#farmer fluff

Music plays quietly on the radio, filling the small, hot space in your old, somewhat beaten-up truck. Tapping your finger to the rhythm on the steering wheel, trying to distract yourself from the sweat dripping down your back, you slow down as you scan the area, searching for the address as you as you turn down the music. "45... no 43 Baker Street..." Finally spotting an old, but quaint, farmhouse, you bring your vehicle to a rolling stop before killing the engine. Outside stands the man you believe to be named 'N', the same one from the job posting. Standing tall, albeit awkwardly, is a tan big man who seems almost annoyed at your 'intrusion'. Rolling down the window, which is no easy feat considering the manual crank, you peek your head above the glass, putting on a friendly smile "Hey! You're N, right? I'm here for the farmhand position." Still annoyed, but less so after your introduction, the man clears his throat before answering in a gruff voice. "That's me." You step out onto the dirt driveway, pocketing your keys before holding out your hand "It's great to meet you." You're friendly, genuinely so, and that speaks through your smile. Just as you're about to put your untouched hand down before he grabs it and gives a firm shake, his hand callused and rough against yours. He gives no answer, instead silently moving to the back of your truck to help you unload your bags. "Thank you again for letting me stay here with you. I promise once I have enough to find my own place, I'll be out of your hair."

You ramble on about little things, either out of friendliness or nerves, as you follow him inside, following suit to kick off your dusted boots as you walk towards his guest room. His voice soon cuts through yours, another gruff, almost harsh sound. "You ever work on land before?" He sets your suitcase down on the ground, careful to make sure they stand straight and tall. "Of course. I wouldn't take this job if I didn't. A friend of mine actually owns some animals, mainly chickens and cows, so I'd help out with stuff like collecting eggs and milking. I also have family that lived on farms, and some that still do, so I'm used to the smells and all that. No need to worry about me gagging." Busy putting away some of your other small bags and boxes, you miss the small, almost invisible smile that graces his lips at your quip. "Come out when you're settled. I'll show you around." Almost as quickly as he introduced himself, he leaves your room, shutting the door behind him. First things first, you unpack your clothes, setting them neatly into a wooden dresser with intricate carving on the drawers. You familiarize yourself with the space, after all, it'll be your bedroom until you have enough funds for a home, rent, and bills. Sitting on the plush mattress and lying back, you stare up at the ceiling as your mind stills, finally calming down from your initial stress and worry. Turning your phone off completely and placing it on the dresser, you leave the room, ready to join him outside.

Quickly stubbing out a cigarette and waving the smoke away with his hand, he walks up to you, his hands now hanging awkwardly at his sides before being shoved in his pockets. "I don't mind if you smoke around me. I got friends that do." You try putting him at ease, likely noticing the slight expression of shame or... embaressment. "Ma said it ain't right. Not in front of a lady." You smile, subconsciously thankful for his refusal to smoke near you despite your words. He shows you around the farm, introducing you to his plump, fluffed-up dairy cows, recently sheared sheep, bleating goats, and the many chickens clucking away in their coops. He notices how already caring you are with each of his animals, stating how cute they are while maintaining a respectful distance. He tells you how he'll mainly need help milking the cows and feeding the sheep, as the chickens get mean and the goats mischevious. Once back inside and gathering your mental notes, you step into the bathroom he showed you before setting out your pajamas and a towel.

The long ride up to his land, plus being outside for several hours, has rendered you sweaty, sticky, and tired. Making sure not to take too long, not wanting to set a bad impression, you quickly clean up and change before walking back out into the main hall, where you can smell him cooking dinner. "It smells great in here." You sit down at the dining table, already told you don't need to help out, and wait politely. As you sit and wait for the warm meal, you notice your eyes start to wander. Looking around the kitchen space and the small details in the home, you spot a wooden cabinet full of expensive-looking teacups and china, clearly family heirlooms and clearly very old. Pictures hang on the walls, mainly starring a young boy and an older, beautiful woman. "You're mother?" You ask curiously, spotting a specific picture sitting on a small mantle. He briefly stops his motions before nodding, the movements brief and curt.

Reining back your voice, you sit up straighter in your seat, eyeing the plate as he sets dinner in front of you before sitting down opposite. "One of Ma's recipes." Picking up your fork and taking a bite, you smile and let out a small noise of satisfaction. "It's delicious. Your mother's a true chef." His gaze seems to perk up at your compliment, a deep appreciation and pride for his mother and her cooking clear. "I made dessert too. Apple pie." You beam again, swallowing a bit before speaking. "Also her recipe?" Satisfied with his nod, you continue eating, the silence and occasinal sounds of cutlery unusuallly comfortble depsite the being your frst non over-the-phone meeting with each other.

Now full of dinner and a warm, overly generous slice of pie, you retire to your room. Bidding him a good night and failing to notice his lingering gaze, you shut your bedroom door behind you. The soft sounds of rustling blankets and animals cooing puts you at ease, some of your doubt and worries seeming to slip away as you fall asleep.

"She's beautiful..."

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I hope you enjoyed this, and please let me know if you want to see more!

"Ma, there's someone new in my life." Taking off his cap and sitting on an old wooden bench, he wipes the sweat from a long day's work off his brow. "She's... nice." Clearing his throat roughly, he stews in awkward silence before speaking again. "Beautiful really. In lots of ways." You are beautiful. He speaks about how attentive and careful you are with each and every farm animal, calling them lovely nicknames and treating them as if they're people. He talks about your sweet smell, something between fresh cut grass and melted caramel. He mentions how you stay out later than necessary, whether to fix a creaking gate or just to admire the stars without light pollution. Your nervous tics of tapping your hand on your leg or cracking your knuckles don't go unnoticed by him either, considering he has his own quirks. You're... humble, friendly, and you've managed to warm up to him quickly despite his demeanour. "I get weird around her, ma. Sometimes I just... stare and forget to talk." His hands wring together before he forces them apart and places them on his knees. He feels embarrassed. Almost ashamed of his feelings. You're his farmhand, his employee. Of course, he should like you, but it's started to feel like more than just a work relation. Especially considering you’re the first non-family person he’s talked to in… forever really. 

He stays there for hours, just sitting. Sitting and overthinking little details about himself and his life. You, on the other hand, are back inside, waking up sweaty and disoriented from a long-overdue nap. Smacking your dry lips before downing a glass and a half of water, you wander out of your room, looking around the darkened farmhouse. "N? You here?" You're about to call out for him again when you shut your mouth, convincing yourself internally that he's already upstairs asleep. Having a small snack, and walking further away from your room, you take the time to look around your surroundings a bit more. You look at almost everything on the first floor. The old box TV along with multiple VHS tapes, a record played sheeted in a plain of dust, and a couple of pictures. You look around the corner before picking up the picture on the mantle, the same one that caught your eye on your first night here. Examining every inch of the photograph, you can't help but smile, at least just a little bit. It's a normal portrait between mother and son, but clearly old and faded from the sun. N, just a little boy sits on his mother's lap, his large smile revealing at least three missing teeth. The first time you’ve seen his smile. "Spitting image..." His mother is just as pretty as you thought her to be. Bright warm eyes, a single dimple on her left cheek, just like his, and a love for her son that's so clear even on film.

You don't hear him get back right away, jumping a little and instinctively placing the frame back down before turning to the front door. "I... I thought you were... where'd you go off to?" He doesn't look up as he speaks, instead focused on unlacing his boots. "Visiting Ma." You smile again. This is a softer side of him that you don't see much. "I'm surprised she's still up, thought she'd be enjoying her sleep now that her son runs the farm." He doesn't respond, and God, do you just want to punch yourself in the face. He walks past you, setting his cap down on the mantle. "Ma's a night owl." Now you're not the one to respond as you notice his stare. He's taller than you, kind of intimidating so, and sometimes when he stares, you feel so... "You... did... good. Today. Thank you." And now you're at ease again, like nothing happened. "Yeah. It's no problem. I'm here to help." You flash him another smile, your lips morphing into the sweetest curve. You're just made of sweet curves, from your face, to your torso, to your... "N? You in there?" "Night." "Good...night..." You watch him ascend the stairs, a little quicker than normal, letting out a small groan once he's out of your sight and dragging your body back to your bed. "Man, I can be so dumb."

You don't hear him for the rest of the night, not even when he walks back downstairs, not even when he stares at your door, his fingers intertwined. Letting out a sigh through his nose, he walks out into the night, settling onto a worn wicker chair, tilting his head to look up at the sky. Popping a cigarette between his lips and lighting it with a match, he rests his stubbled cheek in his palm.

He doesn't hear you for the rest of the night either, not even when you leave your bedroom and walk to the TV, not even when you stare at him through the window, barely registering how your heart beats faster in your chest.

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I really hope everyone who's been asking for more parts enjoys this little side story. I promise I'm working on my main story ideas for this and I'll deliver it soon (: