Chapter Text
Unpacking concluded without any major hiccups, much to Will’s satisfaction. After the Spice Debacle it was imperative that Will not freak Duncan out anymore than he already had.
(Will was unsure why he felt this way) (We’re not)
All but the boxes Will had brought up to his room were unpacked, for the most part. There were a few piles here and there of things that didn’t quite have a home yet, but that was a later problem, right now the only problem will had was figuring out what he would eat for dinner. He had been to the grocery store once and those provisions were running low. And while he was still closer to civilization than he had been in Wolf Trap, he still wasn’t close enough for anywhere to deliver, food or groceries.
Duncan stood in the middle of the front room with Harley sniffing around his feet. One dog had been an adjustment, being around eight was a whole other ordeal, one he was not quite accustomed to yet.
Will spun aimlessly in circles in his kitchen, not for fun, but like when you turn to grab something and realize it’s not there and then you turn around to leave and then you remember something else, it was one of those situations. Except to Duncan, it looked like Will was going a little mad.
“What is happening to you?”
What was that wording?
Will stopped abruptly, “me?”
No Will, the other person spinning in the kitchen.
“Are you ok?”
“I have no food.”
Duncan’s face pinched in confusion. Will continued, “I need to go to the store.”
“I’ll come with you.”
What the hell was that, Duncan? Inviting yourself on another man’s grocery trip?
Will was having a similar thought but with more positive connotations.
Duncan immediately tried to back-peddle, “I mean- not like- you are-“
Will was about as coherent as Duncan currently was, “I- you can- I don’t know why you want to?”
That last part was said with complete and utter confusion.
To an outsider it would look as though Duncan was misfiring, or encountering an internal error, “-friend?”
(That bit was whispered.)
(You would think these were two men who had never communicated with another human before.)
“Friend?”
Will, realizing they sorta sounded like stereotypical aliens, cleared his throat, and grumbled, “you are welcome to join on my grocery trip, though you should not feel obligated to come.”
“I was the one who offered.” Duncan felt like he was three feet tall and about 5 years old by the way he was communicating and holding himself.
---
The two men, leaving Rusty under the care of Winston and Zoe, found themselves at the local Canyon Foods, which looked like it took over an abandoned Pizza Hut building… but was surprisingly well stocked.
A stack of baskets to their right, Will picked one up and held it like a stereotypical 50s housewife. He turned to Duncan, “do you need food.”
The length of time in which it took Duncan to formulate his response, Will began panicking, (which might be a record), “-I mean I know you eat food-“
“I should purchase a few things since we’re out here.”
Will nodded solemnly. “That makes sense.”
Duh doi Will.
Will hurried down the closest aisle not paying attention to what he was passing nor thinking about what he needed.
“This is why we make lists,” he mumbled under his breath.
He turned to see if Duncan had heard but instead found the man with an armful of canned goods. They’d been in the store for less than three minutes, Will was confounded by how fast he had gathered them into his arms.
“I don’t have more arms.”
Smort.
“Do you want me to grab you a basket?” Will was already headed back down the aisle to grab a basket for Duncan.
---
Duncan was absolutely astounded by himself. When had he become so socially inept? (Though to be fair, he was never that great to begin with.)
“I’m sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing for grabbing canned goods?”
Duncan hummed noncommittedly and shrugged.
He really was five.
After adjusting the cans in the basket, he caught up to where Will had stopped in front of a display of eggs. He was just staring.
“Did you know that free-range eggs mean that the farmers are only required to provide a space for the chickens to be ‘outside’ and most usually that means a small, caged, concrete patio that can hold, max, eight chickens? And that cage-free means, that because they’re not kept in the battery cages, their beaks are clipped because they are so stressed, they attack each other, and the color red aggravates chickens so they will occasionally kill each other. But even when they are ‘caged eggs’ their beaks may be cut because the cages are kept so close, they can reach each other and then you just have bunch of stressed, crazed chickens, and one, or more, languishing in a battery cage until someone eventually comes around to kill it. And once they slow their egg production they’re killed, and sometimes their meat isn’t used for anything, it’s just thrown away. And then the organic egg appellation doesn’t mean that the chickens were raised organically, it just means they’re fed organic food, but they’re still given hormones and antibiotics, which the antibiotics aren’t the problem, but it’s usually one source grain, but chickens are omnivores and need meat in their diets, which is why they’re good for pest control around the farm, especially during a cicada year, but they’ve been known to eat the occasional rodent or lizard when the mood strikes.”
“No. I did not know.”