Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Agatha

A pink, snowy sunrise kicked off the first day of the rest of Agatha’s life.

She sprang from bed, stretched beautifically as bluebirds sang, and a helpful chipmunk brewed her morning tea.

Just kidding.

The sunrise was gorgeous, Agatha had to admit, but she admired it from deep inside a sleeping bag laid on the bare floor of the creaky old farmhouse. Her hooded eyes were painfully swollen from sobbing all night, so the snow could have been imagined if it weren’t for the icy cold of the cabin. What a glamorous life she was starting here.

Eventually the sun made its full debut, and Agatha dug around until she found the small space heater she’d packed, plugging it into one of the four available electrical outlets. She made a mental note that she’d have to plan ahead to charge her camera battery. Which was… somewhere around here.

“Okay, you can do this. Hot shower, tea, then unpack,” she said to herself, trying to psych herself up. This was exciting! It was fun! “At the very least we need wifi up in here.”

One decidedly lukewarm shower later, Agatha stood near the front window, clutching her tea in a compostable paper cup.

A sharp ping broke the quiet—her Google alert. In the thick, unfamiliar silence of the countryside, it rang out like an air raid siren.

She startled, hand jerking. The cup slipped, splashing hot tea across her wrist. The sting grounded her, but her breath caught.

Because, suddenly, she was back at the dinner table.

🌊🍊🌊🍊🌊

“Agatha! Listen to your mother when she’s speaking to you.”

Her father had slammed his cup down hard enough to jolt her out of her reverie, and she stared at him in carefully masked shock.

If she was honest with herself, she’d spent most of Thanksgiving savoring the memory of handing in her lab coat and ID. Not listening to the gridball game blaring in the other room, not being a dutiful daughter and remembering to pour tea for her mother, or noticing the second—or third—time her father shouted her name.

Whenever she introduced friends to her parents, or brought a partner home, she always gave them the elevator pitch:

“My parents are immigrants,” she’d say, like a well-practiced performer. “Their culture is very different from ours, so sometimes they may behave… Well, they have very high standards. Just promise not to let them scare you away! You only have to see them once!”

In hindsight, Agatha wasn’t sure if it was the speech or her parents’ conduct that scared people away. Or maybe it was the way she let them run her over, she thought glumly.

“I’m sorry, okāsan. I am listening,” she said, dropping her gaze to her lap. She was twenty-seven years old—far too old to be scolded like a child, or to be fighting back tears at her parents’ dinner table.

She’d practically fled the house after the meal, muttering something about needing to cover the clinic while everyone else was out of town for the holidays.

Her parents hadn’t said goodbye. Neither had she. Just a parting comment about her brother’s vague “upcoming announcement”—a baby? A promotion? Who cared?

In the safe embrace of her trusty hybrid Blueberry, Agatha popped her phone onto the stand and started navigation to Stardew Valley.

This was her fresh start.

She didn’t have to share it with anyone unless she wanted to.

🌊🍊🌊🍊🌊

Agatha blinked, steam curling from the spill on the floor. Her wrist ached, but she didn’t move. Outside, the pink snow glittered like possibility. Or frostbite. But there was only one way to find out.

A few moments later she had tugged on her boots and stood with her hand wrapped around the doorknob. Her gaze caught on the notebook peeking out from her bag—corner bent, still unopened since yesterday. She’d have time for that when she got back.

“Alright,” she muttered, almost smiling. “Let’s go see.”

[Notebook – Day One]

❄️ Starter seeds: kale, spinach, carrots

📹 Greenhouse: film sunrise time lapse? Maybe voiceover later?

💭 Remember: this is yours now. You get to decide how it begins.

Chapter Text

Alex

The best part of winter was slipping away to hide in the bathhouse north of town. Nobody ever went inside, except whatever mysterious person kept it running. All Alex knew was that whenever he jogged up the mountain path and saw the familiar building come into view, he felt a little more relaxed. More at home.

Of course that was temporary. He would settle into his workout, but he was too strong. It took so much freakin’ effort to work up a sweat, to feel the tired ache and to be consumed by the effort of his workout.

So he’d tried switching it up, heading into the steamy bath hall with a set of dumbbells and his water bottle. Maybe the air being thick with humidity would increase the intensity of his boring, easy bicep curls. Maybe it would bring back the sting he chased.

Sometimes when he was working out he’d skip headphones. Not because he loved hearing his manly grunts echoing off the walls. Yuck. But because if he spaced out he could almost pretend that the echoes bouncing back were his teammates from his college gridball team. The one he had spent every summer with in conditioning. Running drills. Making stupid, dirty jokes.

The ones who got chosen when he didn’t. The ones he bought tickets to see from the sidelines.

Shit. Maybe the headphones were a good idea after all.

It was right while he was thinking this to himself that he heard the telltale creak of the women’s locker room door. Don’t. Ask.

Who the heck was coming up here? It was always abandoned. This was his territory, and honestly he wasn’t in the mood to deal with Haley coming to interrupt his workout by drooling over him like he was a piece of meat. Ugh.

He stayed facing the far wall, not bothering to turn around. The footsteps weren’t Haley’s—too quick, too rhythmic of a pace. And whoever it was, they were talking to themselves.

“—not an actual studio, but there’s potential. Light from the windows is garbage though. Maybe with a reflective screen?”

Definitely not Haley.

Alex blinked, confused. The voice was clear, clipped, maybe a little hoarse. He angled his head slightly, tracking the sound of boots against tile. His arms began to protest as he held his extension, but he wasn’t trying to get caught eavesdropping by a crazy lady who talked to herself.

“I mean, I could shoot the time lapse here,” the woman continued. “Even if the steam fogs up the lens, it’s on theme. Realistic. Raw.”

Half a second later she snorted loudly. “Ugh, no, that’s gross. I can’t say raw. What am I, steak?”

Alex turned just enough to catch a glimpse.

Not someone from town. He would've remembered her messy hair, oversized hoodie, weirdly intense energy. She set down a duffel–no, camera bag–like she was planting a flag, then began pacing in slow circles, still mumbling, occasionally tapping her fingers against her water bottle like it was a microphone.

His jaw tightened.

So much for his quiet workout.

“Hey, lady, this is private property,” he called out, cringing at the pitch of his voice. He sounded like Grandpa George. He cleared his throat, trying again. “You can’t do, uh, that here.”

The mystery girl whirled around like he’d appeared out of nowhere, clutching her water to her chest and squeaking. He was surprised she didn’t fall on her ass, but in spite of clearly being startled she stayed rock steady on the moist tiles. Weirddddd.

She stared at him, and he stared back at her, and the silence stretched uncomfortably. Alex didn’t think she’d just sit there. She was supposed to leave. What was happening?

Just when he was about to stand up and usher her out she cleared her throat before calling across the pool.

“Your form is gonna get you hurt. Look at your knee,” she said in a much steadier voice.

He looked down, and sure enough his knee jutted way past his foot. He must’ve relaxed while he wasn’t paying attention. But it wasn’t like he asked for a random woman to bust in on his workout.

He set his dumbbells down gently. He didn’t need to add broken tiles to his list of issues. “Who are you? You’re not from here, right? I’d remember you.”

The girl sat for a beat, pink washing over her cheeks and ears. Was she blushing right now? Oh, god. No playbook anywhere covered this scenario. It was probably mathematically impossible. Or at least rare? Whatever the word was that meant “not supposed to happen to him.”

Either way, it looked like mystery girl had recovered, and now she was making her way around the pool to where he was standing awkwardly. Great.

“How long have you been working out solo? I’d offer to spot you but my liability insurance doesn’t cover accidental damage to male egos,” she said with a wink. Her voice was so interesting, peppy, but with a little gravel to it, like she’d been yelling a lot recently or had super bad allergies.

By the time she was standing in front of him Alex realized he’d said absolutely nothing to defend himself and his ego from this pretty girl. When had he decided she was pretty? What was happening!?

“I’m Agatha. New girl in town,” she said and stuck out her hand.

Reflexively, he wiped his palm on his shorts, then took it—and promptly forgot how to do normal human things. Her grip was firm, confident. Friendly, maybe? But it was the first handshake he’d had in… what, months? Jesus, years ? Probably since he crossed the graduation stage with a degree he barely remembered earning.

His brain spiraled for a second too long, then he realized he still had her soft fingers in his hand.

Play it cool, dude. He let go, fast.

Literally everything she’d done in the last thirty seconds was unexpected, and it was throwing him off balance. That was all. He just had to get in the groove and he’d be fine.

“My name’s Alex,” he replied, looking down at her with a practiced winning grin. “You might recognize me from the Zuzu City Zebras–”

“Yeah, I don’t watch gridball,” she said with a grimace. Her tone was flat, and she looked like someone had just suggested she eat a frog egg. Great! This was going great.

“Well, what do you do? Who needs a camera to work out? Are you, like, one of those influencers?”

She laughed, but it wasn’t a nice sound this time. “Oh, yeah, every time someone has a camera they have to be some big deal, right? If your hobbies don’t make money online don’t do them, blah blah blah.”

“Okay, lady,” he huffed, rapidly losing his cool. “I’m just trying to be nice, but you’re the one who busted in on my peace and quiet. Don’t you have your own space somewhere else?”

That seemed to catch her off-guard, and her brows knit in the middle. She looked up at him with a new expression on her face–like the face his teammates gave him when he said he’d just tryout again next year. And realized there were no more “next years” to count on. A little sad, a little concerned, and like she got it.

“Sorry,” she finally said, hugging herself awkwardly. “Didn’t mean to wreck your peace and quiet. I’ll bounce.”

“Yeah,” he said. Wow. He was so losing points right now. “Thanks.”

“Plus,” she added, offering a half-smile as she tucked her shaggy hair behind one ear, “I think I got the inspiration I needed. Thanks.”

What did that mean? Girls made absolutely no sense.

Alex grunted something that was maybe goodbye, and she turned, grabbing her bag and strutting toward the door.

Just before she disappeared, she threw a casual wave over her shoulder.

“Don’t hurt yourself, Zebra. I don’t want our second meeting to be in the clinic waiting room.”

And then she was gone—leaving nothing behind but a faint whiff of something fruity and confusing.

What the heck just happened?

“You know what? Doesn’t matter,” he muttered, bending to pick up his weights.

His knee twinged slightly. He paused. Huh. His form really had gotten sloppy.

And now he was talking to himself.

Thanks a bunch, Agatha.

[Voice Note – Winter Workout Day 11]

Background: soft echo of tile, slight splash of water, distant dumbbell clink.

“Okay, so. Workout today: fine. Was gonna hit arms and maybe some core, but then… someone showed up.

New girl. Name’s Agatha. Came in like she owned the place. Talking to herself, setting up a camera, calling me out on my form. For real. Said my knee was gonna explode. Cool. Thanks.

She’s kinda weird. Messy hair, hoodie, talks a mile a minute. Not from around here, that’s for sure.

Thought she was gonna be one of those influencer types, but she got real quiet after I said that. Made me feel like a jerk. Which I guess… maybe I was.”

Beat of silence, then a heavy thump, like he’s flopping down on the bench.

“Anyway. She left. Said something about inspiration. Called me ‘Zebra.’ So. That’s new.”

Pause. A soft sigh.

“Okay, fine. Her advice wasn’t terrible. Doesn’t mean I like her.”

End of recording.

Chapter Text

Agatha

Agatha stifled a yawn as she set down a container of homemade granola bars behind the counter of Harvey’s clinic. She had been up late replying to comments on her "My New Life" video. If it weren’t for the sweet sentiments and love from her Honeybees she’d have regretted it, but as it stood she was sleep-deprived but optimistic about the coming new year.

"Good morning, Ms. Fairbanks," Harvey smiled, looking up from his morning coffee and the charts he was prepping for the day. Maru hadn’t arrived yet for her shift, but there was a piping hot mug of coffee set at her desk. Agatha sometimes wondered how the townies were so oblivious. Harvey was obviously in love with Maru, but that was none of her business…

"Hi Harvey," she said aloud, offering him a granola bar. "It’s a new recipe I’m trying, you don’t have any nut allergies, right?"

He furrowed his brows. "If I did, even having these in the clinic could be a risk factor."

"But you don’t, I remember asking you before. I just wanted to be polite!"

Maru chimed in as the door shut behind her. "Harvey, you shouldn’t tease about allergies! You know they can be serious!"

He groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose and settling his glasses back in place. Agatha laughed, and Maru stole a bar from the container as she swept into the reception area.

"Mmm, Agatha, these are delicious! You should really sell these!"

The idea had crossed her mind—but Agatha was thinking bigger than vending snacks. Something about feeding a man for a day vs. teaching him to bake his own fiber-packed breakfast bar.

She leaned against the counter. “Hey Harvey, quick question—what kind of community outreach have you done around food or nutrition? Like actual lifestyle stuff, not just flu posters.”

Harvey blinked. “Not much. We did a blood pressure screening booth last year, but Pierre complained we were scaring his customers.”

“Right. Okay.” She nodded slowly, already assembling her pitch. “So what if instead of lecturing people, we fed them? I’m thinking small group demos. We cook something together, they eat, they learn something along the way. Bonus points if we host it somewhere central. Like… say, Pierre’s back room?”

Harvey looked thoughtful. “That actually could work. Food brings people together. And if you’re leading it…”

“Oh, stop. You just don’t want to do public speaking.”

“Correct,” he said without hesitation. “But seriously—it’s a good idea. Pitch it to Pierre before he has a chance to say no.”

Maru gave her a wink. “Bring cookies as a bribe.”

Agatha grinned, already mentally editing the flyer she’d half-written the night before. “Don’t worry. I came prepared.”

🌊🍊🌊🍊🌊

Agatha gathered a generous bundle of the granola bars and made her way out the door, thinking about the angle she could leverage to convince Pierre to let them host the workshop in his space without charging them an insane fee. She’d only been in Pelican Town for a few weeks, but Agatha had come to realize that Pierre was a terrible penny-pincher, and that while he cared a lot about the town, he cared more about his profit margin.

A sweaty, rock-solid wall of flesh materialized in her path, and Agatha let out an undignified screech as she fumbled her snacks and clipboard frantically.

"I’m so sorry–oh, it’s you!"

Alex stood stock-still, staring at Agatha in total shock with his eyes wide and brilliantly green between the bright red of his headphones. He was lugging the biggest carton of eggs Agatha had ever seen, and was shimmering with sweat on every inch of skin. He must have just come from his workout in the bathhouse.

He slid his headphones down to his neck, and the sounds of something loud and aggressively masculine cut off from the speakers. "Hi Agatha. I didn’t expect to run into you here. Like, physically run into you."

She felt a blush creeping up on her cheeks, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear nervously. "Yeah, I’m really sorry about that. I was thinking pretty hard and didn’t even see you coming out the door."

"I didn’t know you could think so hard you stop seeing what’s right in front of you," Alex snapped, and Agatha realized that he was glaring at her. Oh, no. He was mad about this.

A chill ran down her spine and settled in her bones, and she felt like she was a child in trouble again.

"You’re right, I should’ve been looking," Agatha said quietly, looking down at her hands where the granola bars were slightly smashed from the collision.

She knelt to collect the smushed bars, brushing crumbs off her clipboard. Her heart thudded against her ribs in that sick, old-familiar way—like when she used to get called out by her swim coach or snapped at by her parents in front of all her friends. She hated it. Hated that he could do it so easily.

Alex shifted his grip on the egg carton. “Wait. No. That came out wrong.”

Agatha didn’t answer right away. She focused on her breathing—slow, even, steady. She could be present. She could put on a good face. That was her specialty, after all. Smile, deflect, redirect.

He cleared his throat. “What are you doing out here, anyway? I thought you were stuck at the clinic for a few more hours. Did they release you early for good behavior?”

That earned him a look. Sharp, skeptical. “If I’m a clinic prisoner, you’re one of those grumpy gym rats who grunts too loud and screams about protein powder.”

Alex’s mouth twitched—just enough to break the tension. “Bold of you to assume I’m not yelling about you .”

“Bold of you to assume anyone’s listening.”

A beat. Then, like the sun slipping past a cloud, the edges of their mouths lifted. Not quite a smile, but close.

She stood up, clutching the salvaged snacks. “I’m actually headed to Pierre’s to pitch a community baking workshop. You know, helping people make better food choices through hands-on experience.”

He raised a brow. “So, what—guilt-tripping the town into putting kale in their cookies?”

She rolled her eyes. “No. Teaching people how to feel good in their own bodies. Which, incidentally, you might benefit from if you ever want to stop being so emotionally—and possibly actually —constipated.”

Alex barked a laugh. “Wow. Just gonna diagnose me in the street, huh?”

She gave him a cheerful thumbs up. “Comes free with every granola bar.”

He hesitated, then looked at the smashed bar she handed him like it might bite. “You always this pushy?”

“Yes. You always this grumbly?”

“I might show up,” he muttered, barely audible above the sound of his sneakers scuffing as he fidgeted.

Agatha’s grin widened. “Good. Bring your grandmother. She’s an absolute delight.”

And just like that, she turned and marched off toward Pierre’s.

Behind her, Alex glanced down at the granola bar in his hand. Then, against all better judgment, he took a bite.

🌊🍊🌊🍊🌊

It was Wednesday, the day that Pierre’s was usually closed, but on this particular afternoon Agatha was buzzing around the back room setting up folding table stations for her Nutrition in the New Year class.

The only way she’d been able to convince Pierre to let her host the workshop was by agreeing to buy all the supplies directly from his shop and by promising to have her “friend” promote the event on social media. She’d taken a huge leap of faith that Pierre didn’t understand how the internet worked—or she’d be outed in seconds. She wasn’t ready for that. Not here.

It had hurt too much when her parents shut her down over her channel, and she wasn’t in a hurry to experience that again.

Still, the setup looked good. Neat piles of ingredients, laminated recipe cards, compostable prep bowls. It was warm and smelled like cinnamon and oats. She’d even stashed a granola bar in her pocket, just in case her nerves tanked her blood sugar.

She clicked record on her camera, smile automatically sliding into place.

“Hey, Honeybees,” she whispered, low enough that only the mic would catch it. “We’re doing a small-town nutrition class today, focusing on simple ingredient swaps to make your favorite baked goods a little more nourishing without losing flavor. I don’t know if this will make it to the channel, but… wish me luck.”

She clicked it off and exhaled, nerves buzzing.

Setup complete, Agatha stepped back to wait. And—miracle of miracles—the ladies showed up. Evelyn arrived first, warm and smiling. Emily breezed in with a rainbow apron and two jars of chia seeds she found somewhere. Jodi came last, asking if they’d get to taste-test anything.

Agatha clapped her hands gently. “Alright, friends! Thanks for coming to my very first Pelican Town workshop. I thought it might be fun to wrap up the year with a little project and maybe sneak a few veggies into our baked goods while we’re at it.”

That earned a few chuckles. Evelyn leaned forward, curious. Emily nodded like this was her idea. Jodi raised her eyebrows in interest.

They got to work. Agatha passed out recipe cards and explained how to use flax as an egg substitute, or applesauce instead of butter. The ladies each had different reactions—Evelyn was delightfully open-minded, Emily threw in suggestions, and even Jodi was asking about sugar alternatives.

Agatha was mid-way through demonstrating the “mash and mix” method when the bell above the door jingled.

She turned instinctively—and nearly dropped her spatula.

Alex. He stood in the doorway, grocery bag in hand, hoodie slightly damp from sweat, and a cautious look on his face like he was about to make a run for it.

“I brought… uh, eggs?” he said.

Evelyn beamed. “Oh, Alex, dear, come sit with me. You can help me stir.”

Agatha tried not to stare, but she noticed the way Alex moved a little lighter around his grandmother, cracking a joke about banana cookies and asking if Dusty could be the taste tester. Her heart pinched a little. When Evelyn explained to Alex that they were making cookies that even dogs could eat, Alex smirked. “Dusty’s gonna love this.”

Evelyn handed him a spoon and they got to work—Alex mashing the bananas, Evelyn measuring oats. He cracked a joke about the texture being “weirdly satisfying,” and Evelyn swatted him playfully with her oven mitt.

Agatha turned back to her other students, but her eyes kept drifting to that station in the corner. To Evelyn, calm and kind. To Alex, laughing for real, a single dimple shining through the gloomy clouds that usually followed him around the gym.

By the end of class, the tables were covered in baked goods and laughter.

"Okay," Agatha said, recording one last clip. "That went way better than expected. We might just have to make this a series. ‘Bake and Bloom’? ‘Bite-Sized Boosts’? Nope, still terrible. Taking suggestions in the comments."

A blur of red and green crossed the frame behind her.

"Zebra," she called. "You’re in my shot."

Alex waved her off. "Relax. I improved the shot. Evelyn says I should try her zucchini brownies next."

Agatha raised an eyebrow. "Just wait till next week. We’re doing roasted veggie pizza."

He paused. "That actually doesn’t sound terrible."

She turned the camera slightly, catching him over her shoulder. "You gonna credit your instructor or just steal the recipe and run?"

"Can I pay with cooking and letting you comment on my form?"

"Deal."

"Cool. I’ll bring my grandma. She keeps me humble."

She smirked as he vanished through the door.

Agatha turned back to her phone.

"Anyway," she murmured. "That’s a wrap on week one. Leave a comment if you want the recipe... or if you think grumpy gym bros can, in fact, be taught to bake."

Somewhere in the background of the shot: Alex. Smirking. Looking suspiciously soft.

Even though she still had to edit when she got home, Agatha didn’t even need to check the comments to know exactly what they were going to say.

[Notebook – Midwinter, Community Workshop Day]

🍎 Nutrition Notes:
• Granola bar recipe = hit.
• Next class: roasted veggie pizza (test-run crust hydration ratios).
• Evelyn wants zucchini brownies on the agenda. Honor request!!

📹 Filming Recap:
• Opening shot: usable
• Wrap-up: cute… maybe too cute? Alex walked through frame. Again. 🙄

💭 Thoughts:
• The class went well . Like, surprisingly well.
• Might actually build something real here.
• …Alex showed up. Said it was for Evelyn, but stayed the whole time.
• He said my pizza idea “doesn’t sound terrible.” That’s a rave review, right?

✨ Reminder:
Even slow starts can rise into something warm, soft, and a little sweet—like the perfect cookie.

Chapter Text

Alex did not care.

He didn’t care that Agatha called him emotionally constipated.

He didn’t care that she invited him to her baking thing as if she thought she was better than him. He definitely didn’t care that she smiled when he said Evelyn made zucchini brownies.

Except…

Except he kind of did.

He stood at the kitchen counter with a spoon of peanut butter in one hand and a half-eaten banana oat cookie in the other, scowling like it had personally offended him. It hadn’t. It was fine. Actually, it was pretty good. Dusty had eaten three already, tail wagging so hard he knocked Alex’s water bottle off the table.

Alex sighed and pressed the cookie to his forehead. “What is happening to me?”

Dusty thumped his tail on the floor in response. Alex broke off another piece and handed it to him.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he muttered. “It’s not like I liked it or anything.”

Dusty barked once. Alex groaned. “Okay. It was good. You happy now?”

🏈🍳🏈🍳🏈

Back at the gym the next day, Alex was bench pressing when Sam asked if he was still annoyed about the baking class. Sam didn’t actually work out in that tiny back room of the bathhouse, but he was a small-town gossip through and through. So, when he noticed Alex stewing, he’d followed the other man and put on a show of setting up his stuff and pretending to stretch nearby. In jeans .

Sam didn’t lift. Not seriously. He did “hyper-yoga” and “vibe-based cardio” and once sat on the rowing machine backward to “make a point.”

“Dude,” Sam said, plopping cross-legged by the dumbbell rack with a protein shake he absolutely did not earn, “are you still brooding about the baking class?”

“I’m not brooding,” Alex grunted, pushing up another rep. “It’s fine.”

Sam leaned over and wiggled his phone. “You know I can see your Spotify activity, right? Like, I can see that you’re benching to a playlist called ‘Get Your Girl (140 BPM).’”

Alex racked the weights and chucked his towel at him without breaking eye contact. Sam shrieked, flailed dramatically, and knocked over his shake.

“You’re so embarrassing,” Alex muttered.

“You’re so in denial ,” Sam shot back, upside down on the floor now, cradling his spilled shake like a wounded soldier. “Tell her you like her or eat a raw egg. Those are your only options.”

“Great,” Alex grumbled. “Love this gym.”

🏈🍳🏈🍳🏈

Later, walking home alone under the gray stretch of early January sky, Alex passed the clinic bulletin board. He didn’t usually stop. Most of the time, it was just flu warnings or Maru’s science fair invites.

But today, a flyer caught his eye:

Roasted Veggie Pizza - Fueling Movement from the Inside Out!

Instructor: Agatha Fairbanks.

He froze.

Bright colors. Goofy font. Little cartoon dumbbells around a smiling zucchini.

It was so Agatha —cheerful, determined, just a little extra.

It should have annoyed him. Or at least made him roll his eyes. Instead, something tugged at his mouth, unspooling the barest hint of a smile.

He leaned in, studying the ingredients list at the bottom: oat flour, blended spinach, Greek yogurt.

“Okay, but... that might actually taste good,” he muttered.

Then he caught himself.

“No. Nope. We are not thinking about her crazy granola cult right now.”

Still, he stood there too long. Read the entire flyer twice. Then, he pulled out his phone and snapped a picture.

For research.

Definitely not because he wanted to remember the date.

Definitely not because he wondered if she’d smile again like she had when Evelyn handed him the spoon to stir for her.

Definitely not because her voice had been stuck in his head for days—bright, teasing, low-key infuriating in a way that made his chest ache.

He shoved the phone back in his pocket.

Then he glanced around, just to make sure no one had seen him take the picture.

Dusty barked from down the block, wagging his tail like he’d caught him in the act.

Alex glared. “Don’t judge me.”

Dusty kept wagging.

Alex sighed and started walking again, tugging his hoodie tight against the cold.

“She’s probably not even that interesting,” he muttered.

But even as he said it, he knew it was a lie.

🏈🍳🏈🍳🏈

That night, Alex scrolled through YouTube looking for a strength program. He got distracted and, without knowing how, typed “nutrition strong smart” into the search bar. He just couldn’t get this whole deal off his mind.

A video popped up: “5 Foods That Make You Stronger and Smarter – Honey Fairbanks.”

He blinked.

The thumbnail was Agatha. Her hair was tied back, her voice all soft and chipper. She wore a different expression—less grumpy, more polished. She was laughing .

Oh my god,” he said aloud. She kept chatting, grinning conspiratorially at the camera.

“Oh my GOD,” he said again.

He’d seen this video before. Last year. Before she even moved to Stardew.

He sat back on his bed, stunned. “No freaking way.”

Dusty jumped up beside him, unimpressed.

“She’s… that girl? The Honey girl?”

He stared at the screen in disbelief. Then, slowly, a grin spread across his face—slow, dangerous.

“She has no idea I know.”

[Voice Note – Winter, Later That Week]

Dusty panting. A spoon clinks against a bowl.

“So… turns out Agatha’s some kind of secret internet nutrition whisperer. I watched one of her videos for science.

She’s got this whole secret life. Millions of views. People in the comments call her ‘Coach Honey.’

And she’s just out here, giving me crap for eating eggs by the carton and not stretching.

She doesn’t know I know.

Which means I can win this game.

…This is a game now. Apparently.

Dusty barks once.

I did not just add flaxseed to my oatmeal.

Shut up, Dusty.”

End of recording.

Chapter Text

Agatha

Agatha had been on a mission since sunrise.

The first day of Spring was more symbolic than practical in Pelican Town. There were still icy patches on the ground, and the trees weren't ready to bloom yet, but Agatha was determined to make the most of it. She’d already filmed a B-roll of her tea steaming against a frosted window, pulled weeds out of the edge of her greenhouse, and made a list of possible spots for filming new content.

She needed something with good light, decent acoustics, and absolutely zero foot traffic. Was that too much for a girl to ask? Probably.

Still, she found herself hiking up toward the back side of the mountain path, where the early spring sun filtered through tall trees. Her breath came in soft clouds. The space between her farm and the actual mountains edging the valley was neat, and sometimes she wondered who maintained it, since she had never seen another living soul there. It was just her and the cute powder blue yams that seemed to love the snow.

So, of course she muttered quietly to herself (and the foragables), holding her phone out in front of her as she moved.

“Okay, maybe here for voiceovers. The trees help break wind noise… Yeah. Solid natural buffer. This is promising.”

She didn’t realize she’d accidentally spoken at a regular volume until a voice behind her said, “Who are you talking to?”

Agatha yelped and spun around, her wolfcut flopping into her eyes and partially obscuring her vision. Even so, she’d recognize that green and yellow jacket anywhere.

Alex. Of course. His sleeves were pushed up, hair damp from presumably jock boy workout sweat, and his eyes narrowed in the same skeptical squint he always gave her.

“Holy crap, are you trying to give me a heart attack?” she snapped, clutching her chest. She hastily shoved her phone into her pocket, hoping that he hadn’t seen it. It was one thing to get caught filming once or twice. That was what The Kids did these days. But if he saw her filiming all the time he’d probably think she was an influencer again, and that was too close to the truth for comfort.

He raised a brow. “You were narrating your hike. Kind of weird.” While they were talking he glanced around, like he was just realizing it was only the two of them and the nature surrounding them. His expression took on a decidedly wolfish quality.

“I wasn’t narrating,” she said defensively. “I was brainstorming.” She didn’t like the way he was looking at her, like he had her cornered. She was just talking. People talk to themselves all the time.

Crazy people.

“Out loud,” he countered, triumphant. His smile was so big, and if she weren’t starting to feel a little nervous and tummy ache-y she’d think he was almost glowing with happiness.

She flushed, trying to get back on track and stop thinking about Alex’s face. “Whatever. Some people think better that way.”

He stepped closer, head cocked to the side. “You filming again? Another granola PSA?”

Her ears burned. “Actually, it’s location scouting. For future projects.”

Alex shrugged, but it was the least nonchalant gesture Agatha had ever seen. He spoke carefully, making sure to enunciate clearly. “Cool. Just figured you were shooting a sequel to that ‘5 Foods That Make You Stronger and Smarter’ video.”

Time stopped. The wind died out, and even the birds stopped chirping. It felt like the earth was falling away from her feet.

Agatha stared at him, horror creeping up her spine. “I- what are you talking about? My videos?” she stammered.

He looked utterly triumphant, gesturing at her phone where it jutted out of her leggings pocket. “Yeah? I’ve seen a few of your videos. That one had, like, half a million views, right? It showed up on my For You page after I searched for shoulder mobility stuff.”

She covered her face with both hands, feeling her eyes begin to prickle with tears. “Oh my god.”

“You’re overreacting. You have to know you’re, like, famous online. This probably happens to you all the time.” Every word he spoke felt like a targeted pressure point, jabbing into her tender heart. This couldn’t be happening. He found her page???

“No, you don’t get it! That video is from before the rebrand. That wasn’t supposed to survive the content purge. I was wearing a pastel crop top and talking about omega-3s like I knew everything and it’s got my name in it.”

He blinked, like he was confused by her reaction. “I mean… it was kinda helpful? That’s not the point–”

Agatha lowered her hands just enough to peek at him, cutting him off. “What else have you seen?” If he knew her secret she had to know how bad it was before she could do damage control. Breathe, Agatha.

He scratched the back of his neck. “Uh. The one where you try to explain macros using an actual pie. That one was kinda funny.”

“I was trying to make it accessible!” she groaned, defensive. If he was going to know about her secret, he could at least respect her strategy.

Alex laughed, patting her arm. He was still standing really close to her, but now it seemed like he was almost trying to soothe her instead of catching her in the act. “Relax. It worked. I’m not gonna tell anyone or make fun of you. Much.”

Agatha narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms. The sun had come back out, and weather was weathering normally again. “This doesn’t mean you get to heckle me whenever you see me out in town. It’s not technically any of your business, Zebra.”

He raised his hands in surrender, laughing. A sparkle was in his eyes, and he stepped back to a normal human distance. “Fair. Just didn’t know you were that Agatha. Guess that explains why you were so offended when I called you an influencer.”

She winced. “It’s… complicated.” She didn’t really want to get into it, and her heart was still pounding in her chest from the unexpected interception. She rubbed it absent-mindedly. Another thing to talk to her therapist about, she mused.

He nodded, and there was a sadness in his expression for just a second before he covered it with that golden-boy grin. “Everything worth doing usually is.”

The silence stretched. Agatha pulled out her phone, then looked back at him.

“Wanna help me film a test shot?”

“Only if I get a line. I wanna be famous, too.”

“Oh, my god, fine. But if you say something dumb I’m editing it out.”

Alex smirked, back to his jockish ways. “You wound me, Honey.”

“Do not call me that.”

They stood shoulder to shoulder, framed by early light and quiet snowmelt, as she hit record.

She’d edit the footage later. For now, it was nice to not be alone.

[Notebook – Spring, Location Scouting Mishap]
🌱 Filming Locations:
- Back mountain path: good light, natural sound buffer, surprise Alex 😵
- Voiceover test = ruined (thanks, Zebra)
- Reshoot needed. Preferably when not being stalked by protein powder incarnate.

📹 Content Audit:
- He saw the video. THE video.
- “5 Foods” is apparently unkillable. Why is that the one people remember??
- Projected emotional damage: medium to catastrophic depending on follow-up
- Add to checklist: redo old titles / update search tags / maybe change name again???

🧠 Mental Notes:
- Alex knows. Like knows knows.
- Didn’t laugh. Didn’t tell anyone. Didn’t leave.
- Called me Honey and didn’t flinch.
- Am I breathing right now? Unsure.

✨ Reminder:
You’ve done live segments. You’ve filmed in LA traffic. You’ve worn a mic in a hot yoga class. You can survive one overly muscular nosy neighbor discovering your secret identity. Just… don’t let him get too comfortable.