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She had never meant for it to go this far. She didn’t even like sheep that much either, but the joke had been worth it to begin, just to see the disgust on his face, to see the resignation as she promised him it would be something he would like only to find yet another novelty sheep print item. The house was full of them now, sheep.
She wouldn’t have said as much, but she liked the way they reminded her of him.
She liked the way, after the horror, he looked at her with something she’d almost call adoration.
Perhaps a whole sheep was a little too far.
“His name is Finn,” she said as Herc peeled back the paper to reveal glass eyes staring at them.
“Oh,” said Herc, and it wasn’t lost on her the way his whole body tensed, how he avoided her eye. It had been a funny idea when she’d had it. She should have known when the odds had stacked against her in Ireland, between the rain and the geese. But she had committed to the joke, and it was almost funny to watch his reaction.
Commitment was what he wanted, wasn’t it?
They ended up walking long and far to try and find the best routes around the hills near Fitton. She never said as much, but as she led them down the winding trails away from the well-worn paths, through trees and past fences, it was obvious enough what she was trying to do. He never said as much, but the fact that she cared so silently made him want to follow wherever she would lead. He’d follow her through any sheep-filled field as long as he could hold her hand, because he knew she’d hold tight and not let go.
Eventually, it went so far as to become a thing, and once it became a thing, it stopped being so funny. There were only so many sheep related things she could buy him before he became totally desensitised, and once he even stopped frowning at his gifts, she stopped deliberately seeking out gaudy socks and silly tableware.
It was only worth it while it was making him grimace. It was only worth it when he tactfully put an item aside and still smiled genuinely at her as he said thank you, gently, no matter what.
She liked seeing him smile.
She had never meant for it to go this far. She didn't even like sheep that much either, but even now she had stopped, everyone else had caught on that the Knapp-Shappey-Shipwright motif was sheep and they both clenched their teeth politely at scarves and mugs and doormats.
They laughed together about it, sometimes, about that walk. About Finn MacCool III who still stood proud in the living room. About the dinner party they could throw in a complete sheep theme.
It might have been tiresome, but it was theirs. She liked seeing a sheep and being reminded of him.