The sun had barely dragged its ass over the horizon when Theron's alarm started screaming — way too early for a man who firmly believed mornings were a personal attack from the universe. He cracked one eye open, immediately faced with the warm temptation of his husband's arms wrapped around him. God, he could so stay there all day... Just five more minutes... or five more hours. Maybe forever.

But no. No, no, no. He was a farmer now — seven whole days into his wholesome little countryside fantasy. Farmers rise with the sun. They work the land. They live off the earth.

They absolutely do not snooze their alarms six times and cuddle their husbands all morning... even if that's exactly what Theron wanted to do.

With a long, tortured groan like a man walking to the electric chair, he peeled himself out of bed, flopping onto the floor first before dragging his half-dead carcass upright. He got dressed in his little overalls — the cute ones he bought specifically for the aesthetic — even tying a little neckerchief around his neck like some wholesome video game villager about to go sell turnips. Because if he was gonna suffer, he'd at least look adorable doing it.

The chicken coop was stop number one. Basket in hand, Theron stumbled across the yard under the already burning sun, yawning so hard he might've swallowed a few flies along the way.

"Morning, ladies... Coming through to collect the rent," he announced with that same playful charm he'd been using on the chickens every day — completely convinced they were totally starting to like him.

Spoiler alert: they were not.

Most of them ignored him. One pecked at his boot like she was considering how much damage she could do. Another one straight up took a crap in front of him. But Theron giggled anyway, way too soft-hearted to hold a grudge against the little feathered terrorists. He went around gathering eggs — even pocketing a few weird green ones without realizing — and waddled back to the house to drop off the loot through the kitchen window. No way he was going inside yet. If he crossed that threshold and saw his husband still cozy in bed?

Game over.

But then came the final boss.

The cows.

Theron stood at the edge of the pasture, bucket swinging at his side, staring down the gentle, innocent creatures like they were hellspawn fresh out of the underworld.

He knew what came next. He'd watched like... three whole YouTube videos last night. He could do this. He could—

No, he couldn't.

Absolutely not.

His whole body noped so hard he nearly sprained an ankle spinning on his heel and bolting straight back to the house. His husband was still blissfully sleeping — lucky bastard — but that was nothing a little golden retriever desperation couldn't fix.

Theron practically shoved his head through the bedroom window, curls sticking to his sweaty forehead, eyes wide with panic.

"Baaaaabe... Can you milk the cows for me? Pleeeaaase?" he whined, bouncing on the balls of his feet like a dog begging for table scraps. "They're scary... and slimy... and their nipples are all, like... right there, babe. I don't wanna touch the nipples."

He paused.

Then added, with absolutely zero shame:

"You're so much better at, like... hand stuff anyway."

A little wink.

Because even on the brink of a full rural meltdown, Theron would never miss an opportunity to flirt.