Archive of Our Own ^beta

Two nights ago, you got a tickle in your throat. Assuming it was just the dry winter weather, you turned on the kettle in your little farmhouse and made yourself a cup of tea before retiring in front of the fire for the evening.

To your annoyance, the next morning, you woke feeling as though you swallowed shards of glass, your throat painful and raw. The only relief you could get was through drinking tiny sips of ice-cold water that soothed your throat for a fleeting moment. You knew then it must be the cold virus going around, and you groaned and grumbled to yourself while you got ready for the day.

Your body grew heavy and tired as you worked, and your daily farm chores took double the amount of effort. By lunchtime, your muscles ached, and you shivered, feeling as if you would never get warm, though you sat in front of a roaring fire drinking tea with lemon and honey. Tears pricked your vision at the thought of carrying on with your work for the day, but spring was right around the corner, and you had planned to plant your spring crops in seed trays that afternoon. Not only that, but you had to make one last trip around the farm to make sure the animals were all set for the night.

A loud knock sounded at your front door, jarring you from your self-pity, and you looked at your watch, swearing to yourself. In your fatigued struggle to make it through the day, you had forgotten you hired Shane to chop some extra wood for you.

With an exasperated sigh, you peeled yourself off your cozy, yellow loveseat and shuffled to the door with a fuzzy, turquoise blanket draped around your shoulders. You cracked the front door just a bit, shivering from the blast of cold air, despite the fact that you were wearing fleece leggings under your pants, as well as wool socks and a thick wool sweater.

Shane wore a neutral expression, but his thick, dark brows quickly furrowed. “Whoa, you look a little… Ah, shit. I gave you my cold, didn’t I?”

You forced a watery smile. “I’m okay, I swear,” you said, but your voice came out in a pitiful, raspy squeak that was nearly inaudible and grated on your ears.

Shane clicked his tongue, and his eyes filled with a softness you had never been the object of. “You are not okay, and if you feel anything like I felt, this cold is kicking your ass. Come on,” he said, pushing his way past you into your house.

You stepped aside, shocked that he entered without invitation. You considered him a close friend, but he had yet to step foot in your home… until now. 

“What are you doing?” you rasped, following on his heels.

“Taking care of you. This is my fault anyway, is it not? Now, sit,” he said, motioning to the couch. “Before you tank it and hurt yourself.”

Taking care of me? you thought. What the hell? You blinked at him, frozen in confusion as your heart thumped wildly in your chest, ignoring your internal pleas for it to stop as butterflies filled your stomach.

“Sit,” Shane said again, his voice insistent yet gentle. “Do you want more tea?” He eyed your coffee table where your favorite mug sat and gingerly grabbed it, already headed toward your kitchen.

No words found their way out, but you nodded your head and stumbled back to the loveseat, where you flopped down and curled yourself into a ball beneath your blanket, which you pulled to your nose. You watched Shane with his back turned to you, fumbling around your unfamiliar kitchen.

“Lemon and honey?” he asked, glancing back at you.

You nodded again, but Shane stood there for a moment, watching you with his head tilted ever so slightly.

“What?” you croaked.

“Nothin’,” he said, his cheeks reddening. He cleared his throat and snapped his attention back to squeezing a lemon wedge over the steaming mug of tea. Was he nervous?

Suddenly, a string of sneezes caught you by surprise, which segued into a coughing fit that had your eyes watering as you rushed for the tissues next to you on the couch. Embarrassment heated your face as you proceeded to blow your nose and dab your eyes, silently cursing the common cold for stripping you of what little dignity you had.

“You poor thing,” Shane said with a pitying laugh as he carefully carried your mug back into the living room in his large hands and deposited it on the coffee table in front of you.

You had never been on the receiving end of Shane’s soft side, though you knew it existed through glimpses of what he was like with Jas and his chickens. It felt like a warm hug, and you resisted the urge to smile like an idiot.

“I’m sorry I’m so gross,” you said, sitting up to reach for your tea. “Thank you. You didn’t have to—”

“It’s nothing. I promise,” Shane said with a boyish smile.

There were those pesky butterflies again, but you shooed them away, focusing on the ceramic mug that was pleasantly warming your hands.

“What do you need me to do?”

You furrowed your brows. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you’re taking a sick day because you clearly feel like shit. What do you need me to do on the farm today? I can still chop wood, but I’m willing to help with whatever. I’ve got the next couple of days off. It’s not a problem.”

Again, you blinked at him, speechless. “Oh… I, um. You don’t have to do that,” you said, stringing your words together in a panic.

“Let me help? You’ve done more than enough for me. I owe you. Big time. I mean, ya kinda saved my life or something,” he said with a hesitant, awkward laugh. He paused a moment with a lopsided smile curving his bow-shaped lips, which you found yourself staring at a little too intently.

“Okay,” you agreed, knowing there was no way you were strong enough to make it through the rest of the day. “I’m glad you’re still here, by the way. I’m glad you’re getting better.” The words tumbled from your lips before you knew what you were saying, and your pulse thundered in your veins.

“Me too,” Shane said murmured, searching your face. He tore his pretty green eyes from yours and dropped his gaze to the floor. “Um, anyway… What do you need help with?”

You let out a relenting sigh and flashed him a small smile. “Can you just refresh the hay in the goat stall and make sure everyone looks good before it gets dark out? Oh, and can you check the heater in the chicken coop? It’s been giving me some problems, and I want to make sure everyone is nice and toasty. It’s supposed to get really cold tonight.”

Shane dipped his chin. “Alright. Consider it done. I’ll be back in a few hours, but if you need anything, just holler.” He paused for a moment between your couch and the front door. “Do you have food for dinner? I know you eat at the saloon a lot, and I…”

“Fuck. I didn’t even think of that.” You worried at your lip with your bottom teeth, glancing at your kitchen. “It’s fine. I’ll find something.”

“How about I bring you something?” he said, his face looking as though he had surprised himself by saying it.

“Shane, you don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t, but I want to. You just stay here and chill on your couch, okay? Enjoy your day off, and feel better. I’ll be back in a while.”

Before you could protest further or get another word in, Shane was out the door, and only a draft of cool air was left in his wake.

Hours later, a knock at the door startled you from your cat nap, and the door creaked open.

“Hey,” Shane said, kicking his boots off and hanging his coat on the coat rack before he headed to the kitchen. “Sorry if I woke ya.”

His arms were full of bags, and you blinked away the sleep still in your eyes, watching as he set everything on the kitchen table.

“What’s all this?” you asked, your voice sounding even more pathetic and rusty than before. Pain grated at your throat, and you resignedly stayed put, knowing if you bothered standing, you were going to get lightheaded.

“Marnie made you some soup, and I packed up some other things.”

“This is really sweet of you guys. You don’t know how much I appreciate this.”

“Ah, you know how Marnie is,” Shane chuckled, and the resonant, joyful sound brought a smile to your face.

However, it bothered you that instead of letting you thank him, Shane deflected all the credit to Marnie, but you brushed it off. You were certainly not in the mood to give him shit.

“Where are your bowls? And do you mind if I eat with you? I haven’t had anything since early this morning, and I’m starvin’.”

“To the left of the sink, and of course you can eat,” you said with a laugh. “How were the animals?”

“They’re all snug and cozy—no issues. Refreshed their bedding and made sure your heaters were working, but everything looked like it was in tip-top shape. You’re doing a great job for a newb,” Shane teased, flashing you a bright white grin that melted you a little.

“Thanks!” you said sarcastically, smirking at the backhanded compliment. Shane was always teasing you like that, and you secretly loved every minute of it.

You couldn’t stop yourself from letting your eyes roam over his body as he worked, dishing out what looked like minestrone soup from a cylindrical storage container. His figure was imposing, with broad shoulders and muscular limbs, though he had the perfect little bit of dad bod tummy in the middle. It was kind of like his personality—gooey in the center—and that had you biting back a laugh as you covertly ogled his very shapely ass.

You weren’t sure what the hell was going on between you two, and you worried that maybe he didn’t think of you in the same way you thought of him. It would be awfully embarrassing if you were checking him out and he turned out he only thought of you as a friend, so you tore your eyes away, though you really wanted to keep looking, and you couldn’t help but notice the shift of muscle in his back beneath his black band hoodie. One thing was sure: you were glad to see him out of that Joja hoodie he used to wear all the time.

“You okay?” Shane asked, watching you from the kitchen.

You sucked in a breath and pretended to stare at the clock on the microwave from across the room. “Um, yeah,” you wavered. “Can’t wait to try this soup. I wish I could smell it, but I’m so stuffed up I couldn’t even smell the shit I was shoveling this morning.”

Shane laughed at that, the sound loud and raspy and so goddamn contagious. “I’m sorry I got you sick,” he said, making his way into the living room with a bowl of soup and some oyster crackers.

“It’s okay. I mean, it’s not like you licked my face or something.” Fuck, why did you have to say something like that? That was weird.

“No, can’t say I’m in the habit of walking around licking people’s faces. Though I’m always looking for a new hobby.” Shane smirked, but there was a little spark in those hooded green eyes.

Heat crept up your neck, and you laughed it off. “What an odd hobby to have.”

Shane cleared his throat. “I, um… grabbed you some things from the store.”

“Shane,” you whined, poking around in your soup with your spoon. “You’re being too nice to me.”

“Eh, it’s only because you’re a sickly little bird. Don’t get used to it.” Shane winked, and your heart stumbled.

Shane grabbed a bowl of soup and returned to the living room with one of the paper bags he had come in. To your surprise, he sat next to you, the cushion dipping beneath his weight and forcing you to slide close to him.

“Alright,” he said, reaching into the bag. “Let me show you what I got.” One by one, he pulled out cough drops, cold medicine, ibuprofen, and a little pint of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. “We can leave that one out for a bit. It’s hard as a rock.”

“You remembered my favorite ice cream?” You said, sticking your bottom lip out.

“Don’t make it weird,” Shane said with a laugh, nudging you with his shoulder. “I thought it might help.” He didn’t back away but leaned his weight against you instead.

Though your heart was suddenly in your throat, you let yourself relax against him, enjoying his warmth and the solidness of his body. He was so damn comfortable you wanted to groan. Hell, you were so touch-starved you were surprised you didn’t.

You stayed like that for the next few minutes, sitting side by side in companionable silence as you both demolished your minestrone.

“That was so damn good,” you said, stifling a burp as you pushed your bowl away and grabbed the cold medicine Shane slid over to you.

“Those should help.”

“Hm. I don’t know if I should be accepting cold meds from strange men,” you said with a giggle, bumping Shane with your shoulder.

“Good thing we’re way past that, huh?” Shane’s voice was low and teasing, and it elicited a shiver from you as it tingled down your spine.

With your heart pounding in your ears, you gulped down the giant orange gel capsules one at a time to keep from having to figure out a response to that. “Down the hatch,” you said with an embellished sigh.

You froze when Shane put a strong arm around you and tugged you into his side, rubbing your shoulder as he rested his chin on your head. “I hope you feel better soon.” His voice vibrated through you, soothing you and washing away the never-ending list of farm chores that played on repeat in the back of your mind.

Without hesitation, you wiggled closer and curled into Shane as you naturally shifted around each other and nestled into the cozy loveseat in front of the blazing fire. Tugging on your blanket so it covered both of you, you relaxed for the first time since you moved onto the farm a year ago and let Shane hold you in the glow of the crackling fire as you watched the flames dancing at your feet. It felt so… right.

After some time, you gradually came to lay with your head on Shane’s chest, listening to the steady thump beneath.

“This is nice,” Shane hummed, planting a soft kiss to your forehead.

You felt every muscle in his body tense beneath yours, and his heartbeat went wild.

“Shit. I’m sorry,” he said, dropping the hand he had rested on your back where he had been drawing slow, lazy circles.

“Please don’t be sorry,” you murmured, sitting up to see his wide eyes and the shallow breaths that moved his chest.

“I didn’t mean—”

You shook your head. “I like this, and I wouldn’t mind if you kissed me for real when I’m not a gross, sickly little bird.”

A relieved smile tugged at his lips. “Yeah?” he asked, searching your face.

“Yeah,” you said, patting his chest as you curled back into his side, and he wrapped his arms around you. “I wouldn’t mind it one bit.”

“Well, then you’ll just have to hurry up and feel better,” he chuckled.

“I’ve heard forehead kisses promote healing.”

Shane shook both of you with his laughter. “You think so, huh?”

“Mhm,” you said, sighing happily as he twined his fingers through your hair and pressed another impossibly gentle kiss to your forehead.

Yeah, that was definitely the cure for the common cold. You were sure of it.