Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The new farmer in Stardew Valley caught Leah by surprise. That is—she’d known someone was moving in, of course, but she’d expected something far, far different. Maybe an old man in a straw hat, or a plaid-clad young fellow with a full beard. Someone farmerly. Not the slim, attractive woman with the short navy-dyed hair and the amber eyes whom she’d found foraging for greens in the Cindersap Forest this morning.

Leah would be lying if she said she hadn’t thought she was hallucinating at first. Her wine last night had been a little strong; maybe she’d gotten a bad bottle, or had a little too much. Anything to explain the presence of this lovely, foreign creature crouched in her bushes in dew-stained gray overalls. Upon parting the branches and laying eyes on her, Leah could only stand there and blink, her feet feeling as rooted to the dirt as the trees swaying around her.

The woman heard her approach and turned around on her knees, those amber eyes flashing gold in the sun and freezing Leah in place. She looked startled for a split second, confused for another, and then her pale, angular face cleared. “Oh! Hello,” she crowed, unfolding to her feet and wiping dirty hands on her overalls, then holding one out. She had a few inches on Leah. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

Leah hoped she didn’t look as utterly shell-shocked as she felt when she reached out and clasped the stranger’s hand in greeting. It was long, delicate; built for something more refined than farming. “I, uh—I’m Leah,” she managed. The stranger was looking at her with the hint of a smile that curled more on the right side than the left. She realized she was staring at it and jerked her eyes away. Then jerked her hand away, too, because she was also still shaking the woman’s hand. Get it together, Leah! “I live in the little cottage by the bend in the river.” She waved over her shoulder in indication and cleared her throat. Honestly! She had met attractive people before without stumbling all over herself. She didn’t understand why this was any different.

The woman’s crooked smile widened as if she knew exactly what was going on in Leah’s head. “You’ve probably gathered, but I’m Vesper, the new farmer in town,” she said instead of prying, blessedly. She had a bit of a city accent. “I took over my grandpa’s land just north.”

Leah nodded for too long as she scrambled for something else to say to keep the conversation alive. Her brain was stuck on Vesper? That’s her name?  but it seemed rude to voice her surprise. For some reason, the next best thing she could think of was, “So we both live outside of town, huh? Does that mean something?” Geez Louise. Yes, Leah, it means you’re crazy.

Thankfully, Vesper laughed. “Means we’re special,” she provided with a casual wink that certainly did not set Leah’s heart all a-flutter. Then she toed the basket resting on the ground beside her, which was full of leeks and horseradish, and asked, “Would you care to join me? I’m sure I haven’t picked every veggie in the forest.”

“I, uh—oh! Sure! Of course.” Leah dropped to her knees at the base of the nearest tree so the farmer wouldn’t see her silly blush. There was a cluster of mushrooms between two roots that she’d missed, and Leah retrieved them easily. “Here you go. On the house,” she declared as she tossed them into the waiting basket. Nice. Smooth recovery. 

The farmer’s face brightened. “No kidding! Thanks!” She turned the full force of that crooked white grin on the unwary artist and all progress toward composure was dashed. “I might just have to keep you around, Leah.” She offered another wink. “For those hard-to-find ingredients, you know.”

And though Leah’s laugh was a little strained and a little high-pitched, she certainly didn’t have a problem with spending more time with this charming new addition to her life. In fact, she was looking forward to it.

…

This past few weeks, they’d fallen into a habit of meeting up for ‘foraging dates,’ as Leah liked to call them in the safety of her mind. If she was being honest, she treasured them more than any other part of her week. What could be better than sharing her favorite activity with someone she might tentatively call one of her favorite people? There was nothing like rooting around in the dirt for dinner with pleasant company by her side. Vesper’s little quips and comments had her laughing the whole morning, and the constant blush in her cheeks was a convenient ward against the crisp spring air.

Today, the farmer was telling her about her memories of her grandpa, which were few and far between but always entertaining. Right now she was recounting the way they saw each other so infrequently, he’d always gotten her name wrong upon meeting her again.

A few weeks ago Leah might have been too shy to comment, but today she felt comfortable enough to joke, “I see where he’s coming from. When we first met, I thought there was no way that’s your real name.”

Vesper looked up from the patch of greens she was harvesting, turning sparkling eyes on Leah. “No?”

The artist’s blush intensified. “Yeah, no way. It’s too…mysterious,” she floundered, not sure where she’d been going with this conversation.

Vesper didn’t seem to mind. She flashed that crooked smile and returned, “Mysterious? Says the lonely forest goddess who spends her time living off nature and communing with animals.”

“Goddess?” Leah could hardly manage through the sudden tightening of her throat.

“I said what I said,” the farmer maintained, that grin growing almost like she enjoyed flustering Leah like this. The artist wouldn’t put it past her. It wasn’t very difficult for her, anyway. She was just so charming and sweet and funny and everything that Leah loved in a person and that fact scared her just a little. It would be so easy to fall for someone like her.

Too easy.

“Vesper,” she burst out suddenly, inhibitions bulldozed by the swell of pure fondness that was ballooning in her chest along with her realization. “I’ve never met anyone like you. Everyone else thinks I’m weird for living out here. The only one who talks to me is Elliott.” She realized that might sound sort of pathetic and dropped her eyes bashfully. “I guess that makes sense.”

The farmer laughed, but it was kind. “I guess I’m just as weird as you,” she proposed as she knocked the dirt off her palms and picked up her basket of foraged greens. Then she stood and reached a hand back down for Leah. “Lunch?” she suggested brightly, and Leah’s heart stuttered in her chest as she took her hand and took her up on that offer. 

…

One of Leah’s favorite spots to sit and draw was the end of the pier over the Cindersap pond. Incidentally, that was also one of Vesper’s favorite places to fish. They found each other there more often than not. Leah liked to think it was fate and not that they both sort of needed those particular hobbies to fund their meals for the week. 

In any case, today was one of the days that Leah came trudging up the rise and found the navy-haired young woman swinging her feet off the edge of the pier, fishing pole in hand, and tried to pretend like the quickening of her heart was simply due to the exertion. That was more easily explained than the accompanying blush that crept into her cheeks. 

Wow, she was pitiful. She’d known this woman for hardly a season and already she was reduced to a mess by the sight of her! Maybe her breakup with Kel had changed more about her than she’d thought. 

Or maybe Vesper had. They’d spent a lot of time together lately, and everything the farmer said and did only seemed to dig Leah’s grave a little deeper. The woman was selfless; she visited the request board every morning to see if she could lend a hand anywhere around town, and she was constantly handing out hard-won resources as gifts. Her own farm didn’t suffer for it at all, though; she got up at the crack of dawn each morning to tend her crops and animals, and they were looking about as pleased with her as the townsfolk were. Leah had no idea how she had the energy to manage all of that plus fish and mine and forage and all of the less farmerly aspects of being a farmer in Stardew Valley. And have time left over for Leah, and energy to stay so cheerful and witty and perfect all the time. She was a miracle incarnate, and Leah was just a little—okay, maybe a lot—infatuated with her.

But she was managing. She cherished the time she got to spend with the farmer, like these afternoons on the pier. She cherished the gifts of twisted driftwood and ripe berries that the young woman brought her each week. She cherished the conversations they had over the lap and ripple of the pond, and the fond looks the farmer gave her whenever she cracked a joke. But she was not desperate, no sir; she didn’t hang on every word and look forward to every gift and melt under every look… 

Except she did. She did, and it had only been a single season and she hated herself just a little for how poorly she guarded her heart. She should really be more careful than this, after Kel. She didn’t even know if the farmer liked girls, or liked anybody, for that matter; much less her. Vesper was nice to everybody, wasn’t she? It was more than likely that she was simply treating Leah the same. Leah had no business falling so hard, so fast, with no safety net.

Oh, but that farmer.

Leah had no more time to dwell. She padded over the final stretch of grass to the pier, at which point her footsteps on the wood alerted Vesper to her presence. The farmer swiveled with a smile that Leah liked to think was specially-made for her. Before she could get too flustered by it, and then too ashamed that she’d gotten flustered, she greeted, “Well, if it isn’t my favorite farmer!”

Vesper’s eyes narrowed, though her grin remained. “Favorite?” she echoed with her hint of an accent. “I’m pretty sure I’m the only one around.”

Leah laughed and sat down beside her at a distance she determined to be perfectly advisable for her current state of heart. Their shoulders were almost touching. “Even so. You’d still be my favorite,” she assured, focusing on flipping open her sketchpad to the next blank page instead of Vesper’s warm gaze on her.

Instead of answering that, the farmer leaned over a tad closer so she could watch as Leah began laying down the first lines of her sketch. “What are you going to draw?” she asked with so much genuine curiosity it caught Leah off guard. She’d never had anyone show an interest in her art this way. Kel had outright scorned it, and everyone else just seemed to politely nod along whenever she brought it up. Having someone want to watch over her shoulder was…new. And really nice. Just another addition to her list of reasons why Vesper is utterly perfect.

She angled her pad so Vesper could see better and explained, “Just the pond, as usual. I’m working on establishing better contrast between the foreground and background. If the values are too similar, it just looks muddled, but I always feel like I have to completely render everything for the sake of realism.” Surprisingly enough, her face didn’t erupt into fire like every other time she spoke to the farmer. Talking about her art was comfortable. Easy. Maybe she’d have to frame it this way in her mind more often: conversation as art. Her developing relationship with Vesper like a painting coming together.

Or a wet clay sculpture too close to the edge of a table, just waiting to fall and be smashed out of shape.

The farmer drew a breath to reply, but it was cut off by a sudden tug on her fishing line. “Whoa,” she blurted at the force behind it. Her pole was bending sharply. She adjusted her grip and set her shoulders and Leah watched her muscles pull taut, half-glad for the interruption. Then, “It’s a feisty one!” Vesper cried, the thrill of challenge sending a grin sparking over her face. “Help me reel it in!”

“What?” Leah almost choked. Help her? Fish? With her hands on the same—

“Come on!” Vesper didn’t give her any time to let panic set in. At the whip-crack urgency in her voice Leah jerked into action, lunging after the bending rod to close her hands on the handle between Vesper’s. The action brought their bodies together, and if tracing the lines of Vesper’s shoulder muscles with her eyes had been nice, feeling them pressed firmly against her was absolutely fantastic—and almost so distracting she lost her grip on the rod at the next sharp tug.

But she hung on with some effort, and after a lot of straining and reeling and splashing at the end of the line—

It snapped. 

Leah and Vesper tumbled back at the sudden lack of resistance, hitting the planks side by side with a shared oomph! At first the artist’s head spun as she tried to discern how she’d ended up on her back with the sun in her eyes, hands stinging from the effort of gripping the pole. Then she registered that Vesper’s pole was empty beside them, no fish in sight. Her catch was gone and her line was ruined. A sick feeling trickled down into her gut and she sat up fast.

“I’m so sorry!” she cried. This had to be her fault somehow; Vesper’s line had never failed when she fished alone. Leah had ruined it. “I did the best I could, but—”

She broke off when she realized that Vesper wasn’t angry. In fact, she was wheezing with laughter, still on her back, navy hair shining in the sun and the spray from the pond.

“Vesper?” Leah prompted, confused. Shouldn’t she be upset about her messed-up pole? Shouldn’t she be upset with her?

But the farmer wasn’t upset. She let her head roll to the side to fix Leah with eyes that shined golden in the sun, chest still shaking with the last throes of laughter. “Don’t worry about it, flower. You can’t win ‘em all,” she said lightly, reaching one hand out to pat Leah reassuringly on the arm. And—

Leah felt like she’d been struck by lightning. Flower. Vesper said it like it was nothing; like there was nothing more natural than calling Leah a fond nickname and there was absolutely no reason for Leah to be internally freaking out right now. In reality, that was far from the truth. The artist felt like a fist had closed around her heart, keeping the blood from traveling to her lungs and her brain. Flower.

“Oh. Uh, right. You know,” she stammered out, barely in control of the sounds her mouth was making. She couldn’t stop a smile from rising to her face, though, either. Flower. “M-maybe you should take a break from fishing for a while.”

Vesper chuckled again, clasping her hands across her stomach like she intended to keep on lying on the pier like this forever. “I think I’ve been effectively forced to take a break until I can go see Willy about my line,” she returned, sounding perfectly unperturbed by that. Then she smiled up at Leah. “I don’t suppose I could just watch you draw for the afternoon?”

Leah bit her lip to keep her grin from growing too wide; too telling. She failed. “Of course you could,” she invited, and scooted closer so Vesper could watch if she tilted her head just right. And even despite their failed catch; despite this nasty hiccup in the farmer’s routine, it was the loveliest afternoon either of them had had since setting foot in Stardew Valley.

… 

Leah had never looked forward to the Flower Dance before.

The event had always seemed awkward; stilted, like Maru liked to claim. It seemed more of a matter of tradition than an enjoyable experience for those involved. The lacy white dress, in particular, always rubbed Leah the wrong way. Not to mention the embarrassment of doing the dance itself. She wondered why the older generation of ladies couldn’t participate instead; they seemed much more invested in all the frilly rigamarole. She was just thankful that it was Elliott who insisted on doing her hair and not Jodi or Caroline. He was much more bearable about the whole thing. And gentler.

This year, though, Leah found her heart fluttering in anticipation the morning of the dance. Dragging the traditional white dress out of her closet and shaking the dust off gave her a sense of simmering excitement rather than dread. 

Yoba, Vesper hadn’t even asked her to dance yet and Leah felt like she was going to implode. But Leah was hopeful: she would ask, wouldn’t she? She’d certainly seemed interested these last few days after the fishing incident, coming over for lunch every afternoon and staying until responsibility pulled her back to the farm—not to mention all their little moments before. Leah had started thinking of their time together as dates (again, in the privacy of her own mind) and certainly that had to mean something, right?

Vesper had called her flower. The best Kel had ever managed was babe, and they’d been together for almost two years.

Maybe Leah was hanging a lot on the mere possibility that the farmer liked her as much as she liked the farmer, but she couldn’t help herself. As lovely as it was in Stardew Valley, it hadn’t ever seemed like home to Leah until Vesper’s arrival. People had been nice, but never really shown an interest in getting to know her. They’d left her to her own devices out here in the Cindersap Forest and she supposed that was fine, but it got lonely sometimes. She’d been missing something vital, and she hadn’t been exactly sure what that thing was until Vesper walked into her life and filled that hole with the simple power of friendly conversation and genuine care. Leah had never had someone really care. She was sure that would sound horribly pitiful if she ever dared voice it aloud, so she didn’t. She just laid out the white Flower Dance dress on the bed for tonight and picked up her chisel and hammer and got to work on the twisting sculpture in the corner of her room because she sorely needed something to keep her mind from spinning out of control.

As it were, the only thing she could think of while she carved away at the piece of reddish wood was how she felt about Vesper.

Later that night, surrounded by her frilly white dress and the crisp spring atmosphere and the gentle chords of the hired band, tucked safely against Vesper’s shoulder as they danced a slow two-step beyond the fringes of the general crowd, she felt invincible. This was what she’d wanted all her life. 

And now it was within her grasp.

…

Apparently, there had been a fedora for sale at the Stardew Valley Fair this fall. Apparently, Vesper had thought it appropriate to win an obscene number of star tokens to buy it. Apparently, she now thought it perfectly sensible to wear the silly thing around all the time.

When she came knocking at Leah’s door one day with a gift of goat cheese in her hands and the city-slicker’s standard on her head, Leah could not help but burst out laughing at the sight. “You look like such a jerk,” she giggled as the farmer got to stowing the cheese in Leah’s fridge, unprovoked. When she straightened up from her task, there was a pout on her face.

“You don’t think it’s quite dashing?” she asked, feigning hurt. She closed the fridge door behind her and leaned against it and crossed her arms and honestly, it was pretty dashing—but not because of the hat.

But Leah wasn’t about to come out and admit that. 

“Not really,” she pretended to sound remorseful. “You’d do better to get one of those classic straw hats farmers wear. It would really complete the image.” She indicated Vesper’s dark grey overalls and light grey button-down with the sleeves half-rolled. The choice of hat would determine the difference between looking like a farmer and looking like a mobster.

Vesper wrinkled her nose. “I have one of those, and there’s a reason I don’t wear it.”

“Besides the itch?” Leah grinned.

“Yes; it makes me look like my grandpa.”

“That’s a bad thing?”

“Considering he would have been ninety-four this year, I’d say so.”

Leah opened her mouth to fire back another quip, but before she got the chance Vesper took a step forward and plopped the fedora onto her head, and what came out instead was an eloquent, “Oh!”

The farmer’s lips curled in that precious crooked smirk as she looked Leah up and down, judging the new addition. “Well, you look appropriately artsy,” she appraised, then reached out and quirked the hat slightly to the left so it sat crooked on Leah’s head. Her smile widened. “I’d even say dashing.”

Leah felt herself blushing instantly and cursed her coloring. At least she could hide behind the hat. That is, until Vesper’s finger came under her chin and coaxed her head up again and Leah was hit by how close they were and how gentle the farmer’s calloused hands were and how easy it would be to lean in and—

“N-no.” Her common sense caught up with her and shut that thought down real quick. It’s not the right time. You don’t even know how she feels. She plucked the hat off and returned it to its rightful place atop Vesper’s navy waves, managing a nervous smile through her flush. She hoped she didn’t look as whipped as she felt. “It looks better on you.”

Always the expert at riling Leah up as much as possible, Vesper caught her hand on its retreat and brought it to her lips to kiss her knuckles tenderly. And, looking up from beneath the brim of that stupid hat, amber eyes bright and warm, her breath breezing over Leah’s skin, Vesper really was a sight to see.

Leah might even say dashing.

“Enjoy the cheese,” the farmer whispered before letting her hand fall, and Leah could only blink and laugh aloud in surprise.

She was well and truly doomed.

…

Chapter Text

When Vesper made the suggestion that Leah should display her art to the town, her first reaction was one of overwhelming anxiety. She couldn’t possibly do that, she’d thought. She’d shown off her art a little bit when she first arrived, just to test the waters; see if this was a viable place to make a living with her trade, and found that the answer was a resounding no. People didn’t get her art. If she was being honest with herself, people probably didn’t even care enough to try. They simply shrugged it off as a hobby and told her to get a real job, like Kel had—not in as many words, here in Stardew Valley, but she knew a dismissal when she heard one.

So when Vesper finally tore her eyes off of Leah’s latest sculpture in progress (the one whose working title she was absolutely not going to reveal) and turned them to Leah with a sparkle of inspiration behind the gold irises, declaring, “You could make a fortune off these,” the artist was a mite surprised. And scared.

She tried to laugh it off through a tightening throat. “I appreciate your faith in me, but I’ve already tried that,” she gently brushed the farmer off.

Vesper wasn’t discouraged. “You could have a show,” she suggested excitedly. “I know Elliott would kill to have that beside his writing desk—” She pointed to an abstract composition called Muse. Then a painting on the mantel. “—and that one has Marnie in the background, so naturally Lewis will want it.” 

Leah’s rising panic gave way to a laugh. “You really think so? When I got here, people seemed to treat me like I was living a fantasy, thinking I could sell my art,” she admitted, wrapping her arms around herself insecurely. She still doubted their interest. But if Vesper was so sure about it…

“They’ll see,” the farmer assured her firmly. “I’ll help them. You deserve to be recognized for something this beautiful.”

At that, Leah melted a little inside. How could she ever say no to Vesper after a heartfelt comment like that?

One thing led to another, and Leah held her show in the town square. As Vesper had promised, people reacted well. They loved it, in fact. Leah made more money in that single afternoon than she had in the whole year previous, and people started looking at her in a new light. Like they took her seriously.

And she had her dear farmer to thank.

Vesper gave her the perfect chance to do just that when she came knocking on Leah’s cabin door late that night, hands clasped behind her back as the artist cracked the door open to admit her.

“Hi there, Vesper,” Leah greeted with a wide grin and a teasing tone. She closed the door behind the farmer so they stood in warmth and firelight together. That seemed a little more special; more personal tonight, for some reason. “What’s the occasion?”

The farmer cracked her crooked smile and brought her hands into view along with the bottle of homemade wine she’d been hiding between them. “Oh, I don’t know. Just the recent incredible success of my favorite person, maybe,” she returned. Then without giving Leah a chance to react to that little tidbit, she looked down at the wine. “I made this to celebrate. It might be awful, but it’s the thought that counts, right?”

Leah giggled and pulled her toward the kitchen where she could retrieve her corkscrew and a pair of glasses, then retreated to the couch. Vesper sat beside her and they cracked open the bottle and any lingering anxiety Leah might have felt from earlier was dashed entirely. From that point on, the night felt a little warmer and a little brighter. Leah figured that even without the fire, the warmth of Vesper’s smile as they talked and joked and shared this little victory together could have sustained her.

It didn’t take long for the bottle to dwindle down to the dregs after several rounds of passing between them. Or maybe it did take long; Leah had had enough over the course of the night that she wasn’t really sure anymore.

“This really is awful,” she snorted over the rim of her fifth glass of wine, then proceeded to down the contents anyway.

Vesper, who was bearing half of Leah’s weight as the artist leaned comfortably against her shoulder, laughed as well. “It was supposed to be peach,” she admitted bashfully.

Leah giggled, as had become more and more common as her blood alcohol level rose. “Sorry, Vesper, but you missed the mark. This tastes like…” She took another hearty sip, from Vesper’s glass this time since hers was empty. “…dry erase markers.”

“That doesn’t seem to be bothering you,” the farmer pointed out, holding her glass out of reach so perhaps Leah might slow down a bit.

The artist gave a scoff and did her darnedest to pursue it anyway. Incidentally, this involved her reaching bodily across the other woman so her front was pressed snugly to Vesper’s side. That might have made her feel flustered under other circumstances, but right now she felt nothing but pleasant. It probably had something to do with all the wine. Why shouldn’t she have a little more, then? “Of course it doesn’t bother me,” she grumbled, tugging at Vesper’s arm so she might give in, but the farmer didn’t budge. Her brain trailed a step behind her mouth and she heard herself say, “You made it. I love everything you make.”

Vesper took her turn to go very still. She turned her head to face Leah in something like surprise, and the motion brought their noses within inches of one another. It probably would have been appropriate for Leah to pull away at that point, but she didn’t want to. She liked being pressed up against the farmer like this, their shared warmth a better shield against the crisp air than any blanket, her amber eyes so close and so bright and so beautiful. Her lips…

Her lips said then, “Likewise. If that wasn’t obvious by now.” Her voice was hushed and a little raspy, and Leah found that she couldn’t quite raise her eyes; couldn’t stop imagining leaning forward the barest inch and—and—

“Vesper,” she croaked through a throat suddenly dry as well, lowering her chin to the farmer’s shoulder to study every curve and crack in her lips from hardly an inch away. “I…” The words felt too strange; too thick in her mouth, like she was speaking around a ball of cotton. Or a whole lot of alcohol. That didn’t stop her from confessing in the smallest whisper, “I want to kiss you.” 

If Vesper was shocked, she didn’t let it show. She just took a long, deep breath that made Leah shift against her side and placed the remnants of her wine on the coffee table nearby. Her newly freed hand then came up to run over Leah’s arm; her shoulder; her back, rubbing soothingly. The action began to lull Leah toward a doze where she almost forgot she’d spoken at all, and a brief flash of insight made her realize that maybe that was the goal. Maybe she’d gone too far and the farmer was trying to distract her. She couldn’t focus well enough to feel anxious about that as Vesper opened her mouth to speak. “You’re drunk,” she reminded in a heavy, hard-to-read tone. “You’d regret it tomorrow.”

Leah shook her head absently. “No way,” she murmured, leaning in close enough that the farmer could surely smell the wine on her breath—almost enough to close the distance, but not quite. “I want to kiss you when I’m sober, too,” she breathed, and she could feel the hitch that stuttered in Vesper’s chest. All that she could feel at this point was Vesper: her body, the heat of her gaze, the uncertainty of her protest. Leah wanted her, and she was convinced Vesper wanted her back. She wouldn’t have let this happen otherwise, right? She could push Leah away at any time.

The artist dragged her gaze up to meet Vesper’s just long enough to blink at her through heavy lids and confirm the shadow of desire that lay behind those golden frames. That was all the convincing her addled brain needed, and before she knew what she was doing she leaned in, bracing one hand against the armrest on Vesper’s other side so she could press herself closer and—

She saw as if in slow motion the way Vesper’s lips parted in anticipation as she neared. Heat flooded her nerves, and her heart felt like it had ceased beating entirely, suspended in time along with the rest of the world as finally, finally—

Vesper turned and let Leah’s drunken kiss fall on her cheek.

The artist froze, waited, and when the farmer didn’t change her mind, slouched against her shoulder with a heavy sigh, from weariness or disappointment even she couldn’t be sure.

It was a long moment before either of them broke the silence, and when Vesper finally did, the words came out hoarse: “I won’t believe that till I hear it from sober Leah.”

Leah had no answer except a groan. She was beyond feeling much more than a dull ache in the wake of her mistake. In fact, the only thing she was feeling right now was tired. She would deal with the consequences in the morning. That was fine, right? Vesper would still be nearby, right?

Maybe later she would sorely regret what she’d done—or thank Yoba for it.

Tonight, all that was left to do was slip into a troubled doze, her shoulder pressed to the farmer whose acceptance she valued more intensely than any number of sculptures sold.

…

Leah could not remember that night for the life of her.

But she had been drunk around other people before, and things had subsequently gotten out of hand before. It wasn’t unreasonable to believe that she’d made a fool of herself. Fearing the worst, Leah proceeded with caution; letting the farmer take the lead to schedule their next meetings, if that was something she even wanted to do anymore, but they seemed fewer and farther between these days. The farmer used to come by virtually every afternoon with a gift or a story or just the blessing of her company. Now, though, every time Leah heard a knock on her door and instantly dropped whatever she was doing to go peer through the peephole, hoping it was Vesper, she was inevitably disappointed.

Leah couldn‘t get it out of her head that she’d done or said something awful. Why else would Vesper be avoiding her like this? She presumed it would take a lot to drive away somebody as kind and patient as this particular farmer. So what had she done? 

And what was she supposed to do about it? Certainly her current cycle of ‘drink, struggle to produce any art, sleep, repeat,’ was not the answer, but she was feeling far from her best. It positively ate away at her to think that she might have botched the single greatest thing to ever happen to her. Would going to see Vesper help? Would the farmer forgive her for whatever had happened? Was it too late already?

One painful afternoon, about a week from the art show, Leah groaned and let her head fall to her desk, the same tumultuous thoughts roiling in her mind that had been nagging at her for days. The beginnings of an oil painting lay on the easel before her, but it refused to come out the way she wanted. The colors all seemed too dim; too dirty. Fitting, she supposed.

Her misery seemed to be reflected back at her in the steady drum of a light rain upon the roof (and the rhythmic drip of the leak in the corner). It had rained almost every day in the last week, and normally Leah appreciated a good drizzle to wash everything clean, but this just seemed excessive. Like Yoba himself was punishing her for being such an idiot.

“I deserve it,” she mumbled into the surface of her desk, her voice bouncing back thick and ugly in her ears. She was thirsty, but even wine had lost some of its appeal to her, all things considered. She just couldn’t scrape together the willpower to do anything about it.

It was then that a knock sounded at the door.

Leah was on her feet and lunging across the room before she knew what was happening. She winced at a shot of pain that raced through her hip, stiff from sitting. “Coming!” she called out, just in case it was Vesper and she might walk away at any moment and Leah might miss her last and only chance to—

She threw the door open.

Maru looked startled at her dramatic appearance. Or maybe that was just her thick spectacles making her eyes look a little bigger than usual, but in any case, Leah tried not to physically slouch in disappointment at the sight of her and not her favorite farmer.

“Maru?” she asked, voice crackling a little. “Did you need something?”

Maru ran her hand over her hair, trying to fight the frizz that the rain had inflicted upon it. She looked uncomfortable. “Um…hi, Leah,” she responded tentatively. “Yeah. Actually, no, but—I mean, I don’t need anything, but, um…” She twisted at the strap of her overalls and winced. “Leah, it’s Vesper. Harvey thought you should know—”

“Harvey?” repeated Leah, heart dropping straight to her toes. She gripped the doorframe, hard. “She’s at the clinic? Why? What happened?”

“She’s hurt. One of Sandy’s people found her in the Skull Cavern.”

Leah could feel all the blood drain from her face. “Oh, Yoba,” she rasped, thinking I’m so stupid. I’m so stupid. Vesper is hurt and I didn’t even consider— “O-okay, I’ll be right there. Thank you,” she managed, then raised shaking palms to her forehead and squeezed. She didn’t really want to have a meltdown in front of Maru, but she figured it would be rude to slam the door on the other girl. It was too much; it was all too much. Vesper is hurt, she kept thinking frantically, guilt and worry washing over her in equal measures. Vesper is hurt and I wasn’t there to help. This had to be her fault, somehow. “Oh, Yoba, I’m such an idiot.”

“Hey.” Maru’s voice cut into the sick spiral of Leah’s thoughts, snapping her back into clarity. She always did have a better bedside manner than Harvey. Expression soothing, she stepped close enough to lay a steadying hand on Leah’s arm. “Breathe. She’s going to be okay.”

Leah forced herself to pull in a deep breath and sigh it out again. It maybe made her hands tremble a little less. “Right. Yeah. I know, I just—” She paused, breathed, sighed again and shook her head. “I kept telling her that place is dangerous.”

“This isn’t your fault,” Maru said, as if somehow she’d seen straight into Leah’s soul and determined her deepest fears. “Vesper takes a lot of risks. It comes with the job sometimes.”

Leah gave a weak grunt of acknowledgement. “I wish she wouldn’t.”

“I know.” Maru’s hand on her arm squeezed gently, and the part-time nurse suggested, “Why don’t you grab your coat and come see her?”

“Yeah,” Leah agreed. “Yeah, I’ll do that.” She was feeling a little less frantic now, but no less worried. The threat of tears was pushing up in her chest to replace the panic. She wasn’t convinced that this wasn’t her fault. What if Vesper had gone out looking for trouble after she—after she did whatever it was that she couldn’t remember? What if she’d driven her away? She would never forgive herself if Vesper were hurt because of her.

“Leah,” said Maru, rousing the artist from her own thoughts again.

“Right. Right.” Grabbing her coat. Going to see Vesper. Leah turned away just long enough to yank her brown corduroy jacket off the coat rack she’d carved and shove her feet into her heavy-duty boots beside it. She settled the coat around her shoulders as she rejoined Maru at the door, pulling her ginger braid out from beneath the collar. It wasn’t suited for the rain, but it was the best she had. “Let’s go.”

Maru didn’t waste a second in leading her out into the darkness and onto the path to town. The trip to the clinic passed in a blur of cold rain, squelching footsteps, darkness, and concern. Maru stayed close by her side as they walked, monitoring her as if to make sure the clinic didn’t end up with another patient tonight. Leah wanted to tell her she was fine, but it wouldn’t have been the truth, exactly.

The sight of the clinic rising up at the end of the dirt path was both relieving and anxiety-inducing. Vesper was just inside. What would Leah say to her? Would she even get the chance? How hurt exactly was her precious farmer? She trusted Harvey, but she’d heard horrific things about the Skull Cavern. She quickened her pace a little.

She reached the door before Maru did and let herself in. Her boots slipped a little on the tiles as she stepped in from the rain, but she didn’t waste any time in beelining for the door to the exam room. She barely hesitated before bursting through that one, too.

Harvey was standing beside the bed closest the door, a clipboard in his hands. A dark shape was reclined on the mattress; denim spattered with mud and something red. Leah’s eyes stuck on that detail and her heart rate spiked all over again.

“Vesper!” she cried without thinking, rushing to the bedside. Harvey gave her space to approach. Up closer, she could see the extent of the damage to Vesper’s outfit: tears, scrapes, and slashes to accompany the stains, and beneath—“Oh, Yoba.” Leah reached a shaking hand toward the place Vesper’s gray shirt lay open, revealing several nasty rows of puncture wounds in her abdomen that looked like…bite marks? 

The second Leah’s cold fingers met Vesper’s skin, the farmer gasped awake. “My sword!” she cried, voice ragged and eyes wide and uncertain as they cut around the room, trying to determine where she was. “Where’s my sword?” Before anyone could protest she made a motion to sit up, only to yelp in pain and sag back to the mattress, grimacing. Panting for breath, she raised a clumsy hand toward her torso to search for the source of the pain, and it was then that her fingers collided with Leah’s. Her eyes flashed up to the redhead’s face and after a breathless instant, they cleared. “Oh. Hey,” Vesper sighed out heavily, relaxing all at once. To Leah’s relief, the look the farmer gave her upon recognition was nothing out of the ordinary. Open, pleased; maybe a little sheepish, besides the pain. Nothing to suggest Vesper was upset with her. Or that her state was due to anything but an unfortunate accident.

Leah let out a soft breath. “Hey,” she murmured, voice catching on the single syllable. Yoba, she was so glad Vesper was okay. Besides, you know, the red, angry bite marks all over her. She tentatively turned her hand over to catch the farmer’s in her grip, running a thumb over her scraped knuckles. “Um. How are you feeling?”

Vesper didn’t shy away from the touch. On the contrary, her eyes remained trained on Leah’s face, heavy-lidded, like her presence was a comfort. “Like I just got kicked by a horse,” she rasped, the tiniest smile pulling at the corner of her lips.

“Doesn’t seem far from the truth based on those wounds,” Harvey put in from his place beside Leah’s shoulder. She almost jumped, having forgotten he was there. Vesper tended to have that effect on her. When both women turned to look at him sharply, he physically shrank a little, seeming to realize how out of place he was. “Oh. Right,” he coughed delicately. “I’ll, uh, give you two a minute. Then we can go over her results.”

Leah felt a little bad for the doctor as he did his best to melt into the background, retreating to where Maru had hung back in the doorway. This was his establishment, after all. She’d been the one to make a scene. But she was more concerned about Vesper than Harvey’s pride, so she turned promptly back to the farmer on the hospital bed. “So the Skull Cavern, huh?” she began, figuring saying anything was better than nothing at all.

Vesper grunted and shifted a little on the bed as if trying to wriggle out from under Leah’s judgment. “I know you said it’s risky, but that’s the best place to find iridium and I need a lot of it so I can upgrade my equipment so I can spend less time tending the farm so I can spend more time with you instead,” she explained.

Leah narrowed her eyes, even as her heart swelled. “So this is my fault.” It didn’t hurt so much when she said it in this context; as a definite joke instead of a terrifying possibility.

Vesper nodded, maybe a little loopy. Leah glanced over and registered the IV in her arm, and the guilt came back. I should have been here sooner. “Yeah, basically,” the farmer carried on. “I think you should pay my hospital bill.”

Leah did her best to smile, but she could feel how weak it came out. So instead she shifted a little closer, easing her weight down onto the edge of the mattress carefully enough that it wouldn’t jostle Vesper, and dropped her attention to the wounds on her stomach. “Does it hurt?” she asked at a whisper.

In lieu of an answer, Vesper lowered their joined hands slowly to the surface of her skin, letting Leah ghost a tentative touch over the marks. A few were big enough that Harvey had stitched them up; the rest simply cleaned and doctored with some sort of ointment. He clearly hadn’t gotten around to bandaging them before she’d busted in the door. Leah brushed her fingertips over the torn skin as gently as she could, only realizing that she was holding her breath when her lungs began to protest. 

She could feel the heat of Vesper’s gaze on her. She couldn’t quite bring herself to meet it, though; not while they were this close, her hand sandwiched between Vesper’s own and the expanse of her bare stomach, the air between them so thick with things left unsaid (things she wished she could understand). She didn’t think she could trust herself to look into those beautiful golden irises just now. They made her feel so much.

“No more fighting monsters for a while,” Vesper murmured just then, rousing her gently from her reverie. She lifted her hand away, and Leah took that as a sign to do the same. The distance between them suddenly felt huge. Leah was reminded of her worry; of the possibility that that distance might be real; might be her fault. Reminded that there was still a very big question mark hovering over their relationship at the moment.

She wouldn’t let herself dwell on that right now. Right now, she was occupied with the relief of finding her farmer in stable health; in a doctor’s capable hands. “Absolutely not,” she agreed in the same soft tone. There was so much more she wanted to say; wanted to do. But now was not the time. Leah held back a sigh.

Harvey chose that moment to clear his throat loudly. He’d returned to the bedside, clipboard still in his grasp. Leah tried not to resent him for doing his job. The poor man had jumped to Vesper’s rescue at whatever ungodly hour of the night this happened to be; he deserved a little credit. Maru, too.

“I-if you’re ready, I wanted to go over Vesper’s situation, and what we’ll have to do to get her back on her feet as soon as possible,” the doctor said, fidgeting with his glasses as he spoke but meeting neither of their gazes.

“Sure,” said Vesper just as easily as ever, and the two settled in for the news: bad, good, and manageable. Leah didn’t miss the way the farmer’s fingers sought out hers again where they rested on the mattress.

Yoba, she was so glad Vesper was okay.

…

Chapter Text

Leah still wasn’t completely sold on the idea of a surprise picnic. The suggestion had come from Elliott, and, well, while the guy was certainly a romantic, he didn’t always have his feet totally on the ground. Would it come across as creepy to ambush the object of her affection in the woods with a plate of her favorite food? The first part was absolutely a little questionable, but would the food part make up for that? Maybe, if it was good enough.

For all her worrying, Leah doubted that Vesper would find anything but goodwill behind the gesture, which put her mind at ease a little bit. Vesper had never had any qualms about barging into Leah’s space with a gift in hand, after all, so this seemed right up her alley.

That was Leah’s reasoning, at least, as she unloaded the last of the meal she’d made from the basket over her arm and laid it out on the table—her own kitchen table, which she’d hauled out here with Elliott’s help earlier in the afternoon.

“She’s at the beach fishing,” the author had reported upon arriving, slightly out of breath, at her doorstep. “Now’s the perfect time to get everything ready.”

And Leah hadn’t exactly been able to turn him down after he’d come all that way to give her the news, so she’d gone ahead with the plan. Her table was now situated down by the riverside, just where the ground was firm enough to hold it without sinking, and the surface was packed with a multitude of veggie-rich dishes she’d cooked up for the occasion. At the very least, she figured Vesper would appreciate the calories; the woman ran virtually everywhere she went. Her nerves were still a little jittery, though, as she adjusted and readjusted the setup she’d put together and wondered for the thousandth time if the farmer would like it. 

She didn’t get much more time to stew. It was at that moment that the familiar rustle of hurried footsteps met her ears from a little ways up the path, approaching fast. Leah sucked in a deep breath that was meant to be steadying but only served to make her head feel light, then leaned her hip casually against the table (the table that was sitting in the middle of the woods; the furthest thing from casual). The sun was just beginning to brush the tops of the trees far behind her, throwing the eastern path in gold as if to herald Vesper’s arrival.

All it did in actuality was cause the farmer to squint against its rays so intently that she almost jogged right by Leah where she stood just off the path. The redhead had to literally clear her throat before Vesper took notice and stumbled to a walk.

“Leah?” she panted curiously as she slowed.

“Oh!” replied Leah, as if she were surprised. As if she hadn’t been the one to arrange every detail of this very meeting. Very smooth. She resisted the urge to smack herself in the forehead, thinking ugh, I’m so useless. “H-hi, Vesper. I, um, figured you might be passing through here this evening.” Great, now she sounded creepy. Even better. 

Vesper gave her a mildly confused smile, running her gaze over the misplaced table and plates as she caught her breath. “What’s this?” 

“It’s, um, a picnic,” Leah explained, cringing inwardly. “For us.” Now was the moment of truth. What if Vesper laughed? What if she was too busy to take a break? What if she was allergic to every vegetable on the table? What if—

“What’s the occasion?” the farmer asked.

“Nothing really,” Leah shrugged, ducking her head a little to hide the blush that was climbing up to her ears. Or, at least, to attempt it. She could still feel the heat. “I just wanted to do something nice for you. After all the nice things you’ve done for me.” She tucked her bangs behind her ear a bit bashfully. “Helping me take one step closer to my dream, and all.”

Vesper’s grin stretched wider, making her crinkled eyes catch the bright evening sun. She approached the table and glanced over the dishes approvingly before turning that glinting gold gaze on Leah. “You don’t owe me anything, flower. That was all for you.”

“I just—” Geez, when had the farmer come so close? “I-I know, but you deserve nice things too.”

Vesper’s smile softened into something affectionate and positively melting. “Thanks, Leah,” she said, and Leah was relieved to find that she sounded completely genuine. Not condescending. Not pitying. Nothing like the way Kel would have been. That warm look lingered on her for a moment extra before returning to the food. “What did you make?”

“Oh!” For a whole beat, Leah could not remember for the life of her what the answer to that question was. Before now, she’d had a virtual menu all lined up in her head, but coherent thought had a way of vanishing from her grasp the moment Vesper showed up. She chewed her lip and glanced at the bowls, hoping the names of what was inside would spring to mind. A bunch of leafy greens met her scrutiny. Oh. Right. “This is a vegetable medley seasoned with my special spice blend,” she recalled, indicating the first bowl, which still steamed lightly in the cooling air. Then the second: “and this is fresh salad made with greens from the forest.”

“Looks healthy,” Vesper observed good-naturedly, lowering herself into one of the chairs at the table’s edge.

Leah quickly claimed the other one and reached for the pair of empty plates she’d brought out to serve the food on. “I try my best,” she replied with a laugh that sounded far too high-pitched to her own ears. To distract herself, she began portioning out the meal onto each of their plates. “Some of everything?”

“Please.” Vesper accepted the plate Leah passed her, but waited to dig in until the redhead had secured her own. Leah sort of wished she wouldn’t, even though the gesture was just so characteristically considerate; made her fall that much harder for the lovely farmer. She blamed the sun for the heat in her cheeks as the farmer watched her and waited.

Once they both had their plates, they began to eat, Leah hanging back a moment to watch Vesper’s reaction. “Taste okay?” she asked tentatively. Unfortunately, the question caught Vesper right in the middle of a bite, so the farmer just nodded enthusiastically instead of trying to say anything around a big mouthful of greens.

After that, they went about packing away the meal in companionable silence—only, Leah figured it was much more comfortable for Vesper than she, thanks to the spiral of uncertain thoughts that had taken to racing through her mind again. The one that kept surfacing most pressingly was are we okay? but every time she considered voicing the tentative question, the words got stuck someplace between her brain and her throat. Irrationally, she felt as if asking the question might somehow change the answer. Like Vesper would get irritated with her for not knowing where they stood.

Even thinking of it that way made her feel foolish. When had Vesper ever gotten irritated with her over something as silly as that? Or at all, even? There was absolutely no evidence to support the fear that she’d somehow reject Leah for trying to communicate. But for some reason, the prospect remained frightening. 

The question was, would it be worse to risk sounding like a fool, or to go on not knowing whether there had been some sort of hiccup between them?

Leah thought she knew.

The redhead began taking deep breaths, staring resolutely down at her fork and trying to psych herself up for the hurdle that was, inexplicably, simply talking to her friend. The extra oxygen only served to make her head go light, so Leah let out her breath in a huff and steeled herself. Get a grip, she thought impatiently, this shouldn’t be so difficult. When she looked up, the farmer was already watching her curiously. Leah nearly quailed beneath her gaze, but clenched her fists and did not back down. “Vesper,” she began, roughly, haltingly, but finally.

“Mhm?” Twin creases were forming between the farmer’s brows as she watched Leah struggle and stew for what was probably no reason at all, concerned.

Leah opened her mouth, faltered as she cast around for the right words, and closed it again. She couldn’t quite hold Vesper’s eyes. She cleared her throat and tried again: “Vesper, are we—”

“Well, well, well!” A voice, sudden and shocking and abrasive, shattered the moment. Leah shot up out of her chair so fast the plates clattered against the tabletop, whipping around to face the source. A figure was stepping out of the nearby treeline, approaching from the woods. A familiar one. “What have we here?”

It all hit Leah as if it were fresh as yesterday: the voice, the figure, the fear. “Kel?” Leah gasped, feeling her chest constrict and her vision go black around the edges. This couldn’t be happening. This had to be some sort of—of hallucination, or dream, or something. Kel could not be here. She’d left Kel behind in Zuzu City. “What are you doing here?” she demanded, and hated that her voice shook.

Kel came ever closer, features clarifying through the haze of encroaching dusk. He was smirking like a cat with a mouse in its jaws. “Didn’t you see me at the art show? I came all the way from Zuzu City to see your sculptures,” he said smoothly, innocently, like he’d actually do anything for her benefit. It didn’t take long for the other shoe to drop. “You’ve come a long way. But don’t you think it’s time to come back now, babe? I miss you.”

Leah physically flinched. “Don’t call me that,” she spat, fury rising up beside fear. Her mind cast back against her will to every time she’d stood up to Kel before; every time he made her regret it afterward, and she felt herself shrink. But Vesper was here this time. People who cared about her were on her side this time, so she dredged up the courage to continue, “You never supported my art before. You don’t get to just take me back now that I’ve had some success, Kel.” Then, some of her resolve draining away in the face of Kel’s deepening scowl, Leah began to back away, fully intending to retreat to her cabin where she could phone the police. She only hoped they could get here from the city in time. “I never want to see you again,” she cried on the last desperate traces of emboldening anger. “You make me sick.” 

Kel, of course, did not appreciate that. “Hey! You don’t get to talk to me like that,” he snarled, face darkening like a stormcloud where just moments ago it had been calm, clear, charming—the facade that she had fallen for almost three years ago. “Come here!” He balled his fists and took an angry stride toward Leah—

—Only to run smack into Vesper’s solid form, which had wedged its way firmly between the two sides during the pause. “Leave her alone,” the farmer said in deadly soft tones. Leah felt a rush of short-lived relief; of fondness and gratitude toward the other woman. Yes, she thought briefly, I found the right one this time.

Her thoughts were interrupted once more by Kel’s voice. “Who are you? Get out of my way.”

“I don’t think so,” Vesper continued in that low, calm voice that belied hidden danger. Leah could see the muscles of her shoulders pulled taut beneath her shirt, ready for a fight. Glancing between Kel’s burly form and Vesper’s lithe musculature, she could not say with any confidence who might win. “You’re not welcome here. Leave.”

Kel bulled right into Vesper’s personal space as if expecting her to step aside just because he said so. When she didn’t, a vein began to bulge in his forehead. “I don’t answer to you!” he shouted in her face. Leah cringed, but Vesper didn’t waver. “I’m here for Leah.”

“So am I,” the farmer said stolidly.

Kel spluttered furiously. “What, are you her new little girlfriend or something?” he demanded, scowling across at Leah. “You’re a lesbian now, is that it?”

“N-no, of course not!” Leah stammered out on instinct, and immediately regretted it when out of the corner of her eye she saw Vesper glance at her sharply, and was that—did she look almost hurt?  “I mean—” Oh, Yoba, she’d done it now. This was all too much. She couldn’t stand here, torn between her past and her present, trying to juggle them both in a way that wouldn’t leave them all shattered on the ground in the end. “I-I’m not—”

“Why are you even hanging around this stupid country bumpkin? What has she got to offer that I can’t?” Kel fumed.

That did it. All of Leah’s fear and anxiety and anger and uncertainty coalesced into a single boiling ball that shot to the surface and popped. In the moment directly following, a sharp, stinging clarity came over her and she found the strength to shout, “Vesper is a better person than you in every respect! She is kind and caring and strong and I’d choose her over you ten times out of ten.” That hit a nerve, if Kel’s face was any indicator, but for once the reaction filled Leah with resolve instead of regret. “Leave us alone!”

Kel, face red with rage, reached out to push past Vesper, snarling, “How dare you, you stupid, worthless sl—”

Vesper punched him in the nose.

It almost happened too fast for Leah to comprehend. One moment she was watching Kel attempt to charge toward her, fresh panic crawling up and freezing her muscles in place, and the next Kel was on the ground.

He didn’t stay that way for long. He got up, shouting and swearing and holding his bleeding nose, and swung a fist at Vesper. 

She dodged the first strike. She did not dodge the second. 

“Vesper!” Leah cried out as her farmer reeled and fell onto her rear in the grass, eyes glazed. She was too far away; too slow; too weak to stop Kel from charging his opponent and tackling her flat. Vesper fought back, and as the two of them became a tangled mass of flying limbs and blooming bruises, it hit Leah as she stood there, useless, just how far out of her depth she really was.

“Help!” she pleaded with the forest at large, hoping someone—anyone—was close enough to hear her, because this was not something she expected to resolve on its own. Stupid, she was cursing herself in her mind, stupid, stupid. You can’t even stand up for yourself, and look what happened. Stupid. She felt like crying or screaming, neither of which were very helpful options right now. What else could she do? Try to break up the fight? Run for help? None sounded better.

Thankfully, she did not have to choose. At that moment, the door of Marnie’s ranch banged open, spilling both Shane and Marnie herself from the opening. Both began running across the grass the second they recognized Vesper on the ground beneath the burly stranger.

“Hey!” Shane was shouting as he pulled ahead of Marnie, and even from this distance Leah could see the fury in his dark eyes. It was both frightening and gratifying to see such an intense reaction from the usually low-key character. Needless to say, Leah was glad to have him on her side. “Get the hell away from her!”

Kel scrambled back out of reach of Vesper’s fists as the villagers approached. Leah could see in his dull, angry eyes the moment he realized that he was outmatched. Only then did he struggle to his feet and begin to retreat. “This isn’t over,” he growled as he backpedaled toward the woods he’d emerged from like some hairy, hulking cryptid.

“Yes the hell it is!” Shane shot back dangerously, refusing to give up the chase. Behind him, Marnie had out her cellular phone, her face pinched and voice clipped as she spoke to what was surely the local police force. “Yes, the Cindersap Forest,” she was saying, “south of the ranch.”

Relief flooded Leah’s system as the situation simmered down and reality seemed to return. It had never ended like this before; with the prospect of justice to be served. It had always been her who’d been forced to back down; to keep her mouth shut. There was something freeing about simply having other people be there. She resolved to do something nice for Marnie and Shane once this mess was cleared up. 

Then her eyes cut to Vesper, and relief was overtaken by worry. Leah found herself running to the farmer’s side without ever telling her feet to move. There, she fell to her knees beside where the other woman was splayed out on the ground, cradling her ribs.

“Oh, Yoba, are you okay?” she breathed, blinking back the rising threat of tears as she took in the bruises on Vesper’s face and the cut above her eye. The last thing she needed to do right now was cry. Much higher on the list was help Vesper. “I’m sorry,” she managed hoarsely as she leaned down to coax Vesper’s free arm up and around her own shoulders. “I’m so sorry. Come on, let’s get you back to the cabin.”

With effort, the two of them were able to get Vesper shakily to her feet, and once she was sure they wouldn’t tumble back down again, Leah led the way toward her cottage. She passed Marnie, who was still on the phone, with a heartily mouthed thank you! and the silent promise to thank her properly later.

The older woman covered the receiver and replied tightly, “We’ll be over to check on you two in a minute, okay?” before returning to the call, and Leah nodded gratefully. She could hear Shane back behind them, still shouting into the woods.

Thank Yoba for them, she thought on a heavy sigh, muscles straining as she bore a good portion of Vesper’s weight up to her front door and across the threshold. The only thing on her mind once inside was how best to help her friend, so it was without words that she sat Vesper down on the chair in her kitchen, hurried to the cabinet where she kept her medicinal herbs, and began shoving rows of bundles and bottles around until she found the arnica and grasped it in a rush.

Vesper didn’t speak as Leah knelt in front of her chair and pushed her hair out of the way to reveal the worst of the bruises blooming on her brow. She didn’t even acknowledge when the redhead dipped her fingers in the jar of ointment and then touched them to her skin, rubbing gently. Leah hadn’t really expected the farmer to be talkative after waging a literal fistfight in her front yard, but the air between them felt tense and strange in the silence, and Leah couldn’t hold out long before it began to eat at her. She remembered with a shot of remorse what she’d been about to ask just before Kel arrived, and how much things had changed since then. If she and Vesper had been okay before, were they still? The farmer certainly looked pretty not okay. She kept her eyes down and her hands clasped together so tight the knuckles whitened, and the sight made Leah’s heart sink. She thought she might know what exactly had her so upset.

A disdainful accusation.

A quick denial.

A sharp, hurt glance.

Leah only lasted as long as it took to rub the arnica into the farmer’s head wound before bursting out, voice laced with apology, “Vesper—”

“Don’t,” the farmer mumbled, not looking up.

Leah brought a finger beneath her chin to try to coax her gaze up, pleading, “Vesper, please. I want you to understand—”

Vesper shook her head the slightest bit, unseating Leah’s hand. “I think I understand perfectly,” she said hollowly. Her voice was thick through her clogged and damaged nose, and it tore at Leah’s insides. It was nothing, though, compared to the sheer dread that seized her when the farmer stood up suddenly and turned toward the door.

“No!” Leah burst out, shooting to her feet and grabbing for Vesper’s hand. The farmer didn’t shake out of her grip, but neither did she return it. “You don’t understand. Please let me explain.”

Vesper gave no answer but to regard her with dead amber eyes, and Leah figured that was probably the best she was going to get. She took a deep, shaky breath and blinked back rising tears, unable to hold that gaze for long. She didn’t recognize this side of the farmer, and she didn’t like it. She missed the brightness; the warmth Vesper had always exuded before. She missed—she missed Vesper. The real Vesper.

She had to fix this.

“I’m—not usually into girls,” she began, and immediately winced. Her desperation intensified as the farmer gently extricated her hand from Leah’s and once again faced the exit. Before she realized that her feet were moving, Leah had rushed in front of her to block her path, hands outstretched as if to hold her in place. “I’m just into you."

Vesper’s bland expression didn’t change. “I’m a girl.”

Leah groaned and palmed her face, cursing her inability to communicate when it was important. She had to fix this, now. “Now is not the time to be a smartass,” she said weakly. “I just—I’m sorry.” She let her hand fall away and with it came the tears that she’d been trying to hold back since she laid eyes on Kel in the woods. They were accompanied by the beginnings of a sob, which she swallowed down quickly and tried to explain, voice trembling, “I-I wanted tonight to be nice because I just appreciate you so much, and it was great at first but then when Kel showed up and started yelling at me and at—at you, I panicked, and everything came out wrong and I—” She was breathing too hard, too fast. The tears wouldn’t stop and when she raised a hand to wipe them away it was trembling. Get a hold of yourself, she thought bitterly, scrubbing resentfully at her wet cheeks. She was so useless. And weak. She couldn’t defend herself against her past, and now she couldn’t even handle the present. She squeezed her eyes shut and turned away like it wasn’t too late to hide her state from Vesper.

Vesper, who had no reason to care anymore.

But who cared anyway. “Leah,” the farmer’s voice broke through the barrage of Leah’s miserable thoughts and soothed her like a balm. “Leah, flower, it’s okay.” Leah didn’t register the sound of footsteps on the floor that brought Vesper to her; only the way she was suddenly wrapped in a gentle, steadying embrace that smelled like grass and safety. She sank into it with a shudder, beyond relieved that she was still even allowed to touch Vesper like this. That the farmer didn’t seem angry; not really. On the contrary, she was soft and sympathetic as ever as she ran comforting hands over Leah’s back and murmured in her ear, “I’ve got you. I’m right here. You don’t have to worry about Kel anymore. Okay?”

Leah let out a deep, ragged sigh and buried her face in Vesper’s shoulder. “Stop, I’m the one trying to make you feel better,” she mumbled thickly through her tears.

Vesper sighed too, and it was just as deep and just as shaky. For a long minute she said nothing and simply stood there, holding Leah, soothing her like she was the one who’d just been punched in the face repeatedly and not the farmer. Leah both loved and hated it: loved it because obviously she wanted Vesper’s arms around her, and there was nowhere she felt safer than in this embrace; hated it because she was always the one breaking down and receiving the comforting and never the other way around. She hated her weakness. She just wished she knew how to stop it.

At length, Vesper’s low, rough voice pulled her out of her thoughts: “So, you’re into me?”

Leah couldn’t hold back a helpless little laugh. “It wasn’t obvious?” she said into Vesper’s shoulder. Was it just her, or did something there seem out of place?

“I didn’t want to assume. That’s the best way to be let down,” Vesper admitted. She spoke to a point a little past Leah’s ear, and somehow it was easier to talk like this, when neither could see the other. When neither could let the fear of judgment hold them back. “After the night of your art show it became pretty obvious, though.”

Leah groaned and buried her face in the gray cloth of Vesper’s shirt. “I wish you would tell me what happened,” she said, muffled.

“Nothing happened.”

“But what did I say? ”

Vesper fell silent, and Leah pulled back to gauge her reaction. She was mildly surprised to find that the farmer was chewing her lip intently, evidently actually considering telling her. Her heart began to climb into her throat as the moment of truth came rushing suddenly toward her. Now that she had the chance to know, did she actually want to? 

Looking into Vesper’s conflicted, downcast eyes, she supposed that either way, she ought to. She had to know what she possibly could have done to make her bright, cheerful farmer look quite this distressed. Hesitantly, she unwound herself from Vesper except for one hand that she kept linked with hers, giving the farmer space to gather herself.

Finally, terrifyingly, Vesper drew in a long, deep breath and let it out in a longer, deeper sigh. Her eyes came up to meet Leah’s, and the amber was shadowed with uncertainty. “You said you wanted to kiss me. I told you I wouldn’t believe that until I heard it from you sober.”

“Oh.” Leah didn’t register moving; only found herself with her head in her hands suddenly as the world spun and her heart stuttered in time with it. “Oh, Yoba.” She could feel the blood drain from her face, then rush back with a vengeance in a deep blush. No wonder she’s upset. No wonder things have been weird. I’m such an idiot. Leah looked up at the farmer quickly, feeling panic lick up like flames within her throat. Was this it? Had she ruined everything? “I’m so sorry, Vesper. That must have been so awkward,” she apologized in a rush, groaning and squeezing her temples. “Yoba! This is why I don’t drink around other people.”

Vesper didn’t immediately answer. She instead reached calmly for Leah’s wrists and, when the redhead didn’t resist, pulled them gently away from her head. When Leah met her eyes, the amber was unreadable but intense. “Do you?” Vesper asked.

Leah felt breathless; brainless. “What?”

“Want to kiss me.”

The world spun. Leah’s throat was so dry it hurt to swallow. All she could hear was her heartbeat. She was terrified, but this—this was it. This was her chance, cut and dried and laid out before her like a banquet, and all she had to do was take it. “I—I—” She still struggled to get the words out. She gulped down the lump in her throat and pressed on. “Of course I do. But I’m—scared,” she confessed. 

Vesper let out a breath of something like relief, her own face coloring a little. Her thumbs ran gently over the pulse points in Leah’s wrists. She had to feel the redhead’s heart racing, but she didn’t let go. “Scared of what?”

“Of how it turned out last time,” Leah provided softly, looking at the bruises all over the farmer’s face. She would have reached up to touch them, but she didn’t really want to break the contact they shared right now. 

Vesper’s grip tightened just a hint. “Leah,” she said rawly, and the sheer weight of her name as it fell from the farmer’s lips made her shiver. “I will never hurt you.”

Leah squeezed her eyes shut like the words themselves were a physical blow, remembering all those she’d suffered at Kel’s hands. All those Kel had bestowed upon Vesper, now, too. Imagining Vesper holding her like this forever, replacing the memory of each one with soft touches and kind words. “I know,” she breathed, feeling like she was drowning, if drowning could be pleasant. This was all too much. She gripped Vesper’s shirt in tight fingers like a lifeline. “I know.”

She felt Vesper brush back her long bangs; tuck them behind her ear. Then her hand lingered, thumb running reverently along the ridge of Leah’s cheekbone. “I…” Vesper’s voice came out hoarse, and she bit her lip. Leah looked up to meet her eyes and found them so warm, so full that it took her breath away. That was nothing, however, compared to the absolute punch to the gut that her next words provided:

“I love you.”

Leah was distantly aware that she was shaking. Her fingers trembled in the folds of Vesper’s shirt, and every breath she took shuddered in her lungs. The feeling took a back seat, however, to every other emotion raging through her right now—and there were a lot.

She didn’t know what to say to even begin to express them. So she didn’t.

Leah tightened her hold on Vesper and pulled her down into a kiss.

The first thought that entered her mind as her lips pressed desperately— finally— to the farmer’s was I’m so glad I’m sober for this. Because she doubted that a drunk version of herself would have been able to comprehend everything that she was feeling in this moment: the way Vesper’s chapped lips instantly caressed her own like something precious; the steadiness of the farmer’s hands as they flattened against the small of her back; the electric jolts of pleasure that shot through her insides at every touch. 

Her second thought was why on earth did we wait so long to do this?

Now that they’d started, she never wanted to stop. She could breathe in Vesper’s characteristic scent of grass and sunshine forever; tangle her fingers in navy hair and press herself into curves that seemed made just for her until the world ended. She’d wasted enough time already.

Vesper seemed to agree, if the way she held Leah so tightly was any indicator. She slid one hand down to Leah’s hip, pulling her closer while the other trailed teasing paths along the skin of her midriff, and the touch made her shiver. 

Head spinning, she broke away for an instant; just long enough to wonder breathlessly, “Is this how it’s supposed to feel?” In all her experience, she’d never been quite this affected by a single kiss. Never had her body felt this hot; her heartbeat this quick. She blinked up into Vesper’s hazy, half-lidded eyes and wondered if she looked that wrecked, too. Probably yes. Probably more.

“Yes,” the farmer whispered, lifting her hand to run her knuckles along Leah’s jaw.

The artist nearly swooned. “Oh, Yoba, Vesper,” she managed instead. She had to close her eyes and concentrate just to keep her breathing steady and rational thought within her grasp. Her insides felt as if they were twisting up like a dandelion crown and it wasn’t altogether unpleasant. In fact, she sort of didn’t want it to stop. The feeling intensified whenever Vesper touched her—like now, when her fingers began trailing down the side of her neck toward her collar, leaving tingles in their wake.

It was then that it hit Leah like a freight train exactly what she was feeling. What she had been feeling for weeks and maybe months and maybe since the very moment she laid eyes on this wonderful woman. She looked up again and met Vesper’s heavy gaze and found her courage in those warm golden depths. On a shuddering sigh, she confessed, “I love you too.”

Vesper’s answering grin was even, for once, and impossibly bright. It got in the way a little as the farmer leaned down and captured Leah’s lips once more, but she wouldn’t have traded the experience for a thing.

Finally, she thought in pure bliss as they lost themselves in each other again. Finally. 

…

Chapter Text

Things were different after their confession. A good different, certainly; warmer and brighter and more exciting, but also a tiny bit terrifying. It was just all so new. Leah wanted to spend every second with Vesper, and yet at the same time she knew she ought to be patient. She ought to go slow to give her heart a chance to get used to actual affection. She ought to let things develop between them at their own rate, because now she knew that they would. She knew Vesper felt the same way she did, and the knowledge was profoundly freeing. All she had to do was enjoy it. 

But that didn’t altogether stop her from trying to fan the flames just a little.

Vesper had just arrived at Leah’s table in the saloon, where she’d been nursing a wine and a salad, when the artist decided to make a move. “It must be cold in your farmhouse,” she said, letting the disingenuousness seep into her tone as she rested her chin in her hand to regard Vesper. She’d already had a couple drinks, and she was feeling bold. And hot. In a few different senses. “You can always come huddle under a quilt with me and drink cider.” She made sure her meaning was clear in the pull of her smile and the weight of her gaze.

At least, she thought she did.

“It’s not, really,” Vesper said from the seat beside her, and for a split second Leah was disappointed—right up until the farmer smirked crookedly and leaned in close like she was sharing a secret and whispered, right by Leah’s ear so the breath tickled her skin, “but I’d be glad to come huddle under a quilt with you anyway.”

Leah laughed breathlessly, a little surprised at the deft return of her flirtation. She’d known that Vesper was good at a different kind of flirting; the kind full of genuine compliments and sweet gestures and thoughtful gifts—but it turned out she could be a little naughty, too. Leah couldn’t help the huge grin that found its way across her face. “It’s my birthday on Thursday, you know,” she mentioned, leaning over so her shoulder bumped against Vesper’s.

“Oh, I know.” The farmer wrapped an arm around her proffered shoulders and pressed a quick kiss to her temple. “So it’s a date, then?”

“Bring something strong.” Leah bit her lip in an attempt to tamp down her silly smile, but it was a lost cause. She was just too happy like this; pleasantly buzzed, Vesper’s arm around her, the lazy evening atmosphere soothing her senses.

“Don’t I always?” Vesper replied roguishly with a smirk that dimpled her cheek. Then she pretended to have a realization, lifting her brows into a more innocent expression. “Oh, you meant to drink.”

Leah giggled and nudged her in the ribs before returning to her own drink. Her farmer’s arm stayed around her shoulders for the rest of the evening, and that’s about all of it that Leah remembered. Except for their upcoming date, of course.

… 

Thursday evening rolled around, and their date began just as they’d planned: in Leah’s cabin, the two of them huddled under a quilt, as prescribed. They were not, however, drinking any sort of cider. Vesper had brought a bottle of homemade wine again, and apparently she’d been experimenting with the process, because it actually tasted like wine this time rather than toxic school supplies.

Leah told her so through a giggle as they cuddled up beneath the blanket, Vesper leaned against the armrest and Leah curled up almost in her lap. Vesper only grinned and flicked her on the nose, and Leah supposed she deserved it. As she recovered, she took a deep draught of the wine and let the complex flavors bloom on her tongue before swallowing. It really was good. Even if she was somewhat biased.

Leah had resolved to limit her drinking this evening, though, considering what had happened last time. Although the risk of her embarrassing herself had lessened thanks to their newfound closeness, she wanted to be fully in possession of her faculties tonight. She wasn’t expecting anything huge to happen, of course, but as a rule she didn’t want to miss out on any of her time with her favorite person. And if something huge did happen, that was all the more reason to be as present as possible.

So, Leah finished her current glass—her second; she was keeping careful track—and placed it on the table, out of easy reach. Her cheeks felt flushed with a combination of the alcohol and her present company, and she was feeling the hint of pleasant floatiness in her head that meant she was just buzzed enough. Once her hands were empty, she wrapped her arms around Vesper’s middle and leaned against her chest with a sigh.

It was inexpressibly nice to be able to do things like this now without worrying what the gesture meant or how Vesper might react. Now, they knew what it meant, and they knew where they stood, and it was just such a relief that it still tended to knock the air out of Leah once in a while. She had trouble believing that it was reality, sometimes. 

Vesper always seemed to know when she needed convincing. 

Right now, the farmer reached up with her free hand and began threading her fingers through Leah’s hair, coaxing it out of its long braid. With each pass, her nails scratched at the nape of the redhead’s neck in a way that quickly set her to dozing. Leah was glad she’d put her wine down for fear that she might have dropped it. She tilted her head into the crook Vesper’s neck and breathed in her earthy scent. She’d be perfectly happy if this moment never ended, she thought.

Vesper’s chest rumbled against her as the farmer spoke up softly: “Remember the last time we did this?”

Leah chuckled into her skin. “No,” she reminded, brushing a fond kiss against the line of Vesper’s throat. “That was the whole problem, remember?”

The farmer snickered, fingers tightening momentarily in Leah’s hair in a way that made her wonder whether she might be ticklish. Quickly, though, she sobered again. “I’m sorry I took so long to tell you about it. I thought you would be embarrassed,” she murmured guiltily. 

“Of course I was,” Leah agreed, raising her head to meet Vesper’s eyes shyly, “but it was worth it. Right?” Vesper certainly had nothing to feel bad about. Sure, she hadn’t said anything, but anybody else would have done the same. Anybody else would have felt just as uncertain. Leah certainly would have. She would never blame the farmer for their miscommunication.

Vesper let out a weak noise of protest. “You have no idea how many times I thought I’d made a terrible mistake,” she went on. Her gaze grew heavy; warm, and her fingers slid to Leah’s jawline and traced it, achingly slow. “I wanted to kiss you so badly, too. I just wasn’t sure…” She took a long breath in and out like her nerves hadn’t quite settled in the wake of the memory. Then she shook her head slightly, displacing the thought, and ran her thumb lightly along Leah’s lower lip. “And then I was afraid I’d never get the chance again.”

“I know,” Leah whispered. She knew because she’d feared it, too. 

Vesper’s thumb lingered, and on a whim the redhead pressed a gentle kiss to it, feeling the firmness of callouses beneath her lips. She pulled away slowly, eyes glued to Vesper’s face to watch as the farmer’s expression shifted toward something unmistakably intense. A shiver ran through one of them, but it shook them both. Leah reached up to wrap her fingers around the stem of Vesper’s glass over the farmer’s, raising it between them in a sort of half-toast. “To being a couple of idiots,” she breathed before taking a drink.

“I’ll drink to that,” Vesper agreed in hoarse tones as she watched the artist’s throat jump in a swallow. She took the glass back and finished it before setting it aside. With both their hands now free and both their minds dulled by alcohol, the air between them seemed to thicken and heat up. Vesper was the first to cross it. “Happy birthday, Leah,” she whispered, leaning in, her fingers once again tangling in the artist’s hair.

Yes, it absolutely was, Leah silently agreed as she surged forward and closed the distance in a kiss.

It was different, this time.

It wasn’t just the fact that they were more comfortable in their relationship now. Nor was it the fact that they were completely alone this time with no threat of interruption, or the fact that they were practically tangled up together beneath a blanket on Leah’s couch (okay, maybe that was part of it). 

It was their intentions. It was the twisting, burning, aching feeling that had seized Leah’s insides and caused her heartbeat to start throbbing in places she didn’t dare acknowledge. It was the way Vesper’s grip on her bordered on desperate; the way her fingers sought out the strip of exposed skin at her midriff and curled into it, making her gasp. It was the way neither of them could quite catch their breath in between steady deepening kisses, and the way neither of them seemed to mind.

Maybe something huge would be happening tonight, after all.

Leah was overwhelmed by every sensation clamoring for her attention right now; the heat and the ache and the uncertainty and the want, but her body seemed to know better than her head did. Without really knowing what she was doing, she pushed Vesper back against the cushions and climbed properly atop her lap, straddling her hips. The farmer made a surprised noise, but when Leah broke away, intending to ask if she was all right, Vesper pulled her right back in. 

Okay, Leah thought, and even her mind’s voice was breathless, this is happening.

She couldn’t scrape together the awareness to feel nervous about that right now. She was too caught up in Vesper; her touch, her feel, the simple fact that it was her, the perfect, precious farmer of Stardew Valley that Leah was kissing right now. The fact that, for whatever reason, she’d fallen for Leah too. She wanted Leah too.

A shuddering breath left the artist’s chest, and the unexpected prickle of tears rose to her eyes. She was tempted to let them fall, but she did not want to ruin this moment for the world. Instead she took Vesper’s face in her hands and redoubled her efforts. The farmer matched the intensity of her touch willingly.

Blinded by the growing haze of desire blanketing her senses, Leah hardly registered the sensation of the suspenders slipping from her shoulders, or her shirt buttons yielding under deft fingers—hers or Vesper’s, she didn’t really know. She did, however, definitely notice when the farmer’s hands gravitated to the newly bared skin of her torso as if magnetically. It was there that Vesper finally paused, letting her head fall back against the armrest so she could look Leah in the eye. The amber of her own was barely visible in a ring around swollen pupils, and she’d never looked more beautiful.

“Are you okay with this?” she asked, voice low and rough and enticing.

Leah took the chance to catch her breath and brush straggling red hairs out of her eyes. She was already a wreck, and all they’d done was kiss. “Yes,” she responded with every ounce of certainty she could muster, pressing Vesper’s palms securely to her exposed waist. Then she scanned Vesper’s face, hesitating. “Are you?”

Vesper squeezed the curve of her flanks slightly, comforting, and replied, “Yeah. Just…” Her gaze slid off to the side, looking uncertain above flushed cheeks. She shifted on the couch and the motion had the unintended side effect of rubbing right against Leah’s body, and she stifled a gasp. Vesper regarded her almost shyly from beneath dark eyelashes. “Bear with me, okay? This is kind of new.”

The air rushed from Leah’s chest. New? she wondered incredulously. Vesper had certainly seemed like she knew what she was doing. “You’re doing great,” she assured, maybe a little too enthusiastically.

Vesper giggled at the compliment. Then her smile mellowed into something warm and deep and happy, and she said softly as she ran a light thumb over Leah’s skin, “I love you, you know.”

Leah’s heart tripped. At the same time, she felt lighter than air. She didn’t know if she would ever get over how easily that phrase came out of Vesper’s mouth; how easily she just believed it wholeheartedly. Part of her hoped not. She ducked her head in a halfhearted attempt to hide her silly, flustered grin and failed. “I love you, too.”

Vesper returned it, which made her feel a little better. Then the farmer abruptly pushed herself upright, almost unseating Leah except for the hold she kept around her waist, and leaned in again. And—

Maybe it was the surprise that made the following kiss to her throat hit Leah so hard, or maybe it was just the fact that she was very sensitive by this point, but she physically jerked at the sudden shot of pleasure it caused her. Vesper hummed, pleased at her success, and began trailing a string of additional kisses down the curve of her neck. The feeling of her lips on the tender skin was powerful enough, but when she reached the crook of Leah’s neck and bit—

A strangled noise escaped her. Vesper pulled back far enough to meet her eye, looking somehow both smug and concerned, and Leah panted for breath in the pause.

“I thought you didn’t know what you were doing,” she gasped out, accusing.

Vesper gave her that old crooked smirk of hers. “I’m a fast learner.”

“No kidding.”

The farmer’s expression sobered a little as she chewed her lip uncertainly. Along with the redness in her cheeks and the brightness in her eyes, it made Leah want to kiss her more than ever. The feeling only intensified when she fielded tentatively, “Do you want to, um—to keep going?”

Leah let out a long, slow breath, trying to get a grip on her thoughts. Did she want to? That was the question, wasn’t it? Her body said yes, obviously, but her body was not the only voice in the matter, no matter how drunk she was on wine and Vesper. Her head reminded her of Kel; of fear and regret and embarrassment. Her heart reminded her that this was all so new. But it also reminded her of every tender feeling she’d held toward Vesper since the second they’d met, and all the waiting and the confusion and the relief of finally dashing every obstacle away. 

She loved Vesper. She didn’t intend to ever stop. And she was right here within her grasp, so…

Why not?

“Yes,” she said finally, barely a breath, cradling Vesper’s face with a gentle hand so she could hold those shining eyes, “but we don’t have to. We’re in this together, okay?” She slid that hand around to the back of the farmer’s head and ran her fingers through unkempt navy waves. “What do you want?”

Vesper sighed, and it shook on the way out. She let her eyes drift shut and leaned in to Leah so their foreheads met. Her hands pressed warm against the skin of her torso. “I want you,” she whispered so soft it was hardly audible, and it breezed against Leah’s lips.

That was all she needed to hear before her inhibitions scattered to the wind. When she leaned in again to capture Vesper’s lips, it felt different yet again. Against all odds, it was not about desire this time. It was not about the heat and the ache and the want. It was about love, and Leah wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“I love you,” she murmured again, just for good measure, as she surrendered to her farmer’s touch. And though Vesper didn’t say it back this time, her meaning was clear in the way she held her; touched her; had her as evening darkened into night and the heat in the room only grew even as the fire in the hearth faded.

Leah couldn’t have asked for a better gift.

… 

Leah was standing at the stove flipping an omelet when Vesper walked in the front door, still smelling strongly of freshly cut grass from the field.

“Hey, flower,” she announced her presence in case Leah hadn’t immediately gathered it was her. The redhead heard the twin thuds of Vesper’s boots coming off and the rustle of her hat on the coat rack and sighed contentedly. This, she could get used to. This, she could spend the rest of her life doing and never get tired of it: living effortlessly alongside her favorite person, every day just the same, but comfortable, never boring.

Vesper’s soft footsteps drew closer. At the kitchen table, they paused. “What’s this?” came the curious question.

Leah didn’t know what she was talking about for a split second before it hit her and her heart dropped into her toes and she turned just in time to see the farmer reach for her sketchpad and flip to the latest page, too late to protest, “No wait, don’t—!”

She could tell the exact moment when Vesper registered what was on the most recent page, because she went incredibly still. “Oh,” the farmer murmured very softly, the look on her face perfectly shocked. Leah held her breath in anticipation of the moment that her shock would turn to anger or disgust or disappointment and she would walk right out the door, never to return. Her grip was white-knuckled on the spatula and she knew her face must be the same color as Vesper’s eyes raised slowly to her own. Leah opened her mouth with a thousand apologies on the tip of her tongue, but then she froze when she saw the look on the farmer’s face. Vesper was… smirking? It was a crooked little thing, curling higher on the right so a little laugh line dug into her cheek, and Leah was reminded exactly why she’d drawn the dangerous image now exposed to the world. The farmer’s next words were virtually a purr: “I see.”

All the breath rushed out of Leah, and with it came the apologies anyway. “I’m so sorry. This is so embarrassing. I didn’t think anyone would see—”

“Oh, so it’s just for your own benefit?” Vesper cut her off, brows lifting mischievously, and this was so much worse than anger. Anger, Leah knew how to weather. How to handle. But this—

“It’s not like that!” she shrilled, feeling her cheeks burn hotter than the stove she was cooking on. But Vesper kept holding her gaze, and the sketchbook was still open to that drawing, and Leah was in no state to hold onto her composure for long. She let her shoulders slouch and confessed weakly, “…not exactly.” Oh, she was going to die on the spot.

The farmer took another glance down at the sketch—the very detailed sketch of herself in a very compromising position—and then back at Leah. She leaned her hip against the table as if she intended to stay awhile. “I’m listening,” she prompted, the smirk audible in her voice.

Leah was trapped. She dropped the spatula onto the counter so she could bury her face in both hands. Surely she could cook the rest of dinner with her cheeks alone. “I-I just—” she struggled for a suitable excuse; for what on earth had made her think drawing that particular picture was a reasonable thing to do, and couldn’t come up with anything better than the lame, lovesick truth: “I think you’re beautiful. I like to draw beautiful things.”

“Naked,” Vesper added incredulously.

“Ugh!” Leah would fold in on herself and disappear if she could. Or simply melt on the spot. It felt like that might happen soon. “It—it’s an anatomy study.” Her voice sounded much higher than it was supposed to.

“Is that why you’re the color of a tomato?” the farmer teased.

“Vesper,” groaned Leah, a plea for mercy.

The other woman chuckled softly in her throat and—thank Yoba—let the pages of the sketchbook fall back into place. The kitchen chair creaked as she lowered herself into it. “Relax, flower,” she soothed, no trace of judgment in her voice. “If I could draw, I’d draw you naked too.” She flashed another rakish smile and held out one hand to Leah, inviting her closer.

The artist sighed heavily, still feeling like she’d flown a little too close to the sun, but stepped forward and placed her own hand in Vesper’s. She didn’t resist as the farmer pulled her gently in, laying kisses along her reddened knuckles. She did feel the need for one last weak protest: “The term is nude.”

“Mhmm.” Vesper effectively dashed all remaining thought as she ghosted her lips up the inside of Leah’s arm, then released her hand to wrap her own around the artist’s waist. Once Leah was close enough, those roaming lips found the strip of exposed skin at her midriff and began feathering toward her belly button. Leah fought off a hearty shudder and threaded needy fingers into Vesper’s hair, inviting her—urging her to continue. The farmer let out a laugh that brushed warm against Leah’s skin before closing her lips over her belly button and sucking softly. And—

Yoba, that went straight to her core. Leah let out a ragged sigh and gave in to Vesper’s gentle tug on her hips, sliding onto the farmer’s lap so her kisses trailed slowly higher: up her sternum, between her breasts, to her neck, where they landed and pulled at the skin again. Leah was steadily losing all awareness of anything but the farmer’s attention, and it was all she could do to grip her solid shoulders and keep from melting into a much more pleasurable puddle than before. She wasn’t quite sure when her eyes had slipped closed, or when her mouth had fallen open. She was past caring.

The farmer gave a satisfied hum against the soft spot behind the corner of her jaw. “I could pose for you, if you want,” she murmured there, intentionally teasing her lips against Leah’s skin, and Leah lost the ability to breathe for a few seconds. When her air returned, it was with a thread of a moan. She felt more than heard Vesper laugh against her again. “Or we could try something more hands-on.” The demonstrative climb of her hands up Leah’s spine was enough to start her shivering all over.

And Leah was one hundred percent about to take her up on that offer, but a sudden, urgent thought came careening to the front of her mind—on the waft of smoke that hit her nose.

“Oh, no! The food!”

In a second Leah was on her feet and lunging for the stove, where she found her omelet browned a few miles past golden and the pan smoking into the chimney. “Stupid!” she cursed herself as she grabbed the pan and virtually threw it onto the nearby oven mitt for it to cool, then threw the stove switch to off. It still smelled like smoke. That wasn’t going to filter out for a while. She lowered her reddened face into her hands, groaning miserably. How had she been so careless?

A hand on her back reminded her how. When she didn’t resist, Vesper stepped up behind her and slid that hand fully around her waist, giving a brief, comforting squeeze. “Sorry, flower,” she said by Leah’s ear, chin resting on her shoulder. She genuinely sounded embarrassed. “That’s my fault.”

Leah sighed out her tension and leaned her head against the farmer’s. She supposed it wasn’t really that catastrophic that dinner was burned, she just…had wanted to do something nice for her partner, and when things got distracting it totally slipped her mind. “You’d better eat it still,” she said, halfheartedly scolding. It was sort of Vesper’s fault. Not that Leah had minded the interlude at all. Or done anything to stop it.

Vesper laughed good-naturedly and gave Leah’s cheek a peck. “Of course I will,” she agreed, “as long as you eat it too.”

“Fine,” Leah pretended to grumble, but turned her head to catch the farmer’s lips in a proper kiss, if a bit awkward from the angle. She couldn’t stay mad over something like this. She reached down to lace her fingers with Vesper’s across her own stomach, gave a fond squeeze, and then pulled gently out of her embrace. “Have you got the plates?”

Vesper retrieved them, and they went about dishing out their slightly less-than-flawless meal. 

They finished it all. It was burned, but it was worth it.

…

Chapter Text

The rest of the winter seemed to fly by in a pleasant haze. Every day was nearly the same, and yet Leah greeted each morning with a giddy feeling pressing insistently at the inside of her chest, reminding her, you get to see Vesper today. And she never got tired of it.

She’d never had this before. Never felt so strongly about someone else; never gotten so excited at the prospect of simply seeing their face and hearing their voice. Never thought about them day and night and even in her dreams. 

And she knew she was being silly. She knew this was probably just a hallmark of a healthy relationship. Knew this feeling would probably fade. That she’d probably, eventually, be able to face her partner without feeling her heart leap and her face burn. But for now, she was on cloud nine. 

And Vesper was coming over tonight.

Vesper came over on most nights, in all fairness. She would make any excuse to visit, no matter how far-fetched (no matter that she didn’t need one at all), but today’s was especially warranted.

Today was New Year’s Eve.

Before now, celebrating the new year had always been something of a chore for Leah rather than a pleasure. She’d never really understood why people got so excited about what ultimately amounted to just another day. The new year wasn’t really some fresh start; people didn’t really change. Things never really changed. Not for Leah, anyway. So she had never gotten her hopes up about some silly man-made milestone; never really enjoyed all the rigamarole that came with it.

Until now. 

Now, things really had changed. Leah really had had a fresh start, sort of. At least, she felt like a different person than she was a year ago. So many things were different, and all for the better. This new year, Leah felt like celebrating. 

And luckily, so did Vesper.

“I brought dinner,” the farmer announced as Leah let her into her cottage that evening, a basket hung in the crook of her elbow. Her bulky black winter coat was zipped up to her chin and her nose shined pink with the chill that followed her inside. She went immediately to the table and started to unpack her bounty. “What better way to ring in the new year, huh?” 

“Oh, I can think of one,” Leah joked, wiggling her eyebrows and biting her lip suggestively as she shut the door behind her visitor. When Vesper shot her a mock stern glance, she let the farce fall. She crossed to the farmer’s side and wrapped an arm around her waist. “Really, though. This is lovely. Thanks, Vesper.”

The other woman paused in arranging their meal to press a kiss to Leah’s brow. “Anything for you, flower.”

Even after all the time they’d spent together—all the things they’d done together—little comments like that still made Leah’s heart stumble and her ears burn. She faltered, trying to come up with a suitable response, but Vesper was always better at that sort of thing than her. Being so open. Being so loving. Leah cleared her throat, her scrambling mind searching for something to focus on, and landed on the food. That was something she could talk about without embarrassing herself, right? She took in the rapidly growing spread: the salad, the goat cheese, the muffins—all her favorite things. Except— “No wine tonight?”

“Nope,” replied Vesper. “I’d rather experience tonight sober.” Her voice when she said it was warm, low, like there was some meaning behind it that Leah didn’t understand, and she kept her eyes down so it was impossible to get a clue as to what it might be.

Leah gave her side a squeeze and decided to be direct. “Oh? What makes tonight so special?”

“It’s a surprise.” Vesper’s cheek dimpled as she smiled to herself. 

Leah let out a little sigh. That was fine; she could wait. It was only a matter of how long. Even now, she could feel the impatient little kid in her bouncing on her toes, wondering what Vesper could mean. But she wouldn’t pry. She would be a mature young woman and hold her tongue until her partner was ready to share.

No problem.

They talked casually enough over dinner. She loved everything Vesper made, and it was easy for her to get lost in enjoying the food instead of fishing for secrets. She asked the farmer about her day, which was always a tossup between mundane chores and frightening supernatural experiences, and Vesper asked her about her day, which was usually full of art. That was one side effect of being content with her life, Leah had found: it became really easy to make art. She just saw so much beauty everywhere now. Plus she had a gorgeous muse, too.

Leah found herself saying less and less as the conversation continued on into the evening. It was more enjoyable just to sit there and watch Vesper animatedly explain her plans for the farm: how well her goats were doing, how much she’d expanded her viable cropland. The shine in her amber eyes was enough to warm Leah’s heart, and the way she grinned in undying optimism was just so charming. Leah could look at her forever; hear her talk forever. 

How did I ever get this lucky?

It was only when Vesper faltered to a halt, blushing, that Leah realized she’d spoken aloud. She stiffened instantly, opening her mouth with an apology ready on her lips, and then paused. A realization hit her, gently and with a bloom of warm excitement:

She didn’t have to apologize. There was nothing to be sorry for. She loved Vesper and Vesper loved her and they were allowed to talk about it. She was allowed to say things like that.

So Leah let the words hang in the air; let a shy smile spread over her face as she watched her partner play the flustered role for once. When Vesper failed to come up with a response, she snickered. “Beet red looks good on you, babe.”

Vesper let out a huff and covered her burning cheeks with both hands, but she was smiling too. “I should have known the tables would turn one of these days,” she lamented.

“I learned from the best.”

“Well,” Vesper leaned forward on her elbows, letting her eyes go half-lidded as she held Leah’s gaze, “just for the record, I consider myself lucky, too.”

Just like that, Leah was flushing to the tips of her ears, too. She broke out in laughter, and soon Vesper joined her and Leah felt the familiar swell of happiness press at the inside of her chest. She would be content to stay here, just like this, forever, she thought. 

She reached across the table to take Vesper’s hand, just to touch her, and they fell into a companionable silence. It was nice—so nice—but not much of a New Year’s celebration, Leah had to admit. So she reached for the radio on the kitchen counter and flicked it on for some pleasant atmosphere, tuning in to the Zuzu City station. it was the only channel they could get out here, but it was good enough.

All of the songs on the air tonight were upbeat instrumental numbers one might be able to party to, if so inclined. With Joja advertisements in between each one, of course. Leah turned the volume down low so the sounds blended into the background. The two resumed their conversation, a little more reserved; a little closer together, as evening matured into night.

Leah almost forgot entirely that the radio was on, the soft music was so like part of her own thoughts. That is, until something different came on. Something slow and sweet and—dare she say it—romantic. And Vesper didn’t waste a second in taking advantage of the development. She pushed to her feet, extending a hand back down for Leah. Her lips were curled in that crooked smile and Leah knew exactly what she was going to say before she said it:

“Would you like to dance?”

Leah giggled despite her reservations—she was terrible at dancing; her dexterity apparently stopped at hand-eye coordination. “I’m going to step on your toes,” she warned, though she was already standing, placing her hand tentatively in Vesper’s waiting palm. 

And Vesper swept her away.

It was supposed to be a waltz, maybe, except Leah was as clumsy as she’d forewarned and completely failed to fall into any sort of rhythm as Vesper tried to show her the steps. It wasn’t long, then, before the farmer laughed helplessly and gave up and they began to make up their own instead. They swayed there in Leah’s cramped little living room, weaving between the couch and the table and the artworks strewn about. Leah didn’t care so much about the dance, though, as she did the feeling of her partner’s arms around her waist and the warmth between them. She leaned into Vesper, resting her head on her shoulder to breathe in her grassy, comfortable scent. This, she thought absently for what was neither the first nor last time, this is what I want.

Love. Security. Simplicity. She saw now that that’s what Stardew Valley was all about. At least, what it was now about; now that Vesper was its star citizen. Now that she’d brought the townspeople together and improved their lives and provided them a glimpse at a bright future. And none so much as Leah. She really was lucky that they’d met. Lucky that Vesper had taken an interest in her, too, and allowed them to grow so close. Lucky that Vesper loved her.

Or maybe the word was blessed. 

Regardless of who deserved her thanks, Leah was thankful. And she was so, so happy.

She was deep enough in her thoughts that it caught her off guard when Vesper suddenly spun her into a dip. She yelped, throwing her arms around the farmer’s neck to catch her balance, though she should not have feared. Vesper didn’t struggle with her weight at all as she held her up, leaning in close so their noses almost brushed. Leah caught her breath in a gasp, eyes flicking down of their own accord because this was the perfect moment to kiss her—

And then a flash caught her eye: something blue on a chain, falling from the collar of Vesper’s shirt. A necklace?

“Jewelry?” Leah asked a little breathlessly, hyper-aware of Vesper’s lips so close to her own; the shape of firm muscles beneath her fingertips. It made her mind move a little slow. Made her hone in inexplicably on something as insignificant as jewelry right now; made her say, “Since when do you wear—” 

Then it hit her.

A blue pendant. The shape of a slim, twisted seashell, glinting iridescent in the light, like maybe it wasn’t quite of this world. Vesper, wearing it tonight of all nights, telling her I’d rather experience tonight sober. 

It’s a surprise.

Leah couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t take her eyes from the mermaid pendant, because that’s unmistakably what it was. Couldn’t wrap her head around just what it meant.

She reached out with one trembling hand to touch it. It was warm from Vesper’s skin, maybe. Or maybe something else. “Is—is this—?”

For a long, heavy moment, Vesper didn’t offer a reply except to pull Leah upright once more and wrap her in a slow, snug embrace—which was good, because the redhead’s knees had gone weak.

“Vesper,” she said hoarsely, almost a plea. Begging her to explain. To confirm both her wildest dream and her greatest fear. Her fingers dug into Vesper’s shoulders as the farmer lowered them both onto the couch, supporting her. “Are you—?”

“I wasn’t exactly sure how the tradition goes,” said the farmer softly, looking Leah right in the eyes, though she sounded painfully unsure. One of her hands traced the redhead’s spine. “Whether I was supposed to wear it or offer it to you or what. So…” She shrugged bashfully, cheeks flushing, but did not look away. The amber of her eyes was impossibly warm and intense and Leah wanted to shy away from it and drown in it all at once. Vesper seemed just as conflicted, but her grip on Leah remained steady. Her next words were hardly more than a breath: 

“Will you marry me?”

Oh.

Oh, Yoba.

This is happening.

Leah’s head was spinning. Marriage? What would that mean for them? Spending every day together, in the same house. Spending every night together, in the same bed. Sharing their lives together: the good, the bad, the ugly. The beautiful. Being together. Facing the future together. Forever. 

It was frightening.

At the same time, it was practically what they’d been doing for months already. It was only a matter of making it official. Making it public. Making it permanent.

She wants me to marry her.

Oh, Yoba.

Leah couldn’t help it. She started to cry. 

Vesper was right there to comfort her. “Hey,” she soothed, running steadying hands up and down Leah’s arms, grounding her. Her brow was furrowed in concern—or fear—but she assured regardless, “We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready. Or if this isn’t what you want.” 

“N-no,” Leah blurted through her tears. She sniffed, and it sounded disgusting. She probably looked disgusting, too. She wants me to marry her?  “I—I want to. I do. I accept!” she cried, and meant it with all her heart. She was shaking all over as she threw her arms around Vesper’s neck. They kissed, somewhat desperately and messily, and then had to break away because Leah could barely breathe. “I just can’t believe…” Her air left her on a shudder, and she wiped at her eyes to buy time. To steady herself.

It hardly worked.

Vesper leaned in; pressed their foreheads together. Her hair ticked Leah’s brow. “What?” she prompted softly, torn between giddy hopefulness and the lingering cobwebs of concern.

Leah let out a laugh that was half sob. She just felt so full. “My whole life, people have told me that I wasn’t good enough. That I couldn’t possibly make my way as an artist. As my own person.” She paused to sniff and wipe her eyes again, and her fingers shook. “I started to believe that happy endings only happened in stories. But you…” Leah lifted her hands to cradle Vesper’s face. It felt like touching the sun; capturing the stars. Like it couldn’t possibly be real. “You make me feel like I could do anything.”

“I love you,” Vesper replied instantly, like it was that simple; that obvious—like it could solve anything.

And maybe it could. It was certainly enough for Leah.

The artist sank into her partner’s—her fiancée’s—embrace, and it felt like two halves of a whole finally coming together. “I love you, too,” she said through fresh tears. Unmistakably happy ones, this time. She let out a sigh, tightening her grip on Vesper, and admitted, “I always thought it would be awfully terrifying to commit to something so big.”

Vesper brushed a kiss over her brow. Not the first, and certainly not the last. They had forever together now, after all. “And is it?”

“Yes,” Leah confessed, laughing, “but I’m so happy I hardly notice.”

…