Work Text:
Alex closed the door to his house quietly behind him, shooting Yarn a smile.
"Ready for our run?" he asked, quiet so he wouldn't wake anyone.
"Come on," Yarn said.
Curious, he jogged after them as they led the way back to their farm. It wasn't the first time they'd taken their morning run through the farm, but Yarn didn't lead him past their newly planted autumn crops. They stopped in front of their door and motioned for him to be quiet before stepping inside.
Later, Alex would notice the total lack of furnishings, the death-rattle groans of the roof and flooring, the way the walls let the draft in. He'd see Yarn’s torn blankets and the way they didn't seem to have made the place a home, and he'd worry, because that's kind of what he did.
At that moment though, his attention was instantly captured by the scruffy orange cat that leapt off of the bed and padded to the two of them. He head-butted Yarn's leg, already purring. Yarn picked him up and cradled him in their arms as carefully as if he was made of glass.
"He's named Skein," Yarn said.
Alex let the cat sniff his fingers and butt his head against them. As he scratched gently behind his ears - one of which had a chunk taken out of it - Alex asked, "He yours?"
"Marnie found him wandering around the edge of the farm a week ago. She said I was the first person she'd thought to ask to take care of him."
"Did you check for a microchip?"
"What?"
"It's a little thing you can get put under their skin to track them down if they ever get lost. I don't feel one, but you should have him checked just in case."
Skein glowed for a split second before going back to normal. The cat didn't even seem to notice.
"There is nothing," Yarn said.
A few months ago he would have had a million questions, but magic was just kind of par for the course with Yarn. "Cool. So why Skein?"
"Marnie seemed to think it was funny."
"Oh, 'cause you're Yarn?"
Yarn nodded.
"Nice. He's cute, you going to keep him?"
"Yes."
It took a few more minutes for Yarn to be willing to put their new cat down. Back on their familiar run, Alex had just started to feel that burn in his legs when Yarn spoke up.
"How should I thank her?"
"Huh?"
"Marnie."
"Wait, why would you thank her?"
Yarn fell silent for a minute, then, "No one has ever thought me capable of caretaking before."
"Uh. I don't really know how you thank somebody for that."
Yarn nodded, and they kept running.
Back at his grandparent’s house, hands braced on his knees as he gasped for breath, Alex was hit with inspiration.
“Hey, what if you cleaned up the lakeside by Marnie’s place? Marnie used to do it before she hurt her back a few years ago and nobody’s done it since.”
“I can do that.”
Thwack
Thwack
"Wha…."
Thwack
Kuh- thump
Shane rolled over, pulling his blankets up in the returning silence.
Plink
"Argh!"
He cracked open an eye. Seven. Thirty. In. The. Morning.
He shoved the blankets into a wad at the end of the bed and staggered to his feet. The morning sun stabbed through his retinas and deep into his grey matter. He stumbled through the house and flung open the front door. Somehow, the sight that greeted him wasn't a surprise.
"Of fucking course," he muttered, squinting irritably into the light. Rat's nest hair, unkempt clothes, corpse pale, Yarn stood in the morning sun and tossed something into the wheelbarrow beside her.
"What the hell are you doing?" he shouted.
She looked up and waved. He flipped her the bird. He couldn't see her expression - probably blank as ever, the creepy bastard - but a moment later she was jogging up to the door, axe in hand.
"Well?" he asked.
"I am clearing the lakeside debris for Marnie."
"No, for the love of-" Shane cursed, saving a hand at the axe. "It's too damn early for this shit!"
"The sun is up."
"Yeah, and some of us are still trying to sleep! Take your Yoba damned axe and go bug somebody else!"
Without an ounce of regret on her face Yarn nodded and went to collect her tools. Shane grumbled under his breath all the way back to his bed.
The racket resumed at the only slightly more reasonable hour of nine, and this time Shane didn’t bother to go out to yell. He got up and got dressed, ignoring Yarn as he walked into town to get groceries for Marnie. On his way back his curiosity got the better of him and he looked up to find Yarn taking some kind of tool to the thigh-high grass that grew in the mud at the edge of the lake. He squinted but couldn’t see it any better. Dropping off the groceries on the porch, he moved closer for a better look. It didn’t seem possible in this day and age, but there Yarn was laboring out in the weak spring sun, carrying a-
“For Yoba’s sake, is that a fucking scythe?”
“Yes.”
He squinted at her suspiciously. “Why?”
“The grass needs trimming.”
“Yeah, no shit. Why aren’t you using a lawnmower?”
“I don’t have one.”
Shane facepalmed, dragging his hand over his face harshly, and left without another word. The ancient lawnmower in the shed groaned to life like the world’s most reluctant zombie when he got the key into the ignition. It’s loud, and Yarn was already watching by the time he got the thing around the corner.
Shane hopped off of the mower, already regretting his generosity. “You look like an idiot. Here.”
He thought Yarn might have looked surprised for a split second. “Thank you.”
He grunted, and the conversation was over. He took out his irritation on any idiot teens willing to fight him online that afternoon, willing himself not to listen as the sounds of Yarn’s yard work continued long into the late afternoon. Marnie’s in the kitchen when he finally left the sanctum of his bedroom to heat up some pizza rolls.
“Hello Shane.”
“Hey.”
“Do you know what Yarn’s out there doing?”
“Cleaning up? Didn’t you pay her to?”
“Shane!” Marnie said, shocked.
“What?” he asked, baffled.
“You called Yarn ‘she’!”
“Uh… Yeah?”
“They go by they/them! Honestly, I expected better of you.”
Shane sputtered. “Wh- Wait, what? Since when?!”
“Ever since they first got here. Did you really not know?”
“Of fucking course not,” Shane snapped, slamming the microwave door. “I’m a prick, but I’m not that much of a prick.”
“I wasn’t-”
“Yeah, you were.”
“Shane-”
“It’s whatever. Drop it.”
She did, but he could practically feel her reluctance as he retreated back into his room.
Hours later, long after Marnie had fallen asleep - long after he should be asleep, really, he did have work in the morning after all - there’s a knock on the front door. Yarn was as unfazed as ever by his glare when he came to answer it.
“Thank you,” they said, offering him the keys to the lawn mower.
“Yeah.” He took the keys, running a thumb over the solid metal. “I need to talk to you. Stay here while I get the mower back in the shed.”
They nodded. Their creepy eyes followed him as he got the mower back where it belonged, and stayed fixed on him as he approached. It made him nervous, and he hates it.
“Cut that shit out,” he snapped.
“I’m sorry?”
“The fucking-” He groaned, loud, digging the palms of his hands into his eyes. “Forget it. Tell me to go fuck myself if I, like, make you mad or whatever, but what’re your pronouns?”
There was a long pause before Yarn said, “They/them.”
“Right. And you didn’t tell me this before because it was fun to see me make a dick of myself?”
“I assumed you knew.”
“What the fuck!” he shouted, throwing his hands up. “I’m an asshole, okay, fine, whatever, but I’m not a Yoba damned transphobe, alright? Why does everybody think that?”
“Everyone else in town seemed to know.”
“Yeah, well, nobody talks to me. Let me make sure I’ve got this right this time. You’re non-binary.”
They nodded.
“Sorry. For fucking it up before. And for shouting just now. Or whatever.” They didn’t even seem angry that he’s the one yelling. Yoba, it's like apologizing to a statue.
“It’s fine.”
“Yeah, well. Good.” He scuffed a shoe through the dirt, looking out at the now clear path to the lakeside. “Front yard looks better.”
Yarn nodded. They’re damn hard to carry on a conversation with, so he gave up.
“Right. See you around.”
Their eyes burned into his back as he disappeared back into the house.