Chapter Text
Recently the weather's been getting hotter and hotter.
It's good for the farm, which means he should be happy.
…he’s not.
Unhappy isn't really the right description for his feelings, he loves the farm and everything surrounding it, it's just this weather…
He should be accustomed to this type of weather with the amount of time he’s spent outside on his farm, Lomedy has absolutely no tolerance for it whatsoever. The feeling of heat going through your clothes and slowly warming up your skin, how quickly sweat pools up on his face, and the fatigue that follows with it is unbearable. It's like for every 30 minutes he spends under the sun, are 2 hours of exhaustion that follows soon after. It's what keeps him in bed in the morning, dreading the future suffering he’s going to be forced to endure.
That’s putting it nicely—he fucking hates it.
Yet here he is, plucking vegetables out of the ground, growing more and more uncomfortable by the second. As the sun’s assault grows to be barely bearable, he begins to question why he thought harvesting would be a good idea to do after finishing everything else around the farm. He wipes his sweaty hands onto his pants and continues working away.
He was sweating through his tank top, feeling the shirt dampen and stick to his chest. Every few seconds he had to wipe his hair out of his face, or else a few drops of sweat would sneak their way into his eye. His knees have been hurting due to his current position, and he knows squatting parallel to the leaves of the carrots he’s been harvesting for the past half hour will be something he will regret in the near future.
A few more excruciating minutes—that really felt like hours—pass before he picks the last carrot and places it into the basket with a sigh. He wipes the sweat off of his forehead before he does one last lookover to make sure he got every last carrot. He stands up dusting the dirt off of his pants as he begins to head over to the house he and Flame share at the moment.
Rubbing the dirt off of his shoes onto the door mat that says ’silly cats only’ at the front door, he opens the door with a loud creak. The cool air from the air conditioning is nothing but refreshing. He lets out a sigh, the cool air immediately dissipating any sense of discomfort he had from the sun's rays.
He steps into the house, closing the door behind him, and greets Luna, the newly appointed farm cat that snuck into the house. They let her stay after realizing the rodent problem that had been very prominent throughout the past week, suddenly disappeared overnight. Luckily, she causes them no trouble other than being a hungry ball of fur. On the other hand, Ashen, Flames ginormous ball of white and black fur that he swears is a husky and not a wolf who's killed more people than Lomedy, isn't a big fan of her. Never once had Ashen bared his teeth at her, instead the dog just…avoids any possible interaction with the cat. Even going as far as leaving any room the moment he spots the black void of the cat.
Flame and Lomedy have tried and forced them into a room together, “sibling bonding” Flame had called it, but it just ended with Ashen breaking a window and Luna disappearing for 2 nights, both returning seemingly unharmed.
He gives the cat a few pats on the head and departs from the front door, ignoring the meows behind him demanding more of his attention.
He runs his hands through his curly hair, catching the tips of his goat horns, and immediately grimaces as his hand is once again soaked by the sweat lingering on the tips of his hair. He wipes the sweat onto his already moist pants and makes his way towards the kitchen.
Each step he takes is reverberated throughout the house, so when he makes his way to the kitchen, it's no shock Flame greets him without even looking at him.
“Hey Lomedy, you just finished?” Flame says facing toward the counters, focused on something Lomedy couldn't see.
“Yeah, it wasn't too bad, the harvest went good—its just the heat. It's getting unbearable.” He pulls out a chair and takes a seat at the dinner table, propping his head up with his hand.
“Bro the chickens are going insane, look at how many eggs there are.” Flame says. His tone lacks any enthusiasm, but Lomedy can see how excited he is with how quickly he turns around to show him (and his lean tiger tail hanging stiffly only wagging at the tip of his tail, but he won't mention it. yet.).
It's almost like watching a dad look at his son have a natural gift for a sport, he thinks.
As flame turns around, his eyes widen as the three egg cartons from the other side of the table, each one having rows of eggs that the chickens laid, are displayed in all their glory right in front of him.
“Oh wow, uh we really don't need that many.” Technically they could eat all those eggs, but they aren't home long enough to guarantee all the eggs won't go bad—and truthfully, Lomedy doesn't really want to eat eggs 24/7.
“I counted, there's 90 in total. 30 in each carton.” Flame adds.
“We could sell some of these at the market later this week…”
“Or eat them”
“We aren't eating 90 eggs in two months, that's insanity—and we’re like, never home.” Lomedy deadpans
“Bro, but we could.”
Lomedy ignores him, already sensing this is a losing battle. “Did anything else happen at the coop?”
“Nah bro, the chickens were just being annoying again. Like I went to go get their water, and every time I stopped they kept sitting on my feet. Bro it was like they were forcing me to stay in the coop. Kinda weird.” He scrunches his face slightly, like he was remembering the moment.
“I’m pretty sure they like you.” Lomedy chuckles.
“I hope not, they're annoying.” Flames ears flicked twice before standing neutral atop of his head.
"You sure? I think you like them as well.” He says teasingly, eyes carefully watching the others tiger ears for any more movemoment.
“Wha—Bro. I don't care about the chickens.”
Lomedy doesn't verbally reply. He raises his eyebrow and points to Flames tail, which is still stiffly hanging below his waist slightly wagging at the tip, then moves his hand upwards to his ears—which flicker again before halting.
He really is a cat, Lomedy thinks.
“Shut up.” Flame huffs, and Lomedy snickers at him.
“Okay okay, I’m done.” He says, huffing out a laugh. “Go wait on the couch, I’ll cook dinner tonight”
“You sure? I’m down to cook again.”
“Flame you’ve cooked for the past week straight. Don't worry about it. Either way, I’ve been missing the kitchen recently.” He says pushing himself up from the chair with a small groan, reluctant to get up from the comfort of the chair.
“If you say so, I’ll bring the small table from outside?” Flame says already making his way to the front door.
“Make sure it doesn't have spiders on it!”
Lomedy had just wrapped up the food he was cooking. It was nothing special, just fried rice with chicken and eggs. Still, it took a bit of energy from him. He just wants to sit around and do nothing after a hard day of farm work. It's harder than it looks, one second you're pulling something out of the ground and next thing you know, you’ve picked them incorrectly and the whole batch you just harvested has to be thrown away, Or worse, forgetting to feed the cows and finding the newly installed wooden fence in the dirt while they frolic in the fields, munching away at the grass. There’s a lot of care and consideration that goes into farming that people don't appreciate enough.
Like Flame, but he’s slowly coming around to appreciate the farm!
He fills two plates, one a little more than the other, and puts the rest in the fridge for later. He walks over to the couch where Flame should be, but he doesn't see the back of his head peeking over the backseat.
“Flame…?” He wraps around the couch confused until he sees the man.
He giggles at the sight, quickly putting down the plates of food before he tips it over and admires the sight before him.
Slumped into the corner of the couch lies Flame. Face hiding in his folded arms atop of the arm rest, while his feet stay planted on the group. Maybe he would’ve been lying down completely on the couch if it weren't for Ashen, who somehow found a way to squish his humongous body completely on Flame’s lap. Tail wagging enthusiastically, thumping into the couch with a steady beat, while mocha beads stare at Lomedy expectantly. Lomedy gets closer to Flame ready to lightly shake him awake to eat, until he hears something catch his ears, a rumbling sound.
He pauses, just to make sure he wasn't hearing things.
There, there it is. That slight rumbling.
The sound is not coming from far away. Ashen is awake—and he's pretty sure dogs don't make that noise. So that only leaves…
He lets out a chuckle when it clicks.
He can't really believe it, he can only count on his hands the number of times he’s heard flame purr. After the law battle when Flame was utterly exhausted and asked for head pats out of the blue, and a random sunday when Lomedy walked into his room while he was sleeping in for once.
Lomedy quietly pulls the table closer to the couch and takes a seat next to the sleeping tiger, and begins to eat. Allowing the sounds coming from the cat dissipate into the background, while he savored every bite—ignoring Ashen's pleading eyes. Every few bites he’d put the fork down, angle the food away from the larger than average dog, and gently pat Flame’s head.
If Lomedy noticed the purrs suddenly get louder, he never mentioned it.