Author's Note: Kaeru Shisho was the one who came up with the Vermin Hills line, and graciously donated it to the story. She's got the BEST sense of humor!
"I've been invited to take a seat on the Town Council here in Smoky Hills, but I'm not sure I should. I'm a farmer, for Heaven's sake--not a politician. My good friend Ebenezer Woolam insists that I'm the kind of level-headed thinker they need. But I wonder. I've always thought myself to be too much of a free spirit to fit in among bankers and lawmakers. On the other hand, if I refuse, I could alienate fellow townsfolk--neighbors--those I depend on in this wild new land."--excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton
Smoky Hills Part 3
Chore Day
The pile of junk furniture and rusted farm implements out back of the Barton barn was growing, even as the house slowly emptied, and became livable.
Having started with the necessary rooms--kitchen, bath and bedroom--the two men had moved on to the rest of the house, dragging out mouse-infested furniture room by room, and cleaning the screened porch so they had a place to rest in the evenings.
Once they'd made some space, they planned to make a couple of trips back and forth from Sanc with a small rental truck to move their belongings. Not that either man had much; Heero's apartment was rather Spartan in décor, and Trowa lived mostly out of a circus trailer. But they figured a few forays to thrift shops and tag sales would enable them to furnish a couple of rooms quite comfortably.
While Trowa wished some of the work could wait until he was back on his feet, he was practical enough to realize they didn't have that kind of time. They at least needed to make the house habitable.
Frustrated by his inability to do more than supervise, Trowa took to making lists of things in need of repair. Some he could take care of while sitting in the wheelchair, if Heero set him up with the tools ahead of time. But he felt a bit useless anyway, and chewed restlessly on the tip of a pen as he refined the list yet again, trying to decide which of the heavy work could be put off until he was able to help.
"Stop," Heero said quietly, pausing to level a stern look on his companion over their morning coffee.
"Stop what?"
"Feeling guilty. You practically eat, sleep and breathe with that pad and pen in hand. For Christ's sake, you just had knee surgery. Don't sweat the fact that you can't do manual labor. We knew before we came here that you'd be stuck in that chair the first couple of weeks."
"Yes, and it took you a whole day's work to make the downstairs 'wheelchair friendly,'" Trowa pointed out. "You shouldn't have had to do it all alone."
"I didn't mind. And I still don't," Heero assured him. "Despite my occasional grouchiness."
"I just wish--"
"I know, Trowa. You wish you could help. And you'd be hip deep in squirrel shit right along with me, if you could."
The smirking comment got the laugh he was going for, and Trowa's tension eased up a bit. "Well, it might've been more appropriate if they'd named the damned town Vermin Hills, instead of Smoky," he piped up. "Considering the rodent population in this house alone!"
"I agree."
~*~
Duo woke with a groan as his bedroom door slammed open and Quatre's too-cheerful voice greeted him. "Morning, Sunshine! Up and at 'em!"
The braided man burrowed deeper under his blankets and pulled his pillow over his head, feeling the edge of the bed dip as Quatre's weight settled on it. "G'way," he mumbled into his covers.
"No can do!" Quatre said brightly, poking him through the thick comforter. "It's Chore Day. And I've got a list a mile long."
"F'ck." Duo squirmed, trying to evade the hand that sought out his shoulder and gave it a firm shake.
"C'mon, Duo. Wakey, wakey!"
"Hate you."
There was a pause and a sigh. "How much did you have to drink last night?"
"'Nough."
"Enough for what, exactly?"
Duo knew that tone. It was Quatre's faintly scolding, deeply disappointed, parentally concerned tone.
"Enough to relax me," he muttered sullenly, rolling onto his back and peering up through slitted eyes. "I had a long week, an' you know it. Had to drive all up 'round that damned reservoir every day. Didn't help that last week was the anniversary of the fire, too."
"Oh, that's right," Quatre gasped. "I forgot."
The guilt in his voice made Duo snort wryly, despite the slight ache in his head. "Why should you remember it, Quat? You weren't even in town back when that happened."
"Yes, but I know you go to the cemetery every year."
And he had--every year since the Maxwell Orphanage burned to the ground, along with Father Maxwell, Sister Helen, and all the children still living there at the time.
Quatre gave him a faintly accusing look. "Why didn't you mention it?"
"I dunno." Duo rubbed his eyes and yawned. "I stopped that night after work. Didn't seem like anything you'd be interested in doing with me, so I got it over with and went home."
Yeah, he'd stood and downed a beer that night, too, and then filled the empty bottle with water from the spigot in the graveyard, and stuck a few early wildflowers into it. He'd set it on the old priest's headstone, and recited a prayer to a God he didn't believe in any more, and then he'd walked away without a backward glance--like he did year after year.
Quatre shook his head. "You know I'd have been happy to go along--for moral support, at the very least."
"I know," Duo said with a wan smile. "An' I appreciate it, buddy. But--it's not really your responsibility to babysit me when I'm bummed out. I'm sure I'd have been lousy company."
"All the more reason to take a friend," came the firm reply. Then the aquamarine eyes fixed a searching gaze on him. "Sooo--how much did you drink last night, really?"
"Two beers at the pub--three when I got home," Duo admitted. "Or maybe four."
Quatre eyed him critically. "So, you shouldn't be all that hung over," he noted, "which means you're just tired and cranky." He tugged at the blanket. "Get up and get your ass in the shower, and I'll have breakfast ready by the time you're human again!"
"Quat--!" Duo whined, pulling back, only to have the edge of the quilt slip from his fingers, allowing Quatre to pull it all the way off the bed.
The blonde danced back out of reach, as Duo groped for his warm covers, cursing a blue streak.
"Nope. Can't have 'em. We've got work to do today, Duo Maxwell! We have to clean the refrigerator, grocery shop, fix the loose hinge on the gate, and caulk the cellar window where it developed a leak over the winter." He shoved the blanket behind himself, and put both hands on his hips. "Then there's laundry and meal planning."
"Has anyone ever told you what a great fuckin' drill sergeant you'd make?"
Quatre just laughed at him. "No, I wouldn't," he argued. "I'm gay, Duo. They wouldn't want me. Besides, I can't stand khaki."
Duo finally chuckled weakly, pushing up into a sitting position, his braid a rumpled mess and his flannel pajama bottoms riding halfway down his hips. "Good thing I wore my pink bunny jammies."
Quatre's glance dropped to the aforementioned "jammies," realizing they were the ones he'd given Duo as a gag gift the Christmas before. He couldn't help laughing aloud at the disheveled, hung over, bunny-wearing mailman.
He managed to pull himself together and head for the door, calling over his shoulder to Duo. "Hurry up and shower. I'll see if I can make the pancakes look like widdle wabbits for you."
The pillow that Duo flung after him missed and rebounded from the door frame. "Asshole!" he called snidely.
"Wascally wabbit!" Quatre shot back.
"Enough already with the rabbit stuff!"
"Breakfast, Duo! Then chores!"
"Yes, mommy!"
Duo rolled reluctantly out of bed, heading for the aforementioned shower, and hoping he'd shake off both his headache and his melancholy mood under the soothing spray.
Meanwhile, Quatre set to work on the breakfast he'd promised, mentally kicking himself for forgetting to mark the anniversary of the orphanage fire on his desk calendar. He knew how important the date was to Duo, and he'd let it slip past.
Even as he poured batter into a sloppy facsimile of rabbit ears, attached to an even sloppier body, he promised himself he'd keep better track in the future.
When his roommate/employee came bounding into the kitchen fifteen minutes later, he seemed to be his usual, chipper self. He sauntered over to the coffee maker and poured himself a cup, then slung an arm across Quatre's shoulders and looked down at the pan.
"Shit! You really made bunnies!" He gave Quatre a glare that was a mixture of annoyance and amusement. "Think you're carrying this a bit far?"
"Hey, you're the one who wore the gag gift I bought you for Christmas," Quatre pointed out. "Those were never supposed to see the light of day."
Duo smirked back at him. "I know."
"Go pour us some orange juice, would you?" Quatre asked, elbowing him away.
"I got coffee--"
"Yes, and you need something nutritious to balance it. Juice, Duo. Now!"
Muttering under his breath, Duo set his coffee mug on the table, grabbed the orange juice out of the refrigerator and poured two glasses. As he slid the container back in, he gave the interior a quick scan. "Ew. You were right, Quat. Cleaning the fridge is definitely on the list today."
He brought their juice over to the table, as Quatre carried the plate of pancakes. "Make ya a deal," he offered hopefully. "If you clean that mildewy mess, I'll do the gate hinge and the caulking."
"You wish!"
"Aw, c'mon. You know I get queasy at the sight of vegetable rot."
"Then you shouldn't have shoved the zucchini into the back of the cooling drawer and buried it under the lettuce." He glared at his roommate. "It's practically liquefied."
"I hate zucchini," Duo reminded him.
"It's good for you."
"Yeah, but the guy in the produce section always looks at me funny when you make me buy it."
Quatre snickered at the teasingly suggestive tone. "Well maybe if you didn't fondle it so much--"
"I do not!"
Quatre laughed even harder at the outraged expression on Duo's face. "Seriously--the guy in the produce section is old enough to be your grandfather. I'm quite sure he doesn't have the same kinky thoughts about zucchini that you do."
"I don't!"
"Right. As I recall, you were the one who pointed out the--dimensions--last time we grocery shopped."
"Hey--I was merely observing that they come in 'small, medium, large, and holy shit.' I didn't mean anything sexual by that."
"It was the way you said it," Quatre told him, pushing the plate of pancakes closer to Duo's and gesturing him to help himself. "Eat before they get cold."
Duo forked a couple of pancakes onto his plate, and reached for the butter. "So--do we have a deal? I do the gate and the caulking?"
"Throw in the laundry, and it's a deal."
"But, Quat--!"
"Seriously. It'll take me a good two hours to scrub out that disgusting mess. You can fix the hinge in about five minutes, do the caulking in fifteen, and then throw a load of laundry in, before I'm even done emptying out the darned thing."
"Not if you figure in my trip to the hardware store for the new hinge."
"It's a ten-minute walk, which still only makes your chores about an hour, compared to two for me."
"I'll sit at the table and write the grocery list while you finish, and then we can shop together," Duo suggested hopefully.
Quatre hummed as if considering the offer, hiding a smirk at how easily he'd conned Duo into the lion's share of the chores. The guy really did have issues with vegetable rot.
"Okay," Quatre finally relented, secretly relieved to not have to do the chores involving tools, which were his own weak spot. "But you have to let me dictate part of the list--I'm not living on Snickers bars and soda."
"I don't!" Duo insisted vehemently. Then he threw in a teasing grin. "Sometimes I eat coffee and doughnuts, too."
"I rest my case."
The morning passed quickly, once the two men set to work on their respective chores, and it was barely noon when they'd finished and were prepared to set off for the grocery store, armed with their list, and their reusable grocery bags.
"Buy ya lunch at Sal's place," Duo offered, after a quick shuffle through his wallet to make sure he had enough cash.
Sally's Diner was a more common hangout than the pub, and most weekends they found their way there for at least one meal, and more often, two.
"Sounds good. And then we can pick up a nice steak or burgers to cook on the grill tonight," Quatre offered. "That'll be my treat."
The small house they shared the rent on was located just at the edge of town, within walking distance of their favorite places, but away from the noise and bustle around the town green. They decided to forego driving and walk instead, as it was a lovely day, and they had a fairly small list of groceries to carry back.
"Hey, when we get to the grocery store, you could ask Mister H about those new guys," Quatre suggested as they strolled along the sidewalk.
Duo just snorted. "I doubt he'd have chatted them up more than Hilde did," he pointed out. "She could pry national secrets out of a spy, I swear."
"She does seem to have a knack for getting people to open up."
Hilde had, in fact, been the first, and presumably only person to find out Quatre was gay, when he first moved to town. She'd asked him out so persistently, he'd finally politely told her that if she were male, he'd have been only too happy to go on a date.
Of course, she'd then tried to fix him up with Duo, but their employer/employee status precluded any such relationship.
Even if it hadn't, Quatre had picked up very quickly on the fact that Duo had never really gotten over his first boyfriend, Solo. And while he talked a good game, when push came to shove, he didn't seem to be looking very hard for a romantic relationship. The steady friendship he and Quatre had developed seemed far more important to him.
"Whatcha thinking?" Duo asked, noticing his companion's thoughts had drifted away.
"Just--remembering," Quatre shrugged.
Duo gave a knowing smirk. "Ah, you mean your serendipitous arrival to this godforsaken burg?"
"It's a nice town," Quatre insisted.
"It's a hole," Duo contradicted him darkly. "It's a backwards hick town, full of bigots and bullies. And you are the one ray of sunshine to ever arrive."
Quatre was torn between blushing at the warm praise, and trying to remind Duo that not everyone in the town was as small-minded as he made them sound. "What about Sally?"
Duo shrugged, looking away. "She's okay."
"And Mrs. Heinz?"
Duo rolled his eyes. "Yeah, her too, I suppose."
"You suppose? You told me she's your favorite customer because she always gives you cookies."
"Yeah, but she keeps trying to fix me up with her granddaughter," Duo muttered.
Quatre chuckled. "I thought she'd been in town forever. Doesn't she know you're gay?"
"She's senile. She forgets." A hint of a smile touched Duo's lips. "But her sugar cookies are the best."
Quatre grinned and shook his head. "Anyhow, the point is that there are plenty of decent people in town, senile or otherwise. You've got to stop focusing on the negatives."
"Hard not to, when there's so fuckin' many."
"Well, maybe the new guys will tip the balance."
"Or turn out to be serial killers," came the stubborn response, although Duo was smirking faintly. "Fit right in."
Quatre gave a solid punch to the side of Duo's shoulder as they walked. "You're impossible. Let's just forget about serial killers and bigots and enjoy our weekend, shall we?"
"Why the hell not?"
TBC...
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