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Shane is sitting next to you on the docks, legs hanging off as you watch Jas scurry excitedly around the beach. He's nursing a sparkling water, and just the sight of the non-alcoholic can in his hands sends a happy thrill through you, despite how many times you've seen it before. He's come so far, it's heartwarming. A chilly breeze runs past and Shane shivers, tugging his ratty hoodie tighter around him. You roll your eyes playfully, leaning your head on his shoulder.
"It's the middle of Winter, Shane. I can't believe you're getting by with just this," you tease, pulling gently on his worn Joja hoodie. He snorts and pokes you back, finger digging into your side mischievously, and you squeak, batting him away.
"I'm telling you, I can't find my coat," he protests. "It's lost in the attic somewhere."
There's been a weird feeling between the two of you lately. You've been there for him all year, since a little after you moved here. Little by little, he let you in, opening up and showing you parts of himself he'd never shown anyone else before. Parts he thought were broken, parts he hated. You'd been his rock throughout his journey with addiction, witnessing his strength as he pulled himself out of the gutter and reset his life. You recall how he once said if he could restart his life, he'd start a chicken farm. Now that the Joja mart has closed, he works at Marnie's ranch. He refuses to throw out the hoodie, though, claiming he's gotten attached.
But now it feels as if your bond with him is teetering on a delicate line, a balance between a good, platonic friendship, and something a little more. Sharing these casual glances and words and touches suddenly doesn't feel so casual anymore. Neither of you are brave enough to take the plunge, it seems... yet.
"Got any fun plans for the Eve of the Winter Star?" he asked, voice suddenly quieter than usual. And shyer. He sounded nervous somehow. Weird. "Heading back to the city to see family?"
"Uh, nothing like that, no," you admit a bit sheepishly. "Probably just staying in, lighting a nice fire, hot cocoa, and my cat." His face brightens for a moment before the genuine panic is back, alarming you slightly. Is something wrong? Your brain is spiraling into withdrawals and sickness and relapses when he speaks again.
"So, uh, Marnie offered for you to come hang with us next week and have dinner and all. And, y'know, I was thinking and figured it was a pretty good idea, if you were down...?" He trails off hopefully, green eyes reflecting starlight. Yoba, this man is beautiful. The thought enters your mind before you can shut it out. Feeling your heart rate pick up at the idea, you nod eagerly.
"I'd love to." He grins, cheeks matching yours with a warm blush.
The door to Marnie's ranch swings open and Jas stands there, beaming like it's present time already.
"Shane! Your peach is here!" she squeals, and runs off. You blink, feeling your cheeks heat at the nickname, and slip inside.
"I brought pepper poppers," you call, and Marnie glances over from the kitchen with a bright smile.
"Oh, thanks, hun. You didn't have to do that," she says graciously, stirring something at the stove. You close the door behind you, just as Shane comes out from his room, running a hand through his purple hair. He scoops Jas into his arms, a truly adorable sight, just as she shrieks again.
"It's your peach!" Jas giggles, pointing at you. Shane turns bright red and sets the little girl on the ground, ushering her towards the kitchen.
"Go help Auntie with the food," he tells her, and she skips off. Shane comes over to you, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. His eyes light up at the dish in your hands.
"Did you just make those?" he asks, grinning, and you nod, pleased that he's excited.
"Yep, specially made," you say with a sweet smile, deciding not to comment on the whole 'peach' thing. Shane takes the dish from you happily and sets it on the counter. So friggin' adorable. "I'm bringing your other gift tomorrow," you tell Shane mysteriously. Your plan is to pop by Pierre's tomorrow to grab a nice bouquet for him, finally get this whole romantic tension problem figured out. He blinks, ducking his head bashfully.
"You don't hafta-" he starts, but you cut him off.
"I want to," you say firmly, hanging your coat. He offers you a cute smile before grabbing your wrist to lead you into the kitchen. Marnie gazes at the two of you warmly.
"Enter the happy couple," she says under her breath, and Jas chimes in.
"You guys are sitting together, right? Are you my Godmother now? Because you're Shane's peach?" she babbles, jumping around eagerly. You and Shane exchange looks, confused and more than a little flustered.
The rest of dinner goes on in essentially the same fashion: pleasant, but slightly odd. Marnie and Jas keep making these comments that embarrass both you and Shane by teasing or implying that you're a couple. The really weird thing is that they don't seem to be poking fun at your obvious affections for each other, it's more like they genuinely believe that you're dating. You and Shane don't mention it, laughing along, but it's bewildering to say the least.
After the dinner, Marnie takes Jas into her room to tuck her in. Shane splits a pepper popper with you, groaning in delight.
"These are the best things ever," he mumbles, the cheese stretching between his mouth and the half popper he's holding in his hand. You giggle and bite yours, enjoying the spice and crispiness. The chill of the winter evening is starting to seep into the house, and you shiver. Shane instantly takes your arm, guiding you over to the fireplace. There's a leather couch there, small and cute, which is new. You've never seen it there before. Shane crouches down to add another log to the fire as you curl up in the corner of the couch. He sits beside you, shrugging off his hoodie and handing it to you. Blushing, you pull it tight around yourself. It smells like him. Nice.
"Listen, I'm sorry about Marnie and Jas making things... awkward," he starts slowly, eyes on the fire. "I think they assumed that we're... a thing," he explains, flushed red as a tomato, still not looking at you. You smile, breath catching as he reaches behind the couch and pulls a bouquet out. Seriously, one of Pierre's signature bouquets, with the green ribbon and the beige parchment and everything. You stare, feeling a giddy smile on your face as he fidgets with the stems, looking very nervous.
"I bought this earlier for you, and I think Marnie thought I had already given it to you, so... Anyways, you know what this means, but, uh... I really like you, Peach. You probably know that too, but I might as well say it. I want to get more serious, and-" He's still not looking at you, so you tip his stubbled chin up with a finger, lips hovering a hairsbreadth from his, waiting for permission. Shane sets the bouquet on a nearby barrel and pulls you into his lap, kissing you softly. Gently, like you're fragile, like you're glass in his arms. You sigh in contentment and run your hands through his ruffled silky hair. He gasps, hands dipping under his hoodie that you're wearing to grip your waist tightly, anchoring himself as soft whimpers fall from his lips when you kiss up his jaw, liking the feel of his shadow on your lips. Jas' bedroom doorknob turns and you bolt apart, opting for a tight embrace as Marnie heads for her bedroom with a smirk. As soon as her door closes behind her, Shane exhales, kissing your ear.
"Guess that explains the peach thing," you giggle, and Shane's cheeks heat once more.
"Okay, listen, it became this inside joke that I would call you 'my peach' to my family, and Jas got... really fixated on it," he explains shyly. You kiss the nervous grin off his lips and he chuckles, warm breath tickling your ear. "I like you in my sweater," he whispers, hands sliding up and down your sides. You smirk.
"You'll like me better without it," you murmur back teasingly, and cue his entire face flaming as he stiffens, covering his face with his hands.
"Jeez, kid, have mercy on a simple man with simple desires," he pleads. You snort and push his hands away, kissing him again. He groans into your mouth, nails scrabbling at your hips.