Work Text:
Shane laid on the counter, his vision hazy. He blinked hard, the lights of the saloon making his head throb. He burped. “ ‘Nother, Gus.” He slurred, nudging his glass forward on the bar. He had abandoned his usual stance near the fireplace to slump over the varnished wood of the bar.
Gus groaned. “Shane….You’re plastered. I’ve gone way past my moral standpoint by letting you get this drunk.” He took the raven-haired man’s glass away, starting to clean it. “I’m closing up. Think you can make it home?”
Shane squinted, looking up at him. It took a few seconds for the words to click. He scowled. ”I-hic-I can handle my-myshhhhelf, Gus. Know that….” He mumbled, standing up and swaying.
Gus frowned, then something caught his eye outside. He relaxed. “Oh, thank Yoba. Farmer!” He called.
‘No. No fucking way.’ Shane thought to himself. ‘Not that damn farmer. That…guy who always tries to get on the towns good side, giving people gifts, what a….fake, stupid little—‘
He was snapped out of his thoughts when the sound of boots hitting the floorboards. “Gus? Whatcha doin here so late, and—oh…Shane.” The farmer’s eyes softened with that sickening sympathy, and Shane felt his scowl worsen.
“Fffffffuck off, F—Farmer. Go plant some damn seeds or some shit.” Shane slurred, glaring bitterly at the stupid farmer, with his stupid pretty eyes, and stupid pretty hair, and stupid pretty—
He was jerked out of his thoughts by a the muffled voice of the farmer. “Yeah, he doesn’t look that good. Shane buddy? Can you hear me?”
Shane glowered. “Y—yeah. I can hear you jus’ fine. Stupid….Farmer.”
The farmer sighed. “Definitely hammered if the only thing he can come up with is ‘stupid’. I’ll get him home Gus.”
Shane felt arms locking around him. “Up you get, Shane.” The farmers muffled voice soothed him.
He struggled, but the alcohol in his system made him sluggish. “G—get off me, man! Y—your stupid tricks won’t work on me!” He pouted.
The farmer tilted his head. “Shane, I’m just trying to help you.”
Shane felt himself being dragged outside the saloon, and a muffled goodbye to Gus from the farmer barely reaching his ears. Had it always been this hard to hear? And see?
He snapped himself back to the present. “Exactly! N—no one bothers to help me…’m jus’ the town drunk!” He slurred bitterly. “It’s fake! Y—you probably want a discount at Marnie’s—or JOJA!”
The farmer frowned. “Shane….thats not what I think of you at all. People care for you.”
Shane scoffed. What a loud of bullshit. “Really? People care for me? All Marnie does is yell at me to get my shit together, but never gives me any damn help!” He replied bitterly as the farmer carried him through the snow, his boots crunching against the icy grass.
The farmer was silent. “….Is that all she does? I thought she at least offered you an AA pamphlet….”
Shane huffed. Marnie was a great aunt, don’t get him wrong. She was letting him stay with his god daughter.
The moment he thought of Jas he almost threw up. Yoba, that poor girl. He was such a failure of a guardian to her.
The farmer seemed to notice his shift in attitude, and frowned. “Shane? What’s goin on in that head of yours—?”
The farmers voice suddenly sounded far away and muffled. Shane blinked hard, and his vision started to blacken at the edges, his head feeling light and floaty.
“Shane, buddy, don’t—!” The farmer’s yell echoed in his ears as the world tilted and his eyes shut.
✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦
The farmer caught the unconscious man in his arms, sighing sadly. “I gotcha.” He told the limp man in his hold, hoisting the bigger man on his shoulder. “I’ll get you home, big guy.” He whispered, footsteps leaving boot marks in the snow. He couldn’t help but gaze at the town drunk, his heart fluttering a bit at the sight of the snow in his hair. He brushed his hand through it, snow falling onto his fingers.
He’d help Shane. His need to get the man up out of his slums had doubled when he found out no one else had taken the initiative. He was going to help him, and not just by flippantly giving him a AA pamphlet. He’d be there. Rain or shine. Snow or wind.
The farmer looked up at the sky, the moon reflecting off the snow to barely illuminate the path to Marnie’s.
He could do this—No. Shane could do this. He knows it.