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It was just the sort of day for this, Gina thought happily, letting her little wicker basket lined in blue gingham swing merrily at her side.
Ordinarily, she loved the work Alex trusted her with at the Clinic, filling prescriptions, ordering supplies, light receptionist work sometimes, insurance forms, and anything else that he might have, but it was such a beautiful, sunny afternoon, and as the doctor himself had told her laughingly before he had left on his special, top-secret mission to the Ranch, it would be nearly a crime to waste it indoors.
Suppressing a happy squeal at the thought of that special, top-secret mission and the possibility of a double wedding, the little nurse settled her basket into the grass as a patch of deep purple herbs caught her eye.
Would Kurt agree to something like that – being married with Alex and Ellen?
Because of course Ellen would accept; who wouldn't love Gina's very favourite older-brother-who-wasn't-really? And this girl in particular had spent an awful lot of time lately, making sure that her hair was at least tidy, if not pretty, and her plain little skirts and blouses likewise, when she happened to notice him coming. Even though more people than Alex had been known to sigh in exasperation when Ellen described herself as being quite apart from the pretty girls.
Gina had just tucked a little bundle of green underneath the handkercheif, when a sharp, rhythmic thwack, thwack, thwack drew her attention into a little clearing.
As Woody looked up from his chopping and called a cheerful hello, she blushed and shrank back slightly.
The bespectacled little nurse liked to think that she was well able to maintain a friendly demeanour toward people of all ages and backgrounds – after all, how on earth would she be able to put them at ease if she couldn't talk easily to them? And for the most part, this demeanour was enough of a reality that most of the town would manage to come for a check-up with only minor prodding from the doctor and his faithful little assistant.
Woody, though, was a different story entirely.
Being generally a very healthy man, Fate had not thrown him much into the path of his youngest apprentice's bride-to-be. Thus, she had yet to become entirely comfortable around him. And as Woody hated above most things to be gawked at by terrified little girls, her hesitation had brought out a hint of surliness in his usually gruff-but-friendly manner, which had served to augment her nervousness, and thus had the cycle continued.
And then there was the issue of his opinion on doctors and Clinics as a general rule.
Nearly as proud of his excellent health as of his excellent craftsmanship, the few times that had seen him at the Clinic since Gina's arrival in Flowerbud Village had seen him also in an exceedingly bad mood about it, as it had usually come about when Martha had finally taken it into her own hands to drag him there by the seat of his stubborn old pants.
Nevertheless, alienating this extremely important part of her husband's social circle before the wedding could even take place was likely unwise.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Woody," she called back with a smile and a little wave.
With one final swing, he planted the axe deep in the tree stump that acted as a platform, and laughed.
"Please, Miss, no misters. You'll give me the impression that I'm getting old!"
Nodding slowly and hesitantly, Gina surveyed grizzled hair and leathery, lined face, and searched helplessly for an appropriate response. Not to mention, some inkling of whether she was allowed to laugh or not.
Noticing, he took pity on her and continued with a grin.
"I am, of course, but I like to keep it quiet, and I don't want word getting out."
"Just in case Martha drags you back to the Clinic for another check-up?" Gina suggested with a giggle, and then clapped her hands over her mouth with a little squeak of horror.
Woody stared incredulously for a long moment, then laughed ringingly.
"Something like that," he agreed after a long moment, shaking his head and still chuckling. "Martha's a good woman.Some men need to be trampled like that or they'll never get anywhere. She just happens to apply the same strategies to all men, while some of us don't need it."
"Like Kurt," she added with a dreamy, very sweet little smile, and Woody grinned.
"Exactly like Kurt. The harder you push that boy when he's got a notion into his noodle, the more he locks up and fights it. But," he continued, his grin widening as her jaw tightened and her chin lifted just a little bit, "I get the feeling that you're no pushover either."
"I think life will be very interesting. I only hope he doesn't get tired of me," she finished with a tiny sigh.
Woody, who had just taken a long swig from a nearby water bottle, choked at this, a fine mist spraying from his mouth. Gina did her best not to flinch back and grimace as she found herself directly in the stream. The old man tossed the bottle back to the grass and wiped his mouth, shaking his head in disbelief.
"You kidding me? He's had his head in the clouds almost since the first time you got lost and ended up at the Workshop. He gets this grin every time he sees a pair of glasses, and he's been a damn sight happier about going for a checkup than me or his brother."
"I suppose," she agreed cautiously. Then she threw back her shoulders and beamed. "Can I help you with that?"
He stared blankly.
"With what?"
"You were chopping wood. I'd like to help, if you'll let me."
He shook his head again with a chuckle.
"I don't know, Gina. It's messy, and pretty boring."
"I just thought, it might be a good idea to get some sense of what Kurt does all day," she explained, blushing and ducking slightly behind her hand. "You know, aside from the time I came over on Wednesday and watched until you sent me home after he almost cut off Joe's foot."
Woody hid a grin.
"You'll make him a good, supportive, doting little wife. I guess that'll match the good, supportive, doting little husband. Although, I don't know that he'll be showing up at the Clinic any time soon, asking Alex to let him mix up some pills." He shrugged as she continued to peek up at him hopefully. "Well, if you really want to, I guess I wouldn't mind a hand. It's certainly not my favourite job. But you can't do it in that. I'll get you some old things of Kurt's."
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"Ah, you know, Gina," Woody called delicately approximately ten minutes and a few dainty little thwacks later, "you don't have to tap at it like you're afraid of breaking it. You want it to break, remember?"
She grinned sheepishly over her shoulder at him, and he gave a laugh of disbelief that this was the same prim, immaculate little creature, every hair in place and apron neatly tied, that had arrived with her herb basket half an hour ago. Now garbed in some old jeans from Kurt's early adolescence, pooling a bit at the ankles but clinging tightly everywhere else in testament to just what a skinny little guy Kurt had been at fourteen, an equally ancient flannel shirt from Woody's own drawer, and her hair tied up in a quick, messy ponytail with a bit of twine to save her pretty little silk ribbons from utter destruction, she bore little resemblance to Flowerbud's shy little nurse.
"I'm sorry, Woody. I haven't done this in years."
He raised an eyebrow in disbelief, and she blushed.
"W-well, alright, ever. But I used to watch the groundskeeper at the Gevora's mansion chopping wood, and it looked a lot easier than this."
With a long-suffering sigh, Woody shook his head again and invited her with a gesture to try once more.
Hefting the axe once more over her shoulder, Gina pulled back and let it swing, only to panic at the last second, stop it inches above the wood, and take a few more hesitant, completely ineffective little taps before the block of wood tipped over. He bit back a laugh as the axe-weilding little nurse leapt back with a startled shriek.
"Come on, girl, I've seen you carry Joe over your shoulder without breaking a sweat. I'm sure you've got a little more strength in those scrawny arms than that."
"Scrawny," she repeated, glaring slightly.
"Prove me wrong," he suggested with a shrug.
Lips tightening into a thin, stubborn line again, Gina set the block of wood back up, drew back, sent the blade hurtling down at a dizzying speed...
...directly into the stump, right next to the block of would-be firewood.
"Ohh, I'm terrible at this!" she wailed, tugging at the axe. "How do you do it so easily?"
"Sixty years of experience," he replied very slowly and deliberately.
She looked up abruptly.
"Sixty! You can't be that old; you must have been a child when you started!"
"Started working with my dad and granddad at eight," he shrugged. "It was a family business, so all of us had a hand. None of my brothers took much to it, so I didn't have a whole lot of competition. Never had any sons of my own, so that's where those two goofballs come in. I'm hoping to see them take it over for me when I get too old to swing an axe."
"But that won't be for years yet," Gina assured him with a shy little smile.
"Well, not until Kurt can have you around while he works and not put someone's limbs in danger," Woody chuckled. "But I have to hand it to him: at least he's still working. At the first sight of that Katie's ringlets and pretty eyes, Joe's out the door."
"That's sweet," she giggled.
"Yeah, well, we were all young dunderheads in love once."
"I promise I'll be the best wife I can for Kurt."
"I know, kiddo." He grinned again. "As long as you cook better than you handle an axe, you two'll get along fine."
"That's mean," she huffed, finally giving up on extracting the axe from the stump, and crossing her arms.
"I'm a crusty, grumpy, disagreeable old coot; what'd you expect?" he demanded, eyes twinkling nevertheless.
She gave another little hmph, although this time fighting back a smile, and made one more ill-fated attempt at splitting the log into kindling.
This time, the blade connected soundly with the wood, unfortunately very close to the edge of the log, which sent all but a splinter shooting off of the stump, which in turn sent Woody diving for cover.
"Alright, that's enough," he announced as he picked himself up off the ground and tugged the axe out of her hand. "Let's just go inside and have some tea before you hurt someone."
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Meanwhile, two young men a few metres away stared, frozen in place.
"Whoa," Joe finally noted. "She really sucks at that."
"Uh-huh," Kurt agreed automatically, without any very clear idea of what his brother had just said, eyes fixed firmly on the way his old jeans clung to his soon-to-be-wife's subtle curves, and the mass of silverblue coming free from its length of twine.
"She looks cute with her hair down, though," the older boy continued, exaggeratedly thoughtful, sneaking a quick peek at his younger brother's dazed expression.
"Uh-huh."
"You know the other thing I noticed, Kurt? I think she's in league with a band of dangerous, yet sexy space vixens that plan to take over Flowerbud Village."
"Uh-huh."
Joe laughed.
"Okay, Kurt, if you're not gonna listen, do you have something to add?"
Kurt, apparently, did.
"Man...I wonder if we could get the wedding date moved up."
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End Notes: Hee! That is all. Just hee.