AU: Jackson is a troubled teen sent to work on a farm that April's family owns and she supervises him working.

"It's supposed to be yellow."

The young man groans with a roll of the eyes, paintbrush turning in his hand as he faces the girl.

"What now?"

"The fence, it's supposed to be yellow. Also, you're supposed to fix it first before you start painting." The redhead points out, folding her arms over her shirt-covered chest, "Did they not teach you anything in Boston?"

He, nineteen-year old Jackson Avery raises a brow with a soft smirk as he watches the girl. Clearly, she's not the popular kind.

"My interests lie elsewhere." He grins, stepping closer to her. "Fixing fences wasn't exactly my specialty. You know what it was?"

The girl, eighteen-year old April Kepner (farmer's daughter and preacher's favourite) diverts her gaze, a faint blushing working its way up to her rosy cheeks. Why did she agree to help with this?

"No, and I don't want to." She has no interest in his advances, not that he'd ever hit on her in the first place.

To Jackson, there's something about her that draws him in. He's not sure if it's the whole-innocent good-girl vibe she sends out, or the pigtails and farm clothes and the fantastic want to have his way with her in the barn, or the way her voice gets all high-pitched and itchy when she gets angry.

"D'you want me to fix the fence?"

April nods, noticing the way his green eyes blink rapidly, his gaze focused on her mouth.

"Yes. Please."

He agrees then, dropping his brush to the floor and eyeing her carefully as he slips his t-shirt over his head.

What the hell was he doing?

"You don't have to-"

He smirks again, taking another step toward her and pinning her against the side of the barn, "Don't worry. I won't tell your father you looked."

"Good. Because I didn't." She denies with a nervous breath.

"Oh, you did. And so did I. Just don't tell your dad because he'll have my head on a pitchfork."

She almost laughs at his joke, hands falling to her sides and letting him slip away from her.

Yeah, OK. She looked. But he looked too.