Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

     Sebastian couldn't give less of a shit about the new farmer.

     It’s nothing terribly personal; he’s just tired. Too tired to care about a new person arriving in town. Too tired to remember her name. Too tired of being tired to bother with this whole damn situation.

     The ridiculousness was difficult to ignore after the first of spring arrived, however. The new farmer was all anyone was talking about, and Sebastian was pretty sure he was going to develop some sort of inferiority complex in response to the overwhelmingly positive reception. This woman wasn't three days off of the bus, and the town was already infinitely more accepting of her than it had ever been of him. But was there really anything surprising about that? He's aware that this is through no fault of hers; he doesn't even know the girl, so casting the blame onto her shoulders wouldn’t be fair. But damned if it wasn't aggravating. The endless fawning was a nuisance at best, and downright depressing at worst. In other words, shitty, but nothing Sebastian couldn't handle. At least, nothing Sebastian thought he couldn't handle.

     But then Sam started.

     When Sam gets his mind stuck on something, Sebastian knows that he and anyone else within hearing distance are in for a headache. When Sam gets started on about a girl? Psh.

     That was how Sebastian had gotten here, already eight cigarettes in after an hour and a half, attempting to control the twitch in his eye as he watches his pacing friend. Sam is filling his ear with chatter (incessantly) about the farmer, who is, apparently, the coolest (doubtful) person to ever step foot on the fucking planet. There are so many other things Sebastian would rather be doing than listening to this, like sleeping. He tries to imagine his comfy bed in his wonderfully dark basement, but Sam's voice prevents him from hearing his own thoughts. Sigh.

     "Dude, I know we were talking about how lame the farmer would probably be, but she's pretty damn cute. Do you know how long it's been since we had any new girls here?" Sam rambles. Sebastian is worried that if his friend doesn't shut up, he’ll start shitting rainbows or something. The blonde is teeming with enthusiasm, and in most other circumstances, his grumpy friend would be amused. This is not one of those circumstances.

     Sebastian sighs, takes a drag from his cigarette, and gives a noncommittal grunt. No, he hadn't seen her. Yes, she's the first new-blood they've had in awhile. Cute or not cute, though, he has not the slightest desire to make her acquaintance. His friend seems to read his mind. Sam sighs heavily - indignation rises up at the blonde's exasperated expression, but some things can't be helped - and ceases his animated movements for a moment. Oh, great. A Sam that speaks without his hands is about as serious of a Sam as anyone will get.

     "Seb, I shit you not. She seems really chill. When I was helping her move her stuff into the house, we were talking the whole time. She's pretty cool. And did I mention she was cute?"

     A heavier sigh. Sam thinks every girl is cute, not that Sebastian’s going to point that out again. Chill, hot, cute, cold, whatever, it makes no difference. She's still ‘The Farmer.’ Which, for Sebastian, is already synonymous with ‘Not Interested.’

     Vaguely, he wonders if smoking multiple cigarettes at once would ease his agitation.

     While Sebastian is distracted, Sam wastes no time being very pointedly not dissuaded by his friend's attitude, much to the irritable young man's dismay. "I think you should meet her. Give it a chance. I know how shit's been for you lately - having a new distraction couldn't hurt," he continues. The blonde's concern is genuine, if somewhat misplaced. Guilt raises its head. He must have been looking pretty bad lately if Sam’s trying to push a girl onto him. Another drag, another sigh, and then Sebastian humors him with an answer.

     "I don't think the chance will arise any time soon. I don't leave my house, remember?"

     Sam lets out a derisive snort, rolling his eyes towards the sky. It's rhetorical when he asks, "How long do you honestly think you can avoid someone in this town?"

     Well, he probably has a point there.

     "Hey, maybe you can meet her when we go to the saloon Friday!" - and there he goes, off rambling about the Super Cute farmer again. As Sebastian looks off across the river, tuning out his overexcited friend, he feels a tiny sliver of apprehension worming its way into his stomach. His brows furrow, the first real expression to pull at his face since this whole rant began. Shit.

     He's got a feeling Sam's right. How irritating.

     Three days later, Sebastian's feeling proves to be correct.

     The sun had seeped below the horizon a few hours ago, but he can't bring himself to go home just yet. The lake is lazy, a moonlit mirror illuminating its own shores, undisturbed by human taint. It always brings a sense of peace; there's something almost otherworldly about the quiet, something eerie about the way the tendrils of smoke from his cigarette curl in the air. Maybe that's why he likes it - he doesn't know. He’s always been a sucker for poetic crap.

     Of course, there’s that damn bullfrog that won't stop croaking, but serenity always comes at a price, right?

     He'd somehow managed to piss Demetrius off earlier. Having the older man yell in his face isn't something that Sebastian particularly appreciates - in fact, it pisses him the fuck off - but he doesn’t like seeing his mother cry, so he’d forced the argument to an end with an indifferent, “Whatever,” and left the house. The relief after his exit had been palpable, he’s sure; that’s a common reaction to his departure.

     That was hours ago. Most of Sebastian's rage had ebbed away with the sunlight, leaving him in his normal state of exhaustion-induced lethargy. A yawn strains his jaw. He’ll probably go back inside soon, as much as he loathes to. Not quite yet, though. He's not one for the outdoors, but he has a soft spot for this little nook out by the lake. It's a refuge, one graced with the gentle crooning of crickets and the eeriness of moonlight. And that Yoba-damned bull frog, of course.

     Sebastian exhales a puff of breath, thinking back on his earlier argument. Between Sam's incessant fawning and Demetrius's bitching, he’s going to have to buy a few more packs of smokes soon. He makes a mental note to pick some up the next time he goes out. They’re cheaper at Joja than at Pierre's, which sucks. But gradually killing yourself isn't a cheap endeavor in a small town; sacrifices have to be made.

     The sound of grass rustling behind him makes him close his eyes in disappointment - there goes my peace - but he just takes another drag and slowly lets it out. It was probably his mother, here to coerce him back into the house. Nothing new there. He keeps his gaze on the lake.

     " - Shit!"

     The soft voice that pierces the silence is not that of his mother, however. It is unfamiliar, which is enough to make Sebastian look over his shoulder, eyebrow arched. There, trying to get her foot out of the nearby bush, is a woman who is recognizable because of her unfamiliarity.

     If he were a friendlier person, Sebastian might make a move to assist her, or at least properly greet her. But he isn't, and so he doesn't. He turns back to the waterfront and tries to pretend like his nerves aren't flaring up. New people are nerve wracking. Hell, familiar people are nerve wracking.

     The sound of the farmer's struggle persists for a moment (what the fuck even happened?), a few grunts and a lot of rustling, before Seb hears her muttering as she approaches him. The last word he catches is another quiet "shit!" before he feels her presence by his side.

     It’s not his forte to start a conversation, nor was it his original intention, but now that she's standing next to him he feels compelled to say something, anything. Maybe it’s because she’s the first remotely friendly face he's seen in hours. Her company isn't exactly welcome, but it also isn't Demetrius; that's a point in her favor. Plus, if he’s being honest, having someone stuck in a bush the first time you meet them sucks a bit of the anxiety out of the situation.

     "You normally greet people like that?" he asks after a moment, sparing her a glance out of the corner of his eye.

     The woman next to him laughs wryly, but he can hear the embarrassment in her voice. "Only the ones I'm trying to make an impression on."

     Sebastian hums in response. An impression, hm? Well, it worked, he supposes. There is a silence, so Seb decides that since she’s here, he might as well get a look at the world-renowned farmer. Put a face to the name.

     What’s her name again? Crap.

     He's not sure what to think of her. Farmers, of course, aren't supposed to look any particular way. Stereotypes are bullshit inflicted upon people by the dredges of society and what not. But if there were a certain appearance required, Seb is pretty sure she wouldn't fit the bill. Her skin is fair enough that it almost glows in the moonlight, which doesn't seem like it would be conducive to labor in the sun. Too small for any heavy lifting or strenuous work. Dark hair, large eyes, a nose with a slight bump on the bridge. What exactly was Sam seeing that he wasn't? She’s pretty, he guesses; nothing really special. But hey, whatever Sam wants. No judgement from Sebastian’s end.

     He turns his gaze back to the lake and lets the silence continue. Her random appearance is (or should have been) a curiosity, but he's already slipping back into indifference. These situations aren't a strong point of his. This is why he doesn't speak to people - now he’s committed to a conversation that he doesn't want to or know how to progress. It was like laying a trap for the opposing team in an MMO and immediately stepping in it. This is so damn awkward. Maybe if he stares forward long enough she'll go away?

     "So, you're Sebastian, right?"

     No such luck.

     Ah, the local loner had already been mentioned to her. Great, he can only imagine what’s been said. Although he couldn’t really care less about what she thinks of him, it's irritating to be spoken about. He flicks his hair out of his face, internally rolls his eyes, and then speaks around his cigarette, "Yeah."

     There’s a flash of a smile in his peripheral vision. Which makes him more uncomfortable, because what is there to smile about? "Sam talks about you a lot! I've run into him a few times. He talks you up so much that I've been sort of excited to meet you, if I'm being honest," she says. Geez, somebody's chipper.

     Sebastian tries to keep the grimace off of his face. There’s no telling what Sam had said, and no telling what "talking up" entails. Disappointment on someone's end, surely. Still, it was probably better that whatever she'd heard had come from him instead of...well, anyone else, really.

     "Well, you've met me."

     He's perfectly aware of how much of a dick he sounds like. He has to give it to her though; his lack of enthusiasm doesn’t seem to phase her in the slightest. There's a smile in her voice when she replies, which confuses him. He does this to run people off; why isn't she offended that he’s so rude? Is he losing his touch? He feels just as unfriendly as he did yesterday, so that can't be it. What gives?

     "I guess I have. I'll leave you be, then, okay? Goodnight,” she says calmly. Relaxed and unaffected.

     She smiles at him again, already turning away. He spares her a glance and nods his acknowledgement, too delayed for her to see, still bewildered by this whole interaction. After this, he's reached his social limit for the week. Fucking exhausting. As he thinks about it, he notes that she seemed to have read the atmosphere pretty well, unlike a lot of - most of - the townspeople. She doesn’t seem insulted by his attitude, which can only lead him to guess that she understands his desire for solitude. Unless she’s one of those quiet types that seems friendly and laid back but is actually planning revenge at any given moment in time. Sebastian’s read about people like that. If it’s the former...he appreciates it. The latter, not so much.

     The sound of her footsteps grows distant as she heads back towards the mountain path, and Sebastian allows himself a moment to revel in the joy of being left alone with his thoughts. So if her voice startles him when it breaks the air the next second, well, who could blame him for jumping?

     So uncool. At least I didn't scream.

     "I'm Jenna, by the way! And Sam only said good things, promise! He also said not to get offended if you were sort of a dick, so I'll catch you later!" And then she’s gone, a shadow disappearing around the corner of his house.

     The violet haired man glowers at the darkness where she'd just been, before throwing his cigarette butt down and pressing it with the toe of his shoe. What the hell, Farmer?

     That stupid frog croaks again. Sebastian has successfully reaffirmed that the world hates him.

     He is going to fucking kill Sam.

Chapter Text

     Of course she only realizes that he’s attractive after she’s made an idiot out of herself.

     Is it possible to suffocate on silence? Jenna’s not sure. She's reluctant to speak because she feels like an idiot, but she’s also no good, absolutely no good, with awkward silence. As far as first impressions go, she can safely say that this isn't her best.

     Jenna stands there awkwardly for one moment. Two. Three. Geez, she hopes he’ll take pity on her and say something, because she’s at a loss. She’s beginning to doubt it but then, bless his heart, he speaks. He asks her if this is how she always greets people, and she supposes he means by falling into shrubbery and spouting obscenities. No, thank you, she does not, but he has one hell of a handsome profile and a much deeper voice than expected, so instead she says something not-quite-witty about impressions. So smooth.

     Truly, she’s driven to distraction by the tall young man next to her. When Sam mentioned his best friend, this wasn't who she imagined, even with his description. Wearing all black, yes. Slim, yes. Long hair, yes. But she hadn’t really thought much about him being attractive.

     Or such an asshole. She’d sort of thought that Sam had been exaggerating that particular bit, because he’d said it so affectionately.

     It doesn't take much to see that her presence isn't exactly welcome, so she takes her leave with damaged pride and a few parting sentences that she hopes don't annoy him too much. TallDarkAndEmo (as she’s mentally dubbed him) nearly jumps out of his skin when she impulsively yells her farewell. She holds back a snort, caught somewhere between amusement and mortification.

     As soon as she’s out of sight, though, mortification wins out and she covers her face with her hands. Stupid stupid stupid. If there was any chance of him remotely liking you, you just ruined it, dumbass.

     That doesn't stop her from thinking about him the entire walk back to the farm, and then still while she unloads her small haul from the mines. Geez, Jenna thinks, sorting her quartz and geodes onto the table. I feel like a teenager again. When was the last time she’d had a crush? As hard as she thinks, nothing comes to mind, not from recent years. Sure, she’d had a boyfriend a couple of years ago, and had been on a few dates since that, but those were just some of the many occurrences born from the loneliness that the city sowed. There had been no one she’d actually had a substantial relationship with, no sparks. Just a few friendly faces to break the monotony. But here she is, with a broody, dark haired guy that she'd only just met floating around her thoughts (in a very insistent manner.) Lucky - which is a term she’s using objectively - she chose tonight to check out the first few floors of the mines, or she might not have run into him.

     Her thoughts are still on him as she brushes her teeth and makes her way to bed, exhausted from her first venture into the mountain.

     He’d seemed so distant and aloof as he stood next to her. Standoffish. It’s hard not to be a little offended by his attitude. Sure, he might have a jawline that was carved by angels and dark, long-lashed eyes (so unfair), but he’s unsociable at best and rude at worst. Sam’s already told her about his disdain for people, and she can see that in the way he holds himself, like he’s tired of everything and everyone. The boy’s got a serious chip on his shoulder. She snorts, tugging the pull-string of her bedside lamp and dousing herself in darkness. Attractive is all well and good, but Sebastian seems like a pain in the ass with an attitude problem that spans a country mile wide.

     Ah, shit. She’s absolutely smitten.

     Days pass with no sign of her. Sebastian really only takes note because of Sam’s whining; apparently even the people who socialize hadn’t seen much of her. All for the best, he supposes, leaning back in his computer chair. He doesn't like people and he certainly isn't on the market for more friends, and thus, she slips out of his mind as easily as water. The new programming contract that landed in his inbox makes it all the effortless.

     Jenna is sure she’s dying. Like, actually, physically dying.

     All of those years in the city had not prepared her for this. She wipes her forehead with her arm, leaning on her hoe for a moment, trying to catch her breath. Sweat is literally dripping off of her and she really, really, really misses air conditioning. And showers. And not having land to till. What sort of twenty-three year old woman has land to till?

     It would be lying to say that she wasn't beginning to hate her new job.

     But she’d left the city with her mind made up. This endeavor wasn't something that she could walk away from; Grandpa’s letter had been her ticket out, a rope that had suddenly dropped into the dark hole she was living in, giving her a second chance.

     And Grandpa wouldn't want his farm to look like this, she reminds herself. No quitting now.

     The thought of him catches her off guard, although it probably shouldn’t, not after recently. She bows her head for a second, biting her lip and shutting her eyes against the sudden sting of tears.

     Okay, okay, now’s not the time to cry. She’s fine, she’s fine, she tells herself. Deep breath. It’s alright; she’s okay.

     And she will be. Her stomach is still tight with longing, and something in her chest aches, but she’s alright. No break down this time, despite the trembling in her hands.

     She really, really misses him. Being on the farm without hearing him talk to his chickens, or walking across acres of crops listening to him chatter about the magic in the valley, or sitting out on the front porch soaking up the final rays of sunlight while rambling on and on to him - it all feels terribly wrong. The farm house doesn’t resemble the home it once was. It’s like this whole place is a skeleton of the past, a graveyard cradling memories in its resilient hands. Empty of life. It breaks her heart, makes guilt slither into her throat and her lungs, to know that she let his legacy fall into such disrepair. She should have opened that damn letter four years ago.

     But she can think about that tonight - not now, not in the middle of her little field - and she straightens her back and picks up her hoe again. If blood, sweat, and tears are what it’s going to take to build the farm back up, then that’s just what she’ll give. She’s going to spend the following days laboring tirelessly until she has a (somewhat) decent setup. She’ll make it happen even if she drops dead in the process, she thinks with a determined furrow on her brow. They can put her gravestone right next to his, as long as she can bring his farm back to life.

     His mother brings her up one day, while they're eating at the dinner table. Is there seriously no escaping this girl? Sebastian wonders in exasperation as Robin rambles on, and on, and on. Nothing but praise, go figure. Even if he no longer feels quite as personally offended by her existence, that doesn't make it not annoying.

     The Farmer had apparently dropped by this morning after being absent from the town for a while, and she brought with her a bundle of plans for an array buildings she eventually wants constructed. Robin’s ecstatic, almost beside herself with her wild gesticulations and excited - or manic - voice .

     “It’s just so nice to see how committed she is to the farm! I was worried when we first met her - she’s not exactly the laboring type, you know - but she seems really determined. There’s some bite to that city girl. I hope she’s not pushing herself too hard, though; she looked a little pale when she came in. Did I tell you that she thinks she’ll be able to pay for a chicken coop by the end of summer?” Robin says between bites of spaghetti. Sebastian doesn’t bother to feign interest. The other two people sitting at the table are all smiles and encouragement, so his input really isn’t needed. His mother is obviously impressed with the girl’s tenacity.

     Which is great and all, but not something Sebastian gives a shit about. It’s a rare occasion for him to eat with the family, and this is a great reminder of why. He continues trying to tune it all out and finish eating as quickly as possible, while also trying to look as composed and chill as possible. Then Maru chimes in. That sort of gets his attention. He didn’t know his half-sister had met the local farmer.

     “She’s just been so nice to me! There’ve been a few nights this past week where I’ve run into her outside, when I’m looking in my telescope. She like, actually seems genuinely interested in all of the constellations I point out. And she never looks bored when I’m talking to her!” Maru gushes. Which is, again, great and all - not to mention borderline miraculous - but it comes back to a new question: where the fuck had he been when this happened?

     Sebastian’s mildly irritated up until this point; but apparently Demetrius has run into her by the lake. Now, that is irritating. They’d conversed about her crops or soil or whatever. What the fuck is it about this girl that makes everyone go on and on like morons? “Quite eager to learn,” his stepfather says, before launching into a retelling of their boring, science stuffed conversation.

     Sebastian’s been by the lake every night for the past two weeks. Hell, he lives in the same house as these people. How has he not seen her? Maru’s telescope really isn’t that far from his spot on the lake. A tinge of indignance rises up in his chest.

     Has she been avoiding him?

     Well, good. That’s what he’s originally wanted from the very start, right? An errant hand rakes his hair out of his face, maybe with a bit more force than usual. She can get buddy-buddy with Demetrius to her little heart’s content; he’s got other things to do and can think of many other things to sulk about. She’s welcome to do whatever the fuck she wants.

     The last meatball on his plate probably didn’t deserve the fate it received, but he’s aggravated. He doesn’t know why, and doesn't want to think into it. As he gets up to leave, Robin quietly asks him if he’s alright, because he’s been scowling quite angrily for the last few minutes. What has gotten into him?

     “Yeah, Mom, I'm fine. That's just my face,” Sebastian assures her in his usual monotone, turning to walk down the stairs to the basement. It’s not entirely a lie; he does suffer from chronic resting-bitch-face. He can feel the scowl etched onto his face, now that he’s thinking about it - and that realization just deepens it. Fucking Farmer.

Chapter Text

         Sam is the catalyst. It's his fault that Sebastian starts to feel a bit - just a bit - bad about his preconceived opinion of the farmer. His friend has a way of doing that, of exuding such borderline-disgusting optimism that it starts to seep into your pores. It’s hard not to let his personality rub off; he’s enthusiastic about the farmer even weeks after meeting her, and he’s made it clear that he considers her a friend. How is Sebastian supposed to not be swayed by that?

         The way Sam talks about her could probably make anyone like her. Sebastian is uncomfortable with that; it feels too much like becoming acquainted with an ideal instead of a person. Nothing good comes from building someone up in your head. That typically leads to disappointment, and he’s had enough disappointment for a lifetime.

         Could there be any harm in giving the idea a chance, though? He knows he’s been unfair to the girl, has known that from the very beginning. Listening to Sam talk makes Sebastian think of his first encounter with her. The first cute girl he meets in ages, and what does he do? He acts like a massive dick, that’s what.

         His thoughts are running at a mile a minute as he frowns up at his ceiling, not finding his usual comfort in the darkness of his bedroom. Yeah, maybe he feels a bit guilty. If he’s working off of preconceived notions, doesn't that make him the same as all of the other pretentious fucks in this town? A long-suffering sigh eases out of his mouth. He can't really blame her for avoiding him, not truly, regardless of how much the very idea of that irks him.

         Maybe, somewhere deep in his subconscious, where the lonely parts of his brain that desire human contact reside, he’d wanted her to continue to at least try talking to him. Maybe after their first encounter he was curious enough to want to encounter her again, to hear the stupid voice that had said, “I've been super excited to meet you, if I'm being honest.” Maybe he was starved for human interaction; maybe this was the long-latent instinct to live in packs rearing its head to bite him in the ass, his Neanderthal ancestors spiting him from the afterlife or something. Maybe he wants to like her as much as Sam does. But it’s so easy for Sam.

        Fuck, thinking in circles is going to get him nowhere. Fuck fuck fuck. The darkness, the silence, it all seems repressing instead of reassuring, now. With a low groan and an arm over his eyes, he resigns himself to the fact that he’s not getting any sleep tonight.

         She’s seated at the saloon, toying with the drink in her hand and talking to Emily across the counter. It’s pleasant; her foot is tapping to the jaunty beat sung by the jukebox, and the sweet tea she’s sipping feels cool as it slips down her throat. It’s also nice to be able to chat with few interruptions. Not many people are here yet, just a couple of regulars, but it’s almost time for the regular Friday night crowd to start filing in.

         “So, are you going to be at the Flower Dance this year?” the blue haired girl asks eagerly, her hand habitually dragging a rag across the counter top. She’s the first female in this town that Jenna feels like she’s building a friendship with. The older girl’s energy is refreshing after the long, grueling weeks that the farm had stolen from her.

         Jenna blinks at the question. Flower Dance? “First I've heard of it,” she says. There’s hesitation in her voice; she’s never been one for dancing, and dancing with flowers just sounds like something a bit too...frilly for her tastes.

         “Seriously?! Is that not a thing they do wherever you're from?” Emily asks in that incredulous way people do when you're unfamiliar with their traditions. Jenna laughs at her disbelief.

         “Nope. I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. What is it?”

         That question seems to be all the prompting Emily needs to launch into a very excited tirade. Dresses, flowers, dancing; it all sounds sort of awful, just as expected. “Is it, like, a really big thing? Does everyone go?” Jenna asks, running a hand through her short, messy hair. Emily cocks her head thoughtfully, and seems to do an internal head count.

         “Mostly, yeah,” she finally says. She brings her elbow up to the counter, resting her chin in her hand. “Once in awhile some of the kids will ditch early, but for the most part, it’s a town-wide event. I always go; I make my and Haley’s dresses! You should see the ones I made this year.”

         Craaaaap, that might mean she has to make an appearance. A sigh.

         A few moments and a large chunk of dress-talk later, Emily gets summoned to the other end of the bar for refills. Jenna’s just thinking about getting up and heading home when the front door swings open loudly, making her jump. A flurry of laughter and rain followed closely by Sam, Abigail, and… Oh no.

         Well, she was going to run into him eventually. She sighs quietly to herself, turning back to the bar and trying not to lament her disheveled appearance. In all honesty, she’s been avoiding Sebastian since their first meeting. It isn’t really in her nature to get down-and-out over a guy she’d met a whopping grand total of one time, but… Truthfully, he’d crushed her pride a little bit, and she was still embarrassed by how overeager she’d been with her greeting. Not to mention embarrassed about getting stuck on that damn bush.

         Besides, he’d made it very, very clear that he had no interest in being friends with her. She may do her best to change that down the line, but now, being so exhausted with getting her farm up and running, she doesn't have the heart to. Pursuing a cute guy who thinks she's a nuisance doesn't really sound like a good time.

         “Jenna!”

         She inwardly cringes at Sam’s voice. Please, please don't let them all walk over here. Let it just be Sam. Or Sam and Abigail. Hell, even just Abigail. Just not Sebastian. She’d take trying to talk to Shane over facing Sebastian right now.

         As luck would have it, they don't all approach her; only the two guys are heading her way. Well, crap. This is going to be a cringe fest. The big grin painted on Sam’s face is hard not to smile back at, though, even as she sees his friend trailing behind him lazily.

         “Hi, Sam,” she laughs, amused by his ever-present enthusiasm. The rain has calmed his equally enthusiastic hair, which makes his face look a little bit younger. He’s a cutie, definitely. Super cute. Much nicer than Sebastian, much more cheerful. That doesn’t stop her eyes from straying to his friend.

         Sam flings himself onto the barstool next to her, while Sebastian remains standing. She’s doing a very good job of not appearing flustered, thank you very much.

         “‘Sup, Farmer,” Sebastian says, with a tiny quirk at the corner of his mouth that could have been a smile, if you tilted your head and squinted a bit. She hadn’t been expecting a greeting, much less an almost-sorta-kinda-smile. That’s...different from last time. He seems to be in a more pleasant mood, or, at the very least, a less hostile one. Maybe Sam has that effect on everybody.

         Sebastian arches one dark eyebrow at her, the one not concealed by his dripping hair, and fuck, she’s been looking at him while she’s thinking. She blinks, coughs awkwardly, gets out some sort of greeting, and hurriedly turns to Sam, who thankfully hasn't noticed a thing.

         “So, where’ve you been the last few weeks? You went M.I.A. You gotten a lot done on that shitpile of a farm?” Sam asks. As always, his words come out in a stream, curious and jovial. He has an expectant expression, and she’s a little touched that her absence has been noticed. It’s been a rough few weeks.

         “Um, yeah, I've been throwing myself at it pretty hard. I have a couple of crops growing, I've gone to Robin’s a few times, too - I've got rough ideas of what buildings I'll need and everything!” Well, that sounded childish. She doesn't realize she’s proud of all of this until she speaks. A smile splits her face despite her self-consciousness.

         Sam tilts his head back and laughs. “I'm impressed, man, that place was a clusterfuck of rocks and trees.” He pauses to take a sip of the Joja cola that Emily has smoothly slipped in front of his, contentment overtaking his features for a second. Ew. “Buildings, huh? You’ve seen her up at your place, Seb?”

         There's something a little intense - there’s that hostility - in Sebastian’s dark eyes (Yoba help her, she can see now that they’re green, how unfair), and as he catches her gaze, she feels herself blush. Damn it.

         “No.”

         He sounds indifferent, looks indifferent. For some reason, she doesn't feel like that's entirely the case. She doesn't hear what Sam says as she continues to glance over at Sebastian; the tall young man stands out in this cheerful tavern, a slender, quiet black figure against a growing background of jovial townsfolk. The first night, by the lake, the moon had painted everything in an ethereal light. Now she can see the deep bruises under his eyes, the exhaustion that weighs down his handsome features. What on earth is going through his head?

         “...Jenna?”

         Sam’s questioning voice shakes her out of her thoughts. Shit, I spaced out again, why was I staring? Jenna nearly starts at the realization, hurriedly trying to right herself. The embarrassment is seizing its dark hand around her chest. There’s no way that went unnoticed. Why is she so awkward?

         “What? Shit, sorry, Sam, I was totally lost in my thoughts, I didn’t mean to space out on you!” the young woman frantically explains. Now Sam’s face is scaring her, not because it holds anger, but because it holds something much worse: realization. His gaze slides from her face to Sebastian’s, and then back again. There’s a twinkle in his blue eyes that’s growing more mischievous by the second. Shit.

         “...It’s alright, it happens, right?” he reassures her, keeping his tone casual. Except it does absolutely nothing to reassure her. The blonde is grinning like the Cheshire Cat, and she knows, she just knows, that every thought she’s had thus far about his tall, brooding best friend is now outlined in lights and scribbled on her face in bold print for him to see.

         Sam cuts his eyes toward Sebastian again, who’s now looking on suspiciously, then looks back at her red face and laughs. The little shit throws back his head and laughs. She’s the same color as the fruits of her strawberry plants, she just knows it. Sebastian’s narrow-eyed gaze makes it all the worse.

         “It happens, right, Jenna?” the blonde repeats mirthfully. Well, she’s glad someone’s thoroughly amused by the situation, because she could die right now and be more than perfectly okay with it. Does the magic of the valley include convenient black holes appearing in floors?

         “Yeah, sometimes it just does. I prefer it when it isn’t made so obvious, though,” she states through gritted teeth. Come on, take pity on me, please, please. Sam seems to read her with ease, chuckles at her like she isn't praying for her own existence to cease.

         “It’s hard to ignore it when it’s just written on your face like that.” His tone is conversational, as if they were just discussing the storming weather, but his face tells a different story. He’s about to explode into howling laughter or something equally embarrassing, and Jenna doesn’t want to be here to see it.

         “Well, look at the time! It’s getting late. I’ve really got to get back, it’s an early day tomorrow, you guys have fun, bye!” she exclaims. As she makes her frantic escape, she catches a glimpse of Sebastian’s handsome, bewildered face. He looks like he can’t decide whether he should be pissed off that he’s left out of the joke, or just confused by her and his friend’s odd behavior.

         The last thing she hears before the door closes behind her is Sam’s cackling and a very indignant, “What the fuck was that?”

Chapter Text

           Sam’s laughing at him, and it’s really starting to piss him off. No matter how much he demands clarification, how much he grumbles, how much he swears, Sebastian just can’t get his friend to shed light on the situation.

          Last night at the saloon had been equal parts awkward and infuriating. Sebastian knows he’s not stupid - something went down between the incessantly confusing farmer and Sam. He just can’t figure out what, exactly, that something was. It probably would have helped if he’d been paying closer attention to the conversation...but there’s nothing to be done about that now.

    What would be great would be if his best friend could just fucking tell him instead of - and Seb’s pretty sure this is what was happening - laughing at him with the damn farmer. Saying so just makes Sam chuckle again, though. The glee in his eyes makes Sebastian very, very uncomfortable.

    “Dude, I promise, you’ll figure it out soon.”

    “You’re a prick,” Sebastian growls, flicking his cigarette irritably. Sam just smiles at him.

    “You trust me, right?” he asks, ignoring the mumbled ‘ not one fucking bit’ that follows. “Then just don’t worry about it. All in due time, my friend, all in due time.”

    Don’t worry about it. Yeah, right. He feels like he’s on the ass end of some inside joke. He doesn’t like not understanding. And he definitely doesn’t like being laughed at. But he thinks - he knows - that Sam wouldn’t just kick him in the metaphorical balls by not letting him know something important. So all he says is,

    “You’re too dumb to go around saying enigmatic shit like that.”

    And the night goes on.

    Spring is giving way to summer, rain is giving way to sunshine, and Sebastian is hating every moment of it.

    It’s too damn hot and too damn bright. His hoodie has been forced into temporary retirement - which sucks - and has been replaced by slim black shirts and sadness.

    He’s currently wearing one of those shirts, lazily strolling in the general direction of Sam's house. Everyone is outside, soaking up the sun's warm ( way too fucking warm) rays. He’s never really understood why everyone starts radiating happiness just because of a change in the weather, but hey, whatever works. Were he a different person, the pleasant atmosphere might rub off on him.

    If only.

    He sees Sam standing by the tree in front of his home, talking animatedly to someone that’s concealed from Sebastian's view by the trunk. Great. Sam’s friendly with everyone; Sebastian obviously doesn't share that enthusiasm. He'd been looking forward to hanging out with his (only) friend. He can only hope that it’s not someone especially irritating, like that jock. Sebastian has heard some of the things that Alex has to say about him.

    He’s already committed, so he draws closer, giving a half-assed attempt to hide his irritation. Voices drift on the heavy, hot summer breeze.

    "Dude, I've hardly had time to check it out, you know? It's a miracle my PC is even set up."

    One of his eyebrows slides up his face. PC, huh? That’s something. Who the hell…?

    It doesn't dawn on him who the female speaker is until he’s right up on the pair. Messy, mahogany hair brushing her shoulders, a dark gray shirt, and two very feminine brown eyes that...that were now locked with his, actually, fuck shit, shit, he'd been staring.

    It’s been a long time since Sebastian has truly been embarrassed, and this certainly isn't the time to start. He keeps his expression drawn into boredom, and slides his indifferent gaze over to Sam, praying that his friend missed his momentary lapse in composure.

    Ugh. He’s really not cut out for these situations; he never knows what to say. How do you insert yourself into an ongoing conversation? He’s sure they'd both prefer it if he hadn't interrupted. Not like I contribute shit anyway.

   "Yo."

   That sounded fucking stupid. He sighs internally. He’ll be lamenting that for a while.

   "Hey, man! Perfect timing! Me and Jenna were just talking about Alignment !"

    Leave it to Sam to erase any awkwardness - awkwardness that Sebastian can admit is possibly, maybe, probably only in his head. He’s berating himself, so it takes a moment for Sam’s words to really register. What?! Sebastian's eyebrows shoot up, hidden completely by his hair. Alignment ? As in the RPG that had hit shelves only weeks ago? The third game in his favorite series? There’s no way that that little city girl in front of him is a gamer. No fucking way.

   He makes eye contact with her, too surprised to conceal his disbelief.

   "As in Solarion Chronicles ? Really?"

   The excited grin that splits the young woman's face makes him blink. The sun lights her features up in a way that the darkness of that night by the lake and the dimly lit saloon had not. She looks thrilled as she asks, “You play?”

    Suddenly he feels a bit more friendly, more curious about the girl in front of him. Someone should mark the occasion. A little smile pulls at his lips, his cigarette long forgotten and burning down to the filter.

   "Fucking right, I do."

    The look she gives him is so excited, so bright that he blinks. It’s been a long fucking time since anyone’s looked at him like that. For the second time in the past five minutes, Sebastian tries his best to keep the flush off of his face. Maybe he doesn't completely succeed, but hey, that summer sun is sweltering.

    As the three of them start discussing the newest installment of the series, Sebastian’s interest grows. He’s so absorbed in the conversation that he almost manages to not notice Sam’s shit eating grin. 

   Just full of surprises, aren't we, Farmer?

Chapter Text

It’s the ass crack of dawn, and Jenna can’t for the life of her figure out why the hell someone would be pounding on her door.

It’s a very persistent thudding, too. She barely has time to pull on sweatpants before the second round of knocking begins. I’m coming, I’m coming, shit. It was probably the Mayor here to remind her of yet another even that she was about to forget to attend. He’s persistent in his endeavors to get her acclimated to the town, but this is borderline cruelty. If she had a rooster, she bet even it wouldn’t be awake yet.

Stumbling on her ugly rug and cursing under her breath, Jenna manages to fling open the door, only to make a strangled noise in the back of her throat as she narrowly avoids getting her face knocked on in lieu of the door. A bleary blink reveals an entirely too-awake Marnie smiling brightly on her doorstep, as if she hadn’t just almost performed a successful KO.

“Marnie?” Though she can hear her own strangled voice, Jenna is, somewhere in the back of her foggy mind, relieved; a smiling Marnie means that there’s not bad news, at least. A weary hand runs itself through the knotted mop on her head.

“Good morning, Jenna! I’m sorry to come knockin’ around here so early, but - well, I’ll cut straight to the chase,” Marnie says. Oh dear. This should be interesting.

“When I went out to feed the sheep this morning, I found - “

She’s cut off. As if on cue, a booming... bark (?) rings through the air, and Jenna nearly jumps out of her skin. What the fuck? Her gaze darts past Marnie, but she doesn’t see a dog anywhere. Realistically, she recognized the noise as canine, but it wouldn’t have been out of place on the score of a sci-fi movie. Or a yodeling movie. Do those even exist?

The older woman has turned around, craning her head to look at something that Jenna can’t see. The younger woman blinks slowly again, intrigued but still fighting for consciousness. It’s too early for this.

“Come here, you grimy thing, you,” Marnie calls, slapping her thigh. Grimy thing? Grimy dog, hopefully? Jenna loves dogs.

Grimy dog, indeed. The creature that trots into view is caked in mud and roughly the size of a colt. If Jenna hadn’t heard it bark, she may have thought that it was something that crawled up from the sewers. That doesn’t stop her eyebrows from raising in excitement. Sleep and confusion ebbing away, she drops into a crouch, offering the back of her hand to the wiggly monster in front of her.

Her polite gesture is bypassed, and two paws slam solidly into her chest. Marnie yelps, but Jenna isn’t worried. Ah, well, if that’s how I go, that’s how I go, she thinks as the air is shoved out of her lungs. Her ribs have to be being cracked one by one, but it’s a dog. There are many, many less appealing alternative ends than death by affectionate dog.

“Hello, hello, who are you? Oof, shit, you’re heavy, yes, yes, hello, hello. Oh, so many kisses!” Jenna coos. She manages to prop herself up, running her hands over the messy coat covering the blur that knocked her over. Laughingly, Jenna turns her attention to the figure standing in the doorway. Marnie is smiling down at the mess of limbs on the floor, looking rather pleased with herself.

“Who is this?” she asks, leaning back to avoid getting a long tongue up her nose.

“Well, this is who I found wandering outside of my farm this morning. And up until just now, I hadn’t heard a darn peep out of him. He wouldn’t even get close enough for me to touch!” Marnie clucks at the dog, who is wagging his tail benignly at her. She laughs.

“Well, I guess he took right to you. That’s why I was comin’ to see you, actually. I can’t keep him, not with all of my hens, you see, and - “

“Yes!” Jenna says, a little louder than she means to.

Her exclamation causes the dog to throw back his head, letting out the same yodel-bark that he had earlier; at this range, it’s painful, causing her to flinch back, but it does nothing to stop her smile. She laughs again, despite the ringing in her left eardrum, feeling happier than she has in weeks - what a ridiculous noise. Sam is just going to love him.

Marnie ends up leaving looking quite pleased with herself.

Not long after Marnie’s departure, Jenna finds herself outside in a mud-stained tank top and jeans, aiming a garden hose at a hulking mass of muck. Thank goodness she’d insisted on paying Robin for the installation.

“You,” she says solemnly, eyeballing the creature sitting in front of her, “are filthy.”

There’s a deep boof of agreement, accompanied by a head tilt. Well, he seems agreeable, so hopefully this will go well.

After much running in circles and exasperated laughter, Jenna finds herself soaked head-to-toe, out of breath and face-to-face with what appears to be a cross between a Shepherd and a bear. Better yet, he’s smiling at her.

“Well, you're pretty handsome, aren't you?” There’s a tail wag, and the dog walks over to her, headbutting her thigh until she lowers a hand to his head. He's goofy, for lack of a better term; man, she’s missed dogs. So much easier than people. “I guess you need a name, don't you?”

She eyeballs the creature in front of her. He’s got a young, goofy face, brown and black, and he’s at least 80% legs, but there's something about his eyes that makes him feel...perceptive.

“You're kind of huge, you know. How about Brutus? - okay, geez, don't look at me like that. Not Brutus. Hm.”

The next hour passes with Jenna watering her small plots of crops and throwing names at the canine on her heels. Each one is met with little to no reaction, or, occasionally, a look that seems too disdainful to be coming from a dog.

“You're not fucking normal, you know that? Geez. Dogs aren't supposed to be so…people-ish. People-ish? People-ish. See, you're laughing at me. You're a little shit, I can tell.” She must be lonelier than she thought. In her defense, the dog seems to be incredibly intelligent, like he's calibrating his actions to complement her own. Which is ridiculous. Still…

“...how about Garrus?”

She’s met with a head tilt, and then a body check that was so forceful it almost throws her off of her feet. Big fucker. She’s pleased, though. Garrus, it is.

It starts during the last week of spring. Or maybe it’s the first week of summer; time isn’t something that Sebastian has a good grasp on. Somewhere in between being a rebel teenager and becoming an adult without a cause, nights had melded into days, and days into weeks, and really, Sebastian wouldn’t be surprised if someone told him it was 2050 and that he’d slept through three decades.

It’s hot, that’s all he knows.

He’s been seeing more of the farmer, these days. It seems like Sam has her in tow every other time Sebastian sees him. Sebastian thinks he’s gotten used to her - she’s really not all that irritating. Maybe sometimes a little too smiley for his tastes, but he probably needs happy shit in his life, so, so be it. Sam swears that she’s Sebastian’s friend. Friend is a strong word. She’s Sam’s friend, sure, and he’s sure he’ll get even more used to her being around, but Sebastian doesn't really have friends. She’s a tolerable presence, which is as much credit as he’ll be giving any time soon.

It helps that she’s pretty entertaining. He’s never met someone with such a blatant, accidental lack of filter. She just blurts shit out, like the walking personification of word-vomit. More often than not, someone ends up embarrassed. Once or twice, she’s even managed to fluster Sam, like that time she told him that she had an old friend that would want to eat him for dinner, and then come back for dessert. He’d flushed the pinkest shade Seb has ever seen on him.

She doesn’t blurt much out about Sebastian, and if she’s ever managed to fluster him, he’s denying that it happened.

Beyond that, she’s just kind of chill. Just like Sam had assured him time and time again that she would be, before she’d gotten stuck in that bush and fumbled her way into his dismal field of existence. If anything, she’s just...nice to him. She doesn't try to force him into bullshit conversations, and sometimes he even manages to shake the feeling that she’s judging him. Even if he tends to vacate the premises more quickly when she's around - he’s sure both she and Sam prefer that - she’s pretty cool. But, well - shit if he’s going to tell Sam he was right about something.

He’s only thinking about her because Sam is sitting next to him, talking about inviting her to their next game night or something. She and Sam are good matches for each other. They’re both bright people, in their own ways. Another way he doesn't quite fit into the mix.

“Sound good to you?” Sam finishes, looking at Sebastian expectantly.

Sebastian nods; he’s sure he agrees with whatever plans were just made. Sam probably knows that he hasn’t been listening, but he just smiles good naturedly and stands up.

“Alright, man. I’ve got to go - it’s about time for me to meet Vincent. I told him I’d let him try out my skateboard today, so I don’t want to make the kid wait.”

Sebastian nods again, dark eyes meeting his friend’s. “Good luck with that. ‘M not helping you buy a new one if you let him wreck shit on it again.”

One more laugh, and Sebastian is left alone on the river bank. He lights a cigarette; he tries not to smoke them in Sam’s face, if he can help it. He knows he doesn't like the smell.

He lets out a puff of smoke. For some reason, he doesn't like his cigarettes as much when it’s hot outside; the taste of nicotine on his tongue doesn't mesh with the slick feeling of sweat on his skin. He won't stay out much longer; he swore to himself that he’d get another section of the new program done before the sun went down. Yoba, this tastes like shit. With that thought, he pushes himself off of the tree and snuffs out the cig with his Vans-clad foot.

“Garrus, no! Sebastian, look out!”

He looks up in surprise. That was the farmer, for sure, but - what the actual fuck is that?!
He has half of a second to brace himself before a giant something collides with his chest. Sebastian staggers under the weight, eyes wide with shock and arms instinctively wrapping around whatever is assaulting him.

“What the fuck?” he manages. He cranes his head back to see the offender, but all he gets is a tongue in the eye. It’s a...dog. Where the fuck did it come from?

“Oh my god, I'm so sorry!”

The farmer skids to a halt in front of him, wheezing, hands on her knees. She looks disheveled; her face is flushed and sweaty, her hair a mess of flyaways.

“I was taking him into town with me and he just took off! I couldn't catch up, I'm so sorry, Seb! Are you okay? His paws are so big, he probably scratched you, didn't he? Garrus, you suck! I'm really sorry, I -”

“He’s yours?”

Sebastian cuts off her apologies. He’s looking curiously down at the dog she’s dragging away from him. It’s all bright eyes and fur, and it’s looking at him with the dumbest grin he’s ever seen. It’s only been a day since he’d seen her. Where the hell did she get a dog?

“ - what? Yes, he’s mine, Marnie brought him to me yesterday, but seriously, are you alright? Are you bleeding? I can't believe you didn't fall, he’s so heavy, shit.”

“He’s a fucking monster,” Sebastian says, crouching until he’s eye level with the dog. He’s learned that the farmer will keep rambling if she isn’t interrupted; for both of their sakes, he’s got no qualms doing it. The dog plows into his outstretched hand happily. Idiot, he thinks, but he knows a smile is pulling at his lips. “You sure he’s a dog?”

The farmer makes a noise that could have been a sigh and could have been a laugh. She seems to be accepting that Sebastian isn’t mortally wounded, although she’s still hovering. She’s small, he thinks, looking up at her from his crouching place. Laughably so, standing next to this monstrous dog. And it is monstrous. Its head is level with her hip, with floppy ears and musculature that makes Sebastian feel like he should start working out again. As the hulking canine turns, he’s almost bitch slapped with a tail, so he takes that as his cue to stand up.

It’s been a long time since he’s been around a dog. Alex’s mutt is the only one in town, and it’s not the friendliest, at least not toward Sebastian - he suspects that it feeds off of the vibes that the jock gives when he's around. Or maybe the dog thinks he smells bad. That’s kind of likely; Abigail tells him he smells like an ashtray, sometimes. Whatever.

As Sebastian straightens to his full height, the farmer sighs again. Her cheeks are still flushed, and she looks embarrassed. She also looks like she's about to start apologizing again - that'll take forfuckingever. Cutting her off it probably the best option. His fingers twitch for the cigarette that he’d abandoned just moments ago. He doesn't know what to say, and she probably isn't expecting him to say anything. Even so -

“I like dogs.”

Well, that works. She has the decency to try not to look surprised, but he understands. It's cool. He wasn't expecting himself to say it either.

“Yeah? Me too. My apartment in the city was too small for one.”

If there's anything he's grateful for, it's her willingness to pick up his conversational slack. Normally, he just wants people to leave him the fuck alone; there’s no point in beating a dead conversation. Nothing they have to say is interesting, and the longer they talk, the more anxious he gets. But she’s different, he thinks as she rambles. Her conversation doesn't feel forced (no thanks to him). She’s determined to not be phased by his ineptitude for talking, and she just seems...harmless. Where other people leave tension with their voices, she just creates a null space - a comfortable break in the incessant buzz of thoughts in his head. Not that she doesn’t make him feel awkward or isn’t awkward herself; she does and she is. Filter or not, though, she tries. Sam is the only other person he knows of that's like that.

She's smiling at him again, but the dog is a good enough distraction that he doesn't have to look at her for long. It - he - is big enough to where Sebastian doesn't have to bend to touch the top of his head, but he still leans over to scratch its ears. Not that he gets flustered or anything; the sun behind her head really is too bright.

Chapter Text

Sam is special, she thinks, gazing at the side of his disheveled head. He was what Grandpa had intended for her to find here; she’s beginning to understand. Not Sam the person, not specifically, but Sam, the embodiment of things she’d forgotten she missed. Companionship. Ease. Laughter. Despite the progress she’s made by turning everything on its head and moving to the valley, she doesn’t think she’ll ever be the person she once was. Mom and Dad have been her only support for a long time now; true friends were a distant recollection. That was one of the most daunting aspects of her fresh start - making friends. Sam, however, had been warm and easy-going since the beginning; there was nothing complicated about striking a friendship with him. It just cultivated itself, blossoming from the ground and enveloping her quite easily. Befriending him had been natural.

“Do you think assassins had historically bad aim, or is that just a you thing?”

The scowl that crosses Sam’s face makes her grin. Jenna isn’t a person that likes to dwell on serious thoughts. It’s much easier to make things light-hearted, and that seems to be something Sam does inherently. “I hate you,” he grumbles, not taking his attention off of the screen. As if. She scoffs and uses his inattention to throw a Cheeto at his head, then willingly throws another when he turns with a wide open mouth.

He lets out a muffled whoop of victory when the puff lands safely on his tongue, as if he’s done something amazing, like pulling off a 360 kickflip, or whatever the skateboard stunt he’d attempted to explain to her was called.

Dork.

Days like this are becoming more commonplace, and that’s something she can see herself getting used to. Her lips tug into a smile. Hanging out like this reminds her of her early days of college, and feels like she's stretching her limbs in the morning after a decade long sleep. Sam is always entertaining, of course, which helps. And it’s nice when Sebastian is here, too.

Well, maybe nice isn’t the proper term.

It is, perhaps more accurately, absurdly awkward, but she does genuinely enjoy his company. A sharp sense of humor and honed intelligence make themselves known when he bothers to say more than three consecutive words. No one could argue that he’s broody, still, but his manners seem to have approached something in the realm of tolerable. As luck would have it, he’s still entirely too tall, and despite her envy, still unfairly long-lashed. Kind of cute when he gets aggravated. She’s not stupid; she’s well aware that she’s attracted to him - acutely aware, actually - in a way that goes beyond the initial (and likely obvious) ‘oh shit, he’s attractive’ moment she’d had their first run-in by the lake.

Sam’s been a little shit about it since that night at the saloon, too - her “crush,” he calls it.

Now, that is stupid. Twenty-something year olds shouldn't have crushes. Crushes imply blushing and stuttering and being shy and embarrassing yourself and being awkward and yeah, okay, so maybe it’s applicable but she is an adult for gods’ sakes.

“You look constipated. Thinking about our resident Tall-dark-and-handsome again?”

Well. She gives him a Look. No, thank you very much.

Okay, kind of, but when had she become so predictable? Her glare does not deter him, of course; nothing ever really does. All hope of avoiding this conversation slips out of her fingers as his grin widens mischievously; setting his controller aside, he - unfortunately - gives her his undivided attention.

“You’re the definition of an open book,” he says unaffectedly. This isn't the first time she’s been told, but she raises an eyebrow anyway. An ignored eyebrow. “He doesn't hate you, you know? I keep telling you that. Who knows? Maybe ten years from now you can be banging him and popping out little emo babies!”

Another Look.

He giggles as he pops the tab on his Joja Cola can, reclining on one elbow. “Seriously, though, I've told you before - he just takes time. Seb’s been through a lot. He’s warming up to you a lot faster than he normally does people. You just have to wear him down. Like sandpaper.”

That’s hard to imagine, him warming up to people even more slowly than he is with her, but it is somewhat reassuring. He has seemed to be warming up a little bit. Sam jokes about her follow-through with her ‘crush’ all of the time, but really, she would love to just be able to be Sebastian’s friend. His picture is probably next to the term ‘Jenna’s ideal physical appearance in a man’ in the dictionary, yes, but that’s irrelevant in the scheme of things; she finds him more interesting every time she encounters him, and it feels like she’s barely scratched the surface. She can admire art and just befriend it - which doesn't quite make sense, but she knows what she means.

She’s choosing to ignore the fact that Sam just implied that she’s abrasive.

“Okay, first, that shit is going to kill you if you keep downing it like it’s water. And second, I've told you before that just because I'd bang someone ten ways to Tuesday doesn't mean that I think, realistically, that the banging will happen. Regardless of how bangable said person looks. Bangable is an abstract concept, Sam, honestly.”

“You just said bang like, fifty times. Are you sure that's not the end goal, here?”

Little shit. Narrowing her eyes, Jenna eyeballs him steadily for a moment. The tensing in her shoulders is the only indication he gets before she’s darting over him to the other side of the futon, fingers scrambling for the discarded bag of Cheetos to aid her vengeance; he topples back in surprise. “I'm going to bang you, you little shit. In the head. I’m going to dump this cheese -”

A loud thump interrupts her sentence, startling her. The blonde mess of a friend under her freezes, and she follows suit, one hand planted on the futon on his left, and the other outstretched to the foil bag of cheese dust. Both she and Sam turn to look at the doorway of the bedroom, and lo’ and behold, like a devil summoned, there stands Sebastian.

A discomforted Sebastian, by the looks of it. His normally fair skin looks flushed, and by the way he’s rubbing his elbow, it looks like he slammed it on the door frame. Is he backing out? Why isn’t he coming in?

“My bad, I'm just - I'll, I just -” he's mumbling and stuttering, which is at odds with his normal composure, and he's backing out further as he speaks. Jenna is confused and slightly concerned, especially when he gives up on speech and quite literally flees. Like, fucking books it. The click of the door shutting is the only noise in the bewildered silence.

Her brain is struggling to process what just happened. Wasn’t he coming to practice - oh. Oh.

She sits back on her heels, retreating from where she'd been flung over Sam in her scramble for a weapon of retaliation. Flung over him, talking about cheese, and, between the two of them, saying ‘bang’ a thousand times. It probably sounded like some damn food play or something, and no telling what it looked like from Sebastian’s angle. Sam puffs out his cheeks and slowly lets out a rush of air, visibly coming to the same conclusion she has. His blue eyes are almost comically wide, and Jenna can feel how hot her face is becoming.

“He totally thinks we’re banging.”

Oh, for fucks’ sake.

“Oh, hey,” is his greeting. “Can you hold on for one sec? I have to finish this.”

Jenna nods, fidgeting awkwardly when she realizes he’s not looking at her. She’s never been in here before; new places aren’t her forte, but the dark room is admittedly more visually interesting than most others. It’s very… Sebastian. From the dark walls right down to the nerd paraphernalia.

The tapping of his keyboard is making her antsy, so she lets her gaze wander to the interests harbored in the dungeon-like room. Posters, books, gaming consoles, a satisfying variety of games, a limited edition Solarion statuette that she kind of wants to drool over. It suits him. It's endearing to see him in his natural habitat she thinks, a vague smile shaping on her face. She’s still - and this is putting it as kindly as possible - awkward as fuck around him, especially after the events prior to this visit, but looking at his room, the distinct feeling of accomplishment that accompanies progress wells within her chest. A month ago she wouldn't have dreamed that the handsome, surly dickhead by the lake would let her near his bedroom.

Actually, she’s pretty certain he would have shoved her into some of those fucking bushes before he’d have let her even breathe on his doorknob.

Her attention is drawn to the right wall, because are those poetry books? Upon thinking about it, he does seem like a poetry guy. Jenna herself is a Plath fan; she wonders if he has any collections of that variety. It seems likely that he’d be a fan of Poe. Just as she takes a step toward the bookshelf to further investigate the titles, though, the desk chair is turned in her direction, its wheels rolling demandingly across the hardwood and drawing her attention to him. She turns her head, finding his face lit by his computer screen and dark bruises extra prominent under his eyes.

“Sorry about that.”

In true Sebastian fashion, he doesn’t say anything else. She’s not surprised, nor offended; she is, however, feeling terribly awkward and terribly aware of what disarray her hair must be in and terribly out of place. She's holding the pack of cigarettes Sam has asked her to drop off, and nearly crushing the flimsy packaging with her nervous grip. Sometimes her ridiculousness amazes her. What she should say is here are your cigarettes. What she says instead is:

“Sam and I aren't fucking!”

...Well.

Sebastian's dark eyebrow shoots up. The vague thought crosses her mind that she’s never seen him look so caught off-guard; that thought is drowned out by white noise. His lips part slightly, then close. Her lips do something similar - she makes sure to clamp her mouth shut so that her heart doesn't spill out onto his nice hardwood floor in a bloody puddle of mortification, though.

She can’t believe she said that. She can’t believe she fucking said that. Her embarrassment is instantaneous, and so intense that it’s going to will itself into a tangible existence any moment now, she knows it - and better yet, it’s amplifying with every second that he directs his dark stare at her. Blurting out details about her nonexistent sex life is bad, even for her, honestly, what the fuck. How does someone even respond to that. Why is she like this. What the actual fuck, Jenna.

Her hand rakes through her short hair; it’s gone to hell, anyway. What's the best way to fix this? What can she say to make that go away? He hasn't spoken in what feels like ten minutes; it’s probably only been seconds, but that doesn’t stop the utter panic welling up from her stomach into her throat. Time is illusive in sight of the frantic bouncing of her thoughts. This silence is going to eat her alive, she’s so sure of it, she’s actually getting light-headed - and then his voice, pitched slightly higher than its usual deep rasp, breaks it.

“I’m...sorry?” he says like he’s not sure if this is supposed to be good news, or bad news, or if it should be news at all. (It really shouldn’t). To make matters significantly worse for her, his face looks so nice when it’s doing something other than scowling.

She can’t stand it. Jenna’s gone through a variation of religious stages, but if any higher beings exist and entertain any sympathy at all, they’ll take this moment to strike her and her stupid, glowing red face down. That arched eyebrow, so expressive, makes finding words nearly impossible - she’s floundering, floundering more, how can one person be so stupid?

“I just,” she begins in a voice that sounds vaguely like her own, feeling her face searing, hoping that if she speaks, some combination of words might spill out in an order that can remedy this, “You walked in yesterday and I was trying to dump the Cheeto dust on Sam but it must’ve looked really weird and then you left and I realized just how bad it seemed, like some weird kinky thing and I just wanted to clarify but it didn’t come out right - and honestly, if I was about to have sex with someone I wouldn’t call it banging, that would be so weird and I don’t even like Cheetos and you probably had no desire to know any of that and oh my god, shut me up.”

Her breath is struggling to keep pace with her rambling. Sebastian’s eyebrows are so furrowed that the wrinkle between them is almost invisible, his long body oozing bewilderment from its perch on his rolling chair. She knows that she makes him uncomfortable on a good day, and then she goes and does this. The despair is real. It’s actually ruined this time. Her awkwardness has manifested itself into disaster, again. Her lip trembles. Yoba damn it all, she just wants to be his friend - why is that so difficult?

There’s another unbearable silence that consists of him staring at her in disbelief and her staring at the floor, wallowing in despair and willing it to swallow her because there’s nothing more that she can even begin to try and say. Time doesn’t exist and her vocabulary has failed her. This is it. Jenna readies herself to chuck the pack of cigarettes at his head and make a run for it. Her grip tightens in preparation.

“You,” Sebastian begins slowly, his tone indiscernible and eyes shadowed, voice stilling her fingers around the pack. Oh, no, she can’t even look at him. She takes it back, she doesn’t even want him to open his mouth, she’s just going to throw the pack, turn around and walk out as quickly as - “Are so fucking weird.”

Well, yes, but is that really necessary to say - but now she can hear the amusement in his voice, and when she forces herself to look at him, she sees it painting the corners of his mouth. The relief swelling inside of her is abrupt and overwhelming. Laughing, she can take. Laughing is positive. She laughs at herself all of the time; amusing people is great, her own expense irrelevant.

“I really wouldn’t say ‘banging’ in any serious context. Can you imagine how awful that would be? And I don’t, I don’t even like Cheetos. Horrible food play.”

Her voice is weak, but she can hear her relief ringing clearly. She almost thinks his cheeks are tinted pink, but it’s hard to tell with the light of his computer screen washing him out. Flustered Sebastian is still a foreign concept. He scoffs.

“Seriously, weird.”

He’s right, of course. She starts to laugh and his smile starts to grow, although he still looks mildly amazed at her… well, at her. Where the conversation was going to go, she can’t say, because there is simultaneously a beep from his computer and a soft rap on his door. He immediately turns from her to tend to the computer and ignores the door entirely; vague amusement is still present on his features.

Any mirth disappears when the door opens without consent.

“Sweetie,” Robin starts, easing herself into the room. “Abigail came by earlier…”

As she talks, Jenna registers something about Abigail coming over and Sebastian needing to finish work; mostly, though, she's watching Sebastian’s face. It’s expressionless, but even though his responses are even in tone, Jenna is getting the distinct impression that he is livid. As Robin finishes her conversation, she gives Jenna a wide smile; she’d seemed pleased about her presence if the greeting she’d given earlier was an indication. Jenna isn’t sure that Robin has any inkling of the displeasure radiating off of her son, but she can’t quite make herself smile back at the older woman.

A harsh, irritated sigh heaves through the air before the door even clicks closed.

“No one interrupts Maru while she’s working at the clinic,” Sebastian seethes, rubbing a hand over his face. “Why does nobody take my job seriously? Do they think I'm looking at fucking cat videos all day?”
Well, she has wondered what it is he does down here, but she's never gotten the chance to ask. Or had the nerve to. He doesn't say much when she sees him, normally; in fact, this as extensive a conversation as they've had since they discovered their shared love of video games, as humiliating as that is to admit. He seems very irritated, but he also seems willing to talk, so...

“What is it that you're working on? What do you do?” she asks tentatively.

“Freelance programming.”

He's glaring at his screen and not looking at her. She blinks. Programming? Like, as a job?

“That's what you want to do? Code?”

He sighs, turning his cool gaze toward her. “Ideally, yes. I'm trying to save up enough money to get out of here. If I'd gone to school for it, I'd probably be making six figures right now, but I don't want to be a part of a fucking corporate rat race, you know?

Oh, she knows.

A softer sigh leaves his lips. More quietly, he continues, “And I guess I just find it easier being behind a screen than dealing with people.”

It seems like he doesn't want to look at her, but she finds nothing wrong with preferring solitude to people. She spent a very long time in solitude, after all; even now, with the friendly acquaintances she's making, she finds it draining to deal with people for too long. Programming, though - programming has always seemed insanely difficult to her. Her meager business degree pales in comparison to a competent background in computer science.

“It’s cool, you can say whatever. As you heard from my mother, no one really takes it seriously.”

Well, fuck everyone, then!

“That sounds incredible, actually. Coding is really difficult - I'm amazed that you're making money off of it!”

The surprise on his face will probably be the highlight of her week. He doesn't voice his shock, but that momentary look speaks volumes. Has no one said this to him before? Judging by that face, if they have, it hasn’t been often. Well. That’s just stupid.

“Seriously, I tried to dabble in computer science my first semester of college. It lasted a week and I dropped all of the classes - that shit is crazy difficult, Sebastian. And it’s a growing industry, on top of that! The demand for it is just ridiculous, and, and, just - if anyone says differently they don’t know what they’re talking about. Fuck ‘em.”

Was that too much? That was probably too much; she finds it hard to tell with normal people, and even more so with him. She realizes her chin is tilted up defiantly, but she meant every word, so there’s no point in downplaying it. That little wrinkle has reappeared in between his eyebrows, and he looks as if he doesn’t know how to respond to her.

That’s okay; silences seem to have become the norm for them, anyway.

Sebastian looks away after a moment, though, his hair partially hiding his face, and lets out an exhale that could have maybe probably kind of been a laugh.

“So weird. Whatever you say, Farmer.”

Her smile is probably more delighted than precedented, but hey, that? That was definitely progress.