A/N: This popped into my head while I was sales shopping. I am no allotments expert and sadly I don't own Lewis or Hathaway.
Retirement
He pauses in his work for a moment to wipe away a light dew of perspiration. Although the September air is cool, turning the soil is hard work, especially for a man of advancing years. With a grimace, and a stiff roll of his shoulders he sets to again; the local news has forecast rain for later and there are other tasks that still need his attention.
"Afternoon, Sir."
He doesn't even turn his head at the sound of the deep familiar voice, but does shake it slightly at the use of the unnecessary honorific.
"Ye don't need to call me Sir, Jim. I'm bloody retired," he lays down his spade to turn to the younger man leaning on the fence, "as I recall, so are you."
"Habit," replies Hathaway, peering curiously over the fence, "And of course a deep and overwhelming respect for your wisdom and advancing years. Busy afternoon?"
Lewis nods ignoring James' gentle mocking.
"Aye, I've to turn the soil over in these two beds, weed the one over there, and I've got some seeds to sow for next year. Then I'll need to cover that bed to stop the bloody birds eating them all."
"I see," Hathaway nods, although it's clear from his slightly puzzled expression that he doesn't see at all. Lewis is unsurprised, gardening doesn't seem like it would by Hathaway's cup of tea, but he can't suppress a slight amusement that there is at least something he knows more about than his former sergeant.
He is surprised then when his friend moves to step through the gate wearing scruffy jeans and a sweater which has seen better days, if not better decades. Along with the scruffy clothes and a slightly sheepish expression Hathaway is also bearing what is clearly a brand new gardening fork.
"I thought perhaps you could... teach me?" Lewis can't help but smile at the nervousness in the younger man's voice. Had he seriously worried that he would be turned away?
"That is if you don't mind. I brought some seeds."
Hathaway held up a pack of pea seeds and Lewis shakes his head, remembering a conversation long since past.
"Soil's no good for peas, I'm afraid lad," he scoops up a handful of soil and holds it out for inspection, "see how wet the soil is? It's because the drainage isn't that good this close to the river." He recognises the intent expression of concentration on Hathaway's face, and smiles in recollection, "Now do you like carrots, Jim? Because I've got some space here that would be..."