Chapter Text
Owwwwwwww...
Pain was the first thing you noticed as consciousness slowly trickled back to you. You thought you had mastered the art, yes it's an art, of sleeping on a bus, but then again, you're not as young as you once were.
An uncomfortably loud BATTERY LOW erupts from your headphones, jolting you fully awake as you swat them off your head. The muffled silence is replaced by the sound of a gentle rain pattering against the bus windows.
You sit up, stretching the soreness out of your stagnant muscles and slapping around for whichever crevice your phone has disappeared into, taking a second to reorient in your surroundings. The previously mostly full bus was empty now, save one other passenger towards the front. Looking outside, the concrete and smog of the city has been replaced with rolling hills of grass and greenery, glistening from the rain. You wonder how long you've been out. By the looks of it, surely you can't be far from your destination anymore.
A glance at your phone tells you its just a little past noon. You groan.
Almost an hour left. Not enough time to take another nap but enough time to be bored out of my mind.
There goes that tinge of worry again. For all the hell that life in the city had put you through, at least there was always something to do at your fingertips. You never thought of yourself as someone who was built for the country side. You've lived your whole life in a city, and frankly you were more than a little worried that you wouldn't be able to take the nothingness of the country. Yeah sure, its "peaceful," its "calm and quiet," as people would never fail to tell you after you announced your move and voiced your concern.
Thats what worries me, dipshit.
Sure, you never really were an extrovert, but at least you always had the option of socializing when you needed it. Man. You really friggin hope you can stick it out and make your grandpa proud. You've never taken failure well, especially when it came to disappointing the man that practically raised you. Worry starts to build in your chest.
Alright, asshole, chill the fuck out. You haven't even been there in almost 2 decades, you have no idea what its gonna be like! Don't be such a pessimist about something you can't even remember!
You may be stubborn, but you also love to argue... mostly with yourself, but that's what makes it fun. Having scolded some sense into yourself, you steel your nerves and decide that the rest of this bus ride would be a good time to think about all the good things that might await you.
As the rain picks up, you settle back in your seat, looking over again to the green hills out the window and begin your Optimism List, smiling as excitement starts to overtake anxiety.
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Ain't no fuckin way.
There you stand. In the rain. Looking at the sorry excuse for a shack you're supposed to call home. And these two clowns have the audacity to smile at you???? Jesus.
The carpenter seemed nice enough, Robin, was it?? , but this mayor hyped the town and your "farm" up with just enough poorly veiled desperation to make it creepy, but he appeared to be harmless none the less.
After giving you a polite goodbye, Robin excuses herself and leaves you to take your bags inside. Quickly realizing that a) you're soaking wet and didn't bring anything to shower with and b) you don't own any food, you figure you should find yourself a supermarket, or at least a restaurant before settling down for the night. Stepping back outside, you realize that the mayor is still standing, just waiting for you.
Has this dude just been standing in the rain for the last 10 minutes?? I don't know what this guys deal is but he for SURE has issues. Man I hope he doesn't make a habit of this.
Despite your reservations, you greet him with a smile, figuring he may as well make himself useful and give you some directions to a store.
"Oh, sure!" he says with a beaming smile. "I was actually hoping I could introduce you to some of the townsfolk today, at least those you'll need to know to get your bearings in the first couple of days, but you ran off before I got the chance to invite you," he punctuates with a laugh.
"Ah. Yeah, that's a really good idea, actually. Thanks." You feel a little bad now, you're not exactly used to hospitality, but the man was genuinely just trying to help you out. "Where to first?"
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You scoff as Lewis points out the general store. You can barely see it through the droplet-marred lenses of your glasses, but even still, you can see enough to know you're majorly going to have to lower your expectations of this town.
Freakin figures. Don't know why I expected for there to be a supermarket way out here in the boonies.
But a store is a store, and food is food. Your train of thought is abruptly interrupted by Lewis-
"Oh, I almost forgot! I need to run back to my office for a minute, but go introduce yourself to Pierre. He runs the store, so I'm sure you'll be seeing a lot of each other. Be back in a flash!"
Before you can fully turn your head, the mayor is already bolting away. He's surprisingly fast for a man his age. Holding back a resigned sigh, you walk in.
A warm *ting* rings as the door brushes past the bell hanging over it. The blonde man leaned over the back counter doesn't seem to notice you just yet, so you take the opportunity to play one of your favorite games: making harsh judgements off of shallow observations.
Is this his fucking living room???
Looking around, this place is giving off less "store" and more "someone definitely lives here." Framed pictures of the blonde man's, presumably Pierre, family litter the walls over the produce section. On the opposite wall, old memorabilia and awards dangle over the gardening supplies and housework section. Before you get to make another harsh judgement-
"Oh! Hello!"
Damn. The man at the counter finally noticed you, straightening up to his full height.
"You must be the new farmer! I'm Pierre, I run this here fine general store," he boasts with a proud smile.
You offer a polite smile in return as you approach the counter. "Pleasure to meet you! I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot of each other," you chuckle, shamelessly stealing Lewis's line for a bit of small talk. It works though, getting a booming laugh out of the older man.
"I certainly hope so! Well, what brings you in today?"
"Lewis thought it would be good for me to meet some of the townsfolk I'm going to need to 'get my bearings' on the first day. That, and I don't actually own any food yet," you say jokingly. Although you prefer your solitude, you sure as shit knew how to work people. A perk of years working in the entertainment industry. You're not shy and you're actually quite proud of your conversational skills, but man if that doesn't just drain you after a while, so you decide to get things moving. Politely excusing yourself, you pick up a basket and make your way through the isles.
Microwave dinner will do for tonight. And tomorrow probably, too. Or until whenever I can be fucked to get cooking utensils.
Having picked up something edible, you continue weaving through the store, devastated that Pierre doesn't seem to carry any bath towels, or variety of shampoo.. or soaps. Resigned, soggy, and disappointed, you return to the counter with a few measly frozen dishes and the abomination that is 3-in-1 shampoo. Pierre looks up at you with slight concern as he begins to scan your items.
"I'm looking to pick up a few other necessities as well. You wouldn't happen to carry glasses wipes? Or bath towels?" you ask, desperate.
He gives you a pitying smile before replying, "Unfortunately not."
"You know where I could find some?" You check your watch. Lewis did have the courtesy to warn you that most shops here close early compared to the city, so you knew your opportunity for a civilized shower was closing quickly.
You watch Pierre grit his teeth, seemingly bothered by the question. "I wouldn't normally recommend it, but there is a Joja Mart on the other side of town."
You mimic Pierre's frown. Of course Joja managed to get a store out here. You had worked at their consumer products department straight out of college, so you know first hand just how shitty everything they carry is. God you hated that place.
"Anywhere else you can think of? I'm less than thrilled with those guys, to say the least," you press. You're desperate, but you're not Joja desperate. Yet.
You watch as Pierre thinks for a moment, the relief evident on his face before it is overtaken by the unmistakable glee of A Good Idea.
"Oh! You could probably ask to borrow some from the clinic next door! I'm sure Dr. Stonehaus would be happy to lend to a neighbor in need," he advises, clearly very proud of his own brilliance.
But hey, free is good, and not-Joja is even better. Sold.
You beam at the man, your relief rivaling his. "Amazing, thank you so much!!"
Paying quickly and damn near snatching your bag of stuff off the counter, you almost sprint out of the general store, giving a thankful wave to Pierre as the door shuts behind you.
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It takes you a second to figure out which door belongs to the clinic, giving you enough time to undo any drying off that may have happened at the general store. A bit embarrassing as there is only one "next door" to where you just were.
I can't see shit. Man I really hope this doc has glasses wipes. Or any dry fabric, at this point.
The door of the clinic creaks as you push it open, giving you a view of a waiting room drowning in fluorescent lighting, albeit still fairly obscured by your mucked-up glasses. Giving up on the sense of sight, you push your glasses up to your hair like sunglasses, and look around. The waiting room is clean, almost sparklingly so, with a few posters you can't be bothered to read and sad looking plants littered throughout the otherwise sterile space. You glance over to the counter, only for it to be empty. Before you have the chance to call out, you hear the thump of rapidly approaching steps.
You hear him before you see him.
"Shane, I am not getting tricked into prescribing you Xanax again. Trick me once, shame on me - trick me 4 times, well. So you better turn your sorry ass a-"
The deep, booming voice stops abruptly after bursting through the double doors across from you, freezing mid-gait when he spots you. A deep blush crosses his face, the sheer horror of what just happened catching up to him.
The two of you stand there for a moment, just looking at each other in silence. Stunned by his own embarrassing blunder, all he can think to say is-
"You're not Shane."
You look down at yourself, fake-searching before looking back up at the doctor.
"Nope. At least, not since I last checked." You offer a comforting smile, hoping the joke will reboot the poor man's brain. It doesn't.
Hoping to deduce something that will start a conversation to relieve the awkward moment, you take the opportunity to look the man over quickly. Dark auburn curls lay haphazardly over his face, just reaching the rims of his glasses.
That's a good sign. Shoutout to Pierre.
His wrinkle-free lab coat covers a warm, green, cable-knit sweater, with a collar and a neatly done up tie peeking out, and nice brown slacks and dress shoes tying the whole look together.
Ok, so he definitely cares about professionalism - makes sense as to why he's shaking like a chihuahua right now.
Moving your gaze back up to his face, you note that a) this man is tall as shit and b) he takes very good care of his neatly trimmed mustache.
Probably cares about appearances. Yet, this dude is way to big to be taken seriously while shaking like said chihuahua - def has a naturally nervous disposition that he's likely insecure about. Also, note to self, p cute.
Your 3-second analysis doesn't tell you much, but you know enough to understand that it's gonna have to be you who diffuses the situation.
Plastering on the warmest smile you can, you take a few confident steps forward and hold out your hand.
"I'm the new farmer! You must be Dr. Stonehaus," you say with the friendliest tone you can pull off without scaring the poor bastard off.
This seems to work, as he slowly looks to your extended hand, then back to you, his blush deepening.
"Harvey," he mutters, reaching out to shake your hand.
The second he does, his brain seems to start working again.
"Oh my god, you're freezing!"
You offer an embarrassed laugh, "Yeah, that's part of the reason I'm stopping by. I was just at the general store and it didn't have any towels or glasses wipes. Pierre sent me your way - I was hoping I could borrow some? At least until I can find some of my own," rubbing the back of your neck, embarrassed to ask a stranger for a favor. "I just got to town today and don't really own anything yet. Plus, my hair got wet so I've got about T-5 minutes before I start to look like a toddler's art's and crafts project of cut-up telephone cords," you laugh, hoping to put the doctor at ease. Again, it doesn't.
Instead, his body can't decide whether to go behind the counter or into the back, so he takes a couple steps in each direction before stopping and turning to you. He opens his mouth to say something before turning back around and scurrying behind the double doors.
Very cute, you amend your previous observation.
Harvey emerges not 30 seconds later with a small hand towel, and offers it to you.
"For your hair," he says, not fully making eye contact with you as you take it from him. Clearing his throat, he continues, "I have some glasses wipes somewhere in my apartment upstairs and I just washed the clinic's big towels. Give me a sec to go scrounge something up." He finally looks at you and returns a nervous smile before running back through the double doors.
You let out a sigh of relief.
Mission success.