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Jim took great pride in his yard. He liked to mow it frequently, whipper snip the borders, and used grey water to keep it happy and healthy.
Which is why you felt so damn bad that you'd slipped up while house-sitting for him.
You weren't well acquainted with mowers, and had never before used a whipper snipper. You'd thought that you wouldn't even need to worry about the lawn while he was away, but you also didn't realise just how quickly grass grew, so it was with determination and a smidge of guilt at how raggly his beloved yard was looking that you entered his shed Saturday morning. You could absolutely mow a yard. How hard could it be?
Rather hard for a newbie, as it turns out. What you lacked in experience you made up for with positive determination, which is how you managed to get so far, you think. Sure, the edges were still a mess, and the job was patchy in places, but it was your patchy job, so you were immensely pleased and proud of yourself.
And then the mower stopped.
After finding the fuel tank still quite full, you realised the poor thing had stalled because of the sheer amount of grass it wasn’t used to handling. You attempted to start it again but quickly realised you just didn’t have the arm strength to actually pull the starter cord, so there you sat, exhausted, next to the mower that you hadn’t been able to stop talking to.
—
Leonard McCoy had been watching your yard work for…a while. He hadn’t meant to. He was passing by the kitchen window, the one that gives him a good view of Jim’s backyard, when he first noticed you working on Jim’s yard. He had been idly wondering if Jim would be hiring someone to take care of it while he was away, but it seems he hadn’t, given that you were struggling your way through it. Leonard felt for you – it was a warm day, the yard was gently sloped, and he knew from experience, from years of earning his pocket money by working on his parents lawn, that even the smallest slope can seem like a mountain in the end.
He had moved closer in the end. He didn’t want to alarm or embarrass you, but he was awfully curious, and it just so happened that he had planned on getting a bit of his own yard work done as well. It was while he was wheeling out his own mower that he overheard you speaking to Jim’s machine, and he had to stifle a laugh.
“I’m actually kinda relieved that you stalled when you did, you know. I don’t actually know how to turn you off. Also, I couldn’t turn you back on if my life depended on it.”
There was a kind of tapping sound, and he could so easily picture you giving the mower a reassuring pat the way he’d seen you do to multiple other inanimate objects that had done you a service. He moved a little closer, and now was just able to see you through the fence. You were sitting on the grass beside the mower, sunhat shading your face, looking tired but happy.
“I need a drink,” you said. “I’d give you something if I could. You have fuel, I suppose, but I’m not confident enough to attempt to give you any. Maybe next weekend.”
Leonard smiled to himself, quietly admitting that his slight crush was growing to an almost unmanageable size, and that he should probably make some noise on his end before you ended up seeing him and thinking he was creeping on you.
Which he wasn’t. He hadn’t intended to listen to you for this long, but it was nice hearing you talk like this. Easily and without reservation– even if your conversational companion was a silent mower. Your companion could be him, though. He just needed to take that step and say something and then you–
—
—were startled by the footsteps on the other side of the fence. Leonard’s side. While you had spent your time at Jim’s so aware that Leonard was just a stone’s throw away, you hadn’t actually mustered up the courage to go on over there and actually say something to the man. Of course you took every opportunity you could to talk to him in town or in passing when you happened to be outside at the same time, but intentionally seeking him out was a whole other ballgame, and you didn’t have a good enough handle on your ever-growing feelings for him to attempt that.
And there he was, nonchalantly peering over the chest-high picket fence at you, a happy smile on his face.
“Thought I heard you down there,” he said, and you grinned up at him, happy to see him but internally panicking at how you must be looking right about now.
“Leonard!” you climbed to your feet, smothering a wheeze at the ache in your legs, and attempted to mosey on over to the fence without hobbling. You did pretty well, you thought.
“How goes the yard work?”
“It’s, you know…it’s going. If you don’t look too closely at any of it, I think it’s going really well.”
He looked over the yard, saw the longer bits around the edges, the little slivers here and there that you had missed, and gave you a smile that would have melted you if you weren’t already there thanks to heat and exertion.
“Looks just fine, sweetheart.”
You narrowed your eyes playfully, leaning heavily against the fence, and he leaned beside you. “I know you’re humouring me, but this is my first time mowing a yard, so I’m going to believe you.”
He was surprised at that. Not in an asshole-y way, but because it had never really occurred to him that not everyone spent their youth mowing for pocket money. It’s just how it was for him with his family. “You really did do a good job,” he said kindly, and loved the way you relaxed a little at his words. “Everybody’s gotta start somewhere. How did you like it?”
You took a moment to think about it, to flex your hands and acknowledge the ache settling into your joints, and gave him a shy, sweet smile. “I enjoyed it. Everything hurts, and that slope over the other side was a lot harder than I thought it would be, but I feel really accomplished now. It’s not…It’s not finished, and I don’t know if I can finish it today, but I still feel really good about it.”
“As you should.”
He watched as you looked over your work, saw your smile shift from satisfied to sheepish. “I know I'm supposed to whipper snip around the borders, but I don't know how to use that thing and I don't know if I could actually carry it around long enough. I have noodle arms right now,” you said, wriggling them around, and he laughed with you.
He leaned a little heavier on the fence so that he was more on your level, and he nodded towards the grass. “You know, I’d be happy to whipper snip for you. You go on into the shade and sit down, and I’ll do the rest.”
“Oh, Leonard, I couldn’t sit back while you do all the work.”
“You’re exhausted, sweetheart. You need to sit down before you fall down.”
You studied him a moment, saw the sincerity and worry in his eyes, but when you leaned over the fence just that little bit further and laid eyes on the detested whipper snipper you couldn’t help your rising curiosity. “Could you teach me how to do it? Or if we leave the teaching for another day, since I can’t actually hold the damn thing, could I watch you use it? I figure I’ll have to do all of this at least one more time before Jim is home and I think it’d be a nice surprise for him.”
He took his time looking you over before asking “you promise me you won’t do anything but watch?” and you nodded immediately, holding your hand up, pinkie finger extended. He laughed, twining his finger with yours, and while you blamed the heat of the day on the redness of your cheeks you knew better. It didn’t help that his hold lingered, and when his hand slipped from yours it was with obvious regret.
“I promise,” you said, leaning a smidge closer, and he mirrored you, bringing the two of you closer, the distance between you no more than a whisper, really. His arms, resting along the fence, were firmly pressed against yours, and he was so close that an easy lean would put him in kissing distance.
“So, just watching, alright?” he confirmed, and the sly look in his eyes hinted at something else entirely. There was something between you now that hadn’t quite been there before, and you were helpless to resist– not that you wanted to, anyway.
You had watched him work in his yard before; he'd been out not two weeks ago, just after you'd gotten to Jim's, actually, and you'd passed by the living room windows more times than you wanted to admit. He wore a hat and a long sleeved shirt, and you bet that if you were close enough you'd be able to smell sunscreen on his skin. It was later in the afternoon, when the sun was beginning to set and the lawn was long done, that he'd stripped off his shirt before giving the grass a quick water, stopping here and there to wet his hand under the flow of the hose and press it to his neck. You stood there a moment, watching the drops slide down his chest with a shy kind of interest, before giving yourself a shake and very deliberately moving away from the window and over to the other side of the house. You hadn’t been able to look him in the eyes for a few days after that.
Seeing him work from a window was a totally different experience to seeing it from a stone's throw away. He took care to explain it all thoroughly to you, showed you how to hold the tool properly and how to start it, and little tips and tricks he’d picked up over the years. It was an absolute bonus, you thought, that the noise meant you had to move close to hear him. He usually waited until he finished one section and used the quiet moments on his way to the next to launch into the longer explanations, but you really appreciated it when he’d get so into his teaching-mode that he’d turn to you so slightly, just enough so that he could see you in his periphery while still keeping an eye on what he was doing, and you’d just have to move closer to hear him.
In the end that seemed to be all he was doing, so you suspected that he enjoyed the way you’d rest your hand on his shoulder while he spoke, your way of letting him know that you were there and actively listening to him, and sometimes it felt like he was learning into your touch a little.
You wanted to find some way to prolong this, so when it was all done and Jim’s yard looked much (much) nicer, you invited Leonard in for a cold drink. He accepted immediately, which was unsurprising but still a bit of a relief, and you got the drinks ready while he moved the whipper snipper back over to his yard. Your invitation, a welcome break but a well intentioned angle to spend more time with him, was all for naught when he asked you if you'd like to repeat the process while he did his own yard. The simple drink break turned into lunch, as you needed to eat before working more, and then turned into a long catch-up while you waited for the heat of the sun to ease a little.
Leonard was happy to give you his mowing tips, too, and seemed genuinely happy to help as much as he could. His offer to help you from start to finish next time was a genuine one, and it was one that you'd take him up on. He had a hands on way of showing you how to use his things that led to a maddening amount of lingering touches, and each time you felt too flustered to manage a positive response, a way to show you were listening and taking it all in, he'd give you this sly smile, like he knew what he was doing and he was delighted with your inability to form a coherent response.
It wasn’t until you were back in Jim’s yard that Leonard made his move, and it didn’t happen how you were expecting.
You were standing together by the porch steps, chatting lightly while you watered the grass, a soft, relaxed smile on Leonard’s face, and you turned to him, a question on your lips, and you faltered when you saw he was already looking at you.
“Somethin on your mind?” he asked, and it took you a moment to remember what you’d been meaning to ask him.
“Why are we watering the grass? I mean, I know it's something that you do, because I’ve seen you do it, but…why?”
His brow furrowed as he thought about it, and smoothed out once more as he huffed a laugh. “I’m actually not sure, sweetheart. My parents always did it, so I’ve always done it. I like that it brings out the smell of the freshly cut grass, though. Doesn’t feel like the job is done until I smell that.”
You nodded to yourself, breaking eye contact with him to look out over the grass, and turned back to him when you felt his hand touch yours gently.
“You’ve seen me water the grass?”
Ah. He had you there. His tone was light, playful, and that same smile from before was back with a vengeance. You had no excuse. No good ones, at least. “I happened to pass by the windows one day.”
“Passed by quite a few times if I recall correctly.”
“You…?”
“Saw? ‘Course I did. I’ve never paid this much attention to Jim’s house before.”
You were fairly sure you’d managed to avoid getting sunburnt today, but the way your skin flushed, the heat you could feel wash over you, had you fervently hoping that maybe you had gotten burnt, and he would chalk up the redness of your cheeks to too much sun.
Though of course he didn’t. Leonard wasn’t so easily fooled, and he had been watching you so closely. He saw the flush, watched the way it bloomed over your skin, and he idly wondered how that soft heat would feel on his lips.
“It’s good,” he said, watching as you nervously wet your lips. “You oughta try it.”
You seemed to be thinking over what he was implying, and by the way the flush darkened further it was in a good way. The hose was gently tugged from your grip, and he wet both of his hands thoroughly before twisting the hose off and throwing it off to the side. He moved slowly then, slow enough for you to see his movements, to object if you wanted, but not so slow that he lost all of the water. His hands touched your shoulders, and you shivered at the feel of the cold water sliding over your skin, but he didn’t stop there.
His hands moved up, past your neck, spreading what little water was left, and then he was cupping your head in his hands. His thumbs stroked your jaw gently, he touched one to your lips, and when he held it there you tentatively touched your tongue to it, tasting it; his lips parted, his breath hitched, and then he leaned down to you, hesitating only a moment before his lips pressed softly against yours. Your hands came up to his chest, twisting in the fabric of his shirt, needing something to hold on to as you lost yourself in his kisses, and it was with regret that you broke the kiss, needing a second to breathe before you passed out in his arms. He stayed close, thumbs still touching you gently, and he moved with you when you shifted to kiss him again.
He moved so slightly, hands moving over you, sliding down to your waist so that he could pull you closer, and when he heard your soft sighs, the way you tried to smother them against his lips, he moved onto your neck, wanting to hear you, and was pleased when his ministrations made those noises all the more prevalent.
“I told you the water was good,” he whispered against your skin. Your only response was to pull him back to you, and you felt his smile against your lips.