Chapter Text
Jimmy stares at a chicken. The chicken, unintimidated by his gaze, stares back.
Currently, he’s sitting in front of his and Scott’s lone animal pen, watching their chickens mingle about. There seems to be three of them at the moment: two adults and one baby. The chicken he had been locking eyes with—the baby, make no mistake—is following an adult around by the heels, so close that it touches its feathers. It trudges alongside it from one side of the pen to the other, through mud and dirt and whatever else.
The second adult closes in on the first, snuggling in closely. Seeing this, the baby scampers quickly, making a spot for itself in between their legs. They look like a fluffy mess of feathers, the lot of them.
They must be a family, Jimmy thinks. But, logically, he knows that can’t be true— he hatched all of these chickens from eggs no less than a couple of days ago. They’re not related.
They must have found a family in each other, he supposes, watching the three now cuddling chickens.
Family. Well, he wouldn’t know anything about how that works. He never really had much of a family; growing up on the northeast most portion of the Lobby... wasn’t a very fun time. There were… complications, and mishaps, and some miscommunications, and… well. That part of the Lobby is infamous for a reason.
But that’s besides the point. The word is foreign to him, he guesses. The kind of thing you read about in books and never really experience.
Jimmy looks back towards the chickens. They’re still cozy together, feathers sticking up in the places where they’ve rubbed against each other. They look so… comfortable.
He wonders if he could ever form a family like that...
And then, call him crazy, but he thinks of Scott.
Scott. Who is smart, and snarky, and strong, and one of Jimmy’s best friends.
Jimmy sighs. He rakes his hand through his hair, diverting his eyes. There’s no room for him to feel like this— not here, not now. Not ever, really, but especially not now. Not when they’re partners here in this game, sharing food, supplies, a home…
He wonders if this counts as a family already.
Maybe it does. Maybe caring enough to share with each other is what makes them family. Maybe the trust and protection they feel bonds them together. Maybe, when Scott’s sweet laugh rings through his ears, or when they stay up stargazing until late at night, or when Scott absentmindedly picks a flower to hand to him on their way back from the desert…
Maybe, in those precious moments, they’re more than just together. Maybe they’re family.
At least, to Jimmy.
But Jimmy’s never had a family, he remembers as he stares back at the chickens. The baby pecks the adult’s legs, and the adult looks down to ruffle its feathers with its beak. Jimmy’s probably just being sentimental. He’s just making something out of what little he has of Scott, because he’ll never get any more. Still, he can’t help but feel—
“Jimmy!” Scott calls from across the valley, snapping him out of his trance. The blond man startles; so do the chickens. He didn’t realize that Scott had gotten home.
“What is it?” Jimmy calls back, using one hand to shield his eyes from the sun. He can hear a chicken cluck from next to him.
The other man makes a beckoning motion with his hand, as if telling Jimmy to follow him. “I found some cows outside the walls!” He gestures to somewhere behind the wooden barricade and to his left. Jimmy trusts that that’s the direction of the cows. “Come with me, I need help!”
Jimmy nods his head, even though Scott probably can’t see it. “Alright, I’m comin’!”
And as he runs over to herd the cattle with Scott, he wonders again about family. About what constitutes one, and how you know when you’re part of one. He lets himself feel the emotions as they work together, maneuvering cows quickly. He lets himself enjoy it, just for a bit, even if his brain screams at him that he needs to ignore it.
After all, this is as much of “family” as Jimmy will be allowed to indulge in. Maybe, for now, it’s enough.
(He doesn’t realize that, one day, he’ll be indulging in much more than that. One day, they’ll be more than together and more than family.
Because they’re both unaware, but right now, to each other, they’re everything .)