Work Text:
The same notes on loop over, and over, and over. Out of that old jukebox nobody dares touch. And the same notes of hop and malt on his tongue, over, and over.
Usually, the same fat is being chewed at his ear level, but not tonight. Tonight, the shrill voices of the two women next to him are about something new and exciting. At least for them.
"He finished talking to my dad, right, and when he turned and saw me, I SWEAR he had the dreamiest smile on."
"I saw him talking to Lewis the other day, he was covered in dirt, and his shirt was a bit open. But he looked as charming and pretty as ever!" Emily's voice sings. "You should have seen the smile on his face, with just a little mud in the dimple in his cheek!"
Abigail swoons with her, falling dramatically on the counter between the three glasses the barmaid had just refilled.
Shane softly scoffs into his pint. The city fop who inherited the farm had been here for two weeks already, and there was nothing but talks about and around him since then. How good looking he is. Tall. Brown hair. Blue eyes. How his shoulders stand straight, the posture of a Prince, Shane had heard them say. And he'd seen him with his own eyes. Sure, the fellow was fine looking, but nothing to spend two whole weeks on. Which really is the only reason Shane even remembers he has brown hair and blue eyes. Really.
Abigail disappears back into the play room with the three drinks she came to order about thirty minutes ago, before engaging into a shrieking contest about who could fawn over that James guy the loudest. Of course Shane remembers his name too, it's on bloody everyone else's lips.
Speaking of, the stretched lips of the farmer follow his long legs into the saloon. He pushes back his hair, sleek on his head, and flashes a bigger smile at Emily who starts giggling. Ridiculous.
"What will it be tonight, James?" She pronounces his name like a finch looking to mate.
From the corner of his eyes, Shane clocks Abigail leaning on the doorframe separating the play room from the main saloon. It's like she smelled his arrival before he even crossed the doorway. James sees her too, and nods. The way she almost fainted made it look like he hexed her with a simple flick of the neck.
"Just a beer, Emily, thank you." The prick says, sitting on the stool not too far from Shane. "What are you getting?"
"What?"
"Your pint is empty. So, want a refill?"
Shane looks down at his glass decidedly empty, and up at James' smiling face. "M'fine." He mumbles.
"Ah, come on." James stands up, closing the gap by sitting on the stool right next to Shane in just a few steps of his long expensively clothed legs. "That one's on me."
"Make it sounds like there'd be more."
"Well, the night is young." James signs at Emily to bring him another pint, mouthing a simple thank you that almost makes her trip. "Talked to almost everyone in town." He adds, turning back his attention to Shane. "You're the only one giving me the cold shoulder."
"Does it matter?"
"Very much so." James laughs, crossing his legs with the most over the top launch of his foot. "It's a community, it needs every single one person to work."
Shane scrunches his nose, furrowing his brows. "Corporate talk won't get ye far here." He laughs. "Should forget yourwhole 'Zuzu city pretty boy' deal if you wanna 'make it work'." He adds in a scoff.
"Pretty boy?" James perks up, pushing the pint Emily brought back to Shane.
Shane lets his head fall in his arm laid out on the counter. "That's all you heard? Typical." He says, grabbing the newly offered pint.
"I only heard because you said it." James retorts, looking straight into Shane's eyes as he gulps on the pint once, twice, a third time, holding James' gaze.
"Watcha lookin at?" He finally says, half the pint gone already.
James sighs, uncrossing his legs. "I really thought I found you handsome for a second there." He smiles and tilts his head to the side in a laughs. "Turned out I just saw my reflection in your eyes."
Shane eyebrows rise to his hairline. What did this fucker just say. And why is he blushing.
"A pity." James sighs again. "Was looking forward to learn more about the countryside ways with the ranch hand."
"Watch what you're saying, city boy."
"Not what your cheeks are telling me." James winks, wrapping his arm around Shane whose head looks ready to explode. "You know, if there is anything irritating you, whether up here, or down there… We can talk it out."
Shane clenches his fists, sitting around the nearly empty pint. "If you don't remove your arm right now I'll punch you in the face."
"That's a start!" James beams smugly, shaking Shane under his arms. "See, we're making progress already."
"Remove your bloody arm."
"You know" James restarts, ignoring Shane, "back in the city I was quite the mediator. Everything would run as smoothly as possible thanks to me."
"So why are ye here mister successful?" Shane scoffs.
"See? A minute ago you wanted to punch me in the face. And now you're asking me about my life."
Shane opens his mouth, and closes it immediately. The soft blush on his cheeks expends on his temple, his fists clenching and releasing slowly, his breath stuck in his nostrils, ready to snort like an enraged bull. That fucker.
"Am I wrong?" The pretty Zuzu boy asks, squeezing Shane just a bit more, to the cusp of making the bomb explode.
"The punch in the face is not out of the story." Shane grumbles behind his teeth. "Remove yer arm."
"I'd figure I'd give the cold shoulder some much needed human warmth."
"What's that s'pposed to mean?" He shakes his shoulder, trying to remove the strangely strong grasp from the wannabe farmer. "Why are you so fucking persistent." He adds with an ultimate shoulder snap finally unlodging the unwanted appendage… "Fuck off."
"A bit more hostile, aren't we? Did I pinch a nerve?" James grins, grazing Shane's shoulders and back as he goes back to sit down. "I'll get to your sweet little core, one way or the other."
As Shane almost choke on his sips, hearing James' sultry whisper, the latter signs at Emily to bring him two other pints. "These are on me too."
"Tryin to get me drunk?" Shane tries to snark, failing, accepting the drink too easily, too happy to get his numbing elixir for free. "That how you managed your 'mediation' thingy back in the city?"
"Shane." James purrs, his fingers dancing on the wet counter. "You cannot tell me to fuck off, remove my arm from your broad and inviting shoulders, to then entice me with your curiosity about my life, now, can you?" He stretches his lips in a cocky smile. One of those that feels so satisfying to punch out. And if Shane was to punch that stupid face of his, break his lips, get them swollen, knock out a few teeth, he wouldn't be able to say his name with such repulsively thick honey in his voice… And what did he say about his shoulders?!
"Watch your damn mouth…" Shane manages to get out of his dry throat.
"Ha! I'd watch yours if I were you." James stands up, downing the rest of his pint without any dribbles falling anywhere on his expensive looking shirt, or along his perfectly chiseled chin. "Good night, Shane."
"Fuck off, pretty boy."