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lamathelazer

Jun 2

defectivevillain

comparison, killin’ me slowly

pairing: Shane/Reader

reader’s pronouns are he/him; race is ambiguous.

summary:

“Hello,” Elliott greets you both as you head back to the sandy shore. Shane doesn’t fail to notice how his eyes stay on you at least twice as long. “Hey, Elliott,” you reply with a slight smile. Shane buries his hands in his pockets, trying to look like he’s grumpy for no particular reason. He’s not the biggest fan of Elliott, safe to say. He settles for giving him a nod, which Elliott returns with that twinkling smile of his. The one that’s supposed to be charming. Shane just grits his teeth.

Five times Shane is jealous, and the one time you are.

word count: 4.8k | ao3 version | shane playlist

author’s notes: HAPPY PRIDEEEEEEE! *trixie and katya voice* hi, gay! sashay into fics today!

what better way to kick off pride month than with Shane/male reader? come onnnnn, that's my husband, y'all. GODDDDDD.

Ok. Ok. This is Shane/Reader focused, established relationship. The reader’s pronouns are he/him; he has tattoos and he’s written to have gained some muscle from farming, otherwise physical descriptions aren’t used. Race is ambiguous.

There's some Elliott bashing in this one. I’m going to be real, I just don’t like him at all. I think he’s my least favorite villager lmfao.

The title of this fic is from jealousy, jealousy by Olivia Rodrigo, because DUH.

Warnings: mentions of alcoholism and recovery.

Shane’s frequently reminded of one thing when he’s dating you: You’re a hot commodity around Pelican Town. It’s almost ridiculous, really. He feels like he’s fighting for your attention, and even though he knows he has it… Sometimes, it’s difficult to recognize. You’re an integral part of the town now, with your farm at the center of its economy. Your crops are sold in Pierre’s frequently, and the villagers are always asking you for help with small and big tasks alike. Shane can hardly blame you for being helpful. It’s more just… his own doubts.

You’re so good to him, he can’t deny it. And he knows you’ve been trying your best to maintain boundaries and only take on requests that are truly necessary, but still. You already fixed the community center, you revitalized the town’s economy, you fixed the buses… Shane would think there’s nothing left for you to fix. But alas. You’re constantly working. He can’t remember the last time you’ve had a full day off, between tending to your crops, caring for the animals—which he makes sure to help with, now that you live together—mining, fishing, foraging… It’s an endless list.

It’s not surprising that Harvey, the town doctor, is somewhat insistent on you getting an annual check-up. Shane knows you have a more specialized practitioner back in the city for your health issues, but it makes sense that Harvey would want to give a general exam. You’re working very hard on the farm, after all. Shane has seen it.

This is how Shane finds himself sitting in the chair next to the exam bed, watching as Harvey runs through your vitals. The doctor is a bit concerned with your heart rate, but at your simple explanation (“Caffeine”), he seems to relax. Harvey asks how much activity you’re doing each day. You answer. It’s an underestimation, as always. Harvey looks to him for confirmation.

“He’s always running around,” Shane says wryly, ignoring your faux-betrayed look. “So whatever he says he’s doing, just double it.”

You huff but don’t object any further. Harvey seems to be hiding a smile as he makes a few more notes in his clipboard. He proceeds to do various tests, waving a flashlight in front of your eyes, testing your reflexes.

“I’m going to check your lungs now,” Harvey explains, paying a haphazard glance at your clothing. “It may be hard to read through your sweatshirt, but I’ll try and then see.”

Shane sits there, watching as Harvey tries and fails to get an accurate reading through the sweatshirt. “Yeah, the fabric’s a bit thick,” he frowns, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Can you lift it up for me?”

You do as requested, pulling at the back of your sweatshirt so he can place the stethoscope against your back. You immediately wince at the cold temperature of it.

“Sorry,” Harvey says with a helpless smile. He’s quiet for a few moments. “Much better,” he nods. “Breathe in for me… Good. Breathe out… Good.”

This process continues for a few moments, before he’s moving to stand in front of you and doing the same thing. Shane can tell you’re trying to breathe normally, but of course, it’s difficult to feel normal when you’re being monitored in close proximity. You give him a helpless grimace and he laughs under his breath.

“Everything looks great,” Harvey announces with a friendly smile, sneaking his hand out of your sweatshirt and removing the earpieces of the stethoscope from his ears. You don’t seem to notice the pink dusting his cheeks, but Shane absolutely does. He frowns a bit but keeps quiet.

“Thanks, Harvey,” you answer, adjusting your sweatshirt a bit before getting to your feet and stretching.

“Of course,” he responds, guiding both of you out of the room and back into the lobby. “You two take care.”

“You too,” Shane answers. You echo a similar sentiment, and the two of you leave to return to the farm.

Shane is heading back from the blacksmith a few days later—he promised to get these geodes inspected for you, while you wanted to ask Lewis about something—when he spots you in front of George and Evelyn’s house. He heads over habitually, only to find you mid-conversation with Alex.

“You’re getting swole, dude,” Alex says with a grin, spinning a football on his finger before tucking it under his arm.

“Hardly,” you huff, looking askance. Shane’s eyes narrow.

“You’re getting some muscle, for real!” he adds, looking you up and down. Shane frowns. Alex grins. “Must be all that farming.”

“Yeah, that and mining, honestly,” you sigh, crossing your arms over your chest. This movement does draw Shane’s eyes to your forearms, and he looks away quickly. Then, you’re his boyfriend. He can look if he wants. Alex, on the other hand… He’s getting a bit too comfortable.

“Hey, Shane,” Alex says, looking over at him as he approaches.

“Hey,” Shane manages to say gruffly.

You turn, brightening. “Hi,” you say with a fond smile.

“Hi,” he responds, like an idiot.

“He’s getting some gains!” Alex nods at you, arms crossing over his chest as he lets the football rest in the grass. “We should lift sometime, the three of us.”

While Shane is grateful to be included, the prospect makes him want to vomit. You look similarly disinterested. “Eugh, please no,” you say in disgust. “I hate lifting. It’s so boring.”

Alex stares at you for a long moment, his systems malfunctioning at the thought of someone not liking weightlifting. Then he shakes his head. “Dude, you’re a lost cause,” he jokes.

“Remind me who’s putting dinner on your table?” you tease. Shane chokes on a laugh. That’s very true: between your crops and your catches from the ocean, you’re feeding the majority of the town.

And Alex knows it, because he huffs and raises his hands in mock-surrender. “Oof, point taken,” he says. “Get outta here.” He shoos at you jokingly. You both bid him goodbye before heading back to the farm.

“You realize Alex was ogling you,” Shane remarks somewhat dryly, not trusting himself to say more. Those older feelings of inadequacy and insecurity start to prickle up his skin.

“He was not,” you respond habitually. A beat. You glance over at him. “...Right?”

“If you say so,” Shane says, unconvinced. He’s not the reigning authority on these things, but Alex was staring at you for an awfully long time. And there’s a limit to how far ‘bromance’ stretches. The thought of him and you doing some stupid exercise thing, just the two of you… It makes him want to be sick. Though he reminds himself you didn’t even seem interested.

And when your hand meets Shane’s, your fingers tangling together, he feels marginally better.

Shane and you are sitting on the red sofa in the far area of the saloon, the arcade games beeping and buzzing unhappily in their neglect. Sebastian and Sam just finished their game of pool, with Sebastian winning against Sam yet again. Abigail sits on the far side of the blue sofa across from them, giving you both a smile.

You were talking to her for a bit, but Sebastian is soon sitting next to her and engaging you in conversation. Shane isn’t super close with the guy, but he likes him well enough. He does notice that his eyes find your arm and seems to linger there for a few seconds.

“New tattoo?” Sebastian asks. Shane follows his gaze, finding the tattoo you just got this past weekend. It’s still wrapped in the saniderm, since it’s only Wednesday. You were complaining earlier that it was decently itchy, before slapping your arm a few times. Shane had been extremely confused, and you explained that you couldn’t itch it, since the skin was still dry and healing, hence the hitting…

And he just burst out laughing. You weren’t pleased, scowling at him for all of two seconds before begrudgingly admitting that it may have been funny.

“Oh, yeah,” you answer now, drawing Shane out of his thoughts.

“I like it,” Sebastian says.

“Thanks,” you respond.

Shane knows he shouldn’t be feeling anything close to jealousy. Sebastian’s a good guy, and he was one of the first to congratulate you both when you started dating. He isn’t a threat. But, then again, feelings aren’t always logical.

“Did you go to the same artist or a different one?” Sebastian asks.

“Same one,” you reply. “She’s still in the city, so it was a bit of a drive, obviously, but. Worth it.”

“For sure,” Sebastian agrees, nodding and looking down at your tattoo again. A hesitant smile. “It looks cool. Seriously.”

Shane’s in agreement there. Your tattoos don’t have much color in them, which makes them look very sleek. It made sense the way you explained it: color can fade more easily, especially in the sun; plus, color doesn’t necessarily translate as well on skin. Your new tattoo is from a horror manga you were telling him about—something by Junji Ito, Shane remembers—and it looks pretty cool. Unique, too.

“Thanks,” you smile back at Sebastian. “Hey, that means a lot coming from the guy who smokes in the rain like some kind of movie character.”

Sebastian huffs. “Shut up,” he responds.

Shane stifles a smile of his own. As Abigail soon starts interrogating you on the pain and process, Shane places a hand on your knee without thinking much of it.

One afternoon, Shane and you are walking along the docks when he sees Elliott’s cabin door swing open. Immediately, he’s resisting the urge to groan in annoyance.

Shane doesn’t like everyone, and that’s perfectly fine. Sure, he doesn’t have much to talk with Alex about since he’s such a jock; sure, he and Haley have quite literally never even spoken; sure, he avoids Kent with a ten-foot pole because the guy intimidates him.

But Elliott. Elliott… He really pisses Shane off. He’s not quite sure what it is—maybe the guy’s general vanity, coupled with the way he’s always trying to sound like an intellectual. It’s something like that. Elliott is just… kind of pretentious, for lack of a better word. He acts like shutting himself in his little cabin makes him better than everyone else. In Shane’s eyes, he’s just leaning on the “tortured poet” archetype way too much.

And is Shane projecting? Maybe. Maybe he is. But he swears, in the interactions he’s had with the guy, Elliott has rarely contributed anything of value.

“Hello,” Elliott greets you both as you head back to the sandy shore. Shane doesn’t fail to notice how his eyes stay on you at least twice as long.

“Hey, Elliott,” you reply with a slight smile. Shane buries his hands in his pockets, trying to look like he’s grumpy for no particular reason. He’s not the biggest fan of Elliott, safe to say. He settles for giving him a nod, which Elliott returns with that twinkling smile of his. The one that’s supposed to be charming. Shane just grits his teeth.

“You’re taking breaks between all this running around, I hope?” Elliott asks you, proceeding to act as if Shane isn’t even standing there. “The human spirit needs nourishment.”

“Uh… yeah, definitely,” you say somewhat awkwardly. You look slightly tense, stiff, but Shane is the only one to notice. It’s subtle.

“You’re welcome to come inside, if you’d like,” Elliott offers.

“That’s okay, we were going to head to the library, actually,” you answer. Shane raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. You hadn’t mentioned the library before. “But thanks,” you continue. “See you around.”

An effective end to the conversation. It’s almost impressive. Shane has seen people trapped in conversation with Elliott for at least ten minutes. Yet you’ve ended it swiftly, and you’re already walking off quickly. Shane has to speed up a bit—you walk very quickly sometimes—before falling into step at your side. There’s an unreadable look on your face as you head north towards town, the sand fading into pavement.

When you continue walking forward instead of turning, Shane nudges your shoulder. “Library’s the other way,” he reminds you.

“I know,” you blink. A glance at him, a slight smile. “I lied.”

“Oh,” Shane responds. He continues walking with you as you make a left in front of Pierre’s before heading back to your farm.

It’s quiet for a few moments, the fall air gently rustling your clothes. Shane looks at you sidelong, admiring you. You don’t seem to notice, too preoccupied with staring at the cobblestones beneath your feet.

Then, out of nowhere, you break the silence. “‘The human spirit needs nourishment,’” you say in a mocking voice, shoving your hands in your pockets. A scoff. “He’s so pretentious.”

Shane raises an eyebrow, his heart upticking a bit. Leaves scuttle across the pavement. He turns back to you.

“Also, kinda rude that he didn’t invite both of us,” you point out.

“I wouldn’t have gone anyway,” Shane says before he can stop himself. He and Elliott have never gotten along. They’re hardly fighting or anything—they just have absolutely nothing in common. Their personalities are completely different: Shane fashions himself something of a pessimist, while Elliott is one of those relentless optimists who insists on seeing the beauty in everything. And sure, Shane is far from perfect himself, but at least he can admit to his insecurities. He’s done a lot of work to get to where he is. Meanwhile, Elliott just stays stagnant: fishing for compliments, trying to sound smart and profound… It’s annoying.

Shane didn’t think you saw him that way too, but he’s realizing he isn’t giving you enough credit. You’ve always had a good read on people, and despite your role as the friendly farmer in town, you’re not a super sunny or endlessly bubbly person. He wouldn’t be with you if you were, because that would be exhausting.

“Well,” you drawl. “Maybe we should just lay around at home. If Elliot recommends it, it must be the right thing to do,” you say sardonically.

Shane chuckles, his hand slipping from yours so he can wrap an arm around your waist. “Guess we don’t have a choice.”

A few days later, Shane is walking down the street, his mind elsewhere, when he hears your name being uttered. It’s sure as hell not your voice. He thinks it may be Haley? Another few steps and a glance at the side of their house confirms it—one of the windows is open, allowing the conversation Haley’s having to bleed into the air outside.

He knows he should just keep walking. But something convinces him to stay. Maybe it’s insecurity, maybe it’s possessiveness, maybe it’s just genuine curiosity. Either way, Shane is rooted in place.

“I wasn’t sure at first, but he’s great, seriously,” Haley continues. She must be talking with someone on the phone, because Shane can only hear her side of the conversation. There’s an awkward pause as the person on the phone speaks. Shane is too far away to hear it. Haley continues speaking. “He used to come around and give me sunflowers from his farm. So sweet.”

Yes, your gift-giving. Shane knows you do that for virtually everyone in town, and you somehow know nearly all of their preferences. Including his own. Even when he was being an asshole in your first few months here—drowning under the weight of his alcoholism and cripplingly low self-worth—you’d bring him pizza and pepper poppers. You’re just a very nice person.

Shane knows it tires you out sometimes, though. He can see the physical toll it takes on you: the dark circles that pop up when you don’t sleep well, the hunch to your shoulders and hissed breaths as you stretch out sore muscles. You do a shit ton for this town, and a lot of people take it for granted.

“I know,” Haley continues, breaking Shane out of his thoughts. “He’s really hard-working. He built Pam a whole house.”

Shane remembers that too, of course. Though he saw the other side of it, the one you didn’t show the others. He saw the exhaustion, the stress, the frustration, the guilt… All of it. He listened as you paced back and forth and debated the nature of the act, wondering if it would seem like you were pitying Pam. Shane held you close those nights, as you fell asleep within moments of sitting on the couch with him; he made your breakfasts and patched up the injuries you’d get from exploring the mines. All of it, just to give Pam a house.

“Right?” Haley agrees with her friend on the phone. “Like, who does that?”

A few seconds pass. Haley hums in contemplation. “He’s kinda, like, rugged?” she muses. Shane feels apprehension crawling up his spine at this turn in conversation. He knows where this is going. “I don’t know. He’s attractive, yeah…” She proceeds to rattle off your physical qualities from the top of her head, as if that’s something she thinks about often. Shane’s fists clench at his sides. She shouldn’t be able to talk about you like that.

“No, he’s dating Shane.” A pause. He freezes. Haley squints. “No, I am not doing that.” She laughs. “They’re cute together, actually. But, yeah. Not a chance there. He’s really into him.”

“Maybe in another life,” she sighs. Then Haley is moving on to talk about something else, and Shane is walking away with his heart in his throat. He doesn’t really know how to feel about what he just heard. He’s definitely jealous—or at least, he was at the beginning, but now he feels… almost validated? Haley is respecting your relationship. Hell, she said you were cute together. Coming from Haley of all people… well. Safe to say, she’s telling the truth. She’s not one to sugarcoat things.

Shane has a bit of an extra pep to his step as he walks back home that afternoon.

The Stardrop Saloon is busiest on Friday nights. More than half the town goes to converse and celebrate the end of the work week. Shane used to visit the saloon nearly every night, but now that he’s kicked his alcoholism for good, he’s been going there less frequently. Friday nights are usually an exception, though—there are enough people around for him to be distracted.

Sometimes you’ll go with him to the saloon, and sometimes you won’t. On rare occasions, you’ll drop in on a random night and Shane will feel that spark in his chest, as if he’s meeting you all over again. Tonight, you both headed over from the house, though you soon settled in at the bar and sipped some water while Shane occupied his typical corner. He looks over at you in conversation with Gus; you catch his eye and smile. He glances away, fighting off a smile of his own.

For whatever reason, there are a few people from out of town here today too. This occurrence is exceedingly rare, even after the bus system got fixed. Not many people want to visit Pelican Town. It’s not exactly optimized for tourists: there isn’t much to do other than speak with the locals and wander the beach.

But this group of women doesn’t seem bothered. They look like they’re having a good amount of fun, actually: laughing and whispering amongst themselves. Shane feels one of them look his way and he’s quick to take a swig of his soda, the glass bottle giving him a well-needed hint of coolness in the stuffy air. With these tourists, the saloon is kind of packed. It’s not the biggest space, either, so it’s loud too.

One of the women gets to her feet. Shane buries a hand in the pocket of his hoodie, trying to make it look as if he isn’t watching her warily. He’s getting this weird feeling, for some reason…

Yeah. His instinct soon proves correct, because she makes a beeline for him. Shane takes another sip of his drink, struggling not to snap at her before she can even get a word out. He glances over at you. You’re distracted.

“Hey, handsome,” the woman says sweetly, a bit too friendly for his liking.

“...Hey,” Shane says flatly, attempting to convey his disinterest. It doesn’t really seem to work. He wonders if he’s losing his touch, if you’ve been too good of an impact on him.

“We were just wondering if you wanted to join us,” she suggests.

“Uh… I’m fine over here,” Shane manages to say.

“A lone wolf, then,” she giggles, not seeming to get the hint. “So. What do you guys do for fun around here?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Shane says somewhat sardonically. He reminds himself to cool it down a bit: This is a stranger. She isn’t familiar with his sense of humor yet, and he doesn’t want to come across as a complete asshole. He scowls. “...The beach isn’t bad.”

“Yeah, we were there earlier!” she says, lighting up a bit. “And the library’s pretty nice, too. I didn’t think this place would have a museum.”

“Yeah, well…” Shane trails off, not quite sure how to respond without singing your praises. You’re the only reason their museum even has any artifacts in it. He glances over at you habitually.

You’re not distracted anymore. Instead, you have a hand around your glass as you glare at the woman. You look away quickly, but not quickly enough. Shane still catches it: the frown on your lips, the narrowing of your eyes as you stare at this woman he’s talking to.

Are you… jealous?

No. Surely not.

He turns back to the woman. “It’s a work in progress,” Shane manages to say wryly. He doesn’t even really know what that means, he was so distracted by you and the look on your face. But this woman is eating it up for some reason, laughing as if he’s just said the funniest thing she’s ever heard. Shane frowns, then looks over at you again.

You’re still staring. There’s that furrow to your brows and that half-pout, half-scowl on your lips. It’s adorable. (And, yes, Shane knows you would definitely oppose that statement, arguing that you’re an adult, that ‘adorable’ is something for children. But Shane thinks it describes that expression on your face perfectly.)

Then the woman reaches out and places a hand on Shane’s forearm. He isn’t expecting it, and for a second, he’s so stunned that he just stands there like an idiot.

And out of the corner of his eye, Shane can see that you look pissed. If you were glaring before, you’re practically smiting her with your eyes now. It barely even looks like you’re blinking. Your jaw is clenched, your shoulders are drawn tight.

Shane feels heat running up his spine and he’s quick to shrug the woman’s hand off, citing a need to get another drink. He doesn’t bother staying to hear her response.

You think you’re going to kill this woman.

She’s clearly into your boyfriend. Which, whatever—she has eyes. But she’s been slowly but surely encroaching on Shane’s space, and now she has a hand on his arm. And you feel weirdly homicidal. You settle for glaring at her from across the room, hoping that somehow divine intervention will send her drink right back into her face. Or maybe she’ll trip and look like an idiot, or maybe—

“You’re hot when you’re jealous,” a familiar voice says.

You startle a bit, until you realize it’s just Shane. “You scared me,” you huff, sliding off the bar stool to stand next to him. You try to swallow back the ugly feeling climbing up your throat. His shoulder brushes against yours. It relaxes you a little, but not enough. “I wasn’t jealous,” you lie, struggling to find something to do with your hands. You tangle a finger in your belt loop.

“Uh-huh,” Shane says, seeming amused. “Just glaring daggers into her for fun, right?”

“Yeah, it’s my new hobby,” you huff.

“Dork,” he remarks. You roll your eyes, shoving a hand in your pocket and looking askance. It feels a bit warm in here now.

“Fine, I was jealous,” you mutter, struggling to make eye contact. You look over at your boyfriend for a moment and then glance away, embarrassed. “Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” Shane says dryly. He sidles closer to you, a hand finding the small of your back. It’s hard to tell where you end and he begins. “Welcome to my life.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you frown.

Shane gives you a flat look. He looks away, his hand warm on your back. “It’s stupid.”

“I doubt it,” you reason. You’re sensing there’s something more to that remark. “What’s up, seriously?” The noise in the saloon fades to obscurity, everything behind Shane almost blurring and fading to the background.

“Nothing, just…” Shane trails off. He looks ahead, his next words a bit quieter. “Feels like I’m fighting for your time and attention sometimes.”

“Oh,” you realize. Suddenly that makes a lot more sense. And it makes you feel awful. “I’m sorry, I didn’t… I didn’t realize.”

“It’s okay,” he reassures you. “Lots of people need you here.”

“Yeah?” you frown. “Well, I need you. So… I’m sorry if I haven’t been acting like it.”

“I’ve been running around so much recently…” you recount. You try to see things from his perspective, imagining yourself in his place: watching your boyfriend bustle around all day, doing things for other people; getting home late and waking up early. You shake your head at yourself. “Ugh. I should’ve been making more time for you.” The thought makes you feel horrible. You never want your boyfriend to feel as if you aren’t putting him first. And the truth of the matter? You spend most of your days thinking about the time you’ll share with Shane after.

“No, it’s fine—” Shane tries to say. Compromising as always.

“No, it’s not,” you frown. You reach for his hand, tangling your fingers together. “The town can survive without its repairman for a day.”

“Repairman, farmer, therapist, miner, fisherman, relationship counselor…” Shane adds on, shooting you a fond look. “You wear a lot of hats around here.” You suppress a laugh at that. It’s true, but it sounds funny when it’s stated so brazenly.

“Wanna head to Ginger Island for a few days?” you ask, studying his expression. Shane’s eyebrows climb up his forehead. “I was going to surprise you with the finished house, but…” Well. You’re kind of ruining the surprise now, but it’s worth it. Especially when you see Shane’s eyes glimmering, his gaze flitting about your face.

“Seriously?” he asks hopefully.

“Yeah,” you nod, your throat feeling tight. “I already asked Marnie if she’d watch over the animals for us.”

“Prepared, are we?” Shane teases. Trying to maintain his composure, you suspect.

“Well, we don’t have to go right this instant or anything,” you clarify. You squeeze his hand reassuringly, a smile gracing your lips. You’ve been working hard on the house, and you know he’ll love it. Plus, the island is beautiful: sprawling beaches, glittering waters, roaming wildlife. You want to share it with him.

“But yeah,” you continue. “I want to share it with you first. The island, I mean.”

Shane looks stunned. He blinks, stands there silently for several moments. You wait for him, brushing a thumb across his knuckles. Just as your heart starts to race in your chest, a smile breaks onto his face. Not a strained one, not an awkward one. A real smile. He’s been doing more of that lately, and it takes your breath away every time.

“Let’s do it,” Shane agrees. His eyes sparkle a bit in the dim lighting. You feel any remaining tension from earlier just fade right out of you.

“Yeah?” you ask, a stupid smile on your face now.

“Yeah,” he answers. Shane pulls you into him, and you bring a hand to his jaw before closing the distance and kissing him. He responds smoothly, a hand on the nape of your neck and the other resting on your hip. Everything: the saloon, the other villagers, the farm, the work day… It all bleeds away, until it’s just the two of you.

“Get a room, lovebirds,” Gus teases, swiftly grounding you in reality. Shane and you break apart, mildly embarrassed but mostly happy.

“Boys will be boys…” Pam mutters. You look over your shoulder in amusement and she shoots you a wink, before taking another swig of her beer.

“Guess they’re used to us by now,” Shane remarks.

“Guess so,” you agree. You look around the space, finding the typical suspects: Demetrius and Robin dancing; Marnie and Lewis conversing, with Leah and Elliott at the corner table; Abigail, Sam, and Sebastian are gathered in the far room. To your surprise, the tourists don’t seem to be here anymore. There was a group of about four of them, including the one who seemed particularly infatuated with your boyfriend.

“Oh no, that woman left,” you say in a monotone voice, looking at Shane in poorly-hidden amusement.

He just shoots you a fond look.

thanks for reading! <3

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