I Hate Not Having a Title

[asemic]

I'm stealing this from teaspoonery

For a fic of about 500 whatever I can do write as fast as possible in reply to your comment:

Give me:
- a pairing
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Fandoms I write for. Good question. I can do BoB, CHAOS, Southland, Breakout Kings, and IDK. If I wrote it

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[asemic]

“Go West young man,” Nixon said.

So they did.

Lew presented the modest house and acreage with a satisfied nod. “Merry Christmas.”

“It’s July,” Dick said as he stared at the wide stretch of land. He leaned against the porch railing and smiled. “Yeah. It’s perfect.”

Lewis worked a small plot by the house. The first few rows of vegetables were planted with care. The seeds were inched into the ground with precision and marked with even placement.

“No one could say I feign industry,” he boasted as he poked the earth. He placed his hands on his hips and posed. “Get a camera.”

Dick sat on the stoop barely hiding his amusement. “You’ve got twelve more rows.”

Seventeen rows in total, the first five neat and orderly and the last twelve uneven and distracted. It was his vegetable garden and not at all a hardscrabble patch of dirt as Dick joked. He called himself Old McNixon as he worked his plot. Their little house felt like a proper farm. They even had chickens and a goat named Harold.

“Why Harold?”

“Why Harold?” Lewis scoffed back as if the question was the answer. “Why not Harold?”

“I never met a goat named Harold,” Dick responded from behind his newspaper.

“Now you have.”

Lewis hated the chickens. They’d peck at his feet and flap angrily when he approached them with feed. They were angry creatures that followed his movement with beady little eyes. But he got the last laugh when they butchered one of them for supper.

“I don’t think chickens understand the concept of revenge.”

Lewis tore some meat from a drumstick and chewed happily. He dropped the bone in front of the coop and waved at the clucking chickens.

“No. But I do.”

[delgaserasca]

Oh, lovely. You have always been talented at saying a lot of things in a small space, and this is no exception. You nailed this new life of theirs.

“It’s July,” Dick said as he stared at the wide stretch of land. He leaned against the porch railing and smiled. “Yeah. It’s perfect.”

I love the simple, quiet happiness of it all. Thank you. Beautifully done.