Archive of Our Own ^beta

The first time Martin learns of the cute hat-seller is by way of an adorably written letter mysteriously in his mailbox.

Hi, it reads plainly in somewhat messy and childlike scrawl, like that of someone who was never properly taught to write in English, Me sell hats. Okay, poke? Come to old old old haus, poke.

Martin shrugs. Probably the one by the lake, then.

Bring coines!

All righty. Running a highly profitable store for five years means Martin, even though he only came from Denmark to make a new life about ten years ago, has coins to spare for this latest attraction in the town. Maybe he’ll even find something he can resell for more. Curiously, Martin can’t quite tell who the letter is signed from - there’s a name, but then it’s scribbled out and rewritten underneath.

hat mouse.

Clearly very poor English, but who is Martin to judge? It’s hard to learn new languages. He knows this from experience. The move from a stable life in Copenhagen to the middle of this cute little farm was a big one, and required him to put his English studies to good use, but now he’s happy as the grocer for Pelican Town. And there’s a reason he wants so desperately to see the new farmer, also from Denmark, to succeed.

---

Maybe it’s sorta stupid, but Martin shows up at the abandoned old house as soon as he sorts out the produce the farmer brought in for him. It’s Wednesday, after all, and he always closes shop on Wednesdays.

So he heads out with a fishing rod, some salmonberries, and a few thousand coins in his satchel, and thanks the farmer - Mads? - for handing him some bait while they fish together. The bug meat is really gross, but effective, so Martin sets aside his disgust to catch some fish, killing them quickly and shoving them into a plastic bag within his backpack. Then, he bids the farmer farewell and journeys off. He wants to reach the Hat Mouse before night falls, after all.

When he gets there, there’s a rather large mouse waiting.

“Hello,” Martin greets unsurely, “are you the Hat Mouse?”

“Hiyo!” the mouse chirps, sounding more like an uneducated human than a mouse learning English. Then again, he’s not exactly sure what a mouse would sound like, speaking human tongues. Mentally, Martin shrugs again. Whatever.

“I have coins. What do you have?”

“Hat to sell!” says the mouse cutely, holding up some hats in its little paws. There’s a pretty pink bow and a worn brown hat, so Martin points to the bow, since he can give it to Tim, the son of the town’s eldest Martin, who likes cute things, and tell him it’s from his dad. Tim deserves better than a dad who gets drunk every night, even if all Martin can give him is a hat. “Okay, poke!” the mouse says, holding the bow out. Confused, Martin looks around for a sign about pricing.

“How many coins?” he asks at last, not finding one. The mouse just tilts its head like it doesn’t understand, so Martin pays it a generous 1000 coins, since the hat business is probably a bit slow and Martin has money to spare, and the mouse looks ecstatic.

Still, all it says is “Okay, poke!”

“Goodbye,” Martin says, putting the bow in his backpack.

“Good-bye?” the mouse echoes confusedly, then, “Goodbye!”

Martin smiles. The silly creature is kinda cute. Maybe he’ll be coming back here more often.

---

Something about the odd little mouse is enough to draw Martin back time and time again, and soon he finds himself visiting the abandoned old house nearly every Wednesday after sorting his vegetables and fruit and honey and maple syrup and whatever else Mads brings him. It’s almost become a ritual - save a couple hundred coins each day, spend a few on restoring the jar of candy that Indiana’s son and his friend think they can always get away with stealing from and keep the rest for Wednesday. 

(He doesn’t mind refilling the jar, since he knows Luka and Marcin always share it with their younger friends as well.)

Maybe, just maybe, something about Martin makes the Hat Mouse remember him as well.

Martin only suspects that the Hat Mouse is more friendly towards him when he sees it in person as he watches Mads awkwardly try to pick out which hat he wants in complete silence, without a word from the Hat Mouse. No cheerful “Okay, poke!” or tiny paws pointing and suggesting a hat or stuttery small talk. Just a mouse accepting coins for a hat and watching as Mads walks away. 

“Hello, Mouse,” Martin says, approaching carefully and wondering if the mouse is having a bad day, “how are you?”

“Okay, poke!”

“Good. I’m doing well, too,” Martin says, speaking fairly slowly to make sure the Hat Mouse understands. “What new hats do you have?”

With a smile and a twitch of its ears, the Hat Mouse pulls out two more hats on its paws, a cute green bow with a gold centre and a yellow rubber rain-hat, and Martin points to the rain-hat, already with 1000 coins in his hand to trade over. 

“Thank you,” Martin says for the hat.

“Thank you?” the mouse echoes, tilting its head in thought, then “Thank you!”

Martin heads home, happy with his purchase and wondering if the mouse would like some cheese as well - Mads has been bringing Martin heaps of fresh milk cheese and really, it’s too much to even sell.

---

The next week on Wednesday, it happens to be raining, so Martin takes the opportunity to swing by with some cheese in wax paper. When he gets to the abandoned - or maybe now just ruined - old house, though, no one appears to be home.

“Hat Mouse?” he calls curiously, wondering where the hat-merchant has gone. The house is oddly quiet without the mouse, like something is just missing. All the hats are still there, but no Hat Mouse. With a frown, Martin leaves the cheese there anyway. Mice probably don’t like rain, so maybe the Hat Mouse has gone home, and Martin probably should, too.

As he walks away from the house, a quiet, heavily-accented “Thank you” sounds after him, and Martin runs back to see that the cheese has been accepted.

He smiles. “You’re welcome,” he says, not getting too much closer; if the Hat Mouse doesn’t want to be seen right now then that’s okay too. “It’s cheese. I can bring more next time.”

The Hat Mouse says no further words, perhaps scared off by Martin being near to the house, but as Martin walks away and his back is again to the house, a voice calls out, “Cheese! Thank you!” and Martin smiles.

---

Summer goes by, and every Wednesday Martin stops by the Hat Mouse, sometimes to buy, sometimes to just talk, sometimes to drop off food. It’s just a kind gesture, really. Martin can’t tell if the Hat Mouse uses the money to buy food or if he scavenges, but business picks up during summer and the Hat Mouse looks healthy and plump and happy, and Martin tries to give it foods that supplement what can be foraged - mostly cheese and vegetables, since grapes and spice berries are plentiful, and Martin doesn’t think mice eat much fish, though he still prepares extra fish tacos and brings some before the Luau.

The Hat Mouse tries to pay him back with a free hat, but Martin shakes his head no. “It’s a gift,” he says.

“Gift?!” the Hat Mouse exclaims in confusion and horror.

“A present for you,” Martin clarifies, remembering that gift in his language means poison, and trying to make the meaning more clear.

“Present?”

“Yes, I want you to have them, for free,” Martin says, nudging the plate towards the mouse.

It twitches its ears twice, a sure sign of happiness, and even twitches its whiskers. “Thank you, poke!”

“You’re welcome,” answers Martin, and he walks away smiling as always.

---

Summer leaves them both with sunshine, and then fall arrives, bringing even more bounty. Mads sells delicious blackberries to Martin, who makes them into a jam that the townspeople snap up as soon as he puts out the jars, and one jar of which that he saves to give to the Hat Mouse.

He tries to give the Hat Mouse much more food, especially as the fall air becomes terribly chilly at night. Martin even asks Eefje to make a coat and pays her a generous sum to plump it up with plenty of thick wool. Delivering the present is no easy task since the coat is so wonderfully warm and squishy that he can’t even stuff it into his backpack, but he gets Tim to tag along and carry a wheel of cheese while Martin’s arms are full of the coat.

“Who lives here?” little Tim asks when they come within sight of the ruined old house.

“The Hat Mouse,” Martin answers, hoping that the mouse will be there. Lo and behold, there it is, and Martin pushes the coat into its arms with a broad grin.

“Me?” it asks curiously, ears already beginning to twitch with happiness.

“Yeah, that’s for you! It’s warm.”

“Thank you!” it chirps with the closest thing a mouse can get to a smile. Then it turns to Tim. “Hi!”

“Hi,” grunts Tim as he tries to lift the wheel of cheese up onto the countertop with his already tired arms, so Martin helps him out by lifting him up high enough to just drop the cheese down, and Tim giggles. 

The mouse giggles too, a cute, high-pitched squeak. “Son?” it asks, and Martin simply laughs.

“No, Tim is my helper.” He ruffles Tim’s fluffy hair. “I thought I would bring him to get a hat.”

“Hat!” cheers the mouse.

“Hat!” cheers Tim.

Gleefully, the mouse hold up hat after hat and giggles when Tim tries to make a final decision between an official-looking blue cap with a black brim and gold trim and a pretty daisy pin. In the end, Martin just gets both of them, and the mouse claps its hands delightedly as Tim puts on the cap, then pins the daisy to it.

“Thank you!” says Tim, looking sweetly excited to show off his new hats to his friends and teacher.

“You’re welcome?” the mouse responds, looking at Martin as if to make sure he’s saying the right words. Martin nods, so the mouse says it again with more confidence, and Tim’s smile grows somehow even wider.

“Okay, Tim, time to get you home before Martin starts to worry. Thank you, Hat Mouse!”

“Thank you!” the Hat Mouse echoes, waving them cutely goodbye.

He doesn’t have enough time to bring food on the Wednesday before or after the Stardew Valley Fair. All he can do is hope that the Hat Mouse will be able to find enough forage.

---

Those two Wednesdays are incredibly busy because Martin absolutely has to prepare for winter. He won’t be able to buy more produce unless Mads manages to finish up the old greenhouse by some miracle, so he plans as though there will be nothing but rice and wheat brought in, and makes sure to preserve as many vegetables and fruits as possible. Apples and parsnips are packed away in the cellar, and cooked foods are frozen to keep them for use throughout winter. Martin mentally braces himself for plenty of grains to help the produce last longer.

Somewhere in the rush, though, he very nearly forgets about the Hat Mouse, and only remembers when Tim mentions that Oskar wants to get a winter hat before it snows.

Oskar comes back and says that there was no one at the ruined old house.

Frantically, Martin begins to pack a few backpacks full of food for the mouse.

He heads out on Wednesday morning and finds that, to his horror, it’s snowed overnight. 

Quickly he reheats some pumpkin soup in a warm jar and hopes it won’t get cold by the time he reaches the old old old house, then he grabs all of his bags of food and carries them over with mild difficulty.

When he reaches the house, he understands why Oskar thought no one was home - neither tiny Tim nor little Oskar are old enough to be tall enough to see into the house over the sales counter.

But Martin is, and what he sees is heartbreaking.

There’s a boy, only about as old as Martin at most, tiny, skinny, shivering. His hair is wild and unkempt and dull, and Martin can’t even see his face. The way his shoulders quake fiercely, visible even under the thick black coat that Martin had given the Hat Mouse, shows just how cold and malnourished he must be as his hands - thin, dirty, bony hands - desperately try to pull the coat tighter around him.  

He’s sniffling and gasping with each tremor of his body, and Martin almost breaks down crying right then and there for this poor, poor, homeless, lonely child.

“Hello?” Martin asks gently.

The boy jumps to attention and glances back with terrified eyes, then dives behind a stack of empty hat-boxes.

“Can I come in?”

No answer but for chattering teeth.

“I won’t hurt you,” Martin promises, and he slowly and carefully opens the door and steps into the run-down house. He sits near the boy, on the opposite wall and not within a crude but cleared sleeping area marked by the presence of a flattened cardboard box as a bed, and takes out the thankfully still-hot pumpkin soup, watching the boy watch him with envious eyes. Martin opens the jar and sticks a spoon in, then cautiously slides the jar towards the boy. “Here,” he says, “yours.”

The boy takes his food, moving slowly at first but then with reflexes that betray his hunger. Before Martin can warn him to eat slowly, the boy begins to shovel soup into his mouth at an alarming rate, literally lifting the jar to his lips and drinking it, all the while keeping an eye on Martin as though worried that Martin might try to take his soup from him. Martin simply pulls out another jar of soup and another spoon and contents himself with taking slow spoonfuls of it just to show that he doesn’t need the soup that the boy has. He’s barely a fourth of the way through his jar when the kid slides a jar, now empty and practically scraped clean of food, back towards him.

Martin takes it, gives the boy his own nearly-full jar and watches as it gets devoured within minutes. 

He must have been starving.

“Do you know where the Hat Mouse is?” Martin asks once the scrawny kid has scarfed all of his pumpkin soup down - though Martin thinks calling him a kid is kind of odd, since they appear to be about the same age. He wonders what happened to force this pitiful boy out into the wilderness all alone.

At the mention of the Hat Mouse, the other boy begins to sniffle, rubbing at his eyes the way Tim does on the rare occasion he lets anyone see him cry. “No here,” the boy mumbles with a strong accent, like that of Martin’s home, “no more.”

“What do you mean? Where did the mouse go?” 

The boy rubs at his eyes more aggressively, now. “Man,” he says, pointing in the direction of the Wizard’s tower, “man want more coins. No coins for potion. No Hat Mouse.”

Confusedly, Martin simply stares back at the other boy in his tattered t-shirt and thick jacket, shivering out of control. The boy seems to understand that he doesn’t understand, and tears run down his face as he bashfully points Martin to a bottle beneath the counter.

Shape-Changing Potion, the label reads, and suddenly Martin gets it.

“You’re the Hat Mouse.”

Sadly, the boy nods his head.

“Why didn’t you come to town? You don’t have to hide out here. I could have made you some food and given you some new clothes.”

“People is scary,” the Hat Mouse explains, trembling even at the thought of town, “mouse is nice. Mouse is simple. Run, eat, hide… Sell hat, buy potion. More mouse.”

“Oh,” says Martin dumbly. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a sunset over the ocean, and the boy looks more and more sickly pale by the second, so Martin needs to get them somewhere warm fast. He can’t imagine how this boy survived the frigid winter nights thus far.

“M-m-mouse is also c-c-c-cold-d,” the boy continues, teeth chattering something fierce.

“Let me take you somewhere warm. I promise you’ll be safe.”

“S-safe?” the Mouse repeats, confused.

“No one will hurt you,” Martin clarifies, and the boy begins to cry. 

“Please,” he cries, reaching for Martin, “no more hurt, please…”

Obligingly, Martin picks him up gently, hyper-aware of how frail the boy is, and-

He’s not wearing any shoes. Not even socks shelter his feet from the icy ground.

He’ll lose his feet to frostbite, at this rate.

Gently, Martin sets him down, trying his best to calm the bout of nervous, frozen tremors wracking the boy’s body right now, and he takes off his scarf to wrap it around the boy’s feet. “To keep your feet warm,” he explains, trying to ignore how the pinky toes already look dead white.

The Mouse nods and pulls his hood up tightly around his face, still with tears in his eyes. Then, Martin picks him up again, and they’re on their way. 

The snow is thicker and heavier than Martin had remembered. Already he’s left all his food behind, since it’ll just freeze and he can retrieve it the next day assuming bunnies don’t eat all his carrots and apples, and yet after what seems like an hour he isn’t even within sight of Snake Ranch. And night is falling fast, and so are the temperatures…

The boy in Martin’s arms is beginning to sniffle again, trying to curl up into a hard-to-carry ball to prevent more heat loss through his tattered, shredded jeans, and it’s all that Martin can do to keep him from panicking. Softly, Martin begins to sing.

It’s a quiet Danish Christmas song that he sings, a little thing that he hasn’t heard in years, not since he was last home, and yet it seems to soothe the boy like nothing else.

He even starts singing along.

When the chorus is over, Martin gently asks, “taler du dansk?”

Softly, the boy nods. “Ja.”

“Mit navn er Martin,” Martin responds as he trudges through more snow.

“Jeg ved,” the Danish boy says, “mit navn er Rasmus.”

Quietly they talk between chatters of Rasmus’s teeth and Martin’s laboured breaths, Martin making sure that Rasmus won’t sleep, for if he falls asleep so cold, he likely would die.

At long last, Snake Ranch is within sight, and perhaps an even better sight in the landscape is Mads fishing with his horse nearby - a horse that could carry both Martin and Rasmus to Doctor Aaron’s office just in time for critical care for Rasmus.

“Hej, Mads!” he calls out, still in Danish, “Kan vi låne hesten?”

Mads takes one look at Rasmus, quaking, his lips nearly blue, face pale and eyes beseeching. 

“Bare gå!” Mads shouts, and Martin quickly settles Rasmus atop the horse sidesaddle and runs alongside its speedy trot until they’re at Aaron’s.

Aaron takes one look at Rasmus, who shivers and shrinks away from the touch of the older doctor, and immediately grabs his whole home-visit kit. “Put him in the warmest room in your house - I’m assuming you’re keeping him with you until he gets better?”

“Yes,” Martin says firmly, already whisking Rasmus out of the door and into his own store.

Rasmus’s eyes widen as Martin carries him through the store, almost as if in shock at the sight of so much food, and it makes Martin terribly sad. He doesn’t have too much time to think about it, though, too busy fumbling a back door open and carrying Rasmus upstairs into Martin’s own bedroom with Aaron right behind them.

“Warm up a pot of water, please,” Aaron says, taking off his jacket and dropping his kit at Rasmus’s feet after Martin sets him on a soft chair, “but don’t make it too hot, just so it feels warm on your hands. Actually, warm up three pots, if you can.”

And so the process of treating Rasmus’s frostbitten feet and hands and nearly hypothermic body begins. 

…

It’s terribly late into the night when Rasmus’s condition has stabilised and he’s a little warmer, a little less dirty, a lot more comfortable swaddled in thick, soft fur blankets instead of ratty old clothing. Aaron bids them goodnight after a final inspection of Rasmus’s feet and hands, endured with wide, scared eyes from Rasmus. Martin promises to pay Aaron in the morning after they’ve all had some time to rest, and he lets Rasmus, who is already asleep, stay in his bed while Martin takes some extra blankets and makes do with sleeping on the floor.

…

The next few days fly by between work and keeping an eye on Rasmus’s health. The boy mostly just sleeps and eats during the first few days unless Aaron is giving him a check-up, during which he nearly has panic attacks, and after the amputations on dead fingers and toes, he sleeps for an entire day straight, hopped up on anaesthetic and pain medication, giving Martin enough free time to make plenty of food for Rasmus. He makes simple things - cheese cauliflower, parsnip soup, rice pudding, chowder… anything easy to eat and full of calories to hopefully help Rasmus regain some weight. 

Rasmus is still terribly sleepy all of the time even as the days go by, but on the morning of the Festival of Ice, he asks Martin to let him sit by the window and look over the town, watching sadly as people flock to the forest to celebrate winter. Martin stands by him and ruffles his hair. “I’m sorry we can’t go walking yet.”

Rasmus just shrugs. “It’s fine,” he murmurs in Danish, looking down at his bandage-coated hands and toes, “My feet still hurt, anyway, and- and I don't know… I don't think I'd like to meet anyone yet…” But the look in his eyes as the world enjoys its time without him says everything Martin needs to know.

Quietly, Martin lets him be and hurries to ask Aaron about his professional medical opinion. Thirty minutes later, with Rasmus bundled up in heaps of blankets and soft boots on his feet and warm mittens on his hands, Martin carries him around the forest for an hour, smiling as Rasmus’s eyes light up with ice sculptures and joy and watching curiously as Rasmus shrinks away from any adults who come near. He ruffles Rasmus’s hair again and cradles him gently, carrying him back home after Rasmus falls asleep.

After the first week or so, Rasmus is much more lively, though he still sleeps a lot. Aaron tells Martin to make sure Rasmus is drinking enough water and isn’t doing too much physical activity yet, but Rasmus gets bored now that he’s more wakeful, so Martin promises as they share dinner that Rasmus can help in the store.

Rasmus grins so wide and so happy that Martin can’t help but fondly ruffle his hair, cut back to a more normal length as of a few days ago.

The next day, Indiana brings in a deep basket chair with small, highly stable rockers, and sets it behind the counter of Martin’s store. He thanks her, lines the chair with a pillow and a blanket, and helps Rasmus walk down the stairs from the bedroom to the store, gently settling him into the chair and handing him rice and wheat order receipts from the past year. “Can you count how many of each I have?” he asks in Danish.

“Ja!” says Rasmus excitedly, already sorting them out. Martin watches him in amusement and plays with his hair as Rasmus giggles and smiles up at him.

After about half an hour, the shop bell rings, announcing the arrival of Old-Oskar and one of his sons, yet another Martin, though this one has been nicknamed Q since his hair sticks out like the small line on a Q, and they walk around the aisles for a bit while Martin sorts some coins and Rasmus works through his stacks with increasingly droopy eyelids.

“Martin,” he murmurs at last, “do you have pen and paper?” 

“Of course,” Martin answers, and he hands Rasmus a small notepad and a pen, which the boy scribbles some numbers with and tucks the receipts inside of in neat, orderly piles. He then sets the notepad with receipts on one of the nearby shelves.

“Hey, Martin,” Old-Oskar says, setting a few boxes of wheat and a sack of rice on the counter-top. Martin is grateful that Rasmus is asleep - he'd likely be somewhat distressed otherwise, though Martin isn't sure why adults scare Rasmus so much. 

“Hey, how’s it going?”

“Pretty good. The kids are getting cabin fever already, but Andrei and Kasper are letting them work on the ranch, so no one’s gotten into a fight yet,” Old-Oskar jokes.

“Good, good. When’s Kostas coming back?” Martin accepts the payment and slips a few hundred coins back into the cloth bag with the wheat and rice already inside, just like he always does. Taking care of so many children all on his own can’t be easy for Old-Oskar, who isn’t even really that old.

“In the spring,” Oskar says with a certain smile that makes Q at his side roll his eyes but also smile.

“Papa has been sending us letters,” Q says.

“I’m glad to hear that,” the tall Martin answers, “I bet he misses you very much.” 

Q nods shyly and takes the bag from the counter-top. “Who’s that?” he asks, pointing to Rasmus’s head resting against Martin’s leg as he sleeps cutely.

Unconsciously, Martin has been ruffling Rasmus’s hair, but he quickly pauses to tuck the ends of the blanket around Rasmus, to keep him as warm as possible against the slight draft in the store. “This is Rasmus. He’d probably like to talk - well, he might like to, anyway - if you come back when he’s awake.”

“Okay!” small Martin chirps, already running out of the store with Oskar in tow. “Dad, can we come back tomorrow?”

Martin chuckles as Oskar says something in response, inaudible over the winter winds shutting the door. Quietly, Rasmus murmurs sleepy gibberish, and Martin stays next to him, playing with his hair whenever the still-scrawny boy falls asleep against Martin’s leg as he constantly naps while he works.

---

Tim drops by on Saturday and Sunday to help with tidying up the shop - just basic dusting since it’s too cold to handle mopping - and he runs around eagerly with his feather duster as Martin follows him with paper and marker for new labels. Occasionally Martin has to lift Tim up to reach a few high shelves, but it’s a system they’ve long since worked out.

“Martin?” Rasmus calls sleepily, “Can I help?” He rubs his eyes and stands up, a more healthy weight now though his muscles are still fairly weak, so Martin feels confident enough to give him a broom and let him clean up a bit, though Martin still keeps an eye on him since Rasmus isn’t yet used to how his balance has changed thanks to three missing toes. He sweeps up the store well, though, and pushes a small mound of dust out the door.

“Tak, Rasmus,” Martin calls.

“Tock?” Tim repeats curiously, dusting a shelf near where Rasmus stands.

“No,” Rasmus says with a smile and still-shaky English, “tak. Thank you.”

Tim seems to get it. “Tak!” he says with a smile.

When the day ends and Martin sends Tim home, the little boy chirps, “Tak, Martin!” at him, and Martin grins and teases Rasmus about it over dinner.

“Language teacher, now?” he says with a chuckle.

Rasmus smiles and laughs bashfully. “I don’t even know English, come on, Martin.”

“You could learn,” Martin says. “The kids seem to naturally like you, you could teach them in your spare time.”

Thoughtfully, Rasmus shrugs. “Maybe when it’s warmer out and I can walk again.”

Martin smiles and ruffles Rasmus’s hair as he does so often, and takes his empty bowl, offering him more food and unsurprised when Rasmus accepts a small bit. He’s been eating a little less each day as his body stabilises and gets used to a much better diet.

---

With time and more healing, Rasmus slowly gets better until two weeks later he’s been well enough to go on short walks around town - wearing winter gear to keep warm, of course, though now he doesn’t need to wear anything more than the average person of his body type should - and even a brief visit to Snake Ranch as Martin delivered some grass starters. More often than not, Rasmus clings to Martin’s arm for protection and just in case he would stumble, but Rasmus’s balance corrects itself just in time to prepare for the Feast of the Winter Star.

Mayor Tamas sends them their secret present assignments in the mail, marked with Andrei’s cute hand-drawn candy-canes and Kasper’s distinctive, smooth cursive on the mailing address, and Martin gets Luka.

Thanks, Tamas, Martin thinks with a smile. This will be easy. He's known the boy, Indiana's son and a town troublemaker, for quite some time.

As for Rasmus, Martin thinks he must have gotten Tim or Q or Marcin or one of the many other children who flock to him eagerly, making their own little club in a corner of Martin’s shop. It’s rather cute.

“Martin,” Rasmus says, tugging lightly at his sleeve with Luka and Tim in tow, “We go to forest.”

“Okay,” Martin responds, checking the time, “be back by four. All of you,” he says, ruffling Rasmus’s hair and looking specifically at Luka.

“Okay!” they all chirp and put on their coats and boots and warm winter hats.

“And don’t let Andrei’s ranch out of your sight!”

By the time Martin calls, Luka and Rasmus are out of view, but Tim is still adjusting his scarf. “I’ll warn them,” the quiet boy murmurs. Then he too scampers off after Rasmus and Luka.

Thankfully, Rasmus comes back even before four, at about three, with a paper bag from the ranch that he holds to his chest and hides in his closet. Thankfully, he doesn’t try to hide it under the bed, where Martin has concealed a cute pair of mouse ears and a thick, specially-woven blanket from Zuzu City as his gifts for Rasmus.

…

The Feast is the very next day, so Martin wakes up early to wrap the hat in pretty paper and a grey box, and he lets Rasmus sleep while he makes a quick breakfast. “There will be lots of good food at the Feast, so don’t eat too much,” Martin says to Rasmus when the sleepy boy finally leaves the bedroom and the bed they’ve quietly shared ever since Rasmus woke up shivering from a bad dream.

Now, he shivers again. “Will… will there be many people?” he asks shyly, picking at his food out of pure nerves. Martin ruffles his hair to try and soothe him.

“The whole town will be there-”

Rasmus gasps and his eyes go wide.

“But the adults stay in one area! Usually, the kids form a group and do their own thing,” Martin says gently, “I’m sure they won’t mind if you stick with them.”

“Okay,” says Rasmus, after a long pause as he deliberates over congee with bacon, “Where is it?”

“Just in town. In the main square, right outside the store.”

“And- and we can come back here if we want to leave early, right?”

“Of course,” Martin soothes, “we can always just drop off our presents and go. That’s all the Feast really is, just presents and talking and eating.”

Rasmus takes a deep, steadying breath. “When do we go?”

“Whenever you’re done, no rush,” says Martin with a smile, and he gives Rasmus a few extra strips of bacon.

Once Rasmus has downed his food and put on his thick black coat, mittens, scarf, hat and boots, he and Martin head out to the Feast of the Winter Star. Martin spends the day chatting to their neighbours, from Aaron to Indiana to Mihael and Mads to Andrei and Kasper and their kids, and Oskar’s delicious food is really something to be complimented as the whole town feasts mid-afternoon.

It’s a little awkward for Martin to sit at the kids’ table since his legs are so long, they barely fit under it, but the children are chatty as ever and the peaceful smile on Rasmus’s face as he doesn’t have to interact with scary adults is entirely worth the fact that Martin has to fold his legs oddly to sit down. Sometime during the dinner, Rasmus starts to shiver a little bit. Martin, the frequent pack-horse of the kids who brings the dishes they want to the small table, makes an extra trip and fetches him a sturdy blanket to drape over his shoulders while they eat. As he does so, Indiana looks at them with an odd shine to her eyes, smiling softly to herself and whispering in her wife’s ear. She takes Martin aside after the eating is done, while most of the town hurry to grab their presents and sit in proper order.

“You like him?”

Martin sputters and blushes. “That would just- that would just be taking advantage of him, I can’t do that!”

Indiana just sighs and shakes her head. “I’m not asking if you’re going to do anything about it. I’m just wondering if what rumour has is true.”

“I… yeah, I do,” Martin sighs, “he’s just… He’s cute and I want to help him and be with him for everything.”

“Good,” says Indiana with a smile. “Your heart is in the right place.” She sighs, too. “Don’t worry, I’m not mad. I just try to talk to everyone before they get into this relationship kind of stuff. Because it’s not all sunshine and flowers and rainbows,” Indiana says sternly. “And if you think it’ll be perfect and flawless, you’re wrong. If you’re not prepared to help him through thick and thin, through sickness to health, no matter what the cost is and no matter what price you have to pay, then you need to either prepare yourself or let go.”

He nods solemnly and she snickers.

“Normally I would ask if you’re prepared, but you’ve already been through that, haven’t you,” she continues, smiling gently. “Go help him and be with him, Martin. He’s waiting over there for you; he probably misses you already.”

With a broad grin, Martin runs off to guide Rasmus to a seat next to Luka, not missing how Indiana’s wife hugs her close and kisses her, and he takes his seat with a smile as Rasmus complains about being cold and tugs the blanket tighter around himself. When Martin asks, Rasmus says he doesn’t need another blanket, though, so Martin just shyly puts an arm around him to warm him up that way, and Rasmus smiles. With quick, timid footsteps, Rasmus runs across the circle to give Mads his present of a receipt for fifty pieces of pre-paid hay from Andrei and Kasper, and he returns to nestle under Martin’s arm like a baby bird seeking warmth and protection. Then, Martin waits for his turn in the gift-giving chain to lean over Rasmus and give Luka a present of three whole jars of candy. “Now, don’t be sneaking any more from my store,” he tells Luka quietly, “at least not until Summer, okay?” Luka blushes bright red and nods, already waving to get Tim’s attention and elbowing Marcin, pointing at how much candy he got.

Soon enough, the Feast is over and done, and Martin, after Rasmus ducks behind him even when kind old Becca approaches to say a few words, scoops Rasmus up and carries him home again, much to Rasmus’s appreciation. Martin lights a warm fire in the chimney and moves a space heater to their balcony so Rasmus can enjoy the winter stars in warmth.

"It's so pretty…" Rasmus murmurs in awe, leaning against the metal rail, bundled up in his blanket already, "I've never seen the stars like this before, not at my old old home or the old old old haus or even on the streets…"

He trails off, blushes embarrassedly and bites his lip, glancing shyly at Martin who leans on the railing next to him. The streets? Martin wants to ask. But he keeps his mouth shut and plays with Rasmus's hair. "You'll have plenty of time to see them, here," he says, "I'll make sure of that for you."

"Thank you," Rasmus says with a brilliant, starlight smile, even brighter than Sirius in the sky.

Martin blushes pink. He hides his face by readjusting his scarf for a bit, only then realising just how chilly it is outside with northern winds running through the streets. "Are you cold?" he asks Rasmus.

Rasmus giggles and shakes his head no. "Not really, only a little bit.” He pulls the blanket over his shoulders tighter around him as he leans into Martin, probably just for body heat. “Hug me?"

And who is Martin to say no to that? He gently nestles his arm around Rasmus's shoulders with rosy cheeks that turn redder when Rasmus rests his head against Martin's chest.

"Thank you," Rasmus murmurs.

"You're welcome."

Their quiet reverie continues for quite some time, past Mads and someone with dark, fluffy hair waving goodbye to them and long past Rasmus becoming adorably sleepy. Rasmus's soft snuffles as he snuggles into Martin sound so cute and small, like a baby kitten, like a little, utterly adorable, tiny, soft, loveable mouse.

Mouse.

Mouse Hat!

“Oh, I have a gift for you,” Martin says quietly, his fingers rubbing Rasmus’s shoulder unconsciously.

“Oh! I- I have one for you too,” says Rasmus, turning to face Martin. Their faces are terribly close.

“I- uh- I’ll go get them,” Martin stutters, “Yours is in your closet, right?” 

Rasmus nods, so Martin fetches the hat-box and the paper bag and brings them back to Rasmus still on the balcony, shivering a little. Martin makes sure to put his own back to the wind to create a shelter and he holds Rasmus close enough that the last of winter’s bite won’t get too close. Then, he gives Rasmus the prettily-papered present, wrapped in snowflakes and blue ribbon, exchanging it for the paper bag in Rasmus’s hands. “Be careful,” Rasmus warns, “part of it is delicate. Don’t drop it!”

“I won’t,” Martin promises, “now open yours!” 

With a painfully cute giggle, Rasmus carefully peels the paper off of the hat box and hands it to Martin who stuffs it into the paper bag, and he opens the hat-box eagerly, his eyes widening in delight as he sees what’s inside. 

“It’s, uh, a mouse hat. For my Hat Mouse,” Martin explains awkwardly.

Rasmus’s surprised face breaks into a radiant smile, and he hugs Martin so, so tight, giggling joyously the entire time. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Rasmus murmurs before pulling ever so slightly away. “Will you put them on me, please?”

Smiling, Martin gently takes the headband and positions it atop Rasmus’s soft, fluffy hair, then gently adjusts it so that it rests perfectly. He blushes again when he realises that Rasmus has been gazing at him happily, and he lightly runs his fingers through Rasmus’s hair as Rasmus giggles and hugs him again. “They’re cute on you,” Martin murmurs, and Rasmus squeezes him tightly as thanks.

“Thank you. I love them.”

Martin blushes pink and busies himself with opening the paper bag, expecting some hay or a new space heater. Instead, he pulls out a gorgeous glass vase coloured white and purple and clear, all in beautiful, delicate streaks like the pigment had simply blossomed in the glass like ink in water, and filled with delicate crocuses. His jaw practically drops. “D-do you like it?” Rasmus asks, fidgeting with the ends of his blanket.

“I love it.” Their faces break into smiles and Martin marvels at the vase’s beauty, cradling it gently in his hands. “Where did you get this? It’s so beautiful.”

“Mihael made it,” Rasmus answers, giggling softly, “he’s been doing some glass-blowing and I asked him if he would make one for you. Luka and Tim helped me find the crocuses.”

“I love crocuses,” Martin murmurs with a broad grin, smiling even wider as Rasmus leans a little closer. He pulls Rasmus into a tight hug and ruffles his hair lightly, enjoying the feeling as Rasmus wraps the ends of his blanket around Martin, too. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome!”

Gently, they hug and sigh softly, holding each other until Rasmus begins to shiver even despite his blanket and Martin’s warmth. With a mischievous grin met by a sweet giggle from Rasmus, Martin scoops Rasmus into his arms and carts him back to their bed, Rasmus laughing all the while. “Thank you,” he says with a sunshine smile. He nuzzles his face into the rough blanket, his eyes glittering with childish happiness though his skin pinkens as the blanket scratches it.

“Oh,” Martin murmurs, reminded about his other gift for Rasmus. He reaches under the bed and pulls out a neatly-folded mink-style blanket, soft and fluffy and deliciously warm, and he hands it to Rasmus with a smile. “I got this for you as well,” and Rasmus eagerly unfolds the blanket, gasping at how luxurious it is and humming happily as he rolls around in it until he forms a tight cocoon around himself.

“It’s so warm!” he exclaims in awe, cuddling into the blanket and looking perfectly adorable in his mouse ears and grey fleece. Carefully, Martin sets the mouse ears aside on Rasmus’s night-stand so as not to deform them and ruffles Rasmus’s hair before covering himself in the cruder wool blanket - they’ve been sharing a bed, but since Rasmus tends to prefer being much warmer than Martin does, he’s usually been wrapped up in his own blanket underneath Martin’s thinner one, which they’ll share - only for Rasmus to cast the blanket over both of them. Surprised, Martin simply tries to tuck its edges around Rasmus, but Rasmus pulls him into the warmth again. ”Share it with me?” Rasmus shyly asks.

With a rosy flush hidden by the dim lighting of the room, only illuminated by soft light from the fireplace in the corner, Martin murmurs a quiet “Ja,” and lets Rasmus curl up against him. Martin has a strong urge to put his arms around Rasmus, but keeps his hands to himself.

After some time, when Martin has nearly fallen asleep, Rasmus sleepily mumbles as he drowses, “this is the best winter I’ve ever had.”

“Even though you nearly died?” Martin asks rhetorically, with a raised eyebrow. He gently rubs Rasmus’s shoulder when the boy shudders at the memory.

“I met you, though,” Rasmus mumbles, his eyes closed, “and I’m happiest here.”

Martin’s face is now bright red. He hugs Rasmus gently. “Good, I want you to always be happy.”

Softly, Rasmus grins up at Martin and squeezes him back. He murmurs one last thing, four Danish syllables long, but before Martin can ask what it was, Rasmus is asleep. With a fond smile, Martin sleeps, too.

---

New Year’s Eve and Day come and go with smiles and a very, very, very diluted bottle of “wine” that Martin and Rasmus share with the village children while their parents and the other adults of the town party. It’s mostly fizzy spring-water with a little bit of grape juice for colour and flavour, but the kids don’t know the difference, except for Luka who calls it out in a moment of stupidity and instantly gets chided by Martin. Luka spends the rest of the evening pouting in a corner with Marcin making fun of him, but they seem to be enjoying themselves regardless, so Martin leaves them alone while he and Rasmus play games with Tim, Marek, Tore, Patrik, Elias, Oskar, and Jus. Every once in a while Martin asks Q about the picture he’s drawing, too.

After some time, though, once they’ve all celebrated the incoming of the new year - except for Tim, Oskar, and Jus, who fell asleep before the strike of midnight - it’s time for the children to go to bed. 

The back room of Martin’s store had already been transformed into a fun and cute party space, but now the cups of sparkling juice are set aside and each of the children sets up their blankets and pillows into an adorable sleeping area. Marek, the slightly-older of the Snake Ranch twins, is even strong enough to pick up the sleeping boys and place them in their beds, arranged by Tore. When all has been set up and everyone else is asleep, Martin goes to fetch Marcin and Luka from the store to sleep with the rest.

They’re snogging when he gets there, but Martin really isn’t surprised. For a few moments, he just stands in the doorway, hoping that maybe one of them would see him, but after a while it just gets awkward and really, teenage makeouts are disgusting. He clears his throat, chuckling as they spring apart with wide eyes. “Go make your beds and go to bed, boys,” he tells them. “And no having sex in my store.”

With bright red faces they furiously deny him, but run along and pile up their blanket mattresses right next to each other, the same way they’ve been doing it for the last fifteen years. Or is it sixteen? Maybe it’s seventeen. He can never remember how old the kids all are. After a quick check of the store, Martin locks the store-front just in case, and heads upstairs to his and Rasmus’s room with a smile on his face.

“What’s so funny?” asks Rasmus curiously, peeking out of his blankets with messy hair. He reaches up and takes Martin’s hand, dragging him down into the bed with a giggle.

“Luka and Marcin,” Martin says with a laugh, “I caught them making out in the store.” Rasmus looks utterly scandalised, and Martin laughs again, ruffling his hair as Rasmus throws part of his fluffy blanket over Martin.

“In the middle of the store?! With the kids around?!” 

“In their defence, they’re just horny teens, and they were in a different room, so the kids were fine. As long as they don’t fuck in our store, I think that’s a victory,” says Martin, accepting Rasmus’s koala-like hug and playing with Rasmus’s hair as he closes his eyes.

“They had better not fuck in our store!” Rasmus agrees vehemently, blindly accepting the fact that it’s their store now and not just Martin’s, “especially since they’re sleeping with the little kids!”

Martin just laughs again. “Oh, speaking of the kids, one or two might come up here to sleep because they get scared. If it’s more than that, I’ll just go sleep downstairs. You can stay here, though.”

In response, Rasmus unearths his face from Martin’s chest to make a quizzical expression up at him. “No, I’ll follow you.”

“Are you sure? It’s hardwood floor; it’s not very comfy.”

“I’m probably more used to sleeping on the floor than you are, Martin,” Rasmus says with a solemn, aching air, and Martin gently hugs him and rubs his back. “Sorry,” Rasmus says after a bout of silence as Martin doesn’t know what to say, “I made it depressing. Sorry.”

“Don’t be, mouse. I hope you forget what that feels like. We have a whole new year, right?”

“Right,” Rasmus says with an optimistic grin. He hugs Martin again, murmuring soft thanks. “So how did you end up being the village babysitter?”

“Well, I came here when I was only twelve, so it used to be Andrew for a while,” Martin recalls, “until Aaron showed up and Andrew had better things to do on party nights than watch a bunch of kids. Andrew was never very good with kids, anyway, and I was already eighteen at that point, so I kind of just took over and watched them myself.”

Rasmus hums sleepily. “That’s really cute,” he murmurs, “how long have you been watching them all for?”

“Five or six years, at this point,” Martin says quietly, running his hands through Rasmus’s hair and smiling as Rasmus’s hums become higher and more happy.

“ It’s really cute.”

“Yeah, they are, they’re always well-behaved.”

“I mean, the kids are cute too…” Rasmus trails off. But he’s asleep before Martin can ask him what he means.

…

They only get about half an hour of sleep before a tiny hand is knocking on their door. “Come in,” Martin calls out as he tries unsuccessfully to untangle Rasmus from himself and, failing that, just cradles Rasmus as he sits up.

“Martin?” says Q quietly, “um… Tim is having a nightmare, I think. He kicked me on accident and he’s whimpering, too.”

“All right,” Martin responds, setting Rasmus down at last and rolling out of the bed. He leaves the room, trying to ignore how Rasmus whines in his sleep and rolls around missing that warmth, and lets Q lead him down to where Tim sleeps, squirming and even crying a bit.

Some of the other boys have also woken up, worried for the youngest of them all, and they watch him unsurely, then turn to Martin with pleading eyes as he carefully steps through the minefield of pillows and sleeping bodies, then settles down next to the poor boy. “Tim? Tim, honey, you’re having a bad dream, wake up, kiddo.” Gently, Martin rocks Tim’s shoulder back and forth to wake him up, and Tim blinks blearily as he does so.

His eyes must be blurry and hazy, because as soon as his senses come to him, Tim jumps up and hugs Martin’s neck so tightly that he’s practically hanging off of Martin. “Daddy, Daddy, you saved me! Thank you, Daddy!” Tim crows so happily that his eyes shut as he smiles so wide.

Martin takes a deep breath and tries not to cry. “Tim… it’s just- it’s just me, Tim,” Martin says, and his heart practically breaks as Tim loosens his grip and his exuberant smile collapses into a lonely sob as his hopes of his father comforting him die upon seeing Martin’s face.

“O-oh,” Tim cries, “I’m sorry…” With large, kind hands, Martin pulls Tim into his lap and cradles him, letting Jus and Oskar comfort their best friend with hugs until Tim’s crying dries up, more due to exhaustion than not being sad any more.

Sometimes Martin really hates Tim’s dad for being so absent from his son’s life.

With help from Oskar and Jus, Martin wraps Tim up in his blanket and carries him over to a corner of the room near the door, with a bit more space for Martin to sleep. “Thanks for telling me, Q. I’m going to grab my stuff and I’ll be right back down, okay?” Silently Q nods, the quiet protector of the other children, and Martin runs up the stairs as quietly as he can to get his pillow and a blanket.

When he gets there, Rasmus is already awake and holding the necessary materials in his hands for them both to make a soft nest on the hard floor, and they quickly make a little bed in the corner, then let Tim curl up against Martin to help him sleep.

Martin isn’t surprised when he wakes up with most of the kids clustered around him and Rasmus, with Tim under his arm and Jus and Oskar flopped over his legs as Elias lies nearer to them than he used to. He leaves because it’s much too warm, though it is melancholy for Martin to have to worm his way out of the dog-pile. Coming back after making French toast and seeing Rasmus and all the children look so adorable as the kids cuddle up around him, then blink drowsily and follow Martin into the kitchen is well-worth it, though.

He lays out plates of toast and forks and plenty of sweet maple syrup and calls them all to eat and wait for their parents to pick them up. They end up naturally arranging themselves in the order they expect to have their parents arrive - Jus closest to the door, since he’s cared for by his grandparents who always wake up early, with all of Old-Oskar’s kids clustered up after him, then Marek and Tore who play slapping hand-games as they eat and relax before Andrei and Kasper return. As for Luka and Marcin, they’ve hidden in a corner to talk as they eat, since they’re both old enough to walk home whenever they feel ready. And as for Tim, he clings to Martin’s leg and nestles himself in the small space between Martin and Rasmus as he tries to make the most of what little experience of happy family life he gets. He sniffles as he eats his French toast, still sad and sleepy, so Martin gently rubs his back and fluffs up his hair as Rasmus hugs him.

But to their surprise, the eldest Martin is the first to arrive, and he’s perfectly sober. “Hey, is Tim here?” he asks with a slightly nervous smile. His fears are assuaged as Tim’s eyes water with happiness and he runs into the eldest Martin’s open arms, giggling and laughing and hugging Martin’s neck as he’s scooped into the air. “Hey, kid, did you have fun?”

“It was the best New Year’s Eve ever!” Tim exclaims, overjoyed that his father isn’t last to arrive, that his dad didn’t drink himself into a coma last night at the party. They walk away, all smiles, and Tim looks so happy he could cry. 

Martin privately wonders what could have caused such a dramatic change - perhaps the glimpse he caught of a new man in town has something to do with it? - but those thoughts are quickly pushed aside as Rasmus hugs his waist, keeping Martin between himself and the door, and Martin runs a hand through Rasmus’s hair in a natural response.

“He is so happy,” Rasmus says quietly. Martin hugs him and agrees, then sticks his tongue out at Luka, who had waggled his eyebrows at the two of them.

He’s probably just trying to make sure Martin can protect him from other adults. Best not to think too much of anything.

Soon enough, each of the children files out with a smile and a wave goodbye to Martin, and Martin and Rasmus stand to the side watching like a happy couple until only Luka and Marcin are left, and then they, too, flee hand in hand. Rasmus giggles.

“I’m still sleepy.”

With a soft smile, Martin ruffles Rasmus’s hair and leads him back up to their bedroom for a little more rest before the year truly begins.

---

Spring brings smooth sailing for Martin and Rasmus as the first few days go by with sales bolstered by the need for more flower seeds - Old-Oskar buys tens of them, and Martin and Rasmus walk by him planting tulips and blue jazz with help from Elias and little-Oskar and Kostas, who has come back from the war to resume domestic life with his children and his angel of a husband. Martin offers to help as they walk by on a Wednesday walk, the first of the year, but Rasmus looks a little spooked by Old-Oskar and Kostas’s presence, so Martin doesn’t push it when Old-Oskar waves them off.

They’re heading to the abandoned old house to retrieve hats and the handmade signs at the house’s front, plus any keepsakes Rasmus might want. When they get there, though, Rasmus seems hesitant to approach the house, and he clutches Martin’s hand tightly as they poke through the ruins.

“Are you okay?” Martin asks worriedly, “We don’t have to do this right now, or I can take you home and get the hats later.”

“I’m fine,” Rasmus murmurs, “let’s just make this quick, okay? I just want to get my stuff and go…” Softly, Martin ruffles Rasmus’s hair and picks up boxes, putting them into a large bag to carry back as Rasmus picks through the rest of the house for his own trinkets, and he ends up with a few small trinkets that he tucks into Martin’s backpack for safe-keeping. Anxiously, he fidgets as Martin packs up the boxes quick as can be. Martin isn’t sure what the rush is, but he hurries nonetheless.

“Well, look who’s back,” a gravelly voice grumbles from outside the shop. Martin stands up to see who it is, only to be greeted by a voice rare to the Valley. 

It’s the Wizard, scorned and driven off to his tower after a series of terrible abuses to the eldest Martin. Most townspeople only know the stories of how cruel-hearted the Wizard was.

“Fabian?” Martin asks curiously. “What are you doing here? Do you want a hat?” Out of the corner of his eye, Martin sees that Rasmus has dived behind the corner of the stairs to hide from this visitor and is shivering faintly.

“Your little friend owes me,” Fabian hisses. Martin immediately glowers at him with anger.

“Jeg skylder dig ikke noget!” Rasmus shrieks.

“You promised me payment by the week! Don’t blame me for your stupid need to be a fucking mouse, you’re the one who wastes all your money on avoiding the truth! You’re a coward!”

“Lad mig være i fred! Lad mig være i fred!” yells Rasmus over and over again, terrified.

At Rasmus’s clear distress, Martin turns to face Fabian with a look of pure murder in his eyes. A fist flies at Fabian’s face, smashing hard into his jaw and nearly knocking him backwards off of the cliff, and Martin winds up, clearly prepared to do it over and over.

“Get out of here and don’t ever talk to him again.”

Fabian smarts at the impact and spits at the ground, but leaves, perhaps a bit surprised at Martin’s strength. Carrying one’s 50kg boyfriend friend around frequently will do that.

“Rasmus? Rasmus, he’s gone, it’s safe to come out, now.” Soft sniffling echoes through the house as Rasmus cautiously tip-toes down the stairs and falls into Martin’s arms, clutching him tightly. “It's okay, kære, it's okay.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Rasmus chants, “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I-” 

“Hush. It's okay.”

It takes some time to get Rasmus to calm down enough that he’s able to walk through a people-filled town, but eventually the hour grows late enough that Rasmus doesn’t mind it as long as Martin’s arm is around him protectively - Martin can’t carry a bag full of hats and a scared boy at the same time, so they just wait patiently together as Rasmus apologises too much and Martin feeds him berries and bites of cheese. 

Rasmus buries his face in Martin’s chest that night, refusing to come up at all. Even while Martin cooks a quick dinner, Rasmus hides from Martin’s eyes and keeps himself pressed against Martin’s back as though scared to look anywhere else, scared to see the world at large. He doesn’t eat much, and he talks even less. It’s almost midnight by the time they’re done with dinner, since Martin waits at the table for ages in the hopes that Rasmus would regain his appetite, but now they head to their bedroom, and Rasmus beelines for a pillow on the floor in front of the fireplace. He curls up on the cushion, sinking down as low as he can and watching the fire with a blank expression.

“Here,” Martin murmurs, wrapping Rasmus up in the grey mink blanket and putting the mouse ears on his head. Rasmus just looks up at him, confused, as Martin settles down next to him, but Rasmus includes Martin in his blanket bundle despite not seeming entirely okay. Softly, Martin ruffles Rasmus’s hair and hugs his shoulders. “You don’t need a potion to get away from humans for a while,” says Martin with a kind smile, and Rasmus snuggles into him.

Martin’s back hurts a bit when they wake up on the floor, but it’s worth it for the smile that Rasmus has on his face after such a rough night.

---

Another week goes by, this one with a fun adventure foraging with the kids on Wednesday and a birthday party for little-Oskar, one of Tim’s best friends. Martin orders some new stock for the Egg Festival, and Rasmus sorts it happily, enjoying his alone time in the store’s back room, at least until Luka and Marcin join him to provide extra help and to avoid Indiana for the day. The festival itself is also fun, and Martin buys a straw basket for Rasmus to collect eggs with during the Egg Hunt so that he doesn’t have to be around the adults so much.

As for Martin, he spends his time chatting with pretty much everyone in town, from Trevor and Becca to thanking Eefje for starting work on Rasmus’s Flower Dance outfit and meeting the town’s frequent visitor - well, eldest-Martin’s frequent visitor - and chatting with him about how Tim has been doing. Adjusting to having a new parent is never easy, not even when the new parent is a genuinely good guy.

Martin is incredibly happy for the eldest Martin, who seems to be doing so much better than before now that a new Marcin, or Kori, just to keep Kori and the young Marcin distinct, has arrived in his life. It comes as a pleasant surprise that eldest-Martin doesn’t even touch a drop of alcohol at the festival, not even the strawberry wine that Mads’s farm is now infamous for. And Kori is at his side constantly, holding his hand, bright blue eyes glittering in the sunlight as Tim runs by, racing Elias for an egg under the tree, then giggling and following Luka and Marcin and Rasmus as they run along the river for an egg one of them spotted. Rasmus stumbles a few times, not quite used to running after the amputations on his toes, but he doesn’t fall down, to Martin’s relief. Martin turns back to Kori and eldest-Martin to continue conversation.

A few splashes sound in the distance, but no one turns their head. Probably just a branch - the children aren’t stupid enough to jump in the river, it’s chilly and fast in spring.

But then-

Then Tim comes running up to them, his face red with exertion.

“Rasmus! Fell! In the river!” he exclaims between gasps.

None of the townspeople are startled when Martin takes off like a rocket, running through town at breakneck pace to reach the path by the river, and he bolts along it until he sees Rasmus. Luckily, Luka and Marcin have already fished him out of the river, but they’re all varying degrees of wet.

Rasmus is drenched, head to toe, and shivering uncontrollably.

Luka tries to rub his shoulder to calm him down, but Rasmus jerks away violently, and Luka winces. Marcin waves wildly to get Martin to come to them, and Martin nearly barrels into Rasmus, immediately cupping his face with gentle hands and hugging him tightly after seeing just how shaken Rasmus looks.

His eyes are glassy and his face is caught in an expression of horror and his still-undersized body trembles ferociously. Something in him must recognise Martin, though, because Rasmus squeezes him tight and doesn’t let go. “Hej,” Martin cooes softly, “let’s go back home and get you dried off, okay?” He tries to take Rasmus’s hand and lead him, but other townspeople have arrived, concerned for the Mouse’s health, and Rasmus can do nothing but hide behind Martin with his face in his hands. A few of the adults come nearer out of concern, causing Rasmus to try and pull Martin’s arms around him as protection.

As gently as he can, Martin scoops Rasmus up and turns around, only to face the entire town.

Eyes wide, panicked, Rasmus breaks free from Martin’s grip as he thrashes in a fit of terror and he runs off into Cindersap Forest. A curse breaks free from Martin’s lips. “Don’t follow!” Martin shouts behind him as he runs after Rasmus, “you’re scaring him!” and Marcin and Luka thankfully usher everyone back to the Egg Festival.

Rasmus may have gotten the head start, but Martin has longer legs and stronger legs, and so he’s already on the verge of catching Rasmus when suddenly Rasmus trips, either by being off-balance or his legs giving out, and he tumbles painfully to the ground, his arm scraping through a thorny bush and his entire left side hitting the grass hard. As quickly as he can, Martin turns and falls to his knees at Rasmus’s side, scooping the crying, injured, still-soaked boy into his arms and cradling him gently. He carefully smoothes Rasmus’s hair and brushes the dirt off his cheeks, wiping the tears away with a handkerchief. “Did the people scare you? I’m sorry, I should have told them to stay away,” Martin murmurs as he does his best to pat the blood away even if it ruins his handkerchief.

Rasmus sniffles and hugs Martin tighter, careful with his sopping-wet clothes and bleeding arm, but a hug nonetheless. “People, yeah, but- I- I- I’m really c-cold and, and it’s- I don’t-”

“The cold is scaring you?” asks Martin worriedly. Gently, he rubs Rasmus’s back, hoping to help him warm up, though it doesn’t work very well, and Rasmus continues to shiver.

“I… a little… what- what if I get sick again? I… I almost…”

“Shh,” Martin hushes, “let’s just get you home and you can sit by the fire so you warm up, okay? We can go home through Mads’s farm to avoid running into lots of adults, too.” Shakily, Rasmus nods, and Martin picks him up, letting Rasmus cling to his neck and hide his face and tears in Martin’s new flower-print shirt. 

They head north through Mads’s farm and then east until they reach the northernmost part of town, which Martin does his best to hurry them through, switching his hold on Rasmus so the poor, scared boy doesn’t have to look at the rest of the town and the Egg Festival while Martin rushes them up to their room and immediately nudges Rasmus into the bathroom. “Take a hot shower, then when you dry off you’ll be much warmer, and if you’re still cold I’ll have a fire going, okay?”

Nervously, Rasmus shifts his weight from foot to foot. “I…”

“What is it, mouse?”

“I’mreallysorrybutI’mreallyscaredofbeingalonerightnowI’msorry,” Rasmus babbles, “C-can you- um-”

“I can sit in the doorway,” Martin decides. “I have to get my chequebooks and accounting set up for this year, anyway.”  

As long as he faces away from the shower, Martin should be perfectly fine. He grabs his books and a pencil and begins to outline the shop’s expenses as Rasmus hops in the shower and, a few short minutes later, hops out. Martin only turns around once Rasmus has bundled himself up in an enormous towel and curled up on the floor against Martin’s back, at which point Martin turns around and dries Rasmus’s hair with a hand-towel, fluffing it with his fingers once it’s mostly dry. “There you go, mouse,” he murmurs. “I’ll start the fire while you get dressed.” As Rasmus darts over to the corner of the room with his closet and changing curtain, Martin opens the fireplace damper, wincing at the slight rush of cool night air but smiling happily when the fire is roaring and Rasmus runs over with the blanket Martin had gifted him.

He wraps himself up in it adorably, a compact blanket burrito, and sits next to Martin on the warm floor in front of the fire. “Feeling better?” Martin asks quietly, gently tracing circles on Rasmus’s back.

Rasmus hums a yes. After some time, when he feels sufficiently warm to risk losing a bit of heat, he loosens part of his blanket and wraps it around Martin’s shoulders, then throws the other edge over Martin’s lap so they’re both wrapped up in the same blanket, and Rasmus’s fuzzy pyjamas are pressed against Martin’s well-worn flannels so tightly that Martin is blushing red from more than just the fireplace’s heat. 

Curiously, Rasmus is still trembling ever so slightly.

“You’re still cold?” Martin asks, almost in disbelief.

“I… kind of cold, kind of scared, still,” Rasmus admits in a murmur whispered into Martin’s shoulder. “Can- um… can I…”

“Yes, mouse?”

“Is it okay if I sit on your lap?”

Well, if Martin wasn’t red before, he sure is now. “Y-yeah, that’s perfectly fine, come here,” says Martin quietly, helping Rasmus arrange his legs more comfortably as Rasmus crawls into Martin’s lap and curls up against his chest, hugging him tightly and bundling the blanket around both of them. With large, gentle, soothing hands, Martin supports Rasmus’s back and cradles him close. He mumbles a nearly inaudible “I love you” into Rasmus’s hair. 

Martin isn’t surprised when Rasmus doesn’t react. “I love you” and “Jeg elsker dig” sound nothing alike, so Rasmus probably doesn’t even know what the English words mean. Still, Martin whispers it a few times more before relocating them to the bed and extinguishing the fire, then returning to a whiny Rasmus who quiets as soon as Martin holds him close again.

He thinks that a smile graces Rasmus’s face each time he says it, but they’re both tired after such a long day. Martin is probably just seeing things.

---

“M-Martin? Do I have to wear a dress for the Flower Dance?” Rasmus asks shyly one evening, a little more than a week before the couples’ festival of the year. 

Surprised, Martin just shrugs at first. “I think Eefje is already making you a dress, but I can tell her you’d prefer a suit instead, if you’d like. It doesn’t really matter either way. Why?”

“I… I don’t know,” Rasmus giggles awkwardly, “just… I’d get beaten for that if I did it in Denmark, whether by someone on the streets or- o-or-"

Immediately, Martin sets down the food he’s been cooking and hugs Rasmus tightly. “You don’t have to worry about that here, mouse,” he says firmly, “boys can wear dresses too! Usually Jesper wears a dress, and Mihael does, too, sometimes. Andrew has in the past as well, but he doesn’t dance anymore. Same for Kasper.” He ruffles Rasmus’s hair. “It’s your choice, I promise no one else will take issue with whatever you decide.”

“O-okay…" Biting his lips, Rasmus nervously looks up into Martin's eyes. "I think… Maybe I’ll try the dress, then…”

“That sounds perfect.” He would be so, so cute in a dress… Martin isn’t yet sure how the Flower Dance pairings will go - they’re typically decided right at the event, no matter how obvious and choreographed beforehand - but he does secretly hope that Rasmus would ask him to the dance. 

Unfortunately, Rasmus has been spending more and more time at Mads’s farm.

At first it was just an hour or so, to check out the new greenhouse, but as the Flower Dance grew nearer and nearer, Rasmus started to spend almost all his free-time there until the sun set and he hurried back to Martin’s store for dinner. One night as Rasmus hugged him tight, Martin asked if he would prefer his own bed, since Rasmus doesn’t seem to be romantically interested and sharing a bed might be uncomfortable for the smaller boy. 

The look of dismay on Rasmus’s face was a clear answer, but a confusing one, too, so Martin just tries to mentally move on from his Flower Dance hopes. He can always dance with Mihael instead. That’s what he’s been doing ever since Chres left, after all.

---

The day before the Flower Dance, Eefje delivers all the new clothing for those who ordered suits and dresses for the Flower Dance, and Rasmus eagerly opens his parcel up while Martin simply takes his suit from his closet and settles into a chair with a needle and some thread to retailor the cloth if necessary. It usually fits him pretty well, though, so he only makes a few stitches to keep the collar in place. He puts it on with a mildly pleased expression. The suit does well to highlight his shoulders and his strength overall, and the blue shade helps his eyes look clear and sharp while the crisp white shirt looks neat.

Not bad at all.

Martin turns from the mirror to see Rasmus struggling with his dress. 

It’s a pretty, yet simple piece, a collared shirt dress with extra fabric on the front to tie into a knot, allowing the dress to conform to one’s figure more easily. The dress comes to the knee, and looks like it would twirl nicely. It also has cute sleeves that hang loose around Rasmus’s elbows. All in all, it’s a nice dress, made of the same crisp white fabric as the other Flower Dance garments, and Rasmus looks utterly beautiful in it, even if his face seems to express a mixture of confusion and sorrow. “Here,” Martin murmurs, reaching for the buttons that are misaligned on the front. As he awkwardly tries not to stare at the brief glimpse of Rasmus’s chest, Martin redoes them quickly, then shows Rasmus how to tie the front into a cute square knot, and he tries to avoid feeling too excited about how cute Rasmus is in the white dress.

“H-how does it look?” Rasmus asks shyly, nervously gnawing at his lip as he looks up at Martin.

“It looks great. That’s a good style on you,” answers Martin, gently ruffling Rasmus’s hair. He grins when Rasmus smiles brightly. “Anyone would be lucky to dance with you,” he adds.

Rasmus blushes pink. “I-I’m. I’m glad y-you think so,” he stutters adorably. “Actually can you… help me practise? Luka showed me and Marcin practised with me but…”

“Sure, I can practise with you,” Martin says with a kind smile. Usually he would practise with Mihael, but Miha has been working on something lately, probably off in the woods sculpting, so Martin doesn’t bother him.

Gently, Martin positions Rasmus about two metres away and they perform the typical steps, getting closer and closer, then holding hands and stepping apart, together, apart, together, and ending the dance with a brief dip. 

“Usually your partner will go for a kiss,” Martin says, holding Rasmus’s weight in his arms, “but this is just practise, so…” He shrugs and lifts Rasmus back onto his feet.

The smaller boy’s bright red blush is only from the exertion of dancing, right?

With a friendly smile, Martin ruffles Rasmus’s hair and goes back to the corner of the room with his closet and changing curtain, and takes off his suit, putting it away neatly in preparation for tomorrow. He doesn’t notice, but Rasmus watches Martin from behind his own curtain with pink cheeks.

…

When morning comes and so does the Flower Dance, Martin wakes up early to help set up the bridge to the clearing and remove any of the winter’s clutter from the area. Rasmus seems reluctant to let Martin go when the morning is still so cold. Still, Martin manages to weasel his way out of the bed without too much disturbance, and he stops by Old-Oskar’s house to remind Q and Marcin to get Rasmus ready on time. 

Kori and Old-Oskar and Aaron are already there, chopping up fallen branches, so Martin gets to work with the scythe and clears out weeds and overgrown grass, and they have the area looking perfect by about 8am, at which point they all run home to clean up and change into fancier attire than overalls and rough jackets. Then, the town gathers in the clearing with food and family and friends, and the fun begins.

As more and more people join in the festivities, some of the kids hold hands, dancing childishly and giggling when one of them falls over or stumbles, and Martin chats with Mihael, the town artist, about the flower arrangements and pretty glass sculptures he made for the event. 

Mihael was one of Martin’s first friends as soon as he moved to the Valley, a cousin of Kasper and part of their original friend-group before Jonas moved to the city and Chres vanished into the mainland. After Chres left, Mihael became Martin’s main dance partner. He’s even taught Martin conversational Slovenian, and they gossip frequently whenever Mihael visits the store. Unsurprisingly, he’s one of the few adults in town that Rasmus isn’t terrified of, with his fluffy hair, bright grin, and smiling eyes, as well as hands that are much more suited to sculpting than any sort of remotely violent act.

“How’s it going with the little love?” Mihael teases in Slovenian, kindly avoiding using Rasmus’s name but also elbowing Martin roughly. His white collared shirt is typical of the kind that boys wear if they don’t want to wear dresses but won’t be the leading partner, as are his grey dress pants. 

In mock annoyance, Martin rolls his eyes, nudging Mihael back. “Shut up. We’re doing well. If you’re asking if I’ve made a move, the answer is no. I don’t want to betray him like that. If he wants me then he can ask me, but I won’t pressure him.”

“Oh, look at you, all noble and kind. Is your heart even stronger than your biceps?” Mihael snickers as Martin shoves him and blushes. “Where is he, anyway?”

“With Mads, probably,” Martin mutters. He’s not jealous, not at all, shut up, Miha.

And then Mihael drops a total conversational bomb on him. “Even though I’m Mads’s partner for the Dance?” Mihael asks rhetorically.

"WHAT?!"

Bewildered, Martin stares at Mihael in shock for a few seconds.

“Sorry, you- Mads asked you?”

“Dude, keep it down! Or at least talk in Slovenian, man, come on.”

“I didn’t think you two were close?”

Mihael rolls his eyes. “I’ve only been sleeping at his farm a few nights a week, no big deal,” he mutters sarcastically, “it’s not like I feed his animals for him and play with the cat all day, nothing like that…”

“Okay, okay, I get it, just - how did I not notice?”

“I mean, you’ve been pretty preoccupied with the little love. Just saying!” Mihael protests as Martin punches his arm, “don’t shoot the messenger!”

“Well, maybe the messenger shouldn’t be so rude.”

“Don’t blame me for your inability to face the truth,” Mihael snarks, but before Martin can get another insult in, Mihael’s attention is drawn away by a tap on his shoulder, and Martin lets Miha and Mads chatter about whatever those lovebirds chat about - it sounds like something to do with farming and maybe a fishing trip? 

Now that he thinks about it, they really do seem to be pretty interested in each other.

It’s kind of weird, that all his friends have grown up so much. He can still remember being barely seventeen and watching the clouds as Jonas and Chres talked about Zuzu City. They're gone now, and Kasper has long been married, and even Miha appears to be settling down… 

Someone tugs at his sleeve, and he turns to see little Tim at his feet.

“Rasmus is looking for you,” Tim murmurs, pointing over to the boy standing awkwardly in an opposite corner of the festival space. He’s holding something behind his back as he scans his eyes over the venue from under the old oak tree, looking like a perfect picture in his dress, and Martin thanks Tim, then walks over - accompanied by a shout from Mihael, “srečno, ljubimec-fant!” and a loud laugh from Mads - to see what’s up.

“I heard you were looking for me?” Martin asks quietly, seamlessly transitioning from Slovenian to Danish as he leans against the oak tree next to Rasmus.

“I was,” Rasmus murmurs with a fierce blush on his face. He rocks back and forth and licks his lips nervously, and Martin gently rests a calming hand on his shoulder . “Um-”

“You ok? Oh.” Awkwardly, Martin had cut Rasmus off. “You go first.”

Softly, Rasmus giggles out of pure anxiety and takes a deep breath. “S-so, um… I, uh…” Carefully, Rasmus reveals what he’d been holding behind his back - a bouquet of beautiful, fresh, purple and snowy-white crocuses, held together by a braided cord of stems. It looks gorgeous. It’s so gorgeous, in fact, that Martin nearly misses Rasmus’s next words as he offers the bouquet up to Martin.

“Would you be my partner for the Flower Dance?”

Martin’s eyes go wide.

“Yes!” he says, too quickly, too loudly, “yes, yes, I- I’d love to.” He takes Rasmus’s hands in his, and their sunshine smiles glimmer in the daylight, and the small bouquet of crocuses is gently tucked into Martin’s jacket pocket as they’re called to the Flower Dance. “Looks like you asked just in time,” says Martin, still smiling foolishly wide, and Rasmus clings to his hand as they walk over to the dance area. Before Martin heads to the leading side of the dance, he quickly ruffles Rasmus’s hair, fluffing it up cutely and tucking a few stray strands behind Rasmus’s ear as Rasmus looks up at him with wide, happy eyes and a grin like the bright sun they dance in.

Martin is sure that everyone in the line of dancers does well and admirably, from young Jesper and Marc wearing matching flower crowns, to the eldest Martin finally on the non-leading side and being whirled around in Kori’s arms, to Mihael and Mads giggling all the while, to Luka and Marcin pretending to hate each other as they glare with lovestruck eyes, to Laure and Aaron laughing as they headline the show as best friends making Andrew jealous. Admittedly, though, he only has eyes for Rasmus.

As the band begins to play the rhythm, everyone scrambles to find their spots in the line, and when the melody rings clear they take measured steps towards their partner, then a quick twirl for the non-leading side. Rasmus’s pure white dress billows beautifully around his knees and he smiles wide, looking up at Martin with pure happiness in his expression. Their hands interlock for the next part of the dance. In time with the band, they take a small step apart, then together. Martin holds Rasmus tightly in his arms for the final motion to the dance - a quick, cute dip as the band ends their traditional song, and a few of the couples probably kiss.

All Martin knows is that Rasmus supports himself perfectly even at the odd angle, perfectly light in Martin’s arms, and then-

Oh.

His lips are pressed against Martin’s, soft and sweet with the taste of spring strawberries, and his lashes flutter against Martin’s cheeks, light as a butterfly’s touch, and his arms are wound around Martin’s neck, as tightly as he hugs Martin at night, and, and, and…

Martin closes his eyes and lets the sensation stop him from thinking.

The moment lasts forever and yet still somehow not long enough, and as Rasmus comes up for air Martin stands them up again, tilting Rasmus's chin up for another kiss, which they enjoy long enough to hear the rest of the town start whistling and clapping. With his cheeks covered by a happy blush, Martin rolls his eyes. Rasmus buries his face in Martin’s suit jacket, hugging him tightly, and Martin kisses the top of Rasmus’s head. 

He smiles, but trembles and shakes from too many eyes on him at once, and as Martin scoops him up and carries him back to the shelter of the oak tree and two seats conveniently left by Mihael and Mads, Rasmus hides his face in Martin’s neck, still gasping in his fear but letting Martin comfort him with chaste kisses.

Gently, Martin sits them down and lets Rasmus cling to him, breaths still shaky. His fingertips play with the ends of Rasmus’s hair and his lips touch Rasmus’s forehead over and over again and his hand on Rasmus’s cheek shields the more fragile Dane from the outside world, if only temporarily. “Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

With a little time, patience, and deep breathing, Rasmus calms enough that his hand doesn’t tremble in Martin’s. “S-sorry, I just-”

“It’s okay, mouse. I think I understand,” says Martin with a broad smile, and he looks around for any scary adults nearing them before kissing Rasmus again. His arm finds a perfect home around Rasmus’s waist, and their lips meet just as wonderfully as before, over and over again until Mads and Mihael come over to congratulate them, at which point Rasmus lets go with a blush.

The dances continue with the ragtag band of Andrew, Marcin, Luka, Eefje, and Marc playing a few more ditties on repeat, filling the clearing in the forest with music that even Pan would be proud of, and Martin and Rasmus laugh as Mihael dips Mads comically. Even Tim and Jus and Oskar get in on the fun, whirling in a cute trio and falling frequently, staining their nice clothes with grass and dirt that their parents surely won’t be fond of. 

Rasmus isn’t ready for the dance-floor this year, only barely able to keep it together through the Flower Dance itself, so Martin doesn’t push him. Instead, while other couples bop around - even old Trevor grooves a little with Becca - Q teaches Martin and Rasmus how to make flower crowns out of daffodils. The first try isn’t the best, but after a few more without Q's help, Rasmus takes some crocuses from Martin’s pocket and makes a pretty crown with them. 

He looks up at Martin with a soft smile and Martin, whose hand hasn’t moved from Rasmus’s back the entire time they’ve been sitting, grins back, lightly resting the crown atop Rasmus’s head. “My favourite person and my favourite flowers,” he says with a tiny giggle. Rasmus blushes red.

Food and drink are plentiful at this festival, just like any other, and the celebration of spring continues even into the evening. A few townspeople head home early, but most everyone else is content to dance and sing late into the night - that is, except for Rasmus in his thin dress. He starts to shiver even before dinner-time, before the sun has set, and he seems to be so cold that not even Martin’s arm around him helps. Quickly, Martin takes off his jacket and drapes it over Rasmus’s shoulders. It’s much, much too large and broad for Rasmus, but he looks utterly adorable in it anyway, and Martin kisses his cheek as Rasmus snuggles up to him, still wearing the crocus crown.

“Goodnight, Martin,” Tim says, running up in his white, grass-stained dress to give Martin a hug before he goes home with his dad(s?). He turns to Rasmus, too, probably wanting another hug, but he stops and giggles to himself, though Martin isn’t sure what he’s laughing at. “Aww, Rasmus fell asleep!” says Tim, pointing happily. Of course, the little boy's own eyes droop when the eldest Martin lifts him away, but Martin and Rasmus’s friends chuckle softly at how Rasmus sleeps on Martin’s shoulder, comfortable and trusting in every way.

No one in the town is surprised when, with a kiss to Rasmus's cheek, Martin simply smiles, then scoops him up and carries him home in strong, loving arms.