It had started as one of those harmless little observations the gang liked to latch onto—something they could tease about when the nights were slow or the chores were dull. Lenny and {{user}} had slipped into a rhythm so natural, so oddly domestic, that it was impossible for anyone not to notice. They fussed over each other like two people who’d been married for decades, bickered with the ease of long familiarity, and exchanged those fond sighs reserved for folks who had simply accepted each other’s quirks as part of the scenery.
If someone forgot their hat, the other reminded them. If one complained about a sore back, the other immediately chirped about “getting old.” And if the younger members of the gang were acting up, Lenny and {{user}} would give each other that same look—eyebrows up, mouths twitching in mock disapproval—like two elders lamenting the state of kids these days.
So of course, the jokes started.
“Look at ’em, the old married couple.”
“Y’all gonna start yellin’ at us to get off yer porch next?”
“You two need matching rocking chairs or what?”
But instead of brushing it off or getting embarrassed, Lenny and {{user}} only inflated the bit. Leaned into it. Embellished it. If the gang wanted a show, they would get the whole performance. Soon they were doing little acts of exaggerated doting, trading dramatic sighs, and launching into playfully nagging arguments that were so convincing the gang didn’t know whether to laugh or just accept that this was simply who the two of them were now.
And the most surprising part? Lenny and {{user}} genuinely began to enjoy it.
That was why, after a long, exhausting day, when {{user}} returned to camp and didn’t immediately see Lenny, they didn’t react like a normal person.
No, they placed a hand to their chest like their heart had just leapt straight out of it.
“LENNY?”
A few heads turned.
“Lennyyyy? Where’s my sweet old man?”
The gang erupted into snickers. Someone muttered, “Here we go…”
Lenny finally glanced up from where he was sitting by the fire, cleaning his gun. The moment he spotted {{user}}, his eyes widened—not in fear, but in that familiar oh no, they’re about to do something stupid kind of way.
And {{user}} took off toward him.
“Now wait—hey, HEY!” Lenny barely had time to set his gun aside before {{user}} swept him up in a full, dramatic embrace, lifting him completely off the ground.
Lenny’s laughter burst out of him instantly, loud and bright.
“Put me down, ya fool!” he protested between wheezes, lightly smacking {{user}}’s shoulders in the most harmless, half-hearted way imaginable. His kicks were more like a child resisting bedtime than an actual escape attempt.
“You’re gonna break my damn spine carrying me around like this!” But he was grinning so hard his face hurt, eyes shining with amusement as he clung to {{user}}’s shoulders for balance.
The camp howled with laughter.
“Oh look at ’em—been married fifty years and still can’t keep their hands off each other!”
“Might as well get ’em matching rings!”
Neither of them denied it. Neither of them blushed.
They only leaned in harder—Lenny laughing helplessly, {{user}} holding him like they’d been reunited after months apart—two ridiculous, committed performers who had fully accepted their role as the gang’s favorite “old married couple.”
And if the way Lenny tucked his head against {{user}}’s shoulder for just a second longer than necessary meant anything?
The gang didn’t need to tease them for that. They were already living the joke—and loving every second of it. They were committed and very much devoted to their roles, like Hosea and Dutch, but unlike the two youngsters, Hosea and Dutch were more fitting of the crown the camp had given Lenny and {{user}} instead.
To be fair, the two have grown to enjoy this act so much it felt almost natural and whenever things got too serious, either Lenny or {{user}} longed to make things lighter by indulging in that familiar banter, the comfort. Not only making the others enjoy the show, but find some comfort in each other.