summary: your boyfriend doesn't mind getting his hands a little messy for you ⊹ 794
warnings: intoxication, james is taller than reader, knife (used to cut fruit)
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“Cherries, Jamie!” you cheer, your head popping up from its place in the refrigerator.
James stands behind you, holding the fridge door open as he endearingly watches you stick your head deeper than necessary into the fridge, fitting your face between the shelves, in search of a midnight snack.
His amused expression falters as you pull out the basket of cherries you bought at the market yesterday.
James closes his hand over the side of the basket, intent on taking it from you, “Ah, how about we do the raspberries instead, yeah?”
Your grip tightens on your snack, giving it a futile tug that causes you to stumble back.
After a night out with your friends, you’ve returned to your shared flat, fairly drunk and quite famished, your tastebuds craving something sweet.
James frowns as images of this drunken version of you clumsily cracking your tooth or choking on a cherry pit swirl around in his mind.
A pout overtakes your lips as you complain, “Don’t want ‘berries, want cherries.” Your downturned lips don’t last long when you suddenly snort at your accidental rhyme, “Berry, cherry,” you repeat, giggling.
James tries to pry the fruit from you while your distracted, but your grip remains strong as the papery basket bends from your collective tugs in opposite directions.
“Baby, I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” he tries to reason.
“On fruit?” you ask incredulously.
Maybe it was a little silly, but James’ protective nature knows no bounds.
“I just want cherrieeees,” you whine and James has never been good at saying no to you.
“Okay," he gives in, "but give them here first.”
“You’re gonna put ‘em where I can’t reach ‘em!" you accuse.
“I'm just gonna wash them for you," James says in a soft, reassuring voice, "Can you let me do that please?”
You squint at him skeptically, but you release your hold.
James holds the basket in one hand, the other finding its way around you to press against your lower back, guiding you away from the fridge to let it close behind you.
He sets the cherries on the edge of the sink and you in front of them as he moves to rummage through the cupboards for a colander to rinse the cherries in.
James has to suddenly return to your side, steadying you by your waist when you fail to hoist yourself up onto the counter.
A stressed sigh leaves his lips as he dips his head down so that his eyes are level with yours. "You wanna sit?" he asks, giving your waist a squeeze.
"Mhm."
James lets his forehead tap against yours briefly, a sign of his affection, "Okay, hop up for me."
You jump again and with James' help you land on top of the counter this time. He kisses your temple before resuming his mission to recover the colander.
He's quick to dump the berries from the green fiber basket into the strainer and rinse them in the sink. Once the water is off, you're already reaching for a cherry and he lifts the dripping bowl out of your reach.
You look at him with an expression of utmost betrayal.
"I'm gonna give them to you, baby, just give me a minute. Trust me?"
"Trust you," you grumble a confirmation.
James places the wet colander atop a dishcloth. He keeps a close eye that you don't sneak any bites as he takes out a plastic cutting board and a paring knife.
Soon, James falls into steady a rhythm of plucking stems, depitting little stone fruits, and popping the halves into your mouth as he goes.
It's tedious— slicing the cherries around their pits, twisting the halves apart, and driving out the pits with his thumb. Not to mention, it's messy, and even while applying his most delicate touch, fruit juices are spraying everywhere. On top of that, the stones keep trying to roll onto the floor.
The ordeal has the whites of his nails pink and his fingertips stained red, but the way you giggle happily each time he feeds you another piece makes it all worth it.
Once your sweet tooth is been satisfied, he pecks your crimson stained lips, and rinses excess fruit juice from his hands.
He returns to you, placing his now dry hands atop your knees and he traces little shapes on your skin with the scarlet pads of his thumbs.
You beam up at him, and his chest swells with a profound, all-encompassing love.
"Happy now?" he asks, his eyes lovingly studying the crinkle of your eyes and curl of your lips.
In response, and as a thank you, you scoot closer and press another sweet kiss to his mouth.
"I'm tired, and my bed feels so empty without you there." or, y/n can't sleep if she's not with farmer!james.
press the ✯ for visuals! (or just use your imagination!!)
It's nightfall. Well, actually, the night has already fallen, and it's past midnight, the clock on your mantelpiece displaying a quarter-to-three, and yet, you can't sleep.
Recently, you haven't been able to sleep in your own bed, always tossing and turning and never getting more than half an hour at a time.
It's probably something to do with how safe you feel when you're sleeping alongside James, always able to fully relax, because you know that nothing could ever hurt you while you're there in his arms.
You've been together for almost nine months, and the thought of moving in with him has never once crossed your mind, not until recently.
You're not reliant on him, no way, you're still fiercely (and sometimes recklessly) independent. But, over the last few months, it's been nice to just have someone there. Especially if that someone is James.
But, there's a bit of an issue there, because you've been around him so much that you can't sleep when you're at your own house. Or just, whenever you're without him.
You don't usually admit these kinds of things to yourself. But, there's a longing in your stomach that won't quell.
So, as any normal person would at almost three in the morning, you pull on your shoes, throw a cardigan over the white nightdress you're wearing, and leave the warmth of your little cottage in search of the warmth of your boyfriend. ✯ ✯
You trudge through your garden, the big weeping trees that line the paths brushing your shoulders as you walk. You do love your plants, you spend hours and hours endlessly pruning your flowers and plants and fruits. It's lovely to have things to look after.
The grass brushes your ankles as you go towards the fence separating yours and James's properties, climbing over the stile and walking through the outer fields. In the distance, you can see soft puffs of smoke rising, a telltale sign that James is awake too.
Maybe he can't sleep without you.
There's a quiet buzz from the crickets, the stars glimmering in the dark sky. It's peaceful, quiet and solitary. Normally you'd enjoy it, but the silence right now just means the absence of James, which you don't like.
You head towards the house, about to go past the barn, but there are adorable, tiny bleating sounds coming from it, and you can't just walk past, that'd be absurd. ✯
So, you wander into the barn, and find two little goats playfighting on a pile of hay while their mother sleeps. You remember James telling you something about a goat with a broken leg, and judging by the bandage around her knee, this is probably that one.
You can't help kneeling down and stroking her fluffy head. The baby ones are now wrestling with each other, headbutting one another as they play, jumping up and down on the hay bales.
If you were properly listening, you would've heard the door of James's house creak open and shut, and would've recognised the sudden bout of exhaustion that overcame you as feeling safe.
You spend almost a minute just stroking her head, blinking away the heaviness in your eyes, before an ahem comes from behind you.
Slightly startled, you turn your head, finding James leaning against the barn door, a soft smile playing on his lips. His unruly curls and sleepy eyes tell you that he's been sitting awake all night, as you thought.
You grin, as he walks toward you and kneels down next to you, his presence instantly calming you as he wraps himself around you, pulling you into his shoulder.
"Y' couldn't sleep either?" He asks, his voice filled with gentle concern. You love when he does this, when he fusses over you. He pretends that he doesn't, but he worries about you. It's sweet.
You shake your head, tucking yourself closer into his side. "No, not a bit. My mind wouldn't settle." You say, looking up at him.
He reaches down and intertwines your hands, bringing them to his lap. "I get it. I can never sleep, not when I'm without you, m'love."
A warmth spreads down your spine, and he pulls you around his front so you can lean back into his chest comfortably.
"I miss you too, James. It's strange, how well I sleep when I'm with you."
He chuckles softly, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand. "We're just meant to be together, even when sleeping, pet."
You smile at that, leaning further into him. "I think you're right."
The barn is quiet, the babies curling up next to their mother after exhausting themselves, the quiet rush of the trees in the wind adding a little bit of background noise.
"Hey," James says, his voice hushed. "Let's go to sleep."
You nod, and go to stand up, but his hand slips to your wrist, stopping you.
"Let's sleep in 'ere, love." He says, and gets up, taking you with him and dragging you towards the hay bales.
You climb up to the highest ones, hand in hand, collapsing onto them.
"Why don't we just go inside?" You complain, but you're already getting comfortable on his chest.
He strokes his hand through your hair and grins at the painted red ceiling. "Because sometimes, m'love, spontaneity is good. Plus, if you squint, y'can see the entire night sky through the roof."
You smile at him, feeling the warmth of his breath on your forehead, cosy.
You close your eyes, your shoulders losing their tension while James strokes circles into your back. The restless energy has dissipated, instead a peaceful feeling settles in the air, that only comes when you're right next to the one you love.
His heartbeat is a comforting metronome, your head resting on his chest and your leg thrown over his hip. You can feel the soft lull of sleep fall over your eyes, and time blurs, and you're happy and comfortable, and in love.
