Chapter Text
Mew is pissed and the greenish scenery he sees from the car’s window does nothing at making it better, if anything, it only makes it worse. He hates grass, hates fields, hates roads empty of buildings, hates the bright sun, hates the silence. He hates everything that surrounds him and his headache keeps growing stronger.
The journey is tiring and the longer he is being driven to some place he has to stay for a week to step down work, because stress is making his body sick, the worse his mood becomes. Mew didn’t especially have a choice, it was either taking a week off or have his ass dragged by force by his best friend to the hospital. Said best friend is strong and between staying hospitalized for seven days or spending a week at a resort of his friend’s choosing, the choice had been made fast.
But still, the situation is far from being perfect. Perfect would be him, in his office, working on a height digits transaction with a classic affogato, its expresso to keep him awake and its vanilla ice cream to freeze his aching brain.
Mew closes his eyes and massages his temples as a useless attempt to sooth the never-ending pain. If only he could spend a few hours without feeling like someone is hammering nails in his head, it would be wonderful.
"The car seems to have some issues Sir, I will pull over to get a closer look." His secretary-and-driver-for-the-day states. Mew answers with a cold glance in the rearview mirror. "Please stay inside."
"Like I would step out in the wild." Mew speaks once he is alone in the car. Maybe a boar will chew a piece of his secretary’s ass so they will have to drive back to Bangkok. Maybe. It never hurts to dream once in a while.
"I am afraid the car won’t be able to go much further today." The man speaks after having opened the driver’s door.
"What do you mean by that?" That expensive car should be able to drive them till the other side of the globe. "We can’t stay here, it’s almost night. Do your job. Call a tow truck."
"Remember how you thrusted this week into my hands Sir?" How to forget the biggest mistake he has done this year? "The closest place we can sleep is a farm nearby. It’s about 10 minutes of drive. The car should be fine and I will call someone for repair first thing in the morning tomorrow."
Wait a minute.
What did his secretary just say? A farm? Did he really suggest spending the night in such place instead of calling a tow truck? It seems his secretary is more in need of rest than he is because to have such crazy ideas, it must not be going well inside his head.
"A farm? You want us to sleep in a farm? Do they even have running water?"
Mew is rude, then what? He doesn’t like farms either, they are part of the countryside he dislikes so much. Farm stinks and there is nothing but dirt and gross animals. He likes the immaculate white of his company’s walls and the traffic’s noise that covers the exhausting thoughts running in his mind. Mew doesn’t want to listen to oinking or bleating. He doesn’t want to reek dung left by cows.
"You know I wouldn’t let you stay somewhere unsafe Sir. Please trust me."
If Mew wasn’t too tired to fight with his secretary, he would have already scolded him and ordered him to fly them to the resort, yet, his traitor of a body simply decides to go with the suggestion. Mew doesn’t step out of the car once they are parked in front of the farm though. He doesn’t want to get shot by the farmer's shotgun because they think they are two robbers who came to steal their crops or something like that.
At least the farmhouse is still standing on its foundations.
His secretary stays on the doorstep for a little while, talking to someone Mew supposes is the farmer, though he can’t see clearly from the distance. His vision is a bit blurry, maybe it’s time to change his contact lens. His secretary better had them packed because he hasn’t, and he hates wearing glasses. They are annoying and get in the way.
"There are rooms for us to stay." His secretary announces with a smile Mew doesn’t return. "I’m sure you will like it."
"After all those years, I thought you knew me better."
With rolling eyes and reluctant feet, Mew makes his way out of the engine, odors of grains hitting him right away. He doesn’t lift a finger to take his luggage and lets his secretary do the work. This is a farm, not the promised resort. Plus, he is supposed to be resting, so Mew won’t do a thing.
When he is on the porch and stands close enough to distinguish with precision the farmer’s features, Mew casts a judging look at his secretary.
"Let me guess. There's only one guest room and you're willing to sacrifice yourself and sleep in the farmer’s bed to give me the spare room?" Who cares if the farmer thinks he is impolite, it's not like they are going to see each other after tonight. Plus, his secretary’s sparkling eyes that stare back at him along with his smirk tells he has seen right through it. "You may be my secretary but you're still my best friend Tul."
"I'm your only friend."
"Same difference."
*
Mew barely sleeps that night. Nothing unusual there, he is used to go to bed past midnight and wake up before sunrise and in this unfamiliar setting, he was bound to barely rest. Yet, despite years of waking at crack of dawn, farmers apparently rise to life earlier than that.
4am. Sharp.
Mew hears running water, hears footsteps, hears some rattling sounds of what he guesses are dishware. There are many different kinds of noises and while it seems like whoever are up are trying to keep the daybreak’s racket at low level, it’s still too loud for Mew to fall back asleep.
He tosses and turns in bed, again and again and again until the squeaking of the mattress annoys him so much he takes his phone to call his secretary slash best friend to request for breakfast to be brought to bed.
"They don’t offer room service." Tul answers with too much amusement in the voice. "Get your ass down to the kitchen. Breakfast is ready."
"Watch your mouth, I'm still your boss. You do the room service. Bring your annoying ass to the room with something to eat."
"My work shift only starts in an hour." The bastard smugly replies. "You’re not my boss yet. Don’t be such a snob and come here eat with us peasants."
Mew ends up the call with a flowery insult and sends his friend a middle finger emoji to make sure he understands his fed-up mood.
Not too long after the short morning conversation, knocks are heard against his door. He goes to open the door, pulling his best morning face on, aka the annoyed one.
"Took you long enough. I was about to starve to death."
The guy who stands in front of Mew isn't his secretary nor the farmer from yesterday. It's someone else, someone tall and young with wide doe eyes. Judged by his highly debatable fashion state, the man is a farmer too but his face isn't so bad for a morning view. Mew has met many people in the city with less gracious features.
Surprise morphs the man's calm traits and a pale pinking hue colors the top of his cheeks.
"I....I'm sorry. My brother just told me now to bring you something to eat. I hope this will do." The man refers to the tray in his hands Mew hadn't noticed. "Everything is homemade and comes from the farm. Except for coffee."
"Growing coffee between pigs and cows would be weird." If the remark has offended the farmer, it doesn’t show on his face. Mew doesn’t say more and simply stares at the man.
"Let me know if you need something else. The kitchen is downstair."
The tall farmer who hasn’t thought of introducing himself yet informs and bows before taking his leave. As Mew goes back to the bed to put the tray on, he barely has time to grab the mug of coffee that his phone screen flashes a new message.
Room service up to your taste? :p
Strangely didn’t smell like cow poop.
You’re a douche. The boy is fine.
He wears overalls, plaid shirt and rubber boots. I can’t believe there are still shops that sell those things.
It’s rustic. Might look cute without the clothes on?
Who’s the douche now?
*
Turns out the farmhouse has running water, warm water at that. Mew doesn’t have to wash in a huge basin, he uses a lambda shower in a clean bathroom. He is glad he always travels with his toiletries though, it would have irked him to use someone's else soap. He has already slept in someone's else bed and used someone's else towel, it's not his thing. Tul must be laughing at him because he knows he can be a freak about cleanliness at times and the situation right now isn’t the most pleasing for him.
There’s nothing much in the bathroom so the perfume on the cabinet isn’t hard to miss as he brushes his teeth. Roses and magnolias. Mew wonders if it’s why the young farmer didn’t smell of animals’ droppings earlier, not that he had been able to smell the flowery scent off the boy. And it’s not like he will have time and the will to verify the exactitude of his guess. His stay at the farm is about to end soon.
"What about the car?" Mew asks once he is refreshed and that his secretary has joined him in the guest room. "Can we leave now?"
"Max is looking at it. He is handy." The two sentences give quite a few pieces of information about the man and his best friend.
"Guess Max is the farmer who shared his bedroom with you?"
"Yes. And his brother is Gulf." The name doesn’t ring a bell for Mew. "The cutie who brought you breakfast?"
"I guess he is alright looking for a farmer." Mew can't really expect a super model to live between hay and sheep right? "Leave the car here and call a rental service or a taxi. I don't want to stay here any longer."
"Why not? It's relaxing. Do you want to see the horses?"
"No I don't." The horses? And what next, go bottle-feed the calves? "I want to go to that resort, stay in my room for a week and go back to work."
"Let's stay for another day." His secretary says, totally turning a deaf ear on his orders.
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
"I'm the boss and I said no."
"As your secretary I say you need this break to be more efficient at work." Then, as if Tul hasn’t ran his mouth enough, he keeps going. "As your best-friend I say the countryside's air will do you good."
"If we stay here today, then we're going back to Bangkok a day earlier than planned." Bearing with the farm's smell is worth it if it means he can take a shorter break.
"Sure thing boss."
Tul agrees way too easily and goes for his shoulder, probably to pat it but doesn’t. Despite their closeness and tight friendship, his friend always makes sure to remain professional whenever he needs to, but there’s something glistening in his eyes that tells Mew his secretary is thinking about something.
"If you are on break so am I, right?"
"No shit Sherlock."
"So it's just us besties spending quality time at the farm?"
"Whatever you say. Go see your horses. Or horse. Singular. I don’t know which one you’ll mount." Both probably, though Mew doesn’t want to know in detail. "I’ll nap."
"It's 10:30am."
"And?" The single word is defiant. "You always complain I don't sleep enough and now that I want to take a nap, you don't want me to?"
"You can nap tomorrow." Tul grabs him by the shoulder, a smile dancing on his lips. "Today you explore the farm. I’m sure the cutie pie will play your guide if you ask him nicely." Who cares? Mew has no intention to beg for a personal tour of the property.
"Mind your business and come back for lunch. I don’t want to eat on my own."
"Ask Gulf to keep you company. Eat with him." Yeah, how about no?
"Just shut up and do your thing asshole."
*
Mew has no intention to listen to his friend but the guest room isn't that big and he isn't sleepy either so he finds himself outside the farmhouse roughly an hour later. None of the buildings are falling apart, which is great. It's not modern but it's better than what Mew thought it would be. Call him a douche, but farm doesn't appeal luxury to him. He is surprised to see more than just the farmhouse and the stables though. He has walked past the barn and the greenhouse, and there’s probably more along the way.
His shoes are definitely not made for the muddy soil, even dry. He must stick out like a sore butt with his attire but who cares? It's not like he is shooting for a magazine. Well, he would look hot if he did. Business suit between crops and —
"Watch out!"
A voice yells and Mew doesn't have time to register what is happening that he feels a striking pain in his ass. He stumbles over, knees and hands hitting the ground due to the sudden attack. Mew's first reaction is to curse, because damn, he is wearing one of his favorite custom-made suit, but when he tries to get up and lifts his head, he comes face to face with a goat and falls back on his ass.
What the hell? Has he been attacked by a goat? Out of nowhere?
"Come here silly goose." It's the younger farmer who speaks, Gulf, Tul said, right? He grabs the animal by the sides and drags it back.
"I’m no farm specialist but I think it’s a goat and not a goose." The look the man gives him drips confusion.
"Ah, yes, it’s an expression. Silly goose, I mean." The farmer explains, not having understood Mew had meant it as a joke. "I'm really sorry, she escaped her enclosure. Are you alright? She always does that with strangers."
"I hope you don't do the same with strangers." Mew gets up and for whatever reason the young farmer has let go of the wild animal to hold onto his elbow to help him up. The gesture is useless because Mew is big enough to get back on his feet on his own but he doesn’t say it aloud. His first reflex is to brush his pants. That dried soil better goes away without leaving any stain after cleaning.
"I... No, no. I don't plow into someone's ass headfirst."
"Good to know."
The reply drags them into a silence Mew finds uncomfortable. Anyone would just keep the conversation going but based on his secretary slash best friend, Mew lacks a bit of social skills. He isn’t fond of chit chat, that’s all.
The goat doesn’t appear to be very friendly either for she comes closer again now that she is free from the farmer’s grip, her head low and her horns pointed at him. If the thing is planning on plowing him again, Mew’s current position isn’t ideal. He has some meat on his backside but he owns something more than fragile in the front. Just because he doesn’t want kids doesn’t mean he is ready to be castrated.
"Would you mind grabbing that thing? It looks furious."
"Macaroon isn’t mad, she’s only trying to establish the dominance hierarchy." Mew is lost for two seconds there. Did the farmer really name the goat Macaroon? And does the animal really wants to fight for dominance?
"Well, tell her I’m the boss." The statement hasn’t been said to be funny and yet, the tall man is laughing with his hand over his mouth, as if he is trying to be polite. Mew has no idea what is so funny but isn’t going to ask.
"It doesn’t work like that." Wide brownish eyes stare at him, the farmer’s cheeks rounder as he keeps smiling. "You’re on her territory so you either have to submit to her or fight to become the leader."
"You’re joking right?" There is no way Mew is going to fight with a goat.
"Yes and no." Gulf sheepishly answers, his hands going to pet the animal. "I had her since she was a baby, she grew up without other goats and thinks of the estate as her own so she tends to be a little defensive."
"Defensive? I would have said offensive." Then, after taking another look at the goat, Mew adds. "She’s calm with you."
"Always be kind to the hand that feeds you." What a wise thing to say. "Right Macaroon? We’re best friend."
And the goat bleats, loudly. It bleats as if she understands what the farmer says and Mew thinks it’s crazy because how could the animal be that clever? Maybe she eats some hallucinogenic hay, it would explain a lot.
The awkward silence makes it come back so Mew asks the first thing that comes to mind, deciding to ignore how off-topic his question is.
"Do you have WIFI here? Because the signal is so bad I can’t even open an email." Tul has already forced him to let his laptop at work and if Mew can’t have access to the internet on his phone, the day is going to be very, very long.
"There is but your friend made me promise not to give it to you." The fucker. At least the farmer has the kindness to gift him a cute smile. Wait, cute? Did he just say cute? What the hell is wrong with him? Get your shit together Suppasit.
"I won’t tell him you gave me the password."
"Sorry. I don’t like breaking promises."
And I don’t like being here Mew inwardly adds to himself. The man seems two hundred percent resolute on not going back on his words so Mew doesn’t even try to change his mind. It’s not everyday he gives up a fight.
"I can show you around if you want. Have you seen the chicken coop?"
"I haven’t. I only like chicken when they are fried." The remark isn’t meant to be insulting but judged by the look on the farmer’s face, it’s easy to tell Mew has startled him.
"We don’t eat animals living there."
"You’re not? Isn’t it the whole point of having a farm?"
"No." The farmer’s frown shows he is turning serious. "I mean, it can be, but it depends on what farm you manage. My brother and I have a small farming, we only use derived products like milk, eggs and wool."
"Well, farm and pets aren’t really my things so… I’m just going back to the farmhouse to count the sheep before sleeping."
"Don’t you want to count them for real?" And here comes the polite offer Mew will turn down because he has already met a goat and has no intention of seeing more smelly things.
"No thank you."
Alright. Mew has seen his fair share of disappointed people at work and most of the time he is the one putting this expression on his clients’ faces, but Gulf seems devastated by his refusal, it’s not even funny. The young farmer is sensitive when it comes to his farm and his animals to say the least.
Mew grunts and exhales all the misery of the world through a single sigh. He is so going to regret this. He knows it already.
"Fine. But once I’m done counting the sheep you give me the WIFI password." If he has to go through something annoying, Mew might as well obtain something useful out of this situation.
"I won’t." The tall farmer shakes his head, his hair reflecting the sun rays. The locks look smooth, just like his skin. Maybe they have a donkey’s milk at the farm, he has heard it does wonder on the skin.
"Do you have donkeys' milk?" The question slips past his lips and Gulf’s eyebrows rise.
"Ass milk? No, we haven’t. Why?"
What the..? Did the farmer just say ass milk?
"I said donkey, not ass." Mew would be aware if asses produced milk.
"Donkey, ass, jenny. These are all synonyms."
"Ass?" Mew has to repeat, because, really? Ass? How confusing is that? "You call a donkey an ass?"
"I haven’t personally named it an ass but yes, it can be called like that."
"So you can say you wash your face with ass’ milk? Ass’ milk."
"Yes, why are you —" Gulf suddenly stops himself mid-sentence, blush creeping up his cheeks. Finally, the farmer seems to understand his struggle. "That.. Obviously it doesn’t come from our ass you know, it’s just, another word for donkey, as we can also call them jackass, not that it’s better but well, yes, I don’t make these words and they are a bit weird but what about we go see the sheep now? They are sweet."
Mew watches with surprising enticement the flushed farmer trying to sort himself out of this mess. He highly doubts he is going to find the sheep sweet, even more now in comparison of Gulf’s lovely embarrassment.
*
Sheep are big.
It’s not the first time Mew sees sheep in the flesh, he has done one or two farm trips when he was a kid, but he didn’t remember they were this impressive. There aren’t many in the field, roughly a dozen, and they all come towards the fence the moment Gulf does a sound with his mouth. Seeing the beige sea arrive like a tidal wave is an experience on its own, their bleating concerto deafening.
Mew is certain none of his employees are as happy to see him in the morning as those sheep are thrilled to see the young farmer. He doesn’t know what to do with this piece of information.
"Those animals love you." The random comment is out before Mew can think twice about it. He isn’t a chatty person so why does his mouth suddenly blabbers useless things?
"They give back what they receive and more." The broad smile Gulf wears is slightly disconcerting. "Do you want to pass the fence and meet them?"
"No, I’m just here to count their heads." As the goat from earlier has finally disappeared, Mew wants to stay at a very respectable distance with all the other animals. "Do they bite? They look savage."
"They don’t." A hearty laugh goes with the answer. The farmer vigorously scratches one of the sheep back. "But they are a bit brusque and as they can weigh a lot, they easily have the strength to push you around or unintentionally throw you off balance if you’re standing close to them."
"So what you’re saying is to stay away from the sheep if you don’t want to be trampled to death." Another laugh, more discreet this time, though as sincere, escapes Gulf’s throat. Why on earth does that man laugh at whatever he says?
"What I mean is sheep are grateful for the attention you give them but struggle to contain their happiness at times."
"What about you?"
As soon as the question flies to Gulf’s ears, Mew rolls his eyes. Why would he ask such thing? If he himself doesn’t even understand what he means by that, how is the farmer supposed to figure it out? Also, Mew shouldn’t find the man’s surprised face this charming.
Think about his rubber boots Suppasit, nothing cute about that.
"Me?" Gulf keeps petting the sheep but looks at him at the same time. "I don’t throw people off balance when they make me happy."
"But you make them fall?"
"Fall? Like on the ground?"
"Like, in love?"
Oh dear sweet lamb, Mew must be high on his lack of sleep, otherwise there is no other explanations to his blathering. Being at his company is so much easier than dealing with a man he doesn’t want to deal with in the first place. Maybe Mew’s mouth is trying to fill the silence in order to prevent any kind of awkward situations but in the end, it only creates embarrassing conversations. From now on, he should keep his lips sealed and go back inside the farmhouse as soon as possible, meaning, right in the next few seconds.
A loud noise prevents him from announcing his early departure and the sheep, along with he and Gulf, jump in surprise. The farmer is instantly on alert.
"What was that?"
And just like that, Gulf dashes across the pathway to reach the barn. Mew is left rooted on the ground for a minute, trying to decide whether to follow the man or not. Disliking farm or not, the choice seems rather obvious. If something bad has happened, he can’t really be a douche and let the farmer handle it on its own, even though he would have had if Mew hadn’t found himself stuck in this estate for the day.
It takes him longer than he thought to follow Gulf’s footsteps but once he has passed the barn’s double doors, he finds the cute farmer, no, the farmer, lifting bundles of hay off the ground. As he does so, Mew notices Gulf’s brother and his best friend half dead and half naked. Not many braincells are needed to understand what has happened.
"Hell, if you're going to fuck here at least make sure we don't have to see your dicks." Mew comments without shame and helps Gulf to remove the remaining bundles of hay. The younger farmer is clearly embarrassed.
"You’re lucky it was only bundles and not rolls of hay, you could have died." There is something in Gulf’s voice that is raw and full of worry. Mew thinks it’s him trying to scold his brother while still being thankful he is alive.
"Come on, get your ass up now." Mew grabs Tul by the arm and pulls him up. The wincing face his friend make is unmissable. "Are you hurt?"
"Maybe? I can’t really move my right arm." Amazing. There’s only his friend to break a bone while trying to ride another man in a barn. "Is there a doctor around here?"
"The closest works at the hospital. It’s about an hour of drive." Gulf informs, teeth nervously sinking in the flesh of his bottom lip. "You can borrow our farm truck, your car isn’t ready yet."
"I don’t drive." Mew stares back at Gulf, anger directed toward himself making his inside uneasy.
"I can, I know the way the best." Max interjects, obviously not having suffered any injuries. "Will you be alright? I don’t like leaving you at the farm on your own."
"Don’t worry, I’m a big boy. And I’m not alone anyway."
The reassuring smile Gulf offers to his brother seems to do the trick for the elder farmer picks up his discarded shirt and comes closer to grab Tul. Before leaving the barn though, and while Gulf is busy piling up the bundles of hay, Max makes sure to whisper a message in his ears.
"You can help in the farm but my brother is off limit."
"I beg you pardon?" Has Mew heard right? Has the bulky farmer just threatened him?
"My brother." The man insists on each syllable. "He’s worth much more than just a one-night stand so keep your hands to yourself unless it’s to help him run the farm when I’m gone. Understood?"
"Received loud and clear. Don’t touch the brother."
It’s not like Mew wants to jump the young farmer anyway. The man wears rubber boots and has named his goat Macaroon after all.
Totally not his style.