Muddy Relations (Stardew Valley Fanfiction)

Spring 27, Year 4, 6:00 AM

       I awoke to the sounds of birds chirping happily, the sun coming into the small room and keeping my eyes adjusted to the light. I breathed in heavily, smelling the sweet scent of pinewood.

      Clint's heavy arms wrapped around me, I layed with my face against his bare chest, feeling his uneven breaths as he fought against sleep. His chest hair laid a soft cushion against his defined muscles, keeping my head close but protected.

I thought back to the night before; Our first night together. It was gentle and sweet, but something about it was tedious after three years without that type of physical contact. Something had not been the same. It wasn't as exciting as it was informative.

I looked up to his face, confused about what we were. I wanted to be his, and according to him I already was. He was a much different partner than what I had ever expected to have. Up until this moment, I had lived a boring, modern, life. The idea of being intimately involved with a blue collared worker was a just as normal fantasy as any other, however, I couldn't say that it was ever one of my own.

Sighing, I pressed my cheek against his chest to feel his heartbeat with my face. His once deep breaths stopped, and were replaced with shallow quick breaths. I closed my eyes, wanting to dream of something special.

A large hand was placed on my hair, and it started stroking it away from my face, twirling the fragments. Clint ran his hand through my hair till he felt the base of my skull, right where my head tilts from side to side. He moved up to look at me more fully, then he layed back down to where he could smell the top of my head.

"What does it smell like?" I hummed, my voice barely awake. He took another deep breath.

"Coffee," he said, his voice low and husky. My cheeks flushed and I grinned slightly. Clint's hand moved from my hair away from my face, pulling at the strands of hair that fell. His hands traced my left ear, following the windy contours of my flesh and cartilage. His hand stopped when he reached where my earlobe connects with my face,

"Why do you have a scar here?" he appealed. "Yoba, it's almost like a bite."

My head started turning, the world dizzying as I thought to the day I had gotten that scar. The first day I tasted Morris' lips. It was the same day he had first tasted my blood.

I groaned, unwanting of any memories of Morris. He was the worst mistake I had known. He was the most memorable mistake, as well.

Clint reached down his head and kissed me on the top of my head, his soothing lips lingering for only a moment.

I turned my eyes up to meet his, and they rested on my face, unmoving. It was a minute of him observing my strange face before I winced and covered my head in his chest. It made him laugh.

"Don't worry," he said quietly. "I was just thinking back to when we were kids. How you used to make mudpies and throw them at passerbys," He hugged me tighter. I tried to hold my breath but couldn't. "You used to sit in the grass and make flower crowns while I had to work."

"Did I make you one?" I asked, my squeezed lips making it hard to talk.

"You did," he exhaled. "You gave me one so I would be embarrassed."

"Were you?"
He hesitated. "Yes–" I giggled slightly, and Clint's body bounced with silent laughter. I had never seen Clint laugh before, let alone noticed how hushed and repressed it was. Like he was resisting it.

"Gosh, we really grew up since then, huh?" Clint observed. I frowned, suddenly aware of how we laid together, only the sheets covering our human condition.

"I guess we did," My breath hitched. "But we had to; We couldn't stop it if we wanted to."

"I've never felt like an adult until our night together. I'd never felt like a man. I'd always felt as though I was still a kid, sitting at the adults table, not understanding a word that they said." He controlled his words as well as his breath, like what he was saying affected him in a more personal way.