Chapter Text
Placing several sliced potatoes into a boiling stew, Ned gently placed the lid over the pot to let it's contents simmer. Nothing quite beat homemade beef stew, especially when the meat was fresh from a deer they shot this morning. A home killed, home cooked meal always tasted that much sweeter.
Wiping his hand on a nearby towel, the smaller man began to tidy up, placing dishes in the sink and wiping up any fluids that managed to escape from the boiling stew. The front door opened and closed, yet he didn’t find the need to check on who came through the front door. It could only be one person after all, and if it happened to be a bear that learned how to turn door knobs, there was a double barrel shotgun just a few feet away.
However, he did mind the hairy arm suddenly sneaking into view, and like lightning Ned smacked the creeping hand with a spoon. Keeping the other man's hands far away from the steaming apple pie cooling on the counter.
“God damnit!”
Ned turned to frown at the assailant, rubbing the abused spot tenderly, “Jeez, use the spatial next time, maybe it'll miss my knuckle.”
Ned did give the other sympathy as he gathered the sweet desert into his only hand and away from a drooling Jimbo. After placing it on the dinner table, he pressed his voice box to his throat. “Mn- you'll spoil your dinner.”
Jimbo pursed his lips and huffed, childishly sucking the abused spot on his knuckle. “I'm a grown ass man, I can eat whatever I want.”
Without pause, Ned patted Jimbo's rather large gut, cocking an innocent smile.
“I know I'm fat, but you better keep your cancer kazoo quiet buddie boy.” teasing the others sides and taking a peek at the contents of the steaming pot.
Jimbo was missing his hat, that certainly was a rare occurrence even in the privacy of their own home. The big guy was a tad self conscious of his balding head, he used that old hat like some kind of security blanket.
“Mn- any luck out there?” Ned’s voice box made his words robotic, yet it didn't phase the other hunter in the least.
At his side, Jimbo held up a small bucket filled with a handful of fresh eggs and fresh vegetables from the garden just out back. “Barely, We’re gonna have to fix the chicken coop, those damn raccoons are tearin’ up the fence again. The hens are gettin’ spooked.”
Ned merely nodded, taking the pot off the stove while Jimbo retold his little adventure.
Over the years they made their lives more fulfilling by living off the land. Not entirely, they couldn't survive without their flat screen TV or the microwave. They built a chicken coop years ago and now had 5 hens and a rooster producing fresh eggs almost daily. Add that with the small garden growing out back and the many pounds of meat they bring in weekly from their hunting trips, they always had a reason not to go grocery shopping. However poptarts, beer and chip dip always had them crawling back whenever supplies got low.
Jimbo was shedding an extra layer of clothes, laying his heavy jacket on the back of a nearby chair. He came close to the other man, working around him smoothly to set the table while the other worked on putting dirty pots into the sink. Ned took a glance at the larger man, without his hunting cap shadowing his eyes, the war veteran looked older. The wrinkles in the corner of his eyes weren't shrouded in shadows and his dimples looked sore from his constant idiotic smiles. His graying hair was a sight to behold, the man's sideburns were starting to fade, and his hairline was receding under his hat.
Ned hid the smile curling the corners of his lips and turned off the stove to prepare for dinner.
“Mnn- I made beef stew, and some loaded potato, shucked corn and squash.”
Jimbo gave a happy moan, sidling up to his smaller lover once more, stealing a spoon full from the boiling pot.
Watching the instant regret burst across his face made Ned snicker, “Woo nelly that's hot! You wanna beer? Nothing goes better with your pie than a cold brewski.”
“Mnn- Sure.”
Jimbo was kind enough to pop the top off of Neds beer after stealing them from the fridge. While the chef of the Kern household got the silverware, Jimbo took a few steps forwards, heavy against the hardwood floor with his boots still adoring his feet. Once again pressing close, and affectionately lifting his glasses off the bridge of Ned’s nose to see those pale blue eyes. “Wanna play strip poker after supper?”
Ned cocked his head slightly, resting his chin against Jimbo’s wide chest. Worming a hand back to his throat.
“Mnn- only if you plan to lose.”
An idiotic grin split across the other man's face, “There is no loser in strip poker old pal’o mine.” Jimbo’s hand fell to the small of Ned’s back sneaking beneath his sweatshirt, waggling his eyebrows. “If one of us ends up naked, that’s a win in my book.”