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Hair combed nicely? Check.
Fresh, clean clothes? Check.
Stomach rumbling? Double check.
James figured, what better way to fill his growling stomach than with a pub feed on a Friday evening, especially when he hadn’t been afforded the luxury of his own kitchen yet. He’d been working incredibly hard, after all. He deserved a night off that didn’t consist of something instant he could use a microwave for.
To his delight, when he arrived at the saloon, it seemed to be rather busy. This meant James could scope out his new neighbours without being too bombarded.
James approached the bar and realised that most of the barstools were taken—all but one.
Everyone he’d met in Pelican Town had been rather pleasant, probably small town perks he figured. So surely, surely taking up the last available barstool wouldn’t be a problem.
“Ah! New farmer!” The chirpy, plump man behind the bar with a moustache greeted him, “Welcome! I hope you’re settling in well at the old farm. Your first drink is on me, what can I get you?”
Well, isn’t that just nice and handy?
“Oh, thanks. Just a beer?”
“Of course!”
The man toddled off, leaving James to sit and twiddle his thumbs.
Then, a grumble from beside him.
He turned his head to see who’d made the offending sound, finding a rather gruff looking bloke sitting there, beer in hand and pulled to his lips.
James looked him over quickly. He looked short, at least, shorter than himself. The unkempt stubble along his jaw and deep-set bags under his eyes gave James’ the impression he probably hadn't had a good night's sleep in a while. His short, dark hair was messy, like he hadn't bothered to run a comb through it, and his clothes didn’t look dirty, as such, but they definitely looked well-worn.
The guy had the aura of someone who didn’t particularly want company, but James was already there, and he’d be damned if he’d let the two of them sit there in silence.
His beer arrived swiftly and James was quick to order just a plain pizza to satiate his rumbling stomach, which seemed to pique the interest of the guy sitting next to him. Not enough for a conversation to start, but enough for James to feel the eyes burning into his skin.
James’ supposed now was as good a time as any for introductions.
He swung his barstool around, facing the nameless face who was apparently not just looking at him, but glaring at him.
“Hey, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m James, I just moved here—”
“I know. Everyone knows. New farmer, moved from the city,” he huffed.
No need to talk about myself then.
With the small talk about himself out of the way thanks to the apparent small town rumour mill doing it’s job, James decided he was going to crack this guy.
“Okay, well, you seem to know enough about me,” James grinned, pulling his drink up to his face and sipping, trying hard not to make a face at the bitter brew. “What do you do?”
“‘Nunya business.”
James raised an eyebrow, suppressing a grin, though not too successfully because he felt that all too familiar twitch in the corner of his mouth.
Okay, so this guy wasn’t much of a talker.
Challenge accepted. He wasn’t going to just let the conversation die right there.
“Shane! Another beer?”
The blue-haired woman behind the bar—Emily, if James was getting his names lined up with the right people—called out, wiping a glass with a cloth.
‘ Shane’ simply offered a half-hearted nod, barely acknowledging her as he knocked back the dregs of his current drink.
But James was focused on the name. Shane. Gruff, very low tolerance for small talk, and a high tolerance for alcohol. Apparently a regular at the saloon, too.
"So, Shane," James started probing, drumming his fingers against his own beer glass, "since you already know everything about me, maybe I can take a few guesses about you?"
Shane sighed but said nothing. That wasn’t a no.
James smirked. That was all the confirmation he needed to try and crack this egg.
“Alright, let’s see,” James pondered. “You work early mornings, judging by those bags under your eyes. Maybe… construction? You work with the carpenter?”
Shane scoffed, accepting his fresh beer without a word, “Wrong.”
“Okay…” James tapped his chin. “Something where you don’t have to deal with people much, probably. A fisherman?”
Shane snorted, then frowned again, “Do I look like I want to spend my days out on the water?”
James tilted his head.
No. No he did not. Not with that figure.
“Okay, fair...” James hummed for a moment before snapping his fingers in Shane’s direction. “I’ve got it. You work with animals.”
Shane froze for half a second, but James simply broke into a wide smile. He’d caught him.
“Here’s your pizza,” blue-haired Emily said, wandering over and placing James’ meal down in front of him, “Hey, Shane, do you have a shift tomorrow? I think Pam said something about needing more sugar but refusing to buy at Pierre’s and—”
Oh, so that was it. Shane worked at that Jojamart in town.
The bags under the eyes and grizzly mood suddenly made a lot of sense.
James took a bite of his pizza and watched Shane squirm as Emily seemed to divulge everything he was intentionally keeping quiet.
When Shane offered her a quick, “Yes. I’ll be there. Yes. I’ll deal with Pam.” she wandered off, leaving them alone yet again.
“So, Joja—”
"Ever thought about shutting the fuck up and fucking off?" Shane snapped, eyes finally finding James’ face.
But James just smiled and took another bite of his pizza.
He was going to get through to this guy.
------------✧♡✧-------------
James wasn’t sure what made Shane do what he did. Well, that was a lie. He’d established that the second Shane’s fist collided with his jaw.
Ouch. Ouch, ouch, ouch.
James had to admit, he didn’t really do himself any favours. He’d pestered Shane in the saloon before, a place he now realised was Shane’s safe space.
But, determined to be stubborn and crack Shane, especially given the knowledge James had stored that Shane worked at Jojamart, James was persistent.
At least someone in the town could relate to his distaste for JojaCorp, it just sucked that it so happened to be the one guy who didn’t want to talk about it.
James understood that now. But oh, how hindsight was a wonderful thing.
That evening as he wandered into the saloon, still not afforded the luxury of a kitchen yet, hoping to grab a quick bite of dinner to replenish his energy after another tedious day trudging away on the farm, James found himself sitting next to Shane again.
It wasn’t James’ fault everyone else intentionally left that spot open.
“Bad day at work?” James asked.
That was his first mistake.
Shane offered him a grumble in response as he leaned more forward onto the bar and sipped on his beer.
“You know,” James began, tapping his fingers against the same bar, “I used to work for JojaCorp too. Not in a store, but my previous role involved a lot of social networking.”
“Is that why you don’t take any hints?”
"Guess I just like a challenge," James said, causing Shane to huff an annoyed laugh through his nose. Barely, though. It was so faint that James might’ve imagined it.
"So, what’s Joja like on the other side? I know what it’s like behind a desk—soul-sucking, life-crushing—but what’s it like stocking shelves and actually dealing with customers?"
Shane took a long swig of his beer before answering.
“Why do you care? Weren’t you just some pencil-pushing asshole?”
James raised an eyebrow but offered him a smirk anyway, "Pencil-pushing ex -asshole, thank you very much."
Shane grunted, "Yeah? And now you're a dirt-digging asshole."
James laughed, "Well, you’re not wrong. But at least the dirt doesn’t breathe down my neck about productivity reports or threaten to replace me with a fresh college grad willing to work for half my pay when I dare complain about it.”
Shane made a noise in the back of his throat. It sounded like a weird mix between a scoff and a laugh, but he quickly covered it by tipping his beer back, wiping the droplets that fell down his chin with his sleeve.
“That what happened?” Shane muttered, placing his empty stein down with a heavy thud.
“More or less,” James shrugged, “I mean, I quit before they could actually replace me, but yeah. Got sick of working for bosses who didn’t care, who’d replace you without a second thought.” He chewed his lip for a brief second, watching Shane before proceeding. “Guessing you’re still stuck in it though.”
Shane’s grip on his empty glass tightened, “Some of us don’t have the luxury of ‘gettin’ sick of it’ and just walking away. Some of us have bills to pay and people to look after.”
Ah. There it was.
James had gotten under his skin. He didn’t do it intentionally and he certainly wasn’t aiming to piss Shane off, but he was also sort of glad he managed to crack that shell just a little more.
“Come on, Shane. Anyone can take the leap if they want to. You don’t have to stay there forever.”
Shane’s eyes snapped to his, and even though James hadn’t known him that long, he could see a burning fire behind them.
“And what? Freeload? Mooch off the town? Try and work for fuckin’ Pierre? You’re kidding aren’t you, city boy?”
“Sure, it might mean taking a paycut for a while, but I’m certain you can afford to—”
“Dont talk to me about fuckin’ paycuts.”
James’ eyes narrowed. He noticed Shane’s speech was starting to slur just a little bit.
Drunk again. Shocking .
“Why?”
Well, that was James’ third mistake. His first was entering the saloon that evening, his second was sitting next to Shane.
Shane let out a loud scoff that had a few heads turning in their direction.
“What? You come in ‘ere all fancy, demandin’ all the attention, thinkin’ ya know better than everyone else. Preachin’ to me about pay cuts and moving on. Well, you don’t know a damn fuckin’ thing about me, farmer .”
Shane stood with a sway and pressed a firm finger to James’ chest.
And yep, it actually hurt.
“Shane, come on, I don’t mean to—”
A crack.
Searing, white-hot pain.
Then James found himself almost toppling back off the barstool, one hand flying to his jaw, the other to the counter to stop himself falling flat on his ass.
Okay. That was definitely a punch.
“Yoba, Shane!” Emily cried out from behind the bar, practically dropping the glass she was wiping.
But Shane didn’t even bat an eyelid at her. He was staring right at James, looking at the blood pool around his split lip.
James blinked through the pain, shaking his head a little like he was resetting his brain, then he let out a low chuckle.
Maybe he had that coming.
“Damn…” James muttered.
Shane’s expression changed as quickly as the punch came, the fury dropping and being replaced by something else he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Probably regret, definitely guilt.
But Emily was already coming around the bar, Gus in tow.
“Alright, that’s enough,” Gus growled, taking Shane’s arm. “Shane, get out of here and sober up before you do something stupider.”
Shane grumbled something under his breath, but didn’t argue.
Instead, he let Gus drag him out and stumbled home.
------------✧♡✧-------------
Shane hated himself.
He’d been trying his damned hardest to be better. He had to be better.
Even though he’d been in a much better spot with James since he clocked him in the jaw, he realised James’ intentions were only ever genuine. But he still found the pull of the saloon on a Friday night too alluring.
But hey, at least he was coherent enough now to quit while he was ahead and go home.
His therapist had taught him that. “Moderation is the key!” he’d said about Shane’s affinity for beer.
Moderation was definitely the key when he looked at his bank account, anyway.
So, just before it hit 9 p.m., Shane called it a night. He promised himself a special treat of the leftover pepper poppers he’d made the day before for being such a good boy and stopping at three pints.
He stepped down the stone steps, pulling his jacket over his middle to shield himself from the piercing cold wind outside when whispering voices and grunts stopped him in his tracks.
“Almost there, come on, lean on me.”
Hm. That was—
“Linus?”
Shane spun on his heels, looking across the town square to see Linus lugging a corpse over his shoulder, Harvey with a shocked look on his face.
Except it wasn’t a corpse, because it suddenly perked up a little and let out a loud groan.
Shit.
James .
Shane burst into a light canter, not quite a jog or a sprint to save himself the embarrassment of looking too eager to get to him and find out what had happened.
Linus looked up as Shane approached.
"He's alright," Linus said, adjusting James' weight against his side. “I found him unconscious in the mountains.”
Shane took James’ other side and Linus helped shift his side onto Harvey as they helped him into the clinic.
James groaned as he got jostled about, one eye cracking open to peer up blearily at Shane. "Oh. Hey, Shane," he slurred. "Fancy meeting you here."
Shane huffed through his nose, tightening his grip on James’ arm as they made their way through the clinic doors. "Yeah, real fancy. What the fuck were you doing in the mountains alone at this time of night?"
“‘ Nunya business, ” James smirked as Shane and Harvey moved to shift him onto the stretcher bed.
Once James was comfortable and alert enough to actually explain what had happened, Harvey began to give him the once over. Blood pressure, good. Heart rate, okay, but slightly elevated (apparently it was expected).
But other than his vitals, he did have a rather large gash on the back of his head that Harvey explained probably required a stitch or two.
Now, James was usually pretty stoic, always taking care of his appearance and carried himself well, but as soon as he caught sight of the needle and thread Harvey was preparing, he suddenly found himself paling.
“You alright?” Shane asked, noticing James looking a little woozy from the chair he’d dragged in from the waiting room.
“Y—yeah, just, uh… never been good with stitches, so—”
Shane clicked his tongue and shifted the chair closer with a loud scraping noise, helping James shift onto his side to face him.
“It’s okay, I’ll be here with you, yeah?”
James nodded.
When Harvey gave James a small numbing needle that had stinging tears welling in his eyes, Shane quickly grabbed a hold of his hand.
“Squeeze when it hurts.”
James let out a shaky breath, which truthfully he wasn’t sure if it was from the pain, the nerves, or the fact Shane had offered him his hand at all.
“Shit,” James muttered, feeling Harvey get to work despite the fact he’d apparently been numbed.
Shane didn’t pull away, though. He didn’t even complain about James nearly breaking his fingers. Instead, he just said, “I said squeeze my hand , not snap the damn hand thing off.”
But, thankfully, Harvey worked rather quickly and before James could even dwell on the fact he was getting sewn back together like some broken stuffed toy, it was over.
James let go of the vice grip he had on Shane’s hand, letting out a low laugh as Shane shook his wrist to try and get some feeling back into it.
“I’ll give you a moment to recover, James,” Harvey said, gathering all the soiled tools and carrying them out of sight, and thank Yoba he did too, because James wasn’t particularly keen on seeing what was just going through his head.
“So,” Shane said, still shaking his hand, “you gonna tell me why you were out in the mountains alone at night, yet?”
“I—” James hesitated. He could just come clean, tell Shane what he was scheming but… where was the fun in that? He’d rather see Shane’s face at the Winter Star feast when he received his gift.
So, he settled for a half-truth.
“I was getting you something.”
“Me?”
Shane blinked at him, clearly thrown off by an answer he didn’t expect.
“Yeah,” James said with a shrug, “but shh. It’s a secret.”
Shane stared at him for a moment with furrowed brows, “You almost died for a fuckin’ secret?”
James just grinned, that damn grin that Shane found wasn’t quite so annoying anymore, “Guess you’ll have to stick around to find out if it was worth the risk, hm?”
Shane scoffed, “You’re a damn idiot, you know that?”
“Mm, maybe,” James admitted with a laugh. “But at least I’m a thoughtful idiot.”
And Yoba be damned, he was. A thoughtful idiot who had turned Shane’s entire being upside down in mere moments.
Sure, there’s been a few things here and there that made Shane’s heart flutter in a way that he found odd and made him consider bringing forward his check-up with Harvey, but now that he knew James was just fine, the realisation of what that tiny little flutter that would flag an echocardiogram as abnormal was hit him like a tonne of bricks.
I’m in love with my fucking best friend.