#wayne sos

Well, that wasn't nearly accurate- he saw her throughout the day, running about like the busy bee she always was, and they might pass each other by at his other stops. But he no longer ran into her on her own property. By the time he arrived, she was inside her barns, milking the cows.

(He still remembers the taste of that glass of milk, so sweet, but not nearly as sweet as his host.)

It was simply how it panned out, but he couldn't help but feel a little pang of regret at losing those glimpses of her in her element, working the land like she dreamed for half her life.

And then Aime had to surprise him, as she always did.

It was an ordinary fall morning, the red dawn melting away to make room for the blue midday sky while he crunched fiery leaves beneath his boots. She only had one letter that day, which looked like nothing more than a materials invoice from Ludus. In and out, easy as pie. But when he got to her mailbox, he found a curious sight sitting right on it's flat wooden top.

A cup of steaming hot coffee.

He looked to both his sides, then around the box, then behind him, and finally at every which angle he could, resulting in him spinning around like a fool. Shrugging, he dismissed it as her forgetting her beverage in a rush. He pulled open the hatch-

-to find a note, with his name in large letters at the top.

DEAR WAYNE,

I know you walk your whole route and my farm is pretty out of the way. That made me start feeling badly about how much mail I get everyday, which gave me an idea: Since you like coffee, I'd start leaving you a cup! Please write on the bottom of this note how it tastes, and how you most like your coffee so I can try and make that for you.

LOVE, AIME

I'll be darned, he thought, unable to suppress a wide smile, Does that gal ever run out of ways to make my day?

He shook his head, gently placing the note back down like it was made of priceless crystal instead of hastily written on a torn piece of journal paper, and picked up the mug, still hot as all get out. That means he probably only misses her by a few minutes at most... Sniffing it, he took a tentative sip, smile instantly morphing into an ecstatic grin the moment his throat finished the first swallow.

"Delicious..." he said to no one in particular, punctuating it with another sip. It was your standard black coffee, straight from a packet, but this was brewed by Aime, for him, and she planned to do it every morning. There was no way it was going to be anything less than the best cup he ever had. Before he knew it, he had downed the whole thing, uncaring of the temperature, and was licking his lips to make sure he got every last drop.

Westown's famous playboy slobbering over his own face for any splashes of his crush's coffee. If only the town's gossip hounds could see him at that moment.

After his euphoria passed, he finally realized he was just standing outside her mailbox, letter in one hand and empty mug in the other. With no better solution in mind, he placed the cup back where he found it, before pulling a pencil out from his bag.

DEAR AIME,

Thank you kindly for the coffee, it was divine. My favorite has got to be mocha, but it's hard to get a hold of in these parts, so no need to trouble yourself. It's more than enough for me to know you're thinking of me.

- WAYNE

Content with his reply, he placed the note back in the box, covering it with her letter. He was mighty tempted to stay and wait for her, but his grumbling stomach had other plans. Oh well, he'd simply have to be satisfied with her coffee for now. 

As he made his way back to his room at the Postio, the grin on his face was enough to make the birds in the treetops swoon.

----

Despite what he had written, the very next day, he found a mug full of Cafe Mocha sitting on top of the mailbox. This time, the note was held down by the mug itself, penned on much nicer stationary.

DEAR WAYNE

I know you said don't worry about it, but Caolila recently had a large shipment of cocoa, so I couldn't help myself! Especially after remembering how much you enjoyed Vivi's milk. I have a cup myself every morning, so I don't mind doing it at all. I hope you have a great day today.

LOVE AIME

One again he was no match for this lass' tenacity, it seemed. He was going to be on the receiving end of her kindness no matter what he said.

Well, there was no use resisting now. Fully reconciled with the idea of this being a daily occurance (not that he needed much convincing), he decided to savor the beverage today, taking slow, luxurious sips. It would have been a good cup 'o Joe, even if he wasn't steadily falling for the woman who made it. Smooth and creamy, it was the perfect intersection of sweet and bitter. 

Despite trying to take his time with it, the experience was over before he knew it. He always enjoyed a good coffee, but he had never felt such a pain when it was over before.

...maybe he had it worse than he thought.

----

Two weeks into their caffeinated ritual, Miranda asked him a question that stopped him in his tracks.

"Thanks for the package as always, Wayne!" she paused, looking down at the box in her hands, before back up at the mailman, "Say... you never come by to buy coffee these days. Is somethin' the matter?"

"W-What? There's- Nothin's wrong, don't you worry."

Unfortunately, the fact that Wayne the Suave Postman tripped over his words was enough to tip just about anyone off that something was up.

She put her hands on her hips, and spoke in a tone that he was certain Noel had heard many a time in her short life, "Well I don't believe that for one hot second mister! Tell me what's eatin' you right now or I won't stop hounding you for the next week."

He knew she meant it.

"I've jus' been having coffee with Aime lately, is all. She makes too much, so she offers me a cup every mornin'," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. He wasn't particularly fond of lying, but if you told Miranda something worthy of gossip, it'd make the rounds by sundown, so he couldn't risk exposing his true feelings quite yet. Amie had to be the first to hear about them.

"Oh, is that so?"

...she seemed to know already, but at least had the decency not to make any accusations.

"I see now, but remember we've always got some in stock! Aime buys in bulk, so I always make sure I've got enough," she punctuated her statement with a wink. She definitely knew.

"...I'll keep it in mind, ma'am. See ya' later."

"Bye bye!"

Even if he wasn't totally convinced she was onto him from her words, by this point she definitely had to be, considering his face was as red as a rose right about now.

----

Another week after that, as he made his way down the slope that led into Bloom Farm, ready and eager for that day's mocha, it wasn't only a mug that he found sitting by the mailbox- it was Aime herself.

"Heya, Wayne!" she greeted him cheerfully, waving her arm in a large arc. He managed to successfully stifle his shock, though not so much his joy.

"Well, howdy there Aime. Shouldn't you be in that there barn by now?"

She smiled bashfully, "Normally I would, but Betsy the sheep is pregnant, so I've started doing it earlier in the day when I go to check up on her. Which means I've got some free time in the morning for awhile," she held up her own half empty mug, "So I thought I'd wait up for you. A hot drink is best shared with a good friend, after all."

"My grandma used to say the same thing," he replied, expression soft. Deciding to make himself comfortable, he pulled his bag over his head to place off to the side, laid his hat on a nearby fence post, grabbed the mug, and sat beside her on the porch steps. At first, not much was said, the pair instead choosing to mutually enjoy the warmth of the coffee in the crisp, chilly morning air.

"You talk about your grandparents a lot," she asked, cracking the silence like an egg, "What were they like?"

This took him aback briefly- it was his own fault, really, for keeping his past so close to his chest, but that was a rare question for him to hear.

"What were they like...?" he pondered aloud, blowing away the last wisps of steam from the steadily cooling mocha, "Well I'd reckon as nice as you could imagine. They weren't perfect people, nobody is, but they always tried their best to do right by each other, and everyone around 'em. Can't remember anyone ever having an unkind word to say when they were involved."

She giggled into the lip of her cup, shaking her head as she did so, "That sounds a lot like someone I know. You really take after them, if they were really like that."

"Shucks, that's mighty kind of you to say. I try and live like they taught me as best I can. Seems the only way I can repay 'em for all those years takin' care of me."

"Hmmm..." she brought her mug down to her lap, face pensive, "I'm sorry if this is too far, but... do you ever wonder if your life would have been different? If your parents stuck around, or even took you with them?"

He blinked blankly at her for a moment, at a rare loss for words, before quickly regaining his composure and shaking his head, "I can't lie and say I never have, but not for a very, very long time. I made my peace with it years ago. Maybe it wasn't the 'right' choice to leave me with grandad and grandma, but I couldn't imagine being very happy relocatin' all the time either."

That statement made her go quiet, and sent her gaze down to her feet, "It isn't very fun, you've got that right."

Shoot.

"I'm real sorry for being insensitive like that," he pulled the brim of his hat down in embarrassment, "I should have chosen my words more carefully."

"No no! You're fine!" she denied, frantically waving her free hand, "Our circumstances are totally different. We only moved every couple years, it wasn't constant travel or anything."

"Still, it couldn't have been easy on ya' if it was enough to make you decide striking out on your own was better than movin' again."

"That wasn't the only reason," she corrected, "It was just... what really spurred me to take to plunge. I figured the longer I was used to never settling down, the harder it would be when I was eventually able to follow my dreams. I was finally given my 'now or never' moment."

"Well," he knocked back his final sip of coffee, wiping his lips with his sleeve in exaggerated satisfaction, "Pardon me for sayin' so, but I'm glad it happened. You were the breath of fresh air these here towns needed."

She breathed out a quiet laugh, bumping her shoulder into his, the warmth of the contact even through cloth sending a pleasant tingle down his body, "You really are quite the charmer, Wayne. I'll admit to being a little slow on the uptake, so I didn't really get what everyone was tittering about you at first. But I definitely get it now."

If he were a lesser man, he would have tossed his hat into the air and hollered at that statement, but managed to resist.

But it was a close battle with himself.

"That so? Funny thing is, I feel like I'm at my clumsiest talkin' to you. You don't want pretty words or flattery like most folk. There's nothin' wrong with any of that, mind you, it's just easier than deep conversation."

"That's what I mean, silly," she replied with a dazzling smile, "Smooth talking Wayne is nice and all, you can't get to know everyone on a deeper level, but I definitely like the Wayne I know a lot better."

"What's this Wayne like?" he asked, dropping how voice down to his real flirtatious octave, "I'm mighty curious."

"He's earnest, very sweet, just a little bit silly, aaaaaand..." she dragged out the word, smiling growing to face splitting levels, before quick as a flash poking the tip of his nose, "...very cute."

Before he could reply, a nearly ear splitting BAAAAAAA arose from the nearby barn.

"Betsy!" she cried out, rising to her feet immediately, taking off in a run towards the sound, tossing only a single glance back at him, "Just leave the mugs there, I'll clean them up later! Goodbye!"

And with that, she was gone.

His hand rose to cover his nose like he hoped to trap the sensation there forever. His heart had thumped in his chest plenty of times for his other paramours, but it had never raced like a thoroughbred horse before he met her.

"Well I'll be," he said quietly to himself, "I'm in love with her."

----

The next time he was making his way to Bloom Farm, he had a very precious pendant hanging down from his neck which he could barely keep himself from fiddling with every few seconds.

Maybe it had been pretty obvious that their trajectories were in line for a crash, but he still felt like a million bucks knowing that she felt the same, enough so that it was her who had reached out to him.

The familiar fields came into view, and he immediately started searching the horizon for a glimpse of her, finally finding her dusting off her porch.

"Aime!" he called out, ditching any pretense of composure and sprinting towards her at full speed, which was worth it to see the joy on her face as he approached, "Mornin', darlin'."

"G'morning, Wayne," her grin had an edge of mischief, "Any mail today, or is this just a social call?"

"The only thing I have to deliver is myself today, I'm afraid to say."

"I think I'll be quite alright," her face softened, putting the broom aside and gesturing for him to come up with her, "Come on in, coffee's already brewing, and I tried my hand at making some cookies with Vivi's milk and Patty's eggs."

He nodded, following her with an expression he knew must have been downright lovesick. 

“You’ll never take me alive, cowboy scum!”

Wayne ducked a potentially lethal swipe of Schalk’s driftwood, but his grin remained on his face. The hat was not so lucky.

“I’ve fought more fearsome pirates than you!” Wayne taunted, swinging an imaginary lasso at his foe. Schalk, giggling, dodged out of the way, but slipped on the fallen hat and landed with a hard plop on the grass. Alma tottered up to Wayne and clung to his leg while he struck a victorious pose.

“Cowboys are so handsome,” Alma squeaked. “I’m going to marry a cowboy when I grow up.”

Schalk got to his feet and tried to scowl. “Cowboys are cheaters.”

Siluka, dozing in the shade of Mithra and Lotus’s roof, smiled to herself. She didn’t need to sit up to know Wayne’s cheeks would be turning pink. She wouldn’t’ve sat up anyway, but knowing her boyfriend’s habits extremely well was a good enough excuse.

“Dinner!” Zahau called from the house below. Schalk’s scowl deepened with genuine disappointment. 

“Da-a-d, Wayne’s almost dead! I almost got him!”

Caolila’s voice joined them. “Let’s see how long you last if you don’t come in right now.”

Schalk was gone in a flash. Alma, taking her time in unwrapping her arms from Wayne’s leg, stumbled after him. Siluka curled onto her side, back facing the house, watching Wayne pick up his hat and dust it off. He joined her on the stubby grass, stretching out next to her and plopping the hat on her own head. Even with her face half-covered, Siluka could see him smiling with shameless adoration at her.

“Your face is sunburnt,” she noted. She reached out and poked his nose. A white indentation lingered before fading back to pink. “See?” Wayne swiped a hand over his face, as if it had magically turned into a hand mirror. 

“Ah, goodness,” he sighed, flopping back on the grass, arms akimbo. “Can’t even spend a day off without some sort of awful adventure. Sunburn, pirate invasions...”

“I’ll be careful when I kiss you, then,” Siluka laughed, scooting closer. Hat askew, she paused when she saw his serious expression fixed on the sky. She propped her chin on his shoulder and pressed her lips against his jaw instead. “Your aura is blue.”

“Is that good?” Wayne asked the sky.

“Not this shade of blue.”

Finally, he rolled over on his side to face her. Siluka drew back to look at him properly. “I know Schalk was just teasin’, but...Siluka--”

Siluka blinked. “You’re not a cheater. I know that.”

His face froze for just a second, just long enough that she could see its relief, then split into a sheepish grin. “You always know just how to read me,” he replied. Siluka pulled the lapels of his coat, using them as leverage, and rolled on top of him.

“We read each other well, I think.”

Wayne’s cheeks were pinker than the sunburn could take credit for. He glanced first at the archaeologists’ house, then Zahau’s house, then behind her to the path. Siluka leaned her forehead on his and pecked the tip of his nose.

“Don’t you think--”

“I think it’s dinnertime,” she hummed, sliding down his body to lean into a real kiss. Wayne didn’t need much encouragement after that.

“Sweets are easier,” Siluka explained, reclining in Wayne’s armchair. He’d helped her push it facing the kitchen so she could keep him company while he cooked. “So are shakes. And Iluka usually does all that, anyway. I do the salads and curries, though.”

Wayne eyed a cup full of flour before dumping it into the fresh coconut milk she’d brought. “So whaddya eat at home, then? I mean, who cooks?”

Siluka shrugged, the motion making Holly’s borrowed winter coat practically swallow her whole. She’d refused to take it off inside the post office. Autumn in Westown was not a Lulukokan-friendly space, according to her. “I’m tired when we get home, and Iluka’s so nervous. So Nana and Big Brother usually cook for us now. And Holly gives us food when she brings the baby for a visit.”

Wayne paused in his whisking to frown, or as close to frowning as he could get. “You’re saying you an’ your sister never cook your own meals?” 

Siluka matched him frown for frown. “We do. I do. I’m just tired a lot. And fish is hard to cook. And Zahau looked really happy. So that’s why I asked you. And I like ika vakamiti. I just don’t know how to make it is all.”

Wayne took a few seconds to consider her. She was curled up in what had been deemed “her” armchair, clutching her billowing coat around her knees in a defensive position. She wasn’t hiding behind her braids, but that only meant he could see her sulky expression. He’d seen Siluka frown as many times as he’d eaten yogurt, and never at him. He put down the whisk and smiled warmly at her.

“You’re a good cook, Sil. Fryin’ up some fish should be no trouble.”

It didn’t help. “Well, it is.”

Wayne leaned over the counter, waiting until she met his eye. He smiled again. He hoped it was an encouraging smile, and maybe it was, because her self-conscious glare wavered.

“Well, let’s get in trouble together, huh?” He reached into the bag he’d used to buy groceries and tossed an orange in the air. “You wanna juice this for me? Can ya help me with that?”

“I know how to juice fruit,” Siluka mumbled, but she began uncurling.

“That’s why I asked ya, darlin’.”

While he minced the spices, Siluka slunk next to him and began halfheartedly slicing the orange, the lemon, the tomato. Despite her grumpy effort, the two of them, cooking together, in his kitchen, filled Wayne with giddiness. He’d never had a girl he’d been seeing over for dinner until Siluka. But he’d figured it would always be one or the other of them cooking for each other–never as a group project. He couldn’t’ve imagined how cozy it felt, how it filled some sort of domestic part of him he didn’t know he had. 

Without realizing it, he’d started humming. It was a round he and Siluka had learned from Miranda, and it really was better with three people, but the two of them had started singing it together on their long walks between the two towns. It wasn’t until Siluka started humming along, counterpoint to his verse, that Wayne realized he’d been humming at all.

He nearly dropped an entire clump of chili peppers into the saucepot simmering away on the range and muttered a relieved curse. Siluka glanced up from where she was dicing bok choy, but he had already replaced the extra chilis on the cutting board and was nonchalantly washing his hands, like he hadn’t just envisioned their future together and understood for the first time just how badly he wanted it.

Siluka tossed the rest of the fruits and spices into the sauce and peered up at him. “What are you thinking about?” she asked him, concern making her voice softer than usual. 

Wayne looked at her billowing, borrowed sleeves, her braids desperately in need of a trim, her knife dripping juice onto his kitchen floor. “The usual things. About how much I love being with you.”

Siluka’s eyes widened, creased brows already losing evidence of their frustrated wrinkles, a small smile threatening the corners of her lips. She bopped her head against his button-down, nearly killing him with the cuteness of it all, and let the smile grow when she looked up again. Gesturing with the messy knife at the mahi mahi staring at them on the other counter, she nodded, apology in the movement.