Chapter Text
Somehow, the first one awake in the morning was Dust.
He awoke tangled up in the blanket, blinking the grogginess and crust out of his sockets. The sun was slowly rising over the horizon, light spilling into the living room through the curtains, and the TV was still on, showing the DVD menu again, quieter than he remembered.
The plate with pizza was gone from the side table next to his armchair, and so were the others; one of the others must've put them into the fridge, so at least he'd have breakfast.
Crop and Horror were still asleep on the couch, leaning against each other (cuddling, but Dust didn't want to think about it, not if he didn't want to be tempted to snuggle up on the free spot left on the cushions). Crop seemed to have stoled the blanket they'd been sharing overnight, bundled up in it and holding it close while Horror was squished into the corner and using the armrest as a headrest.
He always got cold without a blanket... Dust tiptoed over and gently, carefully laid his blanket over Horror, tucking it in around him so he wouldn't wake up cold and with joint aches.
He sighed to himself, a wry smile tugging on his teeth.
He missed waking up next to Horror. Missed sleeping next to him. He missed Horror.
It'd been worth it to do all of this bullshit, if only to see him like this again, so calm and content at least in sleep. Dust loved him.
On a whim, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the side of his skull, near the edge of his old wound, so soft and gentle the click of bones was barely audible. Thankfully, it didn't seem to rouse him, just like tucking the blanket hadn't. Dust wouldn't have had an explanation for this.
Paps looked on at them with an unreadable expression, catching Dust's attention. He gave his brother a questioning look back, cocking his head as if to ask 'what?'
'You know you'll lose this once he finds out, right?' Paps reminded him. He didn't look disgusted like he usually did when Dust harped on and on about his mate, more like he was pitying him, which was only really a bit better. Still, Paps hadn't been nice to him since Horror's disappearance.
'I know,' Dust thought in the general direction of his brother.
'You should put more effort into your disguise, no matter what the hillbilly says. Make it worth it.'
'...yeah.'
'My scarf is still in the bathroom,' Paps said, with a finality that implied he was done with the conversation.
Dust didn't prod him. Instead, he padded his way to the bathroom, wiggling his toes inside the slippers he'd been given. They were insanely comfortable. He grabbed the scarf off of the radiator, taking a moment to hold it to his face and soak in the warmth, as well as the boots left in the corner.
With those, he retreated up to his room to change into his overalls, battling with tying the scarf into that stupid bow like he always did, and exchanged the slippers for the boots. The sun was rising on the horizon, Dave was crooning, audible throughout the window, and Dust was ready for the day. He had to check up on the chickens.
He made another stop in the bathroom to drop Crop's clothes off in the hamper and then finally left, taking in a deep breath of the morning air.
The smell of the farm notwithstanding, it was crisp and fresh and cold to wake him up fully. As he enjoyed his morning smoke, he checked his phone, just in case he'd worried the others; he hadn't called them last night because his schedule had been so... packed, but from the message Killer sent him, they seemed to understand.
'enjoy ur pizza, hope u get to suck off horror 😋'
What a dick. He sent back the 🙄 emoji and nothing else, because Killer had probably just been projecting. Dust's sure at least one of his mates would've let him suck them off, so whatever. Killer's kink whims were beyond his pay grade.
Finishing his cigarette, he forced himself up with a few satisfying pops from his knees and headed towards the coops to feed his ladies (and Dave, of course).
His hand strayed to the left pocket of his coveralls, toying with the hem. He'd found himself doing that a lot; when they'd bought the article, Dust'd found one of the pockets fraying and halfway falling off. He was sure Lizzie hadn't given him a fucked up one on purpose, and he hadn't minded all that much. But Crop had insisted on repairing it right away. He'd stitched the pocket back on, and because he was Crop, he'd felt things when mending it and of course the intent had leaked out and lingered in the fabric. So now Dust kept touching it, a little burst of fondness tingling his fingertips whenever he did.
He yanked his hand away when he caught himself, but his hand strayed back time and time again, until he had something to occupy it, namely the feed as he tossed it around to the ever-enthusiastic chickens.
Worm was still very much cooped up when Dust checked up on her, refilling her still-half-full bowl. She allowed him to pet the top of her head for a moment or two - he was insanely happy about it - without snapping at him.
He was just about to return back inside and maybe make a cup of coffee after putting the egg haul away when Horror came barreling in his direction.
"Ash," he started, before Dust could so much as tell him good morning, "Can I... talk to you?"
Talk to him? About what? Dust wracked his mind, trying to figure out if he'd fucked something up, but nothing came to mind.
"Well, uh, you are talking to me," he pointed out.
It got Horror to pause for a second and then huff a small laugh. "Yeah... Guess I am. Um, listen."
That got Dust's hackles raising. Horror looked too serious for this to be some inane thing.
"I... used to be with Cross... in um... with-"
"I... know."
"We weren't really the most popular, so-"
"I get it."
"I... just wanted-"
"I get it. Enough," he muttered. He didn't know why Horror was bringing this up.
"You. I..." he faltered, frowning at himself as he grasped for the right words while Dust waited, uncomfortable and anxious. "I really don't know how to talk about this... I... used to have... a mate. Before... Crop."
"Oh-kay?" Dust replied, now almost nauseous on top of all that uncomfortableness. Where the hell was Horror going with this?
"His name... Was Dust-" And Dust barely kept himself from flinching. He hadn't heard his name out of Horror's month in so long it felt almost surreal. "-and he... I- He was... so much like you.."
Dust's fingers clenched and twitched around the handle of the basket. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.
Horror's cheeks were coloring with a flush and he opened his mouth to continue, but another sound from behind him caught Dust's attention. Worm was peeking out of the coops.
"I want to ask... Are-"
"Do you hear that?" Dust cut him off, leaning back against the fence and inclining his head to hear it better. Yes, there were definitely small, faint little chirps. Did that mean- "Holy shit!" he exclaimed, dropping the basket in his haste to jump the fence and rush to the coops.
The closer he got, the louder the chirps got, and he fell onto his knees in front of the tiny doors, peering in to see something small and yellow underneath Worm's feathers.
"Shit! They've hatched! Horror! Horror, go get Crop!" he called, barely glancing back to look at him. He caught a glimpse of Horror's look, something almost crestfallen, for whatever reason, before he turned and went to go grab the farmer.
Worm fluffed up her feathers and shifted off of her nest, affording him a look at the little ones. They were all wet and their tiny feathers clumped together as they bumbled back and from, tiny little beaks opening to let out the tiniest little noises he'd ever had the pleasure of hearing.
It took a bit for him to count them all as they bumped about, no thanks to the fact they all looked the same, but there were six of them, and Dust had no idea what to do with them.
Thankfully, Horror had gotten Crop as requested, the farmer eagerly hopping the fence even in his indoors clothes. "G'mornin' Ash," he laughed, "Seems the day's startin' off strong, eh?"
"I-I don't know what to do!" Dust told him, biting at his lip.
Crop's hand squeezed at his shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile. "S'okay. I'll get 'em to the lil pen, 'kay? Y'can clean up the egg shells in the meantime."
Dust nodded, thankful to be given something to do. Crop, very gently, started scooping the chicks up, one by one, and carrying them over to the hole thy'd dug for them.
Equally as gently, Dust started to pick up the broken pieces of the egg shells, all the while Worm kept flailing around Crop's feet, worried for her kids as Crop let them loose.
He had a handful of the eggshells when he stumbled upon an intact egg, laying there innocuously in the middle of the whole mess. He picked it up, forgetting the shells for the moment. It was still warm, and fairly heavy, which told him that it probably had a chick inside, and if that was the case, the egg was no longer being sat on, and was rapidly cooling down. Which sounded like very much not a good thing.
He cradled it in both hands, rushing over to Crop with it. "Crop, there's one more," he said, desperate and frantic.
"Oh? Let's see it, then, might need a bit o' help."
Dust parted his hands to show off the egg, though still shielding it from the crisp morning air.
The moment he did, though, the egg cracked right there in his palms, the shell pushing up to reveal a little chick, beak open in a chirp as he stood there in shock and awe, staring in disbelief at the newborn chick.
"Holy shit," he breathed out. The chick peeped up at him, clamboring out of the egg without an ounce of grace or coordination and flopping onto Dust's palm.
Crop laughed. "Well, it looks like they ain't needed help, after all! Here, y'should put 'em here with the others."
Dust tried to, carefully lowering the chick into the pen, but they started chirping in distress the moment his hands got too far. It sounded so distressed Dust immediately felt bad.
"Hm," Crop noted, watching the display fondly. "Nevermind, then. Congrats on becomin' a father!"
Dust sputtered, cradling the chick to his chest. "A father?!"