling at her sleeping face, “you said it yourself. No long term damage. Perfect health. We’ve been married for just two years now, and I have learned that my job isn’t to stop her. It’s impossible. So now, I leave the impossible to her, because she’s pretty damn good at it.”

Harvey paused, before sighing and cupping his own face in his hands. “I’m going to start billing you extra for my nerves.”

“Understandable.”

Chapter Text

The farmer was doing that … thing again.

Penny tried not to judge, it was just something that happened. She just waited it out.

Everybody had their little quirks, even herself. When reading an especially engaging novel, she may sometimes accidentally find herself making faces based off whatever feeling the characters in the book were having. Sam laughed at her once, and she was too embarrassed to read in public for what was probably an amount of time more embarrassing than the original incident. But Sam had silly habits too! He always sticks his tongue out in concentration when skateboarding or licks the side of his pint at the bar to get the condensation off like an animal. He can hardly make fun of her, not that that stops him. Oh, she doesn’t do well being teased.

What was she thinking about? Oh. Yes. Silly her. The farmer.

The farmer was lovely. Always so helpful, ready to lend a hand with pretty much any favor Penny had ever asked of her. And oh how the children adored her. The farmer was a quiet sort, which could mean empty air when they were alone, as Penny (most especially when they first met) was too shy for her own good. But in that quiet, she showed such care. The farmer usually had a few treats on hand for the children. Penny nearly lost Vincent a few times because he spotted the farmer and darted off to go grab her hand and drag her over to tell him all about a rock or bug he found.

And then the farmer would usually do that thing. If Vincent cared, he didn’t say so. Really, nobody seemed to ever bring it up. But Penny found it so odd.

Anway, Jas loved her too. She would hold onto little wild flowers to trade with the farmer, who always seemed to keep a small stash of fairy roses on hand. They would exchange flowers, one tiny, wilted daffodil or sweet pea for a rose that Penny suspects is quite valuable. She’s pretty sure the farmer has done rather well for herself and Sebastian. After all, the farmer built a house for she and her mother, and probably much more than she’d take credit for. The farmer really was a gem. Being kind, generous, hardworking, and of course, being great with children was so important, and for them to love her that much? Truly lovely.

And she was so strong! Penny once saw the farmer lift Leah into a tree on her shoulders without so much as breaking a sweat. It was impressive, because the farmer was not very large, though she did seem pretty toned. Not that Penny can estimate strength very well, she herself was rather delicate. Mom always called her fragile and a bit too pale. She meant well at least, and admittedly, it was true. Penny was rather weak …

The same couldn’t be said of the farmer. Sigh. With her golden tanned skin dotted with warm sun freckles. Those steady, capable hands. Her defined arm muscles, always visible thanks to the sleeveless little shirts she wears. Penny could only wish to look so capable—and confident! So confident. Not brash like Alex or larger than life like Caroline. But a self-assuredness she wished she could have too. The farmer was different, she stuck out in a way no other villager seemed to. That sort of feeling would have Penny hiding her face and staying away forever if in the farmer’s shoes.

But the farmer didn’t hide. Didn’t change. She was unapologetically different. She—

She’s still doing it?

Penny pressed her thin lips into a line, looking at the farmer.

How is she still doing the thing? Penny had been lost in thought staring at the farmer for some time now, and the farmer hadn’t so much as twitched. Was she even breathing? Blinking?

The thing that the farmer seemed so fond of doing was such a puzzle. It usually happened when asked a question, though sometimes even when unprovoked. She’ll just stare into space. Sometimes for a few seconds, which Penny would find pretty normal, everybody gets lost in though from time to time. But usually, the farmer did it for minutes at a time. Just stared into the sky, or at the floor. Or worse, sometimes directly at somebody. Her face would stay completely blank despite her eyes being open. Minutes at a time, once for 30 whole minutes. Completely idle.

Penny shyly waved a hand in front of the farmer’s eyes. Nothing.

Just still staring … the farmer was still staring. This time at the sun. Surely, she was blinding herself … right?

Penny had just been making conversation, she had run into the farmer outside of Pierre’s after picking up a few groceries, including some rhubarb for a recipe she was going to try. Cooking was so hard, and lately, nothing had been turning out right. So she wanted to get out of her comfort zone (well, maybe saying “comfort zone” sort of implied she was comfortable with how any of her regular dishes turned out. She was not, and other people don’t seem to comfortable either) and cook with something new. Rhubarb seemed exciting enough. Penny explained all this, then causally asked if the farmer had grown much rhubarb on her farm.

The farmer had nodded agreeably, blowing her curly bangs out of her face. Her beautiful hair, always perfect, even after a long day of working the field to fishing by the ocean. How does she do it …?

What had she been saying? Right. Rhubarb Penny smiled, “oh you have grown it? How much?”

Then she did that thing. Again.

The farmer paused to think, then just … checked out. She stared into space for what was going on two or three minutes now. Penny nervously smiled at Evelyn across the town square, who smiled back and waved, either oblivious to the farmer staring into the void or simply unbothered. Perhaps aging just meant not caring so much. Pemnny sometimes wondered what type of elderly person she would make. Probably a shy one.

Penny fretted awkwardly, shifting on the balls of her feet. Maybe Sebastian was around? Her husband probably knew what to do.

Penny was about to try calling the farmer’s name to snap her out of it, but she suddenly blinked for the first time since originally zoning out. Her eyes must be so dry.

“138,” the farmer said at last, acting as if the minutes of silence hadn’t happened at all.

“Oh. Um. 138 what …?” Penny asked hesitantly, wringing her hands. She craned her neck to look over the farmer’s shoulders, trying to catch a glimpse of Dr. Harvey near the door to the clinic, maybe the poor farmer was having some sort of medical episode?

“138 rhubarb sold,” the farmer says matter of factly.

“You … right. Okay.” Penny nodded slowly, eyebrows pinched together. “Are you feeling alright?”

The farmer nodded once, tilting her head inquisitively as if ignorant of Penny’s confusion.

“… okay.” Penny managed a smile, because that was the second half of the farmer’s thing. She would know or remember things after zoning back in. Penny once read a novel where a genius would retreat into his own mind to find information he stored away. Maybe the farmer was some sort of … rhubarb farming genius.

The farmer stayed in comfortable silence. Not comfortable for Penny, but the farmer certainly seemed at ease. Penny wasn’t sure she’d ever seen her look remotely uncomfortable.

As she said goodbye to the farmer, giving her a quick hug, Penny couldn’t help but wonder if she really was a genius of some type. Eccentric people often are in the books she reads. Well, she supposed it didn’t really matter. The farmer was just different. Strange. Strong. Different

She ended up finding a poppy in her pocket as she unlocked the front door to her house.

Genius or not. The farmer was kind.

Chapter Text

Jas was a curious girl. She had to be, really.

She had laid out two of her favorite dresses on her bed. Both were purple, of course. Everything should be purple, in her strong opinion. Jas had found herself a bit less chipper that morning, and she had once overheard Haley say that the best way to tackle a grungy day was to look even more fantastic.

Thus, choosing between her two favorite dresses. After that she would have to choose a bow, which would be far more of an ordeal. Really, being a young lady was no easy task. Though Marnie likes to tell Jas that she’s got it easy. She says that playing all day and school with Penny is easy, and that Jas should enjoy it while she gets to be a kid.

Clearly, Marnie has never had to put together a fancy outfit.

After staring at the two options long enough to get bored, (hours probably) she sought out some assistance. This was a two person problem. Time to get some help.

“Shane!” she called out through the walls. There was no response. She grumbled, crossing her arms. “Shane!”

After a few seconds of impatience, she scooped both dresses into her arms and trotted towards the kitchen.

“Shane!”

Jas found him where she expected to find him, warming up some cold pizza in the mircrowave that was supposedly older than herself. He looked half awake, slumped against the counter because standing up required too much energy. He yawned, a long, loud yawn that often made Jas giggle.

“Shane. Help,” Jas said seriously, inching closer with her dresses in hand.

“Hmm?” He pawed at his scruffy chin, other hand stuffed in his massive hoodie pocket. The light from the microwave cast a glow against him. He really did look barely awake.

“I need your help. I can’t decide what to wear. Choose,” She thrusted both dresses towards him, face puckered seriously.

Shane blinked groggily; he didn’t do mornings well at all. Marnie was probably out taking care of the cows and being productive. Her godfather clicked his tongue, before peering at the bundle of purple frills and tule that made up her dresses.

“… Can’t tell where one dress ends and another starts,” he mumbled, pulling the hem of one to separate it from the other. “Uh. Here. This one,” he nodded his chin at the darker purple one.

“Did you see the bow on the back?” she pointed at the feature for consideration.

“Uh huh. Looks great,” he yawned, patting her on the head. The microwave finished whirring, so he pulled out his food.

Jas frowned, but accepted the choice at face value. Before she could walk back to her room, Shane had gently pulled her arm, bringing her into a hug. He ruffled her dark hair, leaning on her playfully.

“You have a good day for me, kay?” Shane told her, giving her a firm pat on the back. He still sounded half awake, but effort was being made.

“I will, Shane,” she smiled, hugging his side.

“Good. I’ve got ta get to Zuzu City today, but I’ll see you tonight. Who knows? Maybe I’ll get you something from that chocolate store you like so much.”

“Yay!” She squealed.

It was a nice thing to hold onto. As Shane left and Marnie started working, it was another day for Jas to entertain herself.

Jas was a curious girl. She had to be.

Her days could be rather lonely. The grown ups in her life were busy. Vincent got busy with his family sometimes. There weren’t other kids in Pelican Town. So Jas knew how to entertain herself. Jump rope, dolls, digging, playing with the cows or chickens, dress up, playing pretend. Lots of things could fill the day.

But sometimes it was hard. She felt a little grouchy, or just more … bored. Just bored. Or maybe a more mean type of bored? She wasn’t sure.

As Jas pondered her mood, dressed in her specially picked dress, she found herself wandering. Wandering up past the house, up the straight path.

It wasn’t long before she found looking at the farmer’s property. Huh. Didn’t mean to do that.

It was a gorgeous summer day. The farm had to many little buildings and ponds. Great big trees were set in clusters around the edges of the property. Strange statues in pastel colors lined the far side by the fence. Animals lounged around in their pens, all healthy and happy. Rows upon rows of kegs and furnaces made neat lines on the other side of the farm.

But Jas’s eyes were captivated by the crops. Big bountiful crops all around.

And among the summer harvest, was the farmer.

Jas loved the farmer. Who was more dazzling than her? Jas wanted a farm of her own one day, to grow flowers and fruit on a pretty day, just like today. The farmer was in black today, like her usual attire. Though today her clothes were breezy, swaying in the gentle summer wind. She held a wicker basket against her hip, filled with blueberries and strawberries, it seemed.

Jas stared.

The farmer was stooped by a little hutch in the center of the crops. Her long curls looked perfect, they always did, honestly, they never seemed to look remotely different on any given day. Like one of Jas’s dolls, but with freckles! Jas wanted freckles too. Her attempts at using paint did not pan out.

After a moment, Jas crept a little closer.

Despite the fact that the farmer was turned around, she seemed to sense Jas. She turned around, smiling fondly.

Jas startled, before timidly waving back. She couldn’t decide if she felt guilty or not about snooping, but the farmer didn’t seem upset, so perhaps it was fine.

The farmer waved her over.

Jas trotted over, excited.

“How would you like a fairy rose?” the farmer whispered in her soft, always very earnest voice. There was a sparkle in her big brown eyes.

“Uh huh,” Jas nodded rapidly, though she didn’t see any flowers anywhere near. She saw plenty of plants, but they all seemed like they’d been harvested already.

“We’ll have to ask my friends,” she told Jas with a mischievous smile.

“Friends ...?”

The farmer nodded, gently pulling Jas to kneel beside her by the little hutch. With a smile, the farmer gave a low whistle into the opening of the little leafy house.

To Jas’s utter shock, a little … something hopped out. It was green, round, shiny, with a little stem and leaf on top. It had black glossy eyes and pink blush. She gave a little gasp.

Two more in red and orange popped out next, flowers in hand. The farmer put her basket down in front of them, and they began piling crops into it. She watched in awe as one of the little fellas brought out the most beautiful fairy rose, a purple one. The green guy waddled out in front of her, holding it out.

Had Jas been any older, perhaps this would have been terrifying. Impossible. Strange and frightening. But she was not any of those things, instead, she was utterly delighted with the funny little things in front of her.

Jas looked to the farmer for permission, who nodded encouragingly. She took the flower and smelled it, the little guy seemed pleased, dancing around, putting its little stick arms in the air with joy.

“That’s a junimo,” the farmer said with a soft smile. She had a soft, soothing voice any day, but especially now, she seemed content. “They help me around the farm. I worked for them for the better part of two years, getting things they needed. Later, I purchased homes for them, and they help gather crops. The junimo’s help Seb and I.”

“… junimos?” Jas looked at the adorable little guys incredulously. She really wanted to hug them.

The farmer nodded, standing up and brushing off her flowy linen pants. She smiled down at Jas and the junimos, plucking another flower from the basket and tucking it behind Jas’s ear. “Good helpers. And very good friends.”

“They are?”

“Sure are,” the farmer nodded. “If you’re not too loud, they might be more than happy to play with you. Helps keep the lonely away,” she whispered.

Jas looked up with big eyes, before turning her attention to the junimos. “Hi, junimos. I’m Jas.”

The junimos came closer, the red one crawling right into her lap. She giggled with delight, petting its smooth skin. It was so cute it made her heart hurt.

With that same soft smile ever present, the farmer got up to go tend to her animals, keeping an eye on Jas as she played with her new friends.

“Do you like my dress?” Jas whispered to the junimos, who made strange little gleeful noises in response. Jas blushed and hugged one of them to her chest.

Chapter Text

The pleasant aftertaste of a dozen half-baked dreams faded away as reality set in for Sam one pleasant summer midmorning.

Sam found himself yawning— a jaw cracking, deep yawn. He rubbed his eyes with his fists, though he hadn’t even opened them yet. He wasn’t quite awake, but he faintly registered birds chirping, and the distant commotion of Mom making breakfast.

He stretched out, flexing his back and listening to the dull snaps and pops his joints made as he did. Ugh. He was still sleepy.

Light was coming in through the window, Sam usually woke up facing that side of the room. The summer sunshine flooded his sizable room. There were certainly perks to being the oldest. Big room, lots of baby pictures, a little brother to admire him. Not a bad set up.

Sam yawned again. He considered going back to sleep, it didn’t feel too late yet. Sam was out late playing pool down at the saloon. They didn’t usually do it on a Tuesday night, but they’d been too busy lately to do it on their usual schedule. It was fun, but boy was he tired.

He hummed to himself, eyes lightly fluttering shut. Relaxed. Chill.

…

Hold on. Sam opened his eyes again. Something felt weird.

He tossed over in bed, turning to face away from the window. He wondered if Vincent had left the house yet to play or not. He should—

“AHH—” Sam let out an embarrassingly high-pitched cry of alarm, eyes blown wide as he found himself looking directly into a silent set of large dark eyes.

Blink.

Sam found himself smiling a bit sheepishly. He scratched the side of his head, making his blonde hair stick up even more strangely.  “O-oh. Ha. Hey-y-y-y-y there, farmer.”

The farmer was standing there, clad in a loose black t shirt, purple cargo pants, her ever present heavy backpack and the same purple work boots he rarely saw her without. Her dark curls floated around her freckled cheeks. A few strange rings decorated her fingers.

She’d just been … standing there. In complete silence. Unmoving. Did she breathe? She didn’t seem to. Just blinks. For her, it never seemed awkward. She comfortably sat in any silence, watching, listening.

He waited in the awkward lack of conversation for a second, only awkward to him of course. His mind was lagging. This was hardly the first time he’d awoken to an unexpected visit and a gift, but it never failed to startle him. But that was just her thing. Nearly everybody in town has had a near heart attack or two, followed by a present specific to them. It was just a fact of life at this point.

Blink. The farmer could go very long periods doing nothing but that. That was okay though. Sam figured there were worse things.

Maybe he should’ve found her kinda spooky, but Sebastian was his best friend, so maybe he was just used to spooky. And the two ended up getting hitched, a perfect spooky couple. It worked pretty well, and it was easy to be proud of them. Sebastian seemed happier, more at ease, it was nice to see. Maybe, Sam thought, he should try and get married too. Mom would probably like that.

“So, uh,” Sam sat up, maybe slightly self consciously tugging at his band themed pajama shirt, “whatchu—”

A fresh cactus was shoved into his hands, barely shy of pricking his fingers. Sam accepted it without thinking, sitting up straighter. A rush of nostalgia overtook him.

Being at the desert with his father, feeling the witheringly hot sun on his back. It would always leave a sunburn on his neck that Mom would fuss over endlessly. The humid bus ride from Pelican Town, chattering at Dad endlessly. Letting the sand run through his grubby child fingers. Picking a cactus to take home, using dad’s pocketknife to carve up a piece. He’d always end up pricking himself on a cactus needle, but Dad would help him out, praise him for being so tough. It was something he had to hold onto in the years spent waiting for him to come back from his deployment.

It was complete with a pink flower blooming atop it and clearly picked with care. A present for a special occasion. He found himself grinning.

"Hey, hey, hey! You remembered! Now that's what I'm talking about!” Sam said, looking up at her.

The farmer smiled, that thin, gentle smile of hers. She was a very understated sort of person, but so very genuine. Not a single birthday of his had gone by since she moved into that dingy plot of land that he didn’t wake up to a present. Now the land was a thriving farm and his family have had to get used to being the second to see him on each birthday morning for the last few years. Nobody is sure how she gets to any of them first to celebrate a birthday, but she does it. They know better than to wonder now.

Sam swung his feet over the side of the bed, pulling the sheets off himself. He cradled his new birthday gift.

He remembered the first time he learned how the farmer liked to show her appreciation. He woke up, dragged himself out of bed, swung open the door and nearly slammed into the farmer. At that point he’d barely met her, but she was there, bright and early, holding out a can of Joja Cola.

She said something very brief about fishing in the ocean, turned on her heel and left the house without any fanfare. And yet Sam was oddly touched. The strange farmer, who seemed to put a heck of a lot of effort into making everyone feel seen and appreciated for every occasion.

“How’s Sebastian?” Sam asked, yawning. “It was like, super late when we all left last night. Like 1:00AM at least, right?”

A small nod, and another smile. Even spooky farmers could be sappy about their husbands apparently.

“I nearly fell asleep walking home. Then I dreamt about losing at pool all night. Just like real life,” he chuckled, gently walking over to his dresser to set the cactus down.

“Happy Birthday,” she said quietly, though earnestly. Those big watchful eyes of hers never wavered. Sometimes he thought she was looking through the walls.

“Thanks, Bonnie. Tell Sebastian I’ll probably swing by later, he wanted to show me the new frogs you guys are keeping.”

The farmer nodded once.

And as silent as ever, she left.

Spooky. But good spooky.