masterlist
summary: IN WHICH — joel miller comes to you hurt and in pain, after realizing that you are the only one that he can find peace with - you're there to welcome him with open arms.
warnings: post outbreak!joel, boston qz era!joel, gender neutral!reader, no use of y/n, frenemies to lovers type trope, angsty to fluff, mentions of blood/injuries/death (lightly mentioned), joel being so sappy i love it, swearing, cute ending. lmk if i missed anything!
a/n: i hope u love this as much as i do. i've been meaning to write it for a while, and it's a bit of a diff style from my writing but i love how it turned out! make sure to reblog, like, comment and follow for more! xoxo
It had to have been three in the morning by now. When Joel said he was going to be at your place by seven, you believed him. He was a man of his word after all - or at least ninety nine percent of the time he was. He had told you this morning that he was heading outside of the walls after his shift at the "graveyard" (the nickname given to where the bodies of infected were burned), and he would be back just after sunset. You had protested to join him on his well-travelled route, but he had forbid you from going with him. Despite not going with him, he had promised to swing by your place once he was back and drop off any goods he may have scavenged while out.
You weren't sure why he wouldn't agree to let you come, it wasn't like he was your father, or brother, or boyfriend - you guys were friends. Sure, the two of you had hooked up every so often, but that gives him no right to make decisions for you, about what you can do or where you can go. It's the zombie apocalypse for Christ sake, you can do what you want when you want.
You had been up for an extra few hours, it was way past the time you would usually be asleep. You were waiting for that knock on the door, you were waiting for the bickers on why you were awake and waiting for his return, you were waiting for Joel. In all honesty, you weren't sure why you were up. Maybe it was the thought in the back of your head that he was dead, or stranded alone somewhere far outside of the walls.
You had to shake those gruesome thoughts out of your head as you were forced up and toward your window, having to close it due to the newly started rain. As soon as the window was shut, the sounds of pitter-patter were echoed through your entire apartment, the only thing it did was put you on edge. He was probably at home, you thought to yourself, thinking it was too late to bother you and that he would see you first thing tomorrow. You could only hope for that.
You had decided it would be best to go and sit down on your sofa, the one in front of the TV that hadn't worked for twenty something years. It wouldn't hurt you if you remained up for the next little bit, just in case. In case there would be a knock on your door, in case he showed up. You took a seat on the well weared in part of the sofa, kicking your shoes off and cuddling up to the blanket covering the arm. It wouldn't hurt you if you stayed up waiting with your eyes shut, would it?
It was a quarter to five when a few sets of knocks went off at your door. You had shot up from the light rest you had fallen into, mentally cursing yourself for not being able to stay up. Was it Joel? You really shouldn't be caring this much about him, or this situation. You were sure it wasn't anything serious, but this is what friends do for each other, right?
You had gotten up as quick as you could, tripping over your shoes and almost face planting on the ground. Without spending any time to worry about it, you moved over to the door. Whoever it was on the other side, Joel or not, mustn’t have heard you make your way over to the door since there was another set of desperate knocks. It felt like an eternity while you undid all four locks, before swinging it open.
Your eyes could only fall into the gaze of the grey ones in front of you. You weren't sure if he was crying, or if the paths under his eyes were extra watery from the torrential downpour happening outside (though, you wouldn't question him about it). Your eyes had scanned over his saddened face, to the puddle of water beneath his shoes. Your hand had automatically found its way to cup his cheek, your thumb running over his skin as gentle as possible, "Fuck, Joel."
You could feel him soften his muscles when you did this, despite his facial expression remaining neutral, "I gotta come in." He had mumbled, just loud enough for you to hear. You had immediately dropped your hand from his face, and moved out of the doorframe, allowing Joel to enter. It was only when the dull light from your candle lit lamp engulfed Joel that you could really see what had happened to him.
A black eye, a busted lip, small bruises littered around every masculine feature he had. You were going to kill whoever did this to him. "I got clothes that'll fit you, hold on." You had turned and shuffled your way into your room, digging through the drawers when you had reached them. You had a pair of black sweatpants that were too big on you, but would most likely fit Joel. Before leaving the room, you swiped a shirt that was laying in the pile of clean clothes off to the side.
You emerged not long after, seeing the barely-clothed man remove his last sock off his right foot. You two were past the point of being embarrassed in front of each other, you had learned to adapt due to the many years spent surviving together. As you walked past Joel, toward the kitchen, you shoved the clothes into his arms. You wanted to give him a little privacy, so he could hold onto his pride, if he managed to have any left.
Making your way into the kitchen, you immediately got out a mug from your tiny mug collection, and turned the gas-powered stove top on. Placing the mug beside the stove, you had brought over a little pot and dumped an entire bottle of water into it. It didn't take long for the water to boil, so once it was done, you immediately put it in the mug labeled "World's Best Boss" and started to scavenge. You hadn't opened the box of tea you were looking for, you wanted to save it for a special occasion. Tonight was special enough, right?
You had found it after a moment of searching, taking a packet out of the box and moving back over to the living room. Your eyes fell on the emptiness of the sofa, the man nowhere to be found. He couldn't have left, you didn't hear the door open or close. Just before you were going to call out for him, he walked out of the darkness (his limp more noticeable than before). "Put the clothes'n y'ur bath tub, didn't want the floor all wet for ya' to clean." His voice was hoarse.
You shot him an almost unapologetic look as you placed the mug down, dropping the tea bag inside. "Stop worryin' 'bout that, now sit down and let me help." For once in his life, Joel Miller kept quiet and did what you told him. You had wished it would be under different circumstances, but a win is a win. "Now," You began, "I know you like coffee, but this was all I could find."
It had to taken Joel a moment before he realized that there was a warm drink waiting for him, his nose too stuffed to have taken in the scent. It had been a while since Joel had something warm to drink, a while since someone's cared enough about him to make him something like that. Even though he despised any sort of drink other than coffee (and water, of course), he would not complain about this. Not now, not ever. He reached forward for the mug, carefully bringing it back to his lap. "Best boss, hm?"
You could only giggle as you were now opposite of Joel, instead of being on the couch, you had pushed it away and were digging on the floor. Months ago, you had figured out there were two layers of wood that divided you and the person who occupied the apartment below you. That space served as a cubby, so you figured why not use it for its purpose? "You're gonna be jumpin' with joy, Joel Miller." He looked puzzled, trying his best to ignore the immense pounding that came from everywhere in his body. That's when he caught glimpse of what you were holding, headache medicine.
Sure, headache medicine was some measly little thing that probably didn't work as well as it used to anymore, not many people would bat an eye at it before the apocalypse. But now, it was gold. People were sentenced to the firing squad if any guard in the QZ found out about medicine that wasn't recorded, since it was so scarce. "Why the fuck do you have that?" Was all Joel could say, forgetting about himself for a moment, and worrying about you. That's what friends do, right?
"For emergencies like this." You had gotten up from the floor, kicking the wooden plank back into its home before moving over to Joel. You had opened the cap, taking out four. Four would send you into the doctors office if you took them before they expired, but since they expired twenty years ago, they only worked half (if you were lucky) of what they usually would. You had reached out for Joel's hand and placed the pills in there, "Drink tea with'em to help them go down easier."
He listened to you, silent for a moment. After he had swallowed the mouthful (literally) of pills, he broke silence. "I don't want you runnin' 'round'n gettin' shit like that." He was referring to the pills, "You know what happens if ya' get caught." How could even talk this much with a busted lip, you thought to yourself. You repeated the 'if ya' get caught' part to him as you slipped away once more into the kitchen.
Joel called your name out a few times as you left, leaning farther back into the couch each time. By you talking to him, he was distracted. Distracted from the crushing headache, the horrible tension that rose to his lips every time words were escaping from his mouth, the pain throughout his body. He would tell you what happened, when you came back, but only if you asked.
You returned with a small bowl and a rag, something to clean up his face (and anywhere under the clothes he may want cleaned). You sat down beside Joel, on the sofa, "Lay down." He looked confused, not really understanding what you had meant. Not wanting to waste anymore time with those open wounds leaking every so often, you grabbed his shoulders and forcefully (yet carefully) brought him down so his head was rested in your lap.
You could tell that it hurt Joel when you did that by the small grunts he had managed to let escape his lips. You didn't mean to hurt him, not at all, but you couldn't deal with any bickering if he decided to start now. "So, Mister Miller," You began, dipping the rag into the bowl, "How did you get your shit rocked so badly?"
He wasn't impressed by the way you put it, shooting you a quick glare, "Runners." Was all he said. Runners? How could runners do this to him? A million thoughts ran through your head, but you quickly cut yourself short. "Are you-" Joel knew what you were asking, was he bit? "No." He responded, a bit too quick, before continuing his short, yet descriptive, story, "Was with a few people ya'dunno, came across Runners out in a building, they all turned on me'n tried to get out." He paused for a moment, "Four'o them plus two runners on me, would've killed 'em myself if the runners didn't get 'em first."
You could tell Joel was hesitant to tell you, thinking you would see him as weak. No, far from that actually. You could only think highly of the man laying in your lap, for he's how you were thriving in this apocalypse. You brought the dampened rag to the gash on his cheek, he jumped as it was alcohol, and not water, "Don't beat yourself up too much for it," Joel flinched at the stinging sensation, "Your secret's safe with me."
Joel had crossed his arms, his hands brushing past your thighs. You felt as if they lingered too long, maybe it wasn't a passing matter. He's comfortable with you, you know that. This is what friends do, right? You had assessed the other wounds on his face, almost all disinfected completely. The bowl of alcohol now having a slight red tone to it.
After a moment, Joel broke the comfortable silence the two of you were in, "I shouldn't have came. Wastin' all y'ur supplies'n all." This didn't impress you, so Joel had earned a slight slap on his shoulder. "Just let me take care of you, god dammit. How many times have you done it for me?" He was silent after that, knowing. Countless times, after roudy street fights for ration cards, Joel had cleaned you up. Cleaned the blood from your face and stitched the deep gashes that would appear. You were only returning the favour, because that's what friends do.
"Plus," You added now, "we can just scavenge more stuff the next time we take a vacation from this place." If you taking out medicine for him didn't piss him off, this sure as hell did. Without thinking, he reached forward and grabbed your wrist, the wrist that was cleaning up his purpled lip. "Ya' ain't goin' out there, not now, not ever." You had shooed his hand off from you, brushing the comment off, "Can't protect me forever, boss. What's a little fun anyway?" You shouldn't have had the playful grin on your face, but you couldn't help yourself.
Joel could only give you an unhappy look, knowing that you couldn't be stopped with it, as much as he might've tried. He wasn't in the mood to fight you, he wasn't ever really in the mood to fight you. Joel had sat up without a warning, almost causing whatever was left in the bowl to go flying. This earned a whack from you.
"Uhm, ow." He muttered, maybe you shouldn't have done that, added to his pain and all. "Gotta get goin', though." He didn't want to say that, you could tell. It was the tone that he said it in. You could only meet his gaze for a moment, "Stay the night." When someone was hurting like this, how could you say no. How could you turn your best friend away, and let him go home, when he wasn't okay?
You weren't expecting Joel to agree to stay, or at least not cave in without any convincing. It was strange, really, he was acting different. It had to have been the drugs that you had given him, you thought to yourself, maybe it had something that made you nicer to the people you're close with.
You had helped the man up, and left the dirty rag on the table. That was tomorrow (well, when you woke up)'s problem. You took his arm and wrapped it around your shoulders, helping him walk better. You would mother him about his limp and legs when he was recovered. Joel was holding onto you as he moved in sync with you to your room.
Once you got there, you had let go of him. He looked at you for a moment, before turning away. "Can ya', uh, help with my shirt?" He asked. You could only nod your head, maybe a bit too quick for your liking. "Yeah, o'course." Then, following what you just agreed to do, you grabbed the hems of the shirt Joel was wearing and helped to slide it off of him. This is what friends do, right?
You tried your best not to stare, you really did, but the marks on his chest pulled you in. After taking a moment longer to let your eyes linger, you pulled away and helped him under the comforter. "I'll take care'o those tomorrow." You had turned to make your way the door, to sleep on the couch, to give Joel as much space as he could. He grabbed your wrist, though, before you were able to get too far from him. "Can you, er, stay?"
Joel wasn't looking at you when he asked that, he was looking anywhere but. You wanted to stay, really did you, but you felt like you couldn't. "Listen, Joel, I want to, bu-" You were cut off by him interrupting you, "Please." Please. Joel Miller doesn't say please. This took you almost by shock, but you tried not to show it. You only nodded your head, and moved over to the other side of the bed.
You could feel Joel watching your every move, but you didn't care at this moment. You removed your pants, but kept your shirt undergarments on. You would call today a day of victories, not for Joel, but for you. He had listened to you so much, and didn't fight it. You wish it was under different circumstances, but a win is a win. You knew he wasn't up to his usual par, but it still counted.
It happened with a blink of an eye. First you were hesitant to get into the bed with him, not wanting any mixed signals to be sent at the current moment, next you were laying right beside him, and his current good arm wrapped around your waist. If Joel was happy, you were happy. The sounds of rain made it better, made it more peaceful for Joel. He could relax, and take his mind off of the pain he was feeling. This is what friends do for each other.
flawless, the neighbourhood
