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Tuesday’s eyes cracked open as one of her roosters announced the start of the day. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and winced at the light streaming through her bedroom windows. Usually, the morning light was a soft and subtle way to wake up, but this morning it felt like a laser stabbing into her eyelids. The farmer groaned, pulling her blankets up to cover her face. A warm, amused chuckle sounded beside her. That’s right, Tuesday thought, Bash spent the night last night.
“You’re laughing at me,” the farmer whined, her voice sounding suspiciously like a frog croaking.
“Oh, sweetheart, are you feeling alright?” Sebastian joined her under the safety of the blankets, putting his hand to her head to check her temperature.
“I feel fine, Bash,” Tuesday muttered, snuggling into the programmer.
“You’re burning up, baby,” the man protested, “I’ll give you two choices. You can either go to the clinic, or you can stay in bed and I’ll feed the animals and water your crops.”
“I can still do my stupid chores, Sebastian,” the farmer grumbled, trying to leave the embrace of both the blankets and her boyfriend.
“Absolutely not,” he argued, pulling her back into her bed “You can only do the farm shit if you get medicine from Harvey or my sister.”
“I don’t wanna go all the way to town,” Tuesday was whining again, not that she’d ever admit that to their other friends or her brother. “The clinic is like a two-mile walk.”
“Then you need to stay here, in bed. I will do your farm basics. According to your computer, nothing needs to be harvested today,” Sebastian reasoned.
“Could you at least call Scout back into the house?” the farmer asked, giving her best ‘kicked puppy’ impression. Her boyfriend rolled his eyes, kissed her forehead, and called the German Shepherd into the room for her. The dog bounced into the room and onto his owner’s bed, tongue lolling happily. She scratched the dog behind the ear and pulled him closer for snuggles as Sebastian looked on.
“Take care of your mama, Scout,” the man joked, but the dog barked in what seemed like affirmation. Both the humans let out a laugh, enjoying the German Shepherd’s personality before Sebastian left the room, and then the house.
Tuesday lost track of time, lathering attention onto the dog, while waiting for Sebastian to return to her room. Eventually, the farmer succumbed back into the realm of sleep, giving in to the idea that she was most likely ill. She felt horrible.
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The young woman re-entered the land of the living to the smell of cinnamon wafting through her farmhouse. She was alone in her bed, no boyfriend and no German Shepherd in sight. Tuesday finally peeled the covers away from her body, and got out of the bed, with a tiny grumble of protest before heading to the kitchen/living area.
In the open concept portion of the farmhouse, the farmer found both her beloved dog and partner. The latter was standing at the stove, stirring a saucepan (presumably full of soup) while sneaking small cubes of cheese down to the former. In his focus Sebastian didn’t notice Tuesday’s approach and jolted slightly as her arms wrapped around his torso.
“Welcome back to the land of the living, Sleeping Beauty,” the man teased, letting her nuzzle into his back.
“Smells good,” she muttered, voice still dry. Sebastian smiled, doing a quick taste test. Perfect. His mom’s pumpkin soup always made him feel better when he was sick, and he remembered sharing it not only with Tuesday and her brother, but also the rest of his friends, when they weren’t feeling a hundred percent. He spooned out two bowls of the soup and gestured for the farmer to sit at her small dining table. She rolled her eyes, and did indeed sit down at the table, stomach rumbling.
“Feeling any better, sweetheart?” he asked, placing a bowl in front of her, and taking a seat across from her. Tuesday took her first bite of the meal, making a happy noise, and wiggling a bit.
“Not really, but I’m sure your mom’s soup will help,” the farmer was still impossibly tired, but enjoyed her meal, the pumpkin soup warming her body and soothing her throat. “Is it still your favorite?”
“It is,” Sebastian confessed, “but she finally gave me the recipe. I was… in a rough spot during the time you and Graham were in Zuzu.”
The farmer winced sympathetically and nodded. That time of both their lives was a dark spot. Now that she was back on Silversage Farm, that she and her twin brother had inherited from their late grandfather, things were looking much more optimistic again.
“I’m glad you’re home,” the man whispered, making eye contact with Tuesday. Her green eyes still sparkled kindly.
“I’m glad I’m home too,” she smiled, “thank you for taking care of me today.”
“Thank you for letting me. I’m always going to be here for you. I promise,” the programmer held out his hand, a pinkie finger extended. Tuesday’s grin expanded, and she twined her own pinkie with his as they’d done probably thousands of times before.