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Siblings actually feeling like siblings is my absolute favourite thing in shows:

siblings sharing one braincell:

The same crooked smile:

And in the first 10 minutes or so you already know the dynamic between these two, Joel knows Tommy will tease him endlessly about the t-shirt being inside out, being an older sibling, when making a mistake I look at my younger siblings first because I just know they are gonna be insufferable about it. But Tommy respects the hell out of Joel, he immidiately puts out the cigarette when told so, this is responsible older brother Joel, who will bail him out of jail...

He's also the person he looks to, to make the decisions que 'What are we doin', Joel':

also the fact that they got two guys with patchy beards is dedication to me, they wanted these two to be genetically brothers:

These two walking in sync never fails to get me, they are walking the exact same way:

Also haven't seen each other in quite a while and doesn't miss the chance to tease little brother:

all I have to say is Gabriel and Pedro were dedicated to show us they were brothers and I love them for that.

---

Something about how fast Joel covers Ellie, how many times he must've thought about the way Sarah died. That if he had turned faster he might've saved her, how he went over that scenario a million times in his head, and now he finally does it, he takes the brunt of the bomb....finally he was fast enough.

---

The Last of Us 1x06

---

I just thought of something kind of awful.

Ellie is kidnapped by a group of people, locked up, and isolated while scared out of her mind. Then the leader of that group comes in and talks to her like she's an adult. They tell her they're the reason she wasn't killed by their group and she should be grateful for that. They bring up someone she cares about and make her feel guilty about them getting hurt. They tell her that she's special and that other people aren't like her, and they ask her to do something for them they think only she can do. They don't give her a choice in the matter, really.

Who am I talking about?

Marlene or David?

---

The difference between the "I saved her" shots is so interesting to me. Through part 1, game Joel is very in control of his feelings, we see glimpses of grief but it's brief, the trauma he went through hardend him. Even through the torture scene he has that calm rage, you can feel the anger seething through him but he is in control and you can feel how he's calculating through it, knowing exactly what he's doing

But show Joel, his trauma broke him down. He is unhinged, through the torture scene you can feel wires in his brain come lose. His anger is unpredictable, the opposite of game Joel, his emotions bleed continuosly.

Where game Joel is in control of his anger in the hospital, show Joel is unhinged and unpredictable. They are two sides of the same coin and I love how different they're responses are.

You can just see game Joels hardend anger, knowing he saved her, and show Joels broken sadness, knowing he almost lost another daughter.

---

i love when a character has something terrible happen to them and as a result they see themself as, essentially if not literally, a ghost. and so that means they only can (and have to) do what ghosts do, ie get revenge and then cease to exist. easy as that. but then halfway through this ghost vengeance they realize hey actually i might still be a human person. with human needs. that’s incredibly inconvenient, considering how much i’ve invested in this whole ghost thing

---

Ellie + Text Posts

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---

one thing that gets to me about joel’s confessional scene with tommy in ep 6 is when he says “they’ll shoot her” if the rest of the town sees ellie’s bite marks. not “they’ll kill her” or “they’ll hurt her” but very specifically “they’ll shoot her”—those three words took tommy back to september 26, 2003, friday night, and he realised what ellie is to joel.

---

Joel + Text Posts

So Much to Lose Chapter 16

rating: 18+

words: 17.1k

a/n: You know, when this story first began not a lot of people were reading it or commenting on it. I guess because it was darker than my normal stuff. But somehow it found the right audience, the sweetest people and it makes my heart smile. Thanks for loving this darker tale, thank you for reblogging and commenting and making my fingers tippy tap. I hope you enjoy this chapter which has been one of my favorites to write (hopefully you see why).

Also for those asking: Joel's POV will be coming, but not until Chapter 19.

masterlist here

Chapter 16: Will you tell me?

You start awake a few short hours later, your body warm and your eyes burning with fatigue.

It takes you a moment to register that you're not in your own bed with its familiar blankets. You're in bed with Joel Miller, a barely dressed Joel Miller. His large body is radiating heat against your spine behind you, his breathing slow and deep. He's still asleep, a strong arm slung over your waist. Because you came here hours previous begging for him to fuck you. You flush, feeling embarrassment creeping up your chest.

Judging by the barely pink sky outside its early morning, just nearing breakfast. And yet you don't feel compelled to move. You're in that strange limbo between awake and asleep, warm and drowsy but slightly alert. 

Should you get up? Make a hasty exit?

You blink quickly, clearing the blur of sleep from your eyes. You're able to take in more details of the room, the wood horse bookends on the shelf by the window, the deep blue of the blanket over top you both, the cracked watch that rests on his bedside table. 

You also see a pair of reading glasses and you feel a smirk cross your features. Joel Miller needs reading glasses? Something about that makes you feel warm inside. 

You focus back on the bookshelf across the room, hidden in the darkness from you the night before. As you lie there you scan the titles, curious as to what a man like Joel reads. 

The Phantom of the Opera 

Canterbury Tales 

You weren't expecting those titles to greet you. You'd thought truck magazines, if you were being honest with yourself. You want to look at more but Joel shuffles, arm flexing around your waist.

You hear his breathing lighten behind you, slowly coming into consciousness. His arm around you tenses. You keep your breathing slow and measured like you're still asleep. Your eyes remain lightly closed. 

You wait for the disgusted shove or the grumbled irritation when he realizes you’ve spent the night. You receive neither. Instead you feel his arm tighten against you and delicately pull. 

He's tugging you closer to him. 

Your heart is in your throat and you fight to stay calm. It's hard when Joel's arm is around you and he's tucking your head under his chin. What's even stranger is that you don't fight him on it. You let yourself be pressed against his broad chest. You almost sigh at how good it feels to be snuggled up together like this. He’s so warm, his body curling around you like a shell. It makes you feel gooey and soft for him. It makes you think about how good last night felt. 

And you know why. It’s been apparent for a while now. You have feelings for Joel that are not of the neutral variety. You don’t know when they morphed from irritation into something that has you vulnerable in his arms. The unfortunate thing is Joel is definitely not thinking of you past having you in his bed.

Or is he?

Just then you feel his nose at the back of your head, trailing and inhaling gently. You hear as Joel's breathing deepens and you don't miss the swell of his cock starting against your lower back.  Immediately you’re aroused but also terrified.

What does this mean?

You want to turn over and ask him, but even more you want to escape home before the day shines a spotlight on your walk home. You brought only your sleep clothes and an overcoat. Nosy people in town will easily put two and two together. The thought of it makes your body tighten with anxiety.

Joel must feel you tensing as you begin waking up in his bed because he holds a little firmer. 

"S'still early," Joel murmurs into your hair. "Go back to sleep."

You're stunned by his casual response. You'd assumed he'd be more anxious about you still being in his bed here in his home. 

"Joel, what about Ellie-"

"That kid never wakes up before ten unless I bang pots and pans," Joel promises, rolling closer to you. He’s warmed from slumber, his body curling around you protectively.  He’s still hard, but he makes no move to do anything about it.

Your eyes fall shut and it would be so easy to just give into this warmth that seeps out of everything in his home. From the simple, beautiful decorations to the scent of wood shavings and laundry. It’s all so Joel, it’s all so. . . You don’t have words. You allow yourself a moment to surrender, nestling back against him as he sighs sleepily.

A hand comes to cup your stomach, fingers splaying over your midsection before climbing higher, fingertips trailing over the scar. He whispers roughly against your ear.

"I wanna know what this is from." 

Something about the tenderness of his voice makes you have to blink back the tears starting at your waterline. Your voice is still cracked from sleep.

“My sister-”

A crow outside caws, a warning, startling you. You pull away from Joel sharply as if just remembering yourself.  

"I should get back."

"S' fine." 

But it's not fine. It's six in the morning which means several people from town will be awake. What if Jennifer decides on an early morning walk? Or her friend sees you walking with Joel back to your house like she saw you before? How will you explain that? 

Joel gives a yawn, sensing your unease. 

"Gimme five minutes and I'll walk you home."

"You don't have to do that," you insist. 

Despite wanting to remain there in his bed all day wrapped in his arms you slowly extricate yourself from his grip, rolling off the edge of the bed. His fingertips trail along your hip as he begins to wake fully.

"You stay here where it's warm," you insist as you tug on your clothing. "I'll be fine."

Joel watches you get dressed silently, one eye cracked to take in your heated cheeks and the way you can't meet his gaze as you cover your nudity. He shifts onto his back lying in bed, one arm propped beneath his neck. He stares at you through drowsy eyes. 

"We should probably pick out the tree soon," Joel says in a voice scratchy with sleep as you get dressed. When you don't answer he adds: “You still up for it?”

You're distracted, your fingers shaking as you attempt to button up your coat.

"Uh yeah, sure," you mutter. "I'll ask Jennifer." 

You tug on your boots before standing awkwardly beside the bed. 

You feel so awkward right now. You can't communicate exactly why, Joel isn't making it weird - you are. You're acting like a headless chicken, all jerky motions and eyes that fall everywhere in the room but his face. 

"I'll, uh, see you at patrols." 

Joel nods at you, his jaw tight. You don't know what he's thinking and right now you can't take time to figure it out. You're only focus is getting home before the rest of the town sees you. 

You run home, your boots slapping against the half melted snow. You know you look insane in your sleep clothes and winter jacket with oversized boots. You're at the end of your street when a figure trailing between houses nearly takes your breath away. 

Luke. 

He's got his attention on a piece of paper in his hand, the free fingers playing notes in the air. It's sheet music. 

You slide behind a nearby tree, praying that Luke didn't see you. He looks distracted enough, humming to himself as he looks at the notes on the page. 

You don't know how you'd explain saying him in your current state. Your fucked-out hair with the scent of Joel clinging to you.  Fuck you want to be back in his bed so much right now. You want his mouth on yours and his body pressed tightly to you.

Why did you leave? Was it just fear of being caught? Or was it something deeper? A fear of liking that it was Joel holding you? A fear that liking someone like Joel is like going into a minefield with a life preserver? He’s moody and unpleasant and you can’t get a read on him half the time. And yet there’s sincerity and vulnerability in him, the kind that makes him soft and sweet and-

Stop it. Focus on what you’re doing.

You glance over your shoulder to see Luke has moved to the next street over and you heave a sigh of relief. You have no desire to talk to Luke right now, not when you smell strongly of Joel’s soap and sex.

"What are you doing?"

You give a squeak at the voice, whipping around to see Jennifer smirking at you. She looks fresh as a daisy, out for a morning walk. She takes a look at your outfit and wild hair and she giggles. 

"What are you doing outside wearing that?"

"Oh I was- I thought- I think I dropped something out here last night. I was just looking for it."

"What?"

"Huh?"

Jennifer gives you a patient smile. "What do you think you dropped, hun?"

You scramble to think of something.

"Oh this uh, necklace from a friend. Sometimes I like to take it out and look at it. I was wearing it the other day and maybe I lost it?"

"Oh shit." Jennifer is immediately concerned, her eyes falling to the fresh snow. "Let me help you look." 

"No, wait, its okay," you say rubbing a hand anxiously through your hair. "It's actually; I'm an idiot because it's actually in my bedroom. I just remembered."

Jennifer is looking at you strangely, cocking her head slightly to the side. 

"You're weird today."

"I'm actually weird every day, you just don't notice it because you're used to it."

Jennifer laughs loudly, and relief floods your body, making you feel lightheaded. 

"Okay weirdo, I wanted to talk to you. Big news. I'll meet you for breakfast in, what, fifteen minutes?"

"Sure." 

You watch her head towards the dining hall and you exhale shakily. 

That was too fucking close.

On your way to breakfast a short while later, freshly showered, you pass the notice board in the center of town, your eyes drawn to the carefully cut out paper snowflakes which are pinned to the cork. 

Townhall meeting Monday

Beside it is a white poster page adorned with penguin cut outs. It rests next to the potluck sign up for the event. 

Winter Celebration

When: 5-10pm

Where: Church 

Your stomach swoops as you think about the upcoming dinner and dance. Not because of the people but because of a certain someone you desperately want to see there. 

You want him to see you in the dress Jennifer is making for you. You want him to think you're beautiful. You want him to spin you around and hold you in his arms. You want tender moments like last night but out in the open without the fear of Jennifer hating you for it. 

Stop jumping ahead. He fucked you as a favor. Stop planning the wedding. 

You force your eyes to the yellow lost and found poster, try track to push all romantic notions from your mind. 

Lost my kid's sled around Main Street. Blue with green dots. Please return to Hannah at 21 Blossom Ave. 

Then your eyes find the ripped paper near the corner where a simple sketch of a woman's jacket rests next to text. 

For trade: Sketched Portraits will trade for women's jacket (small). I come with lots of experience. Talk to Arthur 64 Pine. 

You forgot that Arthur did portraits. Something clicks in your mind and you store it away, jogging the rest of the way to the dining hall where Jennifer waits for you, beaming when she catches your eye.

"So I saw Oliver out walking yesterday afternoon," Jennifer grins when you grab a tray and join her, "and I thought about what you said. So I went up and introduced myself and we started talking and... I invited him back to my place."

Your eyes blow wide. 

"No no, not for that," Jennifer says with tinkling laughter. "For coffee! We got to chatting and we actually have a ton in common."

Relief hits you so acutely that you actually feel your blood restarting its heavy pump in your veins making you feel momentarily sluggish. 

"That's amazing, Jen." 

"We made plans for this weekend, gonna play cards at my house and then going for a drink at the Bison. I'm actually really excited." 

"I'm so happy for you," you insist honestly. "I can't wait to hear all about it!"

“Of course,” she says. “I tell you everything!”

A slap across the face would have stung less.

You need to tell her the truth. Joel might be pissed off that you shared but you need to confess that you have feelings for him to Jennifer. How angry could she be?

Jennifer, I have feelings for Joel.

There, simple and straight forward. You don’t have to give her all the gory details. Just simple, adroit and to the point.

You open your mouth to speak, but as you do it’s as if all the memories you’ve made with Jennifer in these past few months filter through your brain. If Jennifer takes this poorly there will be no best friend to giggle with. No dress made. No one to learn how to shoot targets made. Your life will have a gaping Jennifer-sized hole and the thought terrifies you.

And despite knowing how wrong it is and despite knowing that you are an absolute coward for it, you change the topic entirely.

"Are you able to make me a woman's jacket in small? I have a few books I could trade you."

“You need a jacket?” she says glancing at you up and down, obviously knowing your measurements and knowing you’re not a size small.

“No, it’s for someone else.”

Jennifer nods, poking at her eggs.

“Anything you wanna tell me?” Jennifer says after a few moments pause. You gaze at her with a concerned look.

“Huh?”

“You weren’t out looking for a necklace this morning,” Jennifer says with a roll of her eyes. “I know a walk of shame when I see it.”

Your face goes scarlet at the implication and Jennifer practically crows victoriously when you don’t reply.

“I fucking knew it! Was it Luke? Tell me everything.”

Tell her the truth. Tell her.

But that familiar fear that greets you outside the wall of Jackson City has its grips on you now. The fear that makes your throat tighten and your legs go cold. The fear of the unknown. Of what awaits the minute your confession is spoken aloud. The idea that if you tell her, the friendship that you’ve cultivated, the thing that at times has kept you going may dissipate.

Jennifer seems to sense your unease.

“Oh fine, keep your secrets,” she says laughing cheerfully. “Sure, I can whip a jacket up for you in a day or two. But would you make me some of those paper flowers in purple? I really want ‘em for my kitchen."

Your cheeks hurt from how wide you grin. 

"Yes, of course. I'll even throw in another baking lesson too."

Jennifer beams. "You've got a deal." 

"Who's got a deal?"

A familiar voice curls over your shoulder like a hand. Luke is there, smiling down at you both, holding a tray before he takes a seat next to Jennifer, his eyes on you. 

"Jennifer and I are doing a trade, is all."

Luke nods, starting to cut into his pancakes. He doesn’t try to dig for further information, it’s not his style. And you’re grateful for it –you don’t think you want to get into why you’re asking for it in the first place.

"You two coming to my first live performance?" Luke asks, sliding a square of butter over his breakfast stack. “I’ve been practicing and could use the support.”

You think of him not that long ago going over his sheet music looking anxious. Like you, he was probably up early with anxiety. Unlike you however, he didn’t have the stress relief that you did. Joel’s husky croon is there in your ear, a seductive phantom.

I'm gonna take care a' you tonight.

Made for my cock weren't you?

Fuckin’ perfect, every inch 'a you.

It makes you cross your legs under the table, squeezing your thighs for relief. Jennifer glances from across the room to look back over at Luke. 

"When is it?"

"Tomorrow night." Luke takes a bite of his pancake. "Should be pretty shitty but what else do you have to do around here at night?"

The two of you laugh at this, admitting that Jackson city isn't exactly bustling when it comes to nighttime recreation. You agree to go together to support your friend and Luke looks relieved. You watch as Jennifer winces, her laughter dying. 

"Oop, your favorite person just walked in."

Jennifer glances over your head and you feel your stomach clench. Joel. Everything in you is attuned to him, everything in you wants to run over there and take his hand in yours. 

"Oh great," you mutter, trying not to look suspicious. 

"He's headed over," she smiles. "Brace yourself." 

You fold your hands on the table, suddenly anxious. You tug at the end of your forefinger, an anxious habit. Luke notes the chapped color of your hands just as Joel steps beside you at the table.

“Are you cold?”

“Nah, I’m fine,” you reply to Luke just as you notice Joel at your shoulder. He’s dressed for the cold and he smells amazing. His large hands hang casually at his side and you find you can’t look away from them.

“Mornin’all,” he offers to the table.

“Morning Joel,” Jennifer replies breathily while Luke just offers a brief wave of greeting.

Despite moving onto Oliver you don’t miss how Jennifer bats her eyes up at Joel across the table from you. For the first time since your friendship and her admitted crush on Joel you feel a flare of irritation, one that forms a single thought in your mind: back off.

“’Fore I forget, we really should find a day to get the tree marked," Joel says to the table, shifting onto one hip as he stands. His fingers are dangerously close to you. "They're cutting down a bunch for houses and firewood. We'll get stuck with somethin’ shitty if we don’t."

“Totally,” Jennifer replies, her expression dreamy. Is she thinking about Joel or Oliver? And if she is thinking about Joel what does it matter? You fucked him, why do you think you have some agency over his love-life?

Because you want him for yourself.

The territorial realization makes you choke on your eggs, causing all eyes at the table to look at you as you go red in the face and sputter. You slap your sternum, thankful that the eggs finally go down and leave only your eyes damp as you blink.

“Wrong tube,” you croak in explanation. Jennifer and Luke smirk at you, but you still can’t look up at Joel. 

“Didn’t mean to bother y’alls breakfast. I also wanted to know if you’re good to do an earlier patrol shift?” Joel asks, and you think he must be staring at you because he says your name. “It’s getting’ dark earlier these days.”

You stare at his hands.

“Of course,” you stammer, pointing at your breakfast. “Just gimme two minutes.”

“Alright,” Joel replies softly. “I’ll grab a coffee. Hopefully it’s a good batch today.”

And now you raise your eyes to him to see him smiling gently down at you at the inside joke. It’s subtle; barely a curl of one corner of his mouth but your heart does a somersault in your chest at the sight of it.

You’re about to reply when all of a sudden Luke places a hand over yours, rubbing gently.

"Your hands are freezing." 

You can practically feel Joel stiffen beside you. 

"They'll warm up in a sec," you say with a forced smile, trying to inch them out of Luke's grip. “Just gotta put on my gloves.” 

You don’t like him touching you in front of Joel. Maybe you just don’t like him touching you at all anymore. Not now that you’ve realized how you feel about Joel because now it feels something like cheating, which is stupid the more you think about it. How can you cheat on someone who isn’t even yours? 

Your guilty eyes dart from Luke’s warm gaze up to Joel’s face which has now grown overcast. Any smile or mirth in his features has all been erased.

“Five minutes,” Joel all but barks. “If you’re not there, I’ll head out on my own.”

Joel strides from the table, his jaw tensed and his body stiff.

“Man, that guy just doesn’t let up, does he?” Luke says rolling his eyes.

“I think he’s just like that with most people,” Jennifer shrugs, her voice tight. “He can’t help it.”

Luke rolls his eyes.

“He could try.”

///

The two of them walk you out to the gates minutes later where an agitated Joel stands beside Midnight, gently stroking the horse’s muzzle. He’s so soft with the animals, so gentle and nurting and you think that this is the true Joel he hides under frowns and barked commands.

He must hear you approaching because he glances over. When he sees you between your two friends you swear he scowls at Luke who hasn’t stopped talking about the concert tomorrow.

“I’ll be there around six, but it starts at seven. So come around ten to.”

“Okay,” Jennifer nods, looking distractedly at him. “Sounds good.”

She mumbles something about needing to start on the jacket, leaving Luke walking you the rest of the way to the gates, your thumb digging into your third finger nervously as you approach the enigma of a man. 

Joel watches you both, his arms crossed over his chest in a clear indication of his displeasure. So why does it turn you on so much to see it?

Because in contrast to the intense aggression of his stance you know how tender he held you last night? Because it turns you on that he could kill someone if he needed to and yet the way he kissed you and touched you was as if you were made of spun glass?

Maybe. Or maybe it’s something deeper than that.

“You don’t have to walk with me the rest of the way,” you offer politely to Luke, hoping he gets the message.

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Luke says obliviously. “I drank so much coffee this morning it’s actually good to get moving around so I can burn it off.”

You just nod, unable to say anything, unable to tear your eyes from Joel as you and Luke get closer. Joel looks at you from beside the horse and you think his gaze softens when it moves from Luke over to you.

You stare back at him, wanting to communicate that this isn’t what it looks like. He’s just a friend.

But his eyes turn hard when you approach the horses and Luke is still there behind you.  You glance over your shoulder, confused. You want him to go away; you’re aching to talk to Joel in privacy. But Luke doesn’t get it.

You spin fully around, giving Luke a quirked smile of confusion.

“Thanks for walking me.”

“No problem,” Luke says.

Your eyes fly open wide when Luke ducks forward and embraces you. He’s so quick you don’t have a chance to step back. His gangly arms encircle you, and last week this would have delighted you. Right now however, with Joel’s eyes burning a hole in your back it feels mortifying. Your arms stay at your sides, stiff as a plank before Luke pulls back.

"Be safe," Luke says.

You nod, about to reply when Joel’s hand circles your wrist.

“We goin’ or not?”

He’s strong behind you, tugging your arm towards Chestnut and ultimately towards him. You stumble back, bracing yourself on his forearm. Luke watches all of this silently because as much shit as he talks about Joel behind his back, you know he’d never say it to the older man’s face.

“Bye,” you mumble at Luke before you mount Chestnut.

 Joel does the same on Midnight, clicking his tongue as Hank opens the gate for you. Luke gives you one last wave before he’s striding back towards the main street.

Joel doesn’t say another word for the entire ride to Teton village.

You try several times to engage him in conversation, but to no avail. Silence greets you, an invisible wall. The beauty of only hours ago is washed away, leaving you confused and hurt.

You were right in assuming he only wanted one thing. He just wanted to fuck you and now that he has it’s right back to the old dynamic.

The lock is unlatched and when the two of you step inside the outpost you find yourself watching his body move through the crumbling façade of the home. You long to reach out, to travel back in time and wake up in his bed again.

"Joel can we talk?"

"No."

You flinch back, stung. This is what you feared wasn’t it? Misreading the signals? Letting yourself get carried away? Letting that fifteen year old girl that didn’t have prom dream of a night in a beautiful dress. You shake your head, embarrassed.

When you both go to break for lunch Joel mutters something about not being hungry and stays in the opposite room. When you finish yours you find him standing at the window, staring out into the cold grey sky. You approach him tentatively, your heart in your throat. Maybe he’s cooled off? Maybe now he’ll lower his proverbial weapons. You stand next to him at the windowsill, looking into the dreary day.

"Are you okay looking for a tree this weekend?"

Joel gives a brief nod in reply.

"Does the morning work for you? Or would you prefer afternoon?" you say, desperate to fill up the silence. “I figure morning might be best, but if you and Ellie have plans we could do afternoon.”

Joel doesn’t even look at you. He just sighs wearily and walks away from you, leaving you open-mouthed in shock at his rudeness.

The irritation which started as a small bubble this morning during patrols has begun incrementally expanding in your chest, overtaking your senses and making you see red. 

You slam your hand against the wall so hard it sends pieces of plaster crumbling to the ground.

“I’m talking to you, Miller!”

The force of your voice startles the pair of you. Joel stops in his tracks then whips around to see you looking at him with shock. The brows that lift now sink and furrow, his lips thinning in irritation. He stomps over to you, that familiar fire in his eyes.

“The fuck you just say to me?”

“I said I’m talking,” you add, a little less forcefully now. “We’re talking.”

Joel scoffs loudly.

“Like hell we are.”

 “You said we were friends, Joel. Friends talk. Tell me why you’re so angry.”

“I’m not angry,” Joel snaps.

“What do you call this, then?” you motion to his crossed arms.

Joel sighs heavily through his nose. You see how his expression doesn’t move from its chilly fix on you.

“I’m tired,” he finally rasps. “I spent a good chunk ‘a my night makin’ it go quiet for you if you remember.”

He says it like it was a pain for him to do, like it was a favor he unwillingly did for you. Fuck, was it? Were you reading into it too much? Are you putting more into this than what’s there? Your lack of romantic experience coupled with Joel’s stern expression have you swallowing nervously.

“And I appreciate it,” you answer awkwardly.

Joel looks disgusted by your response.

“Yeah, I’ll bet. Guess you'll just call me when your need a good, hard fuck. I'll get you nice n' wet and then you'll go finish off with him, s’that it?"

You can only stare at him, blinking rapidly.

"I have no idea what you're talking about.”

"Yeah,” he scoffs. “I'm sure.”

He’s giving you that disgusted look again, the one that makes you feel like a piece of useless garbage. It makes you suck at your teeth and level a glare his way.

"What is your fucking problem, Joel?”

Joel shrugs, not saying anything. He won’t answer you and something in you snaps.

He tries to shoulder past you into the next room and without thought you shove him with all your might. It doesn’t do much of anything except irritate him. He yanks back from you, glaring.

“What’re you-“

“You’re driving me insane! You blow so hot and cold with me,” you snap. You go to shove him again angrily and he grunts before grabbing both of your own elbows in his large hands.

“I blow hot and cold?” Joel says incredulously. “Me?”

“One second you’re good to fuck me, the next second you hate me,” you say, trying to wriggle out of his grip. “Sometimes I think we’re friends and then you pull this shit. So why are-"

Joel still has you by the elbows and he backs you into the wall you previously slammed your hand against. It’s forceful, but not harsh. You feel the base of your spine kissing the plaster as you gaze up at him, your words dying. His cheeks are rouged and his eyes are wild, his teeth bared.

"I don't want him touchin’ you," Joel growls. 

“Who?”

“Luke.”

And then all at once it hits you. All the weeks of treating you like shit when Luke is nearby. The way he tugged you back away from him today.

Joel is jealous. 

He's jealous of what he thinks you have going on with Luke. The realization makes your mouth go dry and yet you need to be certain.

"Why?"

His eyes darken, falling to your lips.

"You know why." 

His mouth crashes against yours. His hands fly from your elbows to slide to either side of your neck, holding you there as the kiss deepens. You melt into him, your body completely at his whim. Only your hands grip loosely at the sides of his flannel, your eyes falling shut. 

He covets your mouth, taking and taking as you whine and whimper, mouth dropping open further so that he can continue to ravish it. His mouth moves to your jaw, his hands clutching at your waist. He seems desperate, like he doesn’t believe you’re letting him do this.

"Joel, I only do this with you," you whisper, too anxious to open your eyes.

He doesn’t speak, but he does urge your thigh around him. He holds you in place, palms gripping your ass as he pins you to the wall. It propels you to lean forward, arms circling his neck, pulling him tighter to you. He kisses you deep, groaning at times when your fingers tangle in the curls at the nape of his neck and his hips roll against yours.

He’s hard through his jeans, rutting against your center aggressively before he’s tugging at the neck of your sweater so that he can kiss down your sternum, giving little licks to the bone there.

You let your hands fall to his hair, luxuriating in the soft of his curls as his hands grope you firmly through your sweater. His mouth finds your straining nipples through the fabric, wetting it with his saliva. 

You arch into his mouth, biting your lip so hard you almost draw blood. It feels so fucking good, especially when he starts to suck. You feel the jolts of pleasure like lightning go through your body and you whinny out his name. 

He smiles against your body before his fingers come to the button of your jeans, popping it and dragging the denim down your legs. Your panties are quick to follow. You watch his mouth press sloppy kisses down the exposed skin below your navel, trailing spit and desire down the center of your body until he reaches your pulsing core. He takes one of your thighs in his hand, urging it over his shoulder and opening you up to him. 

He’s barely touched you and yet your inner thighs are glossy with arousal. Joel lets his lips graze you lightly there before he pauses, dark eyes moving up your body until they come to rest on your face.

"You get this wet for anyone else?"

"No," you answer honestly, your voice breathless and high. 

He gives a grunt in reply, his soft mouth now firmly pressing needy kisses to your inner thighs. You can only watch as his curls disappear between them, eyes rolling back when his mouth moves to your slick core. 

You give yourself over completely, head tilting back against the wall as he parts you with his fingers, his sharp nose nudging your clit as his mouth moves against your cunt. Your hips jerk towards his face and you feel as one broad hand snakes up the center of your body, his wide palm flat and pressing to stomach, holding you against the wall.

Without thinking you hand falls over his, gripping his fingers as your hips continue to roll against his mouth. Your fingers lace with his and he pulls back a moment. Your eyes are stuck on his, seeing the pupil that dominates his eyes.

"I'm the only one that touches you," he pants, the hot air huffing against your cunt. "I’m the only one that makes you come. Me. Repeat it." 

"You're-you're the only one," you agree, body in time with his. “You’re the only one I want touching me.”

You’re being honest, even though it terrifies you. You don’t want to do it with anyone else. Joel’s fingers unlace with yours, both coming to grip your ass, urging your cunt closer to his mouth. His fingertips dimple the flesh there, hard and unrelenting.

“Yeah?” Joel murmurs against your pussy as you roll your hips. “You don’t want t-“

“I don’t want anyone but you,” you finish for him. “Just you.”

 Joel seems satisfied with this and he goes back to working between your thighs, coaxing your orgasm from you as you whimper his name. You can feel the plaster at your spine, the chill of the day, but all you can truly focus on is Joel knelt before you, consuming you with a passion.

"Mhm," he encourages between licks and sucks. "Just like that." 

When you come he greedily laps it up, groaning as you tremor in the aftershocks. You feel dizzy, almost out of your body. Joel helps you into your panties and jeans, standing to button them back up. You watch his downcast eyes focus on the zipper and then the button loop.

He’s so handsome, every line in his face every curve of his features. You can’t help it; you tilt forward and capture his lips with yours. He welcomes it; his large hands moving to cup your cheeks as he kisses you back, letting you savor yourself on his tongue.

“You taste how sweet you are?” he murmurs.

You melt into him, allowing him to lick into your mouth with no pretense of anything else. Joel wants you and you want him.

Everything else is simple.

////

The two of you ride side by side on the horses, taking your time returning back to Jackson City as the day is still bright. You can’t help but keep sneaking glances at him through your hair, watching his strong profile scanning the area, seeing how his graying curls blow lightly in the winter breeze.

He catches you once, and you pretend to be surveying the trees to his left before sweeping your gaze elsewhere. He’s saying something to you; you realize this when he calls your name softly.

“Huh?”

“You goin’ to that concert tomorrow?”

The concert?

Oh right, Luke’s event. The musical night in the dining hall.

“Yeah,” you nod. You see Joel stiffen atop his horse and you frown. “He’s my friend, Joel.”

“I didn’t say anythin’.”

“You didn’t need to.” You swallow. “I don’t want to be afraid to talk about my friends around you. Luke and Jennifer.”

Joel is quiet, but you don’t miss his sharp nod.

You can still feel his mouth and fingertips on your skin, still taste his lips, still smell him on you. It makes you feel dizzy. He clears his throat and you move your attention back to him.

"So uh, the stuff we're doin’," Joel looks strangely anxious, wetting his lower lip. "I think maybe it stays between us."

"Agreed," you say quickly.

 It's actually quite fortuitous that Joel doesn't want to parade whatever is going on between you through the town. You don't think you could look Jennifer in the face if you did. Its better that this is quiet, that you don't really have to tell Jennifer anything yet. 

Joel eyes you as his fingers drum along his saddle while he rides. 

"Yeah? You want that?"

"Yes.”

"Alright then," Joel nods, satisfied.

It would be different if you and Joel were something more. If this was a real relationship, but you don't think it's possible for either of you. You’re just two broken people at the end of the world trying to feel something.

You don’t want to ask him for more, to demand something you know he can’t give.

You couldn’t handle the disappointment.

///

After patrols your feet carry you to the home of Penny and Arthur. You knock on the door feeling strangely nervous when Arthur answers. He grins at you, though he’s surprised.

“Well this is a pleasant surprise!”

"Hi Arthur,” you say, relaxing at his pleasant demeanor. “Do you have a moment?”

“For you I have several.”

You grin weakly, about to say something when Penny comes from inside the home, seeing you there. She gives you a big smile, tottering over to you.

“Hello there honey-child,” she greets.

“Hi Penny.”

“Well, what can I do for you?” Arthur asks, seeing that you’re obviously nervous. You tug at the end of your fingers; an old, anxious habit along with finger tapping and teeth grinding that you’ve carried with you since your childhood.

“It’s about your ad, I saw it in town and I was wondering if I could get a portrait done," you say quietly. "I don't have a woman's jacket but I could get Jennifer to make you one custom. I asked her already and she agreed." 

"You can make her a jacket?" Arthur asks in shock.

"My friend Jennifer can. She worked in textiles."

"Are you sure it isn't too much work?"

"She said she could get it done in two days.”

Arthur and Penny exchange looks of shock before Penny bursts out into a raucous cry of joy. Arthur goggles at you while Penny is clapping and jumping up and down behind him, her skinny legs kicking out.  

"Thank Christ! My old jackets so full ‘a holes!" 

“Of course I’ll do a portrait for you,” Arthur insists over his wife’s gleeful exclamations. “For you I would have done it for free.”

“You deserve payment,” you insist, touched by his sincerity. “I wonder if I could get one done of three people together?" 

Arthur’s expression softens and he nods.

“Of course.”

///

The next day you wake to find Ellie at your front door when you leave to go for breakfast.

She startles you, causing you to jump back into your house when she leaps up from your porch steps. She immediately looks apologetic, waving her gloved hands in front of her face.

“Oh shit, sorry!”

You murmur that it’s fine, but in truth you’re exhausted. You barely slept last night. Old nightmares plagued you; ones you thought had left you years ago. For some reason they’re back, making sleep evasive.

You step out onto the porch, wordlessly motioning for Ellie to follow you. She does so quietly, kicking a stray pebble as you walk down the street to the path into town. 

“So do I want to know why you were laying in wait for me?” you ask after a beat, arching your brow in amusement.

Ellie grins, kicking at some of the old ice as you travel the path to town. It’s clear from the coiled exuberance she’s trying to hold back something big, something exciting.  She comes to a full stop, her tiny frame expanding as she holds out her arms wide at her sides.

“I asked her.”

You blink, mind still slow with sleep. “Huh?”

 “Dina,” Ellie explains, her cheeks pink from the cold (or her excitement, you’re not sure.) “I asked her to the dance and she said yes.”

“Really?”

“Yeah!” Ellie is giggling. “We’re not telling anyone yet. It’s still new and everything. Joel knows that I like her, but that’s it.”

You don’t know if it’s your good mood about how things are going with Joel or just the genuine joy you have at seeing her so happy, but you can’t help it- you grab her around the middle and swing her in a semi-circle. Ellie grips onto your upper arms, giving a yelp as the world whirls by.

She laughs raucously when you put her down, stumbling a bit from dizziness.

“You fucking weirdo,” she says, thought her twinkling eyes say something else.

“Sorry,” you say, laughing back. “Couldn’t help it. Just too happy.”

She bids you a farewell, citing that she has to get to ‘boring fucking school’ as you grin. You make it to the dining hall quickly, your heart full as you think of how far Ellie has come. The same girl who didn’t have friends now has a girlfriend. Or well, do the kids call them girlfriends anymore? You’re not sure. It’s been a while.

The space is busy, as it often is when the weather gets cold. No one wants to make meals at home, they’d rather come out to the communal areas to catch up over coffee and warm breakfast. You’ve got a tray gripped in your hands as you prepare to walk to the table by the window, your favorite spot. It’s always cast in a warm light from outside, so bright and strangely calming.

You’re on your way there when you spot a familiar head of salt and pepper curls facing away from you, curled over a pancake breakfast. You don’t understand when your pulse begins frantically in your veins, causing your tray to wobble slightly.

I should sit somewhere else.

You don’t know exactly where you stand with Joel after everything. You talked, sort of, but so much is left up in the air. So you decide to do what you’ve always done before yesterday; you pass him sitting at the table, ignoring his presence as you move to your seat by the window.

You place your tray down shakily, trying to breathe normally. You’re facing away from Joel, moving your focus to your eggs and toast and…Shit. Your tea.

In your fatigue you forgot to grab it and considering the sleep you’ve had, you really need it today. On rubbery legs you stand, swallowing and avoiding Joel’s eyes which is hard because the second you turn you can feel his gaze on you.

You hold your breath as you pass his table, as in inhaling the scent of him will make you fall into his lap there in front of everyone.

And then you feel it, the light drag of calloused skin over the back of your hand as you pass his table.  If you weren't always so very aware of Joel's proximity you doubt you would have felt it.  But you are and you did.

When you glance over you see his last three fingers are hanging over the table and straining to graze your hand. When they connect you watch them retract as he busies himself with his breakfast. 

///

"What are you signing up to bring?"

It's later that day and you and Jennifer are crowded around the notice board in town. You've both been reading the potluck list for the winter party. You can't help but feel your stomach do a little jump when a familiar name pops up on the list in familiar sharp script.

Joel Miller - drinks

You hide your smirk. How Joel Miller. 

A pencil tied to string is pinned into the cork next to the brightly colored paper. You take it in your hand, hunching over. 

"I think I'll bring brownies," you say as you write your name and the dessert onto the potluck list. "I've got a good recipe for it at home." 

"Oh that's a good idea," Jennifer nods, looking at the list with scrutiny. Many names are already on there along with items. 

Soup, bread, fruit preserves, casserole, vegetables. 

"I think I'll bring... Apples."

You turn around and laugh sharply at your friend. 

"Everyone loves apples," Jennifer laughs back. "They keep the doctor away."

"Jenny, you can't be serious," you say giggling still. 

"I can't bake very well! You know that!"

Jennifer is laughing but you can sense a bit of insecurity there as well. She's good at so much in the world, but not this. You give her a half smile, shaking your head in amusement. You go back to the list and add Jennifer's name before writing "apple tarts" next to it. 

"Hey I -"

"I'll be making them for you," you tell her, holding a hand up before she can deny this. "You're making me a whole dress, Jenny. Let me make you some fucking tarts." 

Arm in arm the two of you laugh all the way to the dining hall, along with the rest of the town. It seems that you're not the only ones eager for some nighttime entertainment that doesn't involve movies, cards or drinking. 

The tables have been shifted so that the far side of the hall has an empty space like a stage you’d find in a coffee shop. You can't help but scan the audience as you walk in, hoping to see familiar greying curls.

But of course you don't, this isn't Joel's scene.  

You do however see Ellie sitting with a group of teenagers. The ones she always rolled her eyes at before. Sitting right beside her is Dina, saying something to make Ellie and the rest of the group laugh.  Ellie catches your eye through the crowd and you give her a soft wink before turning away, giving her the privacy she deserves.

Jennifer sees some of her friends you've met before but can't remember the name of. They come over to chat as you stand to the aside awkwardly, smiling at them when they greet you. 

You're confused when you turn at one point to see a group of pretty young women at a far table shooting obvious sneers your way. A brunette with thin lips looks in your direction before whispering to her friend. The group giggles and you feel insecurity flooding you, like ice in your veins. 

Why are people looking at you like that? 

"Let's get a seat," you mumble to Jennifer, wanting to get out of the girl's eyelines.

 She agrees, and the two of you make your way to one of the nearby tables with a few empty seats. Jennifer settles in, both of you waving to Luke when he sees you before going back to tune his guitar. 

There's a group of several Jackson city residents preparing to play, Martha from the textile group is on the drums, Jacob the librarian is the bass guitar, Shelly from the garden is on tambourine. It's a mismatched group but you think that's what you find so sweet about it. 

"I hope they sound good," Jennifer tells you quietly as she leans across the table. "I don't know if I can lie to Luke if he sounds totally crap."

The two of you giggle even though her words strike a bit of anxiety in you. Lying. You're lying to her.

"Hi Jenny." 

You glance to your left to see Oliver walking over, a grin on his handsome face. He's dressed in slacks and a thick wool sweater. He's got his cowboy hat in his hands, holding it in front of him like a nervous schoolboy. 

"Hi Ollie."

"I was hoping you'd be comin'," he says shyly, rubbing the back of his neck. 

"Same here," Jenny says with such easy flirtation it takes your breath away. 

How does she do it? She manages to be cute and flirty all while being subtle. You wish you could study her, making notes and writing a book on the subtle art of seduction. 

"You want to join us?" You ask, pointing to the seat next to Jennifer. "The place is filling up fast." 

"Sure," Oliver says brightly with a nod, placing his hat on the seat. "Thanks. Lemme grab you two something to drink."

Jennifer's face breaks into a wide grin as the two of you watch him go to the side of the dining hall where several people are helping to hand out small glasses of wine. 

"Everyone gets one!" Shouts Leticia, the ruddy-faced cook. "Don't be greedy. If you wanna get shitfaced head on over to The Bison. This here is a classy event." 

You and Jennifer exchange amused smirks before you see those same girls from before shooting you more scowls. You duck your head, feeling your chest and neck heating. You're so used to blending in the background here, so used to being invisible that this negative attention makes your eyes burn. Jennifer can tell something is up right away. 

"You okay?" 

"It's these girls over in the corner. They're scowling at me," you murmur, trying to keep your voice even.  

Jennifer immediately glances over her shoulder, locking eyes with the brunette and rolling her eyes. 

"They're not glaring at you, they're glaring at me."

You raise your eyes to her. "You? Why?"

"That's Vanessa, Ollie's ex," Jennifer tells you. "A total bitch." 

"Oh."

You'd only heard through the grapevine about Oliver's breakup, you didn't actually know Vanessa personally. 

"Just ignore her, I always do," Jennifer shrugs. "She's always giving me looks like that. Her and that little posse." 

Oliver is back, handing Jennifer the solitary wine glass with all apologetic look shot your way. 

"I told her I was getting a glass for both of you but Leticia just told me I was being greedy," Oliver says dumbstruck. "So I could only get one. Sorry about that."

“It’s no problem,” you insist kindly. “I don’t really enjoy wine.”

You and Jennifer smile at his relieved expression as he takes his seat beside your friend.

"Thanks Ollie," she coos before giving him a soft peck on the cheek. 

"No problem," Oliver stutters, grinning. 

You don't miss the way Jennifer's cheeks pink. You feel a bit of relief at the knowledge that you're panicking for nothing. Jennifer is going for Oliver, who cares if you're sleeping with Joel? It's not even an issue. 

The room is loud and warm with the copious collection of bodies. The lights are lit, strung beautifully and casting everything in a warm glow. 

The room grows quiet when Luke steps forward, trying to get everyone's attention

"Hi all thanks for coming. We're the Jackson City Four and we're hoping to entertain you for the next little bit." Luke swallows nervously. "So uh, grab a drink and sing along if you know the words." 

For the next half hour you watch Luke transform from the affable, tall man you've always known into a soulful almost sultry singer. He plays the guitar well, harmonizing with Martha beautifully.

"When I first saw you, with your smile so tender, my heart was captured, my soul surrendered…”

You watch from the corner of your eye as Oliver urges Jennifer to lean back against him during a slow song, and you can see through the crowd as Vanessa glares at them. But all you care about is the happy, contented look on Jennifer’s face.

Again your eyes scan the room, resting on Ellie and Dina sitting with shoulders touching before you sweep the rest of the entertained faces. There's no Joel, of course. You don't know why this disappoints you when it's hardly surprising. Have you ever really seen Joel at an activity like this? 

"We're gonna take a brief intermission," Luke announces, grinning out at the crowd when the halfway mark arrives. The band receives raucous cheering before leaving their instruments on the makeshift stage.

There's a lot of movement as people use the restroom, grab their drink or go to chat to their neighbors. Everyone is talking about how good the show is so far and you have to agree. 

"At least we can be honest when we tell him how good he was," Jennifer reasons. "Do you think they take requests?"

You're about to reply but something stops you. Something emerging from the group of milling patrons. A warmth from behind you followed by the familiar scent of cedar and almond soap. 

"There you are."

Your heart drums as you turn and glance up at him. Jennifer is across from you, and you can feel her watching as your eyes meet his. What is she thinking? 

Joel's hair is freshly washed, curling under his ears. He smells so good and looks so handsome that it momentarily makes you forget how to talk. 

You realize belatedly that he's glaring down at you though, his mouth thinned in irritation. You feel a bit of anxiety mixed with irritation. What did you do now? 

"What?"

"I told you that you needed to tie the horse up properly. Let's go."

"Huh?"

You feel eyes on you as you stand, moving back from the group of people staying for the concert. You never have had to tie up Chestnut. What the fuck is he talking about? Is this a new thing on patrols that you don’t know about?

"Let's go," he repeats, only this time there's no patience. 

You feel Jennifer's sympathetic gaze on you as you dutifully fall in line, following Joel out of the dining hall. He's silent the entire walk to the stables, giving you plenty of time to go over what he's upset about.

What happened this time? Why is he so mad?

You feel his hand at the small of your back, guiding you into the barn before he pulls the doors shut. He leads you to a room you've never been in, the one where they keep track of the livestock. It's a simple room with a desk, chair and heaps of scribbled notes. 

Joel calls out some names you don't recognize. You both wait in silence, and Joel seems satisfied. When Joel closes the office door behind you both, he steals over to you and his hands go to the collar of your jacket, quickly moving to the top button at your throat. 

"What're you doing?"

You stare at him, body slack like a doll. You don’t understand what the fuck he’s doing or why his irritated façade from only moments earlier has been replaced with an almost mischievous grin as he gazes at you before looking to his fumbling fingers.

"Gotta be fast."

The buttons are plucked and within seconds your jacket is shucked off, tossed onto the desk. His hands go to your blouse, unbuttoning that as well, all the while you stand staring at him as you try to understand what the fuck is going on. It’s clear he wants sex, but you’re completely flummoxed.

"Wait, Joel, what about the horse?"

Joel stops his movements so that he can focus his attention on your face. His eyes are twinkling and a tiny smirk is pulling at the corner of his mouth, the meaning suddenly clear. 

Oh.

"Silly thing," Joel mutters almost affectionately before his lips slot between your own. You give a surprised giggle at his actions, a combination of irritation and amusement fighting for dominance. You give into the latter because Joel’s hands are on his belt, unloosening it as he kisses you.

"Couldn't think of another way to get me here?" You say against his plush mouth. "Gotta act like an asshole in front of everyone?"

"Had to keep up appearances," Joel murmurs against your jaw, licking their before kissing gently. It makes your skin prickle deliciously. "Don't wanna make it look like I'm going soft." 

"Don't think a-anyone could accuse you of being soft at the moment."

He huffs a laugh along your collar and the two of you quickly unbutton your jeans, dragging them and your under things down before Joel is backing you against the sturdy wood wall of the office.

You feel his grin against your lips and then he's got one large hand at your hip to hold you in place, the other braced beside your head, effectively curling himself against you. He slides his fingers down the crease of you your thigh before he pauses, looking into your face.

“You still want this?”

Your brain is barely working when Joel is this close with his jean covered cock unconsciously making gentle circles against your thigh. Your hand drifts to his cheek, the back of your fingers grazing his jaw as you gaze up at him.

“Yeah. But why now?”

 You make this inquiry, not that you care either way.

“I just needed you.” His throat bobs as his eyes scan yours. “S’that okay?”

Your arms are around his neck and your mouth finds his with ease, as if he'd been waiting for you to answer him this way. His fingers begin to move between your legs, coating themselves in arousal before sinking into your core.

"You're dripping," Joel murmurs huskily.

Your legs buckle slightly at the sensation and his words, whimpering into his throat as your hips begin to freely match the tempo of his thrusting fingers. 

It's not long before you feel that familiar coil of tension running through your core, your orgasm taking you by surprise. You give a shuddering cry, muffling it in Joel's shoulder as his fingers work steady within you, silently urging you to keep riding it out.  

Another moan escapes you, low and aching but you quickly clamp your mouth shut instinctively. Even though the stables are quite a far walk from town you're still concerned someone could overhear. But Joel has other ideas, nudging your nose with his so he can kiss down your neck

"Be loud," he tells you as you ride your release on his fingers. 

You nod, hips still grinding against his hand as he tugs down his jeans, releasing his hard cock. It bounces as it’s freed from its denim confines and you whimper when you see it, the head quickly covered by the condom from his back pocket.

You feel as he notches himself between your legs, cock warm and thick. When he sinks himself into you with ease you feel your entire body break out into anticipatory shivers. As if Joel's body releases something in you that signals the rest of your body to relax. 

He makes a sound halfway between a grunt and a groan and another wave of arousal floods you. Your body rasps against the wood wall of the stable as Joel continues to drive himself into you and withdraw. He does this over and over until your body is boneless and all you can think about is how much you want this pleasure to continue. 

Instinctively your lower lip is tucked under your front teeth to hold back your burgeoning whimper. But Joel's thumb is there, peeling it back, opening your mouth and releasing your surprised gasps. 

"Stop hiding those noises," he commands, hips snapping up, making you pant out as you cling to him. "I wanna fuckin' hear ‘em."

With each renewed thrust upwards from Joel, the ball of your foot is temporarily lifted in your shoe. And with each driving rut Joel is groaning such animalistic sounds in your ear you think you could come from them alone. 

Your arms are still wound tightly around his neck, one hand gripping the curls at the base. With every harsh smack of his pelvis into yours you whimper pleasurably. Your body is growing slack, his hand moving under your thigh, urging it around his waist as feeds his cock into you further, watching your face in amazement as your brows crumple.  

"Joel," you keen, eyes rolling back.

"That's right," he croons. "Who's makin' you come? Who’s making this pussy sing?" 

"Y-you, Joel," you moan loudly as his cock fills you. You don't hold back, you don't edit or second guess. You want to feel him tomorrow. 

"Yeah, it's me," Joel says and you can feel him smiling against your cheek. "S'fuckin' me." 

You groan when he moves his hands to grip under your ass, hauling you up and urging your legs to hook at the ankles behind his back. You acquiesce and Joel begins to fuck into you with gusto, chasing his own release as he holds you against the wall. Each thrust punches out a cry of delight from your lungs. 

"Louder," Joel urges you, mouth curled to one side as he saws into you deeper faster and faster. "My hearin' ain't what it used to be." 

You don't care if you're caught or if someone can hear you. You want to give Joel everything he's asking for. You let him pound into you, his big hands gripping your ass as you arch for him and you let the shuddering moans escape. 

"F-fuck, yes!" 

"More," he growls.

"Joel, please," You cry out, body absorbing his thrusts as your head tilts back. "Please come."

Joel makes a strangled noise as he gives one final thrust, erupting inside you for so long that if not for the condom he wears you're convinced you'd be changing your underwear for the rest of the night. The two of you breathe heavily, still wrapped up in one another.  

"Fuck that was good," he finally breathes against your neck when you both come down.

“Yeah,” you breathe shakily. “It really was.” 

“Lemme walk you home,” he murmurs, kissing your jaw slowly.

The concert likely isn’t over yet and so you can’t think of a reason why not.

“Yeah,” you nod, pulling up your jeans and buttoning them. “Okay.”

He walks you home in quiet, listening to the sound of a quiet Jackson City. That’s the benefit of under a thousand people, there’s still times when its so quiet. The kind of quiet that feels safe and calm, the kind that makes you feel like the world hasn’t ended.

When you reach your porch you stop at the bottom step.

“Thanks for walking me home.”

He hums a response and looks at you for a moment before his head tilts forward and he kisses you softly on the lips. You savor it, eyes falling shut before he moves back with a weird little half smile. 

“Have a good sleep.”

And then he’s gone, walking away from you, leaving you to walk into your house with a huge smile, all the while trying to convince yourself that you aren’t falling for Joel Miller.

///

Maria glances up as you stand at the frame of her bedroom door one morning holding a small box of cookies. She's propped up in her bed with a book over her lap. She's wearing loose clothing and her hair is tied up. She has hollows under her eyes. 

When she realizes it's you she smiles and places her book to the side of the bed.  

"Hey."

"Tommy let me in," you explain as she looks at you. "I think he's taking Jackson for a walk."

You don't tell her that this was planned by Tommy days ago when you ran into him at the dining hall. That he doesn't want to leave her alone yet and you'd happily volunteered. 

"Tommy told me peanut butter are your favorite," you tell her as you sit on the end of her bed. 

"He's very right."

You make sure to look away when she reaches inside for one, not wanting your eyes to linger on her wrapped wrist. 

"You don't have to look away," she says airily as she decides on which cookie to take. "I'm not going to fall apart. Not today."

"I know you're not." 

Maria chooses the cookie with a disbelieving glance your way. She leans back, taking a bite and smiling in appreciation. 

"So good."

"Glad you like it," you say, pulling your socked feet up and sitting cross legged at the end of her bed as you take a cookie for yourself.  

"I assume Tommy sent you?"

You have the cookie halfway to your mouth. 

"No, why would-"

Maria's look deepens and you can't help but give a small sigh. 

"He's just worried about you, Maria."

"I know. I'm really not upset," Maria answers, chewing her cookie slowly. "I can only imagine what he thought when he came home and saw me like that." 

The two of you lapse into a thoughtful silence, the peanut butter sticking to the roof of your mouth. It takes you a minute to unstick it with your tongue. 

"Tommy's been really busy lately," Maria offers. "With the dam and stuff. Looks like it might have been animals, not people."

This interests you. "Really?"

"Yeah, but honestly I figured as much. People around here are so paranoid, they think whatever they see is Raiders or clickers and half the time it turns out to be a fucking bird or deer." She smirks. "But, I figure it could be worse. I'd rather them be overly cautious."

You feel a bit more at ease with that. You've always been terrified going out on patrols but this gives you a bit of relief. 

"At least Joel is always there to help him," Maria sighs. "He may be a bastard sometimes but he's dependable." 

You nod at this, unable to look at her. Your finger traces absently along the quilt over the bed as you think of Joel. Something pops into your mind and you raise your gaze to hers. 

"Hey, this is a weird question but could I see the photo of Sarah you told me about? The one Joel won't take?"

Maria nods before swinging her legs out of bed. You watch as she slowly makes her way to the dresser, tugging it open and digging around. Moments later she retrieves the photograph, wrinkled from age. 

She hands it to you before saying she needs to use the washroom. You give her a lingering look but she simply nods, letting you know all is well. 

She pads down the hall, closing the door behind her and you finally let your eyes fall on the photograph of two figures at what looks like a soccer game. 

Sarah is wearing a striped shirt and soccer shorts and she's leaning back against a much happier, much younger looking Joel wearing a green t-shirt and blue jeans. 

Sarah's left hand holds up a trophy in exuberance, her other hand flashing a peace sign at the cameraman you can only assume was Tommy. She must have won that game and a part of you thinks "Of course she won. She's Joel's daughter."

You can't imagine his offspring being any less formidable when it came to focussing on a target. The times you've watched Joel scanning the forest or the horizon you could clearly see translated into this young girl's face. You can almost picture her legs carrying her to her destination, kicking in the winning goal with her father cheering loudly in the stands. The kind of smile where his dimple pops out. 

In the photograph Sarah smiles so widely, her hazel eyes large and bright, her kinked hair in two thick braids at her side. And in that youthful face of hers you can see so many parts of Joel. The mischievous glint in her eyes, the slight hitch to one side of her smile. 

Why wouldn't he want this picture? Why wouldn't he want the chance to gaze at his little girl every day? If you had the chance you would travel back home to find ones of your family. You would look at them every fucking day. 

But you know that all that's there are the charred remains of your former home. 

You remember being in the back of the van with your sister, the two of you clinging to one another and sobbing. You looked out the back window seeing the carnage of neighbors attacking one another and then your sister screaming when a plane fell from the sky. 

You can still hear the sound of it crashing heavily on your home, causing flames to roar mightily as your father sped you all towards what he thought was safety. 

Stop it. Don't think about it. Push it down. 

You move to linger on Joel's face in the image, musing that he's closer to your age in this photo. He's gazing down at Sarah with a soft smile, his arm protectively at her shoulders. He looks so happy, so healthy, so free of the devastation you've seen in him now.

You find yourself unable to stop tracing his frozen image with your fingertip until Maria makes her way back to the bedroom. She glances over your shoulder, speaking gently. 

"She was beautiful wasn't she?"

"Yeah," you nod, eyes unable to look away from this precious memory. "She was." 

You hand the photo back to her and she takes it, placing it back in the drawer. Back to the darkness.

Back to being forgotten. 

///

The day of your portrait you're feeling a bit of apprehension. You haven't thought this much about your family in years. You've always tried not to. But now, this afternoon, you’ll have to if you want this done right.

Penny is the one to greet you at the door, bright smile and red hair wild. She ushers you in, taking your coat.

Along with the jacket from Jenny you've brought a bouquet of paper violets, the closest thing you could get to the floral tattoo Penny wears. Penny fusses with them, dancing to the kitchen with them in her hand after she tugged on her new jacket. 

Arthur and Penny's home is similar to yours in its layout, and since their fairly new to the community is sparsely decorated as is yours.

"Follow me," Penny tells you leading you into the adjoining room. It's the one you have a couch and fireplace in. However here Arthur has set it up to be a little studio in the section by the window. 

An old looking wood table sits under the front window. The light spills into the room, showcasing the stack of paper, the sharpened pencils in a cup, the chipped ruler and stubs of eraser resting on a portrait in progress. 

You recognize the women in the image immediately, Savannah, one of the women you used to work with in the dining hall. There's also what looks like a tabletop easel made from old wood scraps. Arthur sits there in front of it sketching and humming to himself, totally lost in the moment. He only looks up when Penny touches his shoulder. 

"You're here," he says warmly before pulling out the chair opposite him. "Please take a seat and we can get started."

"Do you mind if I join y'all, sweet pea?" Penny asks you, pointing at the chair by the fireplace. "I love watchin' him work."

"Of course."

You take your seat, strangely nervous. Arthur fixes you with a genuine smile. 

"You ever had anything like this done before?"

"No."

"Okay, I'm gonna ask you a few questions, and I want you to be as detailed as possible."

"Alright," you nod. 

For the next hour Arthur asks you questions about those in the portrait, did they have high foreheads? Did they tilt their head when they listened? Did they have crinkles by their eyes when they smiled?

"Nothing is too big or too small," he tells you. "If it was a wayward freckle, a slightly bent nose, overlapping teeth, I wanna know about it."

You smile. "My sister had rabbit teeth. You know? Uh, like, the two front ones were a bit longer than the rest. I used to call her Bugs." 

"Perfect," Arthur says exuberantly tapping the edge of his pencil into the air. "Just like that.”

"It wasn't even that obvious," you laugh. "She just got so angry every time I said it and she looked so funny when she was upset." 

Arthur grins, not taking his eyes off the drawing. You see him continue to make little marks on the paper held by the easel. You wish you could see what he was doing so far, but aside from the very start as you helped him get the face shapes correct he hasn't shown you the in progress drawing. 

You close your eyes, allowing memories in that you haven't before. Ones that open heartache. 

You describe your father and sister, their faces similar and easy to find behind your eyelids. Your mother is harder, her smile more evasive to recall. 

"My mom always smelled like jasmine. This perfume she wore every day. My dad bought it for her every year." You smile, almost able to recall the notes. Then you frown. "Sorry, I just realized that's not helpful for the drawing."

"It is," Arthur insists. "Please go on." 

For the next hour you talk about your family. You laugh over memories, you grow somber as you tell him about living in the QZ without your mother. He asks a few questions here and there, did your mother have a wider nose? Did your sister’s cheeks swell big when she smiled? Did your father's ears stick out? 

You answer this all and it's like for a moment they're still alive. All waiting back at home for you.  And for a beautiful moment you can make it go quiet all on your own, living in that memory of them. Of warm hugs and trips to the mall and teasing your sister about her teeth.

You take a break a short while later, when Arthur’s questions are less and you find yourself more lost in the memory of your family members.

"You and Penny go have a drink,' Arthur says, his pencil working hurriedly."I'm just gonna finish this up here."

Penny takes you to the kitchen, pouring you a glass of whiskey.

"From my own private collection," she laughs. "I used to secretly make it back in the old QZ. Don't have access to the same supplies here." 

You grin, taking a sip and trying to suppress a grimace. The taste is astringent and goes down like straight acid. She throws hers back, asking if you want another. You shake your head politely.

“You’re a sweet woman,” Penny says, looking at you carefully. “But you got a lot of demons, don’t ya?”

Penny has the uncanny ability to see past the bullshit. She knew about Maria and she can just tell about you. You thought you had most people fooled; you kept quiet, smiled when necessary, volunteered. But Penny can see the bullet holes you cover with band aids.

It makes you uneasy and you shrug.

“Doesn’t everyone?”

“Finished!”

Arthur’s voice rings out and you eagerly go to your feet, excited to see the finished piece as well as avoid Penny’s searing gaze. You walk over to him, your eyes on his as he grins at you, holding the paper towards you.

With delicate reverence you take it between your fingers, turning the picture to face you and all at once your body goes cold.

"Oh my..." You can't even speak past that.

Your hands are trembling as you look down at the group. 

Your sister stands in front, that familiar shy smile on her face, the pale scar over her cheek, the soft of her hair. It's her, staring right back at you with her wide, mirthful eyes. 

Behind her is your father, one heavy hand on her shoulder. He grins into the camera, his floppy hair falling into his eyes, the crinkles at his eyes and mouth, the height, the tapered ends of his fingers. It's all there. 

Beside him, with her arm slung around his waist is your mother. Mom. She is more serious, her countenance playful but stoic, just as she always was. Arthur has also drawn you in there, beaming at the invisible camera, your hand in your sisters. 

Your family unit complete, joyful, as if the Apocalypse never happened. As if you and your sister weren't frozen in time. As if you went off to college and got married and had children and your parents were the cool grandparents that gave out full size chocolate bars at Halloween and took their grandbabies swimming. 

You aren't expecting the sobs that come ripping from your chest at the sight of your family together again. It shocks you, bringing you to your knees as the image before you becomes a watercolor blur. 

Wiry arms are around you at once, holding you like a child as you howl kneeling on the floor. 

"its okay honey-child," Penny whispers, stroking your hair as she holds you. "You go ahead and cry."

And cry you do. You sob for what feels like hours and all the while Penny comforts you rocking you back and forth in her arms. She murmurs the things a mother would, that you’re okay, that she’s here. You cry for all the years you didn’t. You sob for the years you stuffed those feelings deep within yourself, for the times you swallowed the good memories because they brought up the bad. You cry their names, your body twisting and jolting with the sobs that seem to come from your feet.

Penny eventually pulls you, a grown woman, into her narrow lap and pats your hair while making soothing noises. It makes you cry harder at the knowledge you’ll never have that again, that you are alone in this world until your sobs turn to sniffles and then silence. And still Penny sits there with you in her lap, rubbing your back until you pull back. When your crying finally ceases she rubs the wet streaks from your cheeks and gives you a gap-toothed smile.

“Feel good to get that out?”

You nod.

"Thank you," you croak, heart aching. 

She pushes the hair from your eyes gingerly. 

"No sweat, honey. I know it can be a lot. You ask Arthur, I had the same reaction when he drew my brother."

Arthur nods soberly. "She did. Only she didn't have a Penny to comfort her, she was stuck with useless 'ol me."

"You ain't useless one bit," Penny states. “Not one bit.”

You pick yourself up off the ground, wiping at your tears, feeling embarrassed. You don’t know Penny and Arthur all that well, but you just unloaded emotionally on them in a big way. It makes your cheeks flame as you bid them a goodnight.

Arthur places your portrait in between two other pages, not wanting your piece smudged or ruined on your walk home. You know exactly where you’re going to put it – right atop your mantle where you can look at it every day.

You walk home in the brisk cold, your nose twitching. It feels like it’s going to snow again soon, something in the air tells you this.  You make it home quickly, the night descending quickly as you reach for your house keys.

"You're home late."

You spin at the voice, your heart hammering in your chest as the keys clatter to the wood of your porch.  

"What the-"

Joel steps off from the shadows, his dark eyes trained on you. He looks amused when he sees your discomfiture. 

"Didn't mean to scare ya."

He leans down and grabs your keys, handing them back to you with a smirk.

"Yeah, you did."

Joel chuckles softly. 

"Nah, but I gotta admit seein' you jump just then was pretty funny." 

You roll your eyes but your smile gives you away. You open the door, silently inviting him inside. He follows quickly at your heels, his hands on your wrist before you go too far. He motions to the paper in your hand.

"What's that?"

You pause, looking down at the page in your hand. It feels intimate to show him your family. Sex isn’t exactly the same as true intimacy. 

"I uh.... It's... I got a portrait done," you finally explain awkwardly. Joel scans your face, surprised.

"Of yourself?"

"No," you laugh at the suggestion. "Of my family." 

"Oh." 

His eyes drop to your hand again. You know he won't ask but he wants to see. It's human curiosity. You take a beat before slipping the image from between the two other pieces of paper.

You hand him the portrait, careful not to smudge it. Joel takes it between his fingers delicately, knowing that it must be something important. You watch as he scans the image, taking his time to soak in the details. You can see the way his eyes trail over each face, marveling at the sheer talent of Arthur. 

He takes a seat on the nearby couch, his hand on his knee as he holds the portrait. 

"He sure got you right," Joel remarks, squinting a bit. You remember the reading glasses beside his bed and you hold in a giggle. 

You sit back on the couch next to him, surprised when he slides a hand onto your leg companionably, his free hand still holding the portrait as he gazes at it. 

"He got us all right actually," you admit. "It's like I'm really looking at a photo. That's exactly how they all looked." 

“You and your sister look like your Mama.”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Except I got my Dad’s hair.”

“I see that,” Joel observes with a gentle murmur. “And you kinda smile like him.”

You’ve never really noticed, but now that Joel points it out you can see it. You smile to yourself, touched that a part of your father still lives on in you every day. Something about that makes you feel emotional.

Joel looks at the portrait a few moments longer before, satisfied, he places it into the coffee table you have your feet propped up on. 

"That Arthur is sure talented."

"He really is," you murmur. 

This moment between you and Joel feels comfortable. Like old clothes that fit just right. The two of you watch the fire, your eyes drifting over to see Joel has his eyes closed. He must be exhausted today.  You snuggle up against him, your body balanced against his side. He feels warm and safe.

You wonder what you feel like to him. 

Your finger absently traces the back of his hand, coming to graze the band of his broken watch. Your fingers slide against the broken face of it, curious that it's never been repaired. Joel's sleepy voice falls over you.

"That was my last birthday gift from Sarah. She fixed the face of it. I couldn't throw it away when it got busted."

"I get it," you whisper. "If I had anything left of my family I wouldn't throw it away either. I guess that's why the portrait felt so important to get."

Joel is quiet, contemplative. You continue to rest there beside him. You pluck up a bit of courage and place your head on his shoulder. He's usually the one to initiate affection, so you wait to see if he'll voice any objection. He doesn't. 

"You're really lucky you have a real picture of Sarah," you offer. 

"Not as lucky as you'd think," he says softly. 

You can't help but pull back from him, the warmth of his side gone in an instant.

"How is it anything other than lucky, Joel?"

His hand is removed from your leg as Joel shakes his head, his body tensing up. "Just forget it."

A familiar feeling is overtaking you. One that has you gritting your teeth and curling your palms into fists 

"This drawing of my family is amazing. But you don't think I'd rather see them in color?" You don't mean to sound bitter but you are. "And you sit there with the option of having that and you just don’t?” 

"You just don't get it," Joel scowls. 

"No, I guess not," you scoff. "Because if I had that luxury of a having a real photo of my family I'd never be so careless as to just leave it at my brother's house, forgotten."

Too far. 

Your brain's reaction is slower than your mouth's, but it still hits you sharply when you see the hurt in Joel's eyes. It's quickly covered by the familiar sight of rage. 

"You don't know a goddamn thing about me," Joel seethes.

"You're not the only one who lost someone, Joel,” you say, your anger prompting you to stand. Joel does the same, and his eyes narrow on you before he shakes his head, making a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. 

"Fuck this."

He leaves quickly, slamming the door behind him as he exits your home. You don't even turn to watch him go. But at the sound of the door slamming you collapse onto the couch. You don't understand how but Joel's sudden absence hurts like a physical pain but it does.

"I don't care if he ever comes back," you say out loud to your ceiling. "Fucking asshole."

Except you do care. 

You keep trying to convince yourself that you don't want Joel but it's pathetically clear that you do. You want him in your bed, in your arms, talking; sharing parts of yourselves you normally keep hidden. You want the good in him just as much as you want to sweeten the bad. You want to be the reason he smiles. 

It's terrifying to think of sharing so much of yourself with him. But at the same time it feels right. Joel is steadfast and true and even if you weren't bedding each other you think he would hold your secrets safe within him. 

But then again he walked out at the first sign of disagreement, your first fight. First fight? That's laughable. You've done nothing but fight since the day you met. But now it feels different doesn't it? Because he's moved from being Joel the asshole patrol partner to something else. It almost feels like you could be a couple. 

Thoughts of walking hand in hand into town drift over you. Images of Joel stroking your back as you stand grabbing breakfast, kissing him when he wakes up and murmurs he's going to grab coffee, laughing with him during movie nights. 

Beautifully domestic things. Boyfriend things. 

Thinking of Joel as your boyfriend makes you laugh. Boyfriend doesn't seem to suit him. Partner does. Lover does. He feels like he wants to be both to you sometimes. But you can't ask him that yet. Not when things feel so tentative and vulnerable. Not when he left here looking furious and devastated. Like a flower during the first frost you need to be delicate.

Should you go after him? Should you apologize for saying the wrong thing? After all, it wasn't kind, what you'd said. It was downright cruel. But then Anger, that old familiar friend is back heating you from the inside out.

Fuck Joel Miller and his inability to communicate.

Fuck him and his emotional brick walls. 

He's probably at the Bison getting shitfaced, you tell yourself with a sour expression. Probably hitting on some other desperate woman he can make it go quiet for. 

You lay on the couch, listening to the fire, staring up at your ceiling. You hate this pain that rips through you, making you feel nauseated. You hate it because you realize the only thing that will make it better is Joel himself. You’ve come to depend on him.

You care about him.

You like him. 

You want him.

You want to see what he'd look like dressed up at the winter celebration. You want him to ask you to dance and look at you all soft. You want his hands on you like the first time; soft and sweet with an unguarded face. And right now you want his arms circling you and holding you. 

You want to take his hand in yours, feel each finger slowly curl around your palm like a promise. You want to make him smile a real, broad, eye-swallowing grin. You want to lay curled next to him on a bed with the breeze rustling the soft curls that frame his tanned face. 

You want the man that cares for a daughter that isn't his own like she was his own flesh and blood. You want the man who patrols bravely even though he's seen more horrors than most. You want to be there when he has hard days, want to be there to kiss his brow and murmur comfort. 

You want Joel Miller despite how everything began. 

You feel your eyelids growing heavy both with the fatigue of the day and from the emotional expulsion with Joel. You curl onto your side as you drift off to sleep, trying not to think of sorrowful brown eyes or the way your heart aches. 

///

The knock at your door wakes you from your nap on the couch. You didn’t even realize you’d fallen asleep. The fire in the hearth is gone, the house still and dark. You raise yourself up, wandering over to the door with apprehension.

Who the fuck is coming to see you at this time of night?

You rub your eyes, opening the door with a yawn. You weren't expecting to see Joel’s broad shoulders and wide, sorrowful looking eyes reminiscent of a kicked puppy.  And you certainly weren’t expecting the words he then murmurs to you.

"You were right." 

It's late and the streets are empty but you still hold the door open and allow him access inside. He moves past you and you observe he must have been walking outside, the scent of snow and fresh air clinging to him. He hasn't been to the Tipsy Bison as you'd just assumed. 

You cast one last look outside, thankful that it's still desolate before you close the door behind him. You watch Joel move a few steps away, his body tilting from you as you cross your arms over your chest; defensive, fearful.  

"What do you mean I was right?"

He lifts his eyes to you. "About the picture." 

You don't know what to say so you say nothing. You just nod. He nods in return and you can see how uncomfortable he is. He makes sure to stand near the fireplace, shoving his twitching hands into his jean pockets. 

"It's just... I get sorta defensive sometimes and...I’m sorry..."

He trails off, swallowing and shuffling his boot against the floorboards. You know it took a lot for him to come back and to apologize. It’s not in Joel’s nature to show his underbelly, and you’d be foolish to overlook such a gesture.

"I understand,” you offer, coming to stand next to him. “And I'm sorry for what I said too. It was shitty." 

Joel nods again, hands shoving deeper into his pockets.

"S'okay." 

You can feel the animosity slipping away from you, draining out the soles of your feet. You don’t want to fight with Joel. You want him to hold you. You want to hold him. He takes a very deep breath, the kind that comes from low in his soul, the kind that hurts as he exhales before speaking.

"Whenever I look at that photo of Sarah at Tommy's all I can think about is the fact that she'll always be that age. I’ll never get to see her older. She'll never have a family and a career. I'll never walk her down the aisle." 

Joel's voice gets creaky, like the old steps of an ancient house and he blinks back the damp of his eyes. 

"I look at that photo and I think of how I failed her. How she's not here because of me."

His face is stony, but his eyes always tell you everything. And while they're trying valiantly not to connect with yours; you see the pain in them all the same. 

"Joel you didn't fail her."

"Dunno that we'll ever agree on that one," Joel says. "The photo... It just makes me think of how I gave up when she was gone." 

You don't understand and Joel can see that in your expression. He points to the scar at his temple, the one you assume he got fighting raiders.

"I tried to kill myself," Joel says bluntly. "But I couldn't even do that right. I was so scared I flinched at the last minute. S'why I have this scar and my hearing is shit on that side. I'm so fucking useless I couldn't even kill myself." 

Useless. 

You gaze at Joel for a long moment, memorizing everything about his face. The dark, haunted eyes, the creases in his brow and at his eyes. He has the look of a man broken by everything and everyone. 

There's so much you want to say to him, to comfort him with words but none feel right. Instead you extend your hand to him. His eyes scan yours, silently imploring. 

"Let's go to bed." 

His brows rise, clearly expecting your ire from his previous transgression. When you give him a soft smile, warmth touches his expression. Joel nods and takes your hand gratefully. You look at his large hand enveloping yours, feeling the dry warmth of his skin. 

He darts forward, kissing you briefly and then allows you to lead him up to your room and your bed. He's never been in here before and much like you did at his, you watch his dark eyes taking in his surroundings. The books gathered on the dresser, the mismatched pillow cases, the blank walls.    

He watches silently as you come to unbutton his flannel, helping him to shrug it off. You fold it over the chair by the window. You come back, tugging his t-shirt over his head, leaving his hair mussed boyishly. He continues to look at you, his eyes soft when you urge him out of his jeans and then urging him under the covers with you.

Immediately he's pulling you into his arms, burying his face in your neck and inhaling. You both speak at once. 

"You smell like that soap." "You smell like the snow."

The two of you grin to yourselves. You feel the moment shift when his head remains buried in your neck, arms winding tighter around you. He breathes slow and even, almost prompting you to do the same. When your breathing slows you spin in his arms, allowing him to curl around you.

His hand is at your waist, gently tracing over your belly. Through the thin t-shirt you wear he can feel the jagged scar under your sternum. He nuzzles into your neck, inhaling gently as his thumb gently traces it. 

"Will you tell me what happened to your sister?"

His voice is soft, like anything louder will spook you. Tonight is too overwhelming, too emotionally charged. You’re already spent from your time with Arthur and Penny and holding space for Joel as he shared about Sarah. You spin again, this time burrowing tightly against his front.

"Yes,” you whisper. “But not tonight."

He seems satisfied with that because he nods against your collarbone. You continue to hold him, fingers stroking the base of his muscular neck, massaging gently there. He's tight all over, hardly surprising. 

"Tense from patrols," you joke, feeling him melt as you work at his tired muscles. He doesn't reply, he's gone quiet. You pull back, seeing if he's fallen asleep. But instead that wounded look is back in his face. He blinks it away before pulling you tight against him again, face buried in your hair. 

"All that time," Joel murmurs as he holds you. "All that fuckin' time I forced you to do shit out on patrols even when you were scared."

"Joel-"

"I used to think I was doin' you a favor because you were so scared all the time," he continues, his voice scratchy. "Thought it would toughen you up. But after what you've been through it was just ... Torture, wasn't it? I was torturin' you the whole time."

Joel shakes his head at himself, disgusted with his previous actions. You pull back and you can see the anguish in his expression. 

"I'm so sorry." 

"I forgive you, Joel," You reply honestly. You forgave him a long time ago, you think.

"Yeah, well, you probably shouldn't," he sighs. 

"You thought you were doing what was right," you offer. 

His thumb and forefinger find your chin, tilting your face up so he can see your eyes. 

"I never wanted to hurt you," he says, his voice clear, like he wants you to know how serious he is. "I just wanted to keep you safe." 

Tears burn the back of your eyes because you know he's being honest. Something about that touches you behind your ribs, an invisible string tightening between the two of you. 

You move your face towards his, finding his warm, chapped lips easily. You kiss him slowly and for once you're in control. And when you urge him on top of you, you don't do it to make everything quiet; you do it because you just want to. You kiss him sweetly whilst tugging his boxers down and parting your thighs. 

He makes love to you slow and sweet, his words nothing but praise and his hands nothing but tender. You hold him tightly against you, whimpering his name when he groans yours. 

When tears slip out the corners of your eyes he kisses them away, knowing precisely why they fall. 

-----------------------------------------------

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I love seeing early Joel do 180s toward Ellie when he realizes she’s just a scared kid.

He was totally willing to shoot her at the first sign of infection, but when she starts fake twitching you *see* him really grasp the fact that he does *not* want to have to put down a child.

When she makes noise on the stairs he whirls on her all ‘Jesus Christ I told you to be SILENT’ and then he sees how scared she is and he’s almost apologetic toward her.

Even back in the apartment, he’s short tempered until she demands to know that they’ll be safe outside the QZ and everything about him softens.

Early Joel is some *good shit*

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