A/N: Please note that the capitalization of flowers and tomatoes throughout the story was intentional (in homage to the gaming tradition of capitalizing items).
This is a heavy friendship/light bromance piece. I noticed (noticed, not stalked) Kurt and the fact that not did he and Joe kept working after Woody left, Kurt stayed even after Joe left. I figured this is why, in my silly little headcannon. As well as his fondness for flowers and tomatoes and indifference towards everything else.
Also, I adore Kurt. Why isn't there a molest button?
Woody didn't really keep hours per say, he more or less expected Kurt and Joe to start working at the early beginnings of the day and stopped about a vague time close to when the sun started it's descent across the horizon.
Kurt glanced up at the setting sun, wiping the sweat of the day's work from his brow. Joe had left earlier than as usual, but he didn't mind. Joe worked hard, and Kurt was always bit slow about wrapping up work for the night. He also stayed later than necessary because he always felt a little guilty for letting his mind wonder so far from work while he was on the 'clock'. So, Kurt never minded working an extra half hour or so to ease his conscious. Often while toiling away under the Boss' scrutiny and in the presence of Joe, the only thing on his mind would be Flowers.
Beautiful, sweet smelling flowers he cultivated in sizable lot comparable to Lyla's, that put his pitiful pocket of soil to shame. One day, he'd buy a moderate size of land and move his little shack (who needs a bigger house, when you can have a bigger garden?) and start his garden. And maybe . . . And maybe build a greenhouse all on his own . . .
Yes, Kurt mind was filled completely with his hobby rather than his current livelihood. Well, that's not entirely true, there was one other thing that would invade his thoughts. Tomatoes.
Bright, lush, round Tomatoes that only grew for the most tender farmers who minded their fields with the utmost care. . . . Kurt didn't think he could like Tomatoes any more than he did when he first came to the quiet valley. He'd never been so happy to be wrong. That cheerful young man who moved from Flowerbud City was only one who grew such delicious Tomatoes. Who knew that a city slicker would make such an amazing farmer? He just seemed so. . . in tune with nature.
Like he knew the Harvest Goddess, or something equally absurd.
Trying to reign his wondering thoughts back towards something at least vaguely work related, he went over the semantics of building an actual greenhouse in his head. Calculating the numbers and measurements for three different layouts he'd been toying with. He continued to chop and saw and eyeball (he preferred exact measurements, but one of the Boss' rules was until you learned to size up the smaller pieces without it, you wouldn't be able to get a plausible grasp on the dimensions on something like a house) a little while longer in the dying light. When the sun had parted entirely Kurt started his short walk home.
Only to be delayed by a farmer.
It wasn't Bob.
"Oh, hey. Did you need something?"
Don't expect Tomatoes. Don't expect Tomatoes. He chanted to himself fervently.
While Kurt was often, and pleasantly surprised in the past by sudden presents that would be offered, often in form of Tomatoes, the last few times he been given just about everything under the sun but.
He didn't really care for anything other than Carpentry, Flowers and Tomatoes (Not necessarily in that order). How could he keep his manly pride in tact if he admitted that he liked getting Flowers from anybody, regardless of gender? And even if the man with the green thumb saw fit to callus his hands with woodwork (he shuddered at the thought), it would be a matter of honor if he accepted the craftsmanship of another from his own line of work. . . wouldn't it? So Tomatoes were the only thing Kurt could accept whole heartedly from him.
The young man just shook his head and smiled affably and held out a bushel of Tomatoes.
Where was he hiding that?
On top of the bushel was a card that was bare, save his name scrawled on the front in a startling pretty script.
Inside it was nothing special, just a small request to enjoy the day, a doodle of his favorite flower, and well wishes for his birthday. That's what caught his attention. Birthday? . . . . Oh, yeah!
Feeling a bit sheepish, Kurt flushed slightly and thanked him for the wonderful gift, quite hurriedly, trying to escape to hide his mortification. A sudden thought struck him then.
"Hey, how did you know it was my birthday?" I certainly didn't tell, I didn't even remember!
The farmer simply waved his hand dismissively, and held his arm out and made a hand motion for Kurt to wait.
"What is it?" He asked, genuinely curious.
Kurt was then presented with the most beautiful watering can he'd ever seen. A small gasp escaped his mouth as he marveled at the object. His hand reached out, and he paused, a questioning look etched upon his face as he silently asked permission, the farmer simply smiled gently and gestured the tool towards him again. Kurt took it in his hands gingerly.
It was sleek, and efficient (from what he had read on the bottom. 99 Waterings per filling), lightweight and the handle fit like a glove. But the best part of all was the watering can was green. Not just any green, but the myriad of greens that adorned his headband. No one in the entire village could see it and think it can belonged to anyone else but Kurt. It was design tailored to him. He bow his head and sniffled.
Louis deserved high praise for this.
Suddenly Kurt's head shot up, his eyes shined brightly with happiness threatening to make him shed (manly) tears, he looked directly into light brown orbs and whispered one thing reverently;
"Thank you."