Chapter Text
Shane fucked up again on the second day of winter, and this time, it was entirely the result of another person’s fuckup. It was unpleasant and hurtful, and Shane would forever remember it with the sort of regret that accompanies knowing that you should have known better. It wasn’t the happy sort of fuckup, either. It was possibly one the worst fuckups ever.
Shane and the farmer entered a sort of rhythm in the interim. He’d spend one or two nights a week at her place, she’d greet him after work, he’d buy her a beer at the Stardrop. They circled their boundaries tentatively, the farmer never making the first move, although Shane had no doubt in his mind that she very much wanted to. Still, she kept her hands to herself and made sure the contact stopped at resting her head on his chest on the nights he stayed over. Gradually, Shane realized he was looking forward to waking up in the morning with one arm wrapped around her waist, even if her hair was always inevitably in his face.
Perhaps the only immediate drawback was that Marnie had grown very smug over how things had proceeded. When Shane did return to her house after his second night at the farmer’s, she had a cheshire grin that went ear to ear.
“Not a word,” Shane said, pointing at her.
“I was only going to say congratulations,” Marnie replied. “And that we saw it coming.”
“Oh sure, you and every other fortune teller in town.”
“Shane, it didn’t take a fortune teller.”
“Shane, if you and the farmer are boyfriend and girlfriend, does that mean I can come over and pet her cows?” Jas asked, looking up from the homework.
“You’re going to have to ask her, kid, but I don’t think she’ll mind.”
“Vincent said that when we get older, he wants to be my boyfriend.”
“Jas, let’s try to do better than that.”
“Shane,” Marnie scolded, “he’s eight.”
“I stand by my assessment.”
Shane had to admit that, in retrospect, making it official had taken a load off his shoulders. It was no longer a cause for gossip to see them out and about together, and he no longer had to suppress the urge to hold her hand in public. There was the occasional whisper, but by and large, their decision had taken the wind out of everyone’s sails, and speculation died down. Shane was almost entirely settled into the relationship when, of course, he fucked up.
It was early winter, and the town had dissolved into a frenzy over news of a massive blizzard rolling through the area in the next day or so. It was supposed to be The Blizzard of the Century, forecasted to drop enough snow on the area to bury cars and front doors. Nobody was happy about it, and Joja Mart was uncharacteristically busy with people prepping for the storm. Even Abigail was there, although she made Shane swear not to tell, because her dad wasn’t going to let her buy any wine from their store to ride the storm out with.
Sometime during the frenzy, Morris approached Shane. “Shane! Quite some business we’re doing today.”
“Yeah,” Shane agreed, handing several gallons of water to Jodi.
“I can’t help but notice the farmer isn’t here,” Morris said. “How strange. Aren’t you two… involved?”
“I… Yeah. And?”
“Well, I was hoping she might be a bit invested in seeing your place of employment succeed,” Morris replied, his voice silky. “It’s too bad she isn’t here.”
“Well, she makes a lot of stuff herself,” Shane answered, trying to ignore the feeling of bugs crawling all over his skin. “Maybe she’ll stop in later.”
“I hope so.” There was something in Morris’ voice that sounded irate, but he turned and walked away before Shane could respond. No skin off his nose, Shane thought. The less he discussed his personal life with Morris, the better, and anyway, he had enough on his plate with the rush of customers in the store, and helping Marnie ready her farm for the blizzard. Shane was looking at about a day left to prepare when he ended his shift, which had, naturally, turned out to be a surprise double thanks to the volume of customers they had to field. He was on his way out the door when Morris stopped him, his ghoulish smile maybe a bit less pronounced.
“Shane, I wanted to thank you for working overtime today.”
“Don’t mention it,” Shane said. He was tired and sore from being on his feet, and he really just wanted to go to the Stardrop and blow off some steam, but by the time he got there, it would be closing up anyway. He felt doubly bad, because he’d meant to meet the farmer there that night, as well.
“Unfortunately, we might have a bit of a problem.”
Nothing was ever easy. Shane suppressed an eye-roll. “What’s up?”
“Well, you’ve gone over your allotted hours for this week by working the double…”
“And?”
“Well, since we might be closed for the storm, I was just going to add the extra hours you worked today to your paycheck for next cycle, so you can make up the time.”
Shane did not appreciate how this was supposed to sound like a favor to him. “I’d rather collect the overtime for this pay period.”
“I know, but unfortunately, we already processed your hours before you worked the extra shift.”
“So I don’t get overtime.”
“I apologize for the oversight.”
“Okay.” Shane took a breath and tried to even himself out. “Well, I’m going to head home. I’ll be in tomorrow morning.”
“Thank you, Shane. And maybe we’ll see the farmer soon.”
Shane felt a stab of anger as he headed back to Marnie’s. “I apologize for the oversight” was really just an articulate “fuck you” to him. He needed that money. More accurately, Jas needed that money. Her school books weren’t cheap, and that was on top of the fact that he was still trying to make deposits into her college fund. And now he was going to try and blackmail him into making the farmer spend her money at the place? Morris knew damn well what he was doing, and it made Shane’s blood boil.
He stormed down the pathway to Marnie’s house, and received a bit of a shock when he saw the farmer standing under a street lamp, waiting patiently.
“What are you doing here?” Shane asked. “It’s midnight.”
“I wanted to see you.” She fell into step beside him. “Sorry Morris torpedoed our date.”
“I should be apologizing to you. I don’t want you to think I stood you up.”
“Don’t worry about that. Is everything okay? You seem more irate than usual when you get out of work.”
Shane sighed heavily. “Morris isn’t giving me overtime for the hours I worked today. I was kind of counting on that money for Jas’ college fund. I haven’t been putting in as much recently.”
“I’m sorry.” The farmer frowned. “Is it because we’ve been going out?”
“Nevermind that. It’s fine. It’s just frustrating, and he’s a dirtbag, but it’s not like I have any other place I could work.” That was at least half the story; Shane was damn well not going to let her know what else had transpired between him and Morris. They were now at Marnie’s front door, anyway.
“I’m sorry your boss is being so unfair to you. Listen, I wanted to ask you if you or Marnie wanted help getting her farm ready tomorrow before the storm hits.”
Had this conversation transpired earlier in the day, Shane might have found her usual helpfulness endearing. Right now, it was aggravating. “I think we’ll be fine. Look, if I don’t see you before the storm hits, stay safe, okay?”
“Okay.” They traded their usual end-of-the-night-kiss, and Shane went inside, still quietly seething. He knew he had to go to bed, but he was so angry he just laid under the covers for what felt like hours. Leave it to fucking Morris to sour his new relationship. What an asshole.
It felt like Shane hadn’t gotten any sleep at all when he rolled out of bed the next morning. Miserable, aching, and still angry at Morris, he stole through the kitchen, avoiding Marnie, and began the slog to work. The sky was so grey, it was almost black, and the air was angrily cold. He prayed he’d just be able to make it through the work day, and then hopefully spend the next few days snowed in, playing video games.
Shane had just passed Pierre’s when he heard his name, and turned to see the farmer booking it toward him. The smile on her face made him somehow feel ten times more exhausted. Despite his affection for her, he was not really in the mood to interact with anybody.
“Morning,” he yawned.
“Morning.” She looked well-rested. “Hey, look, after we talked last night, I remembered that I owe you this.” She held out an envelope, which Shane hesitantly took. When he opened it, he saw a consequential amount of money sitting inside. “I figured I’d give it to you before the storm hit.”
“What is this?” Shane asked, his voice flat.
“Well, you remember how you helped me with my animals the morning I was hungover? That’s your cut of the profits from that day.”
Shane furrowed his brow at the farmer. “I’m not interested in any money for that. I did that to help you because we’re dating.”
“I know, but I don’t want to collect the profit off somebody else’s work. Take it. It’s yours.”
Shane handed the envelope back. “I’m not interested.”
“Shane, please.”
“Is this because of what we talked about last night?” Shane asked, now irritated.
“No, I just wanted to make sure you got what I owed you.”
“Really? Because I’m aware of how much you make off your harvests, and this looks like obviously more than a fraction of your daily profit.”
The farmer bit her lip, and Shane knew he’d caught her in a lie. “I’m sorry,” she finally said. “I felt bad that Morris stiffed you on your paycheck and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“I’m not a charity case,” Shane snapped.
“I was just trying to help.”
“You could have asked if I needed any first! I don’t need your help to get by! What, did you include reimbursements in here for every time I paid when we went out?” Shane looked at the farmer, who was now looking at her shoes, her face red. “You did. Unbelievable.”
“I’m sorry, I just—”
“What? You felt bad? How much of the past month was just because you felt bad for me? Were you just cooking me dinner because you were afraid I’d go hungry?”
“Shane, for goodness’ sake!” The farmer snapped back, and Shane suddenly saw that wildness in her eyes again. “You can’t constantly talk about being stuck in a dead-end job that you hate, and not expect me to worry! What, was I just supposed to sit by—”
“Yes!” He shot back. “Yes, you were! I don’t care how much money you make; you are not my keeper. I was doing fine on my own before you came to town, you know. I thought we were in this together, as equals.”
“We are,” the farmer pleaded.
“Then act like it,” Shane snapped. “I have to get to work.”
“Okay.” The fire had gone out of the farmer’s eyes. “Get home safe tonight.”
“Yeah, thanks.” Shane shook his head, and walked away, indignant and angry and wholly exhausted. Somewhere, some part of his mind told him to look back at her. He resisted the urge.