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Autumn sat heavy over the farm, not in the sharp, brittle way it would later in the season, all gray and stormy, but warm and golden, like the world had been dipped in honey. The cornfields stretched out in every direction, their tasseled heads catching the sunlight and throwing it back in soft amber waves.
A few days from now the harvest would begin, and with it the familiar tension on the farm, long hours, aching joints, a sleepless night or two, but for now the land was quiet. Resting. Waiting.
Jimmy had noticed that quiet more than anyone. He always had a knack for things like those. Bubba always told him it was a gift nature had given him.
Although Jimmy didn't know whether he agreed with the older man on that or not. Jimmy felt he didn't need to be even more ‘special’ than he got told, he already was by literally everyone who had been in his life beforehand.
But there's no use dwelling on that now. It was a nice and warm day and even Jeremiah seemed to be in a good mood today.
They were finishing lunch in front of the open kitchen window. Jeremiah was engrossed in some non fiction novel, which Jimmy always found beyond boring but he had learned not to judge.
He knew as well as the man across from him that today would be one of the last pre harvest days they got to enjoy. So, Jimmy, fixing his posture and clearing his throat, he caught the distracted man's attention.
"What's up kid?” he put his book down, sliding an unused napkin between the pages before closing it.
“Just wanted to ask if you'd maybe wanna hang out… today? Outside? Cuz the weather's and you know how busy and stressed y'all are gonna be out there in the fields all day, and–”
Jeremiah made a waving gesture with his hand and Jimmy promptly shut his mouth. He had been rambling and overexplaining once again. How embarrassing.
But Jeremiah just smiled at him, with his usual slightly tense smiles “I’ll set the table nd chairs, if you bring out the pie. Who knows maybe the overworking idiot i call husband will grace us with his presence” his tone was still light so Jimmy just smiled back at him and started to clear off the table.
Hours pass. The remainders of pecan pie balanced precariously on paper plates atop a small, round iron table that had probably been there since before Jimmy was born. Jeremiah sat comfortably in his folding chair, legs crossed, one hand wrapped around a cup of coffee gone lukewarm.
Jimmy, on the other hand, was twisting like a pretzel, knees knocking the table, feet stretching out too far, ankles bending at odd angles as if his joints couldn’t decide where they belonged. Typical Jimmy.
Jeremiah watched him over the rim of his mug, pretending not to.
All the while Jimmy tried very hard to sit still. He always did. But the chair pressed wrong into his hips, and his legs felt too long for the space they were given. Every few seconds he shifted, extended one leg, then the other, then both, toes flexing and curling. The metal chair creaked in protest.
Finally, he gave up with a small huff of frustration.
“Sorry,” he said, already half-standing. “I can’t– this is– do you mind if we–”
Jeremiah set his mug down immediately. “Blanket’s fine,” he said, gentle but firm, already unfolding himself from the chair. “You don’t gotta apologize.”
Jimmy’s shoulders dropped in visible relief.
They spread the blanket out in the long grass just beyond the porch, where the earth dipped slightly and the breeze carried the smell of corn and oil and warm soil. Jimmy sprawled himself out onto the blanket almost immediately, limbs everywhere, finally comfortable. Jeremiah settled beside him, back against the porch step, legs stretched out.
Between them lay a battered cardboard box.
Jeremiah’s old comic books.
Jimmy handled them like artifacts; careful, reverent, eyes wide behind the waves of ebony brown hair that had fallen into his face. He had already read some of them before, but every time Jeremiah brought the box out, it felt new. Jeremiah narrated when prompted, filling in gaps, correcting details, sometimes drifting off into stories only loosely related to the panels on the page.
And Jimmy hung onto his every word. Fascinated by the older man's knowledge of obscure prints and world famous comics alike.
“That one,” Jeremiah said, tapping a yellowed cover with a knuckle, “I traded three packs of gum for it in ’82.”
Jimmy blinked. “Three packs?”
“Full ones,” Jeremiah added, almost defensively. “And a soda.”
Jimmy grinned, nose wrinkling. “You got robbed.”
Jeremiah laughed, the sound low and easy. “Yeah, well. Worth it.”
The sun had moved lower now, bathing everything into an amber light. And still Bubba was nowhere to be seen, which usually meant he was hidden away in one of the barns, working on something or other.
Jimmy glanced toward the nearest one absently, the big red structure looming like a patient animal at the edge of the yard. “He still out there?”
“Mm-hmm,” Jeremiah said. “Been ‘fixin’ something since breakfast. Or breakin’ it worse. Hard to tell with him.”
Jimmy smiled softly. He liked Bubba’s presence even when Bubba wasn’t physically there–liked knowing the man was nearby, humming to himself, oil-stained and stubborn and solid.
He thought ‘Father’ was the correct noun to describe what Jimmy saw the man as. He himself had a biological father of course, but after all that happened after the incident he'd rather forsake that connection entirely and focus onto the family he's found for himself.
The afternoon stretched on, unhurried. Jimmy turned pages carefully, sometimes stopping to read entire speech bubbles out loud, sometimes just staring at the art. His fingers traced the edges of panels as if mapping them.
At some point, he spoke without looking up.
“Do you still wanna hang out today?” he asked quietly.
Jeremiah glanced down at him. “We are hangin’ out.”
Jimmy flushed a little. “I mean—like, later too. Before the harvest. ‘Cause… I know it gets busy. And everyone’s stressed. And I don’t wanna be in the way.”
Something in Jeremiah’s chest tightened.
“You’re never in the way,” he said, immediately. Too immediately, maybe, but he didn’t take it back. Jeremiah had also grown in the past months, although Jimmy knew he'd rather leave that unspoken.
Jimmy nodded, chewing on his lower lip. “I know. I just– wanted to ask.”
Jeremiah reached out and ruffled his hair, gentle. “We’ll hang out. Tomorrow too. Promise.”
Jimmy relaxed, the sudden tension fading from him, and turned another page.
That was when the car came up the drive.
The crunch of gravel cut through the quiet like a snapped twig.
Jimmy froze.
Jeremiah’s head snapped up, eyes already scanning, body shifting instinctively. Old habits died hard. Cube War habits especially. His hand dropped to the grass, fingers curling as if around a weapon that wasn’t there.
The car slowed, dust rising behind it. A dark sedan. City plates.
Jimmy’s heart hammered and was suddenly everywhere at once. In his throat. In his ears. In his hands, which had begun to shake as he clutched the comic book too tightly.
“Its happening again,” he whispered, barely audible.
Jeremiah was on his feet in an instant. Looking to the car and back to Jimmy
“Hey,” he said, crouching down in front of Jimmy, blocking his view of the drive. “Jimmy. Look at me.”
Jimmy did, eyes wide and unfocused.
“You’re safe,” Jeremiah said. “You hear me? You’re safe. I’m right here.”
The car came to a stop.
A door opened.
Jeremiah straightened slowly, muscles coiled. He glanced toward the barn, calculating distance, time, how long it would take to get Bubba–
“Jeremiah!”
The voice was familiar.
Very familiar indeed.
Jeremiah blinked.
“Clancy?” he said, disbelief creeping in.
Clancy stepped into view, hands raised in a placating gesture. He looked different out of uniform. Softer somehow, jacket slung over one shoulder, tie loosened. Relief crossed his face when he saw them.
Doohickey followed, shutting the car door behind him. He squinted toward the yard, then smiled faintly.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Jeremiah muttered.
Jimmy peered around Jeremiah, confusion warring with lingering fear and said, just like Jeremiah “Clancy?”
Clancy’s smile widened. “Hey, kid.”
The tension drained from the yard in a rush so abrupt it left Jeremiah dizzy.
Jimmy let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and promptly toppled sideways onto the blanket, limbs tangling.
Jeremiah huffed out a laugh despite himself. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Jimmy said weakly. “Just–wow.”
Clancy walked closer, careful not to startle. “We, uh… we were in the area,” he said. “Heading back to New York tonight. Thought we’d stop by. Say goodbye.”
Jimmy sat up slowly, ever so slightly confused. “Goodbye?”
Doohickey nodded. “Case is officially closed. No reason for us to hang around anymore.”
There was a pause.
“Oh,” Jimmy said.
Jeremiah watched him carefully. Jimmy’s expression flickered. Relief, sadness… and something else. Complicated and heavy.
“Well,” Jeremiah said, clearing his throat, “you picked a nice day for it.”
Clancy glanced around, taking in the fields, the porch, the blanket scattered with comic books. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Yeah, we did.”
They settled in awkwardly at first. Clancy lowered himself onto the grass beside Jimmy and Jeremiah, legs folding with a practiced ease Jimmy envied. Doohickey claimed one of the folding chairs, sighing as he sat back, gaze drifting toward the horizon.
Jimmy scooted closer to Clancy without realizing it, comic book held between them. “This one’s from, like, forever ago,” he said, eager, words tumbling over each other. “Jeremiah says he traded three packs of gum for it, but I think that’s a scam.”
Clancy chuckled. “Sounds like a fair deal to me.”
Jimmy grinned, the tension easing out of him. He launched into an explanation of the plot, gesturing animatedly, nearly smacking Clancy in the face with the comic at one point.
Jeremiah watched them, arms folded loosely, a small smile tugging at his mouth. He hadn’t realized how much Jimmy still needed these connections. These threads tying him to a life before the farm, before the cornfields.
Doohickey leaned back in his chair, listening with half an ear. The light caught his engagement ring, flashing briefly. He glanced at Clancy, affection softening his features.
Bubba emerged from the barn a while later, wiping his hands on a rag that did nothing to remove the grease that stained them. He paused when he saw the car.
Jeremiah of course noticed immediately.
“Bubba!” he called. “We got company.”
Bubba squinted, then broke into a grin. “Well I’ll be damned,” he said, voice carrying. “That you, city boys?”
Clancy stood, brushing grass from his pants. “Good to see you, Bubba.”
Bubba lumbered over, mechanical legs whirring softly beneath him, movements smooth despite the bulk of them. He clapped Clancy on the shoulder, then Doohickey, careful but warm.
“What brings you out here?” he asked.
“Heading back,” Doohickey said. “Figured we’d say goodbye.”
Bubba nodded slowly. “That’s decent of ya.”
His hands were still greasy, though, and he frowned down at them. “Lemme wash up,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
He headed inside, boots thudding against the porch steps.
The house was cool and dim compared to the yard. Bubba scrubbed his hands at the sink, the smell of soap sharp in his nose. It made him sneeze. As he dried them, he felt something unexpected rise up in his chest—an ache, sudden and fierce.
He stepped back out onto the porch.
The sun was setting now, casting the world in shades of orange and pink. The cornfields glowed. Shadows stretched long and soft.
Below him, Jeremiah leaned against the porch railing, arms crossed, watching Jimmy animatedly explain something to Clancy. Doohickey listened from his chair, newspaper in a loose grip and a fond smile on his face.
Jeremiah glanced up, meeting Bubba’s eyes.
And Bubba smiled the fondest of smiles at him. Which of course got returned with Jeremiah's own.
He leaned down, cupped Jeremiah’s face, and kissed him. It was a quick little peck on the lips, familiar, full of everything they’d gone through together.
Jeremiah smiled against his mouth, then broke away. Turning his gaze back to Jimmy.
Bubba followed it.
Jimmy laughed at something Clancy said, head tipped back, eyes bright. He looked healthy now. Safe. Home.
Bubba’s vision blurred slightly. He was an old sentimental fool. He knew that all too well.
Swallowing hard, Bubba stepped down off the porch, one hand on the railing for support. Careful to not step onto the calico stray that decided to move in with them a few months back.
He joined the others as the light faded and the world settled into evening. Jimmy turned towards him now, grinning from ear to ear and beckoning Bubba to sit down next to him.
Clancy made a light-hearted comment about him taking so long, to which even Jeremiah let out an appreciative chuckle and Bubba sighed, quietly and happily. Surrounded by the family he never knew he’d have, and wouldn’t trade for anything.