The Dog Days of Starting Over - Part Seven
Joel Miller x f!reader | WC: 3462 | 18+ MDNI | masterlist
Summary: Joel is hit with the loneliness of an empty nest when Sarah goes overseas for college. Her solution? Adopt a dog. That may just change Joel's life.
Series Tags/Warnings: 18+ mdni. Empty nester Joel. Sad, lonely Joel finds something to be happy about. Humor. Cursing. Dog park shenanigans. Awkward flirting. Socialization for dog and human. Traveling together. Meeting Sarah.
AN: In honor of my beloved Joel's birthday, I bring you the penultimate part of this little adventure. Happy Birthday, Joel. You deserved this kind of life instead of the shit hand you were dealt in canon.
Series Masterlist
Part Six
Part Seven
The weeks that followed slipped into a new kind of rhythm. Dinners out twice a week, sleepovers at each other’s places, dog walks, late nights talking, texting all day long. The companionship and intimacy slowly changed Joel from a grumpy, tired guy, to a less grumpy, sexually satiated man. It was a good look on him, you thought.
Even Tommy noticed.
“Hell, Joel, you’re downright tolerable these days,” he teased one morning at the job site. “Smilin’ at your phone, not glarin’ at the crew. Must be love.”
Joel grunted, but he didn’t deny it.
At the dog park, the weekend crew had stopped calling him Hot Grumpy Dilf and instead referred to you both as the couple, which Joel secretly loved. Walter and Penelope had fallen into their own easy companionship, often curling up together in a shared patch of sun like they’d known each other for years.
By the time Thanksgiving rolled around, Joel was already thinking ahead. Sarah had hinted more than once that she wished she could see you too — “Bring her to London for the holidays, Dad! You know you want to” — and though Joel had brushed it off at first, the idea rooted itself deeper with each passing day.
One chilly early December evening, as he walked you and the dogs through the neighborhood, Joel finally cleared his throat.
“Sarah keeps askin’ when she’s gonna meet you,” he admitted. “Thinkin’ maybe… I could take you to London. For Christmas. If you don’t already have plans and would want somethin’ like that.”
Your hand tightened around his larger one, warm against the cold. You always got a kick out of how awkward he could be when he wasn’t sure of something. It was utterly endearing. “I’d love that.”
Joel let out a quiet breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
For the first time in a long time, the holidays didn’t feel like something pressing down on him, wondering if he made them good enough for Sarah. Now, they felt like something to look forward to, something to truly enjoy.
Joel Miller was a competent man, capable of doing things like rebuilding a deck in record time, navigating a Home Depot blindfolded, raising a level-headed daughter as a single father, and wrestling a stubborn beagle into a bath. He was the one people turned to for help for a great many things. There wasn’t much that made him truly uncomfortable or clumsy, but put him in an airport with a boarding pass, and suddenly he was all thumbs. You loved that about him just as much as you loved how confident and competent he normally was.
Hell, you loved everything about this man. That was becoming clearer every day you spent with him.
“Where in the hell’s the gate?” he muttered, scanning signs like they were written in ancient Sanskrit. You slipped your arm through his, steering him gently in the right direction as you fought a smile.
“Relax, Joel. It’s not a maze. Just follow the arrows.” Gesturing toward the overhead signs, you led the way.
He gave you a look that was equal parts grateful and grumpy. “Arrows don’t help when there’s forty of ‘em pointin’ different directions.”
By the time you reached security, Joel had already set off the metal detector twice. First with his belt buckle, then with a forgotten utility tool in his carryon. “Goddamn it,” he hissed under his breath, earning a stern look from TSA while they thoroughly searched his bag.
You tried not to laugh as you whispered, “First time flying internationally?”
“First time flyin’ period since 1998,” he admitted, cheeks faintly pink. “I ain’t had much chance for travel, what with raisin’ Sarah and all.”
On the plane, Joel fumbled with the seatbelt latch, then stared suspiciously at the seatback screen. You showed him how to use it in case he wanted to watch a movie or two during the flight. When the plane began to taxi, he clutched the armrest so tightly his knuckles turned white.
You leaned closer, brushing your hand over his muscled forearm in soothing comfort. “It’s okay. Just a little bumpy at takeoff. Once we’re up in the air, it’ll smooth out.”
“I ain’t worried,” he lied through clenched teeth, head plastered back against the seat and eyes fixed straight ahead. The dewy drops of sweat beading along his temples proved otherwise. “Uh, huh,” you teased gently, grasping his hand in yours, fingers stroking over the roughened skin in a rhythmic motion to ease his anxiety.
The plane lifted, engines roaring, and Joel muttered something that sounded suspiciously like a prayer. When the seatbelt sign dinged off, he let out a long, slow breath and glanced at you sheepishly. That buckle would remain fully latched the entirety of the flight, however. There was no way in hell Joel was unbuckling that safety device. He was absolutely not getting up while this metal contraption was hurtling through the sky at a bazillion miles an hour, thank you very much.
“You’re enjoyin’ this too much,” he accused, his voice a rumble above the hum of the engines as those big puppy eyes gazed at you.
“A little,” you admitted with a grin, fingers grazing through his hair. You loved how salt peppered through the dark locks. Joel Miller was very much like a fine wine, just getting better with age. “But don’t worry. You’re still rugged and manly and devilishly handsome in my eyes. Even when you’re clutching the armrest like it’s a life raft.”
Joel chuckled despite himself, finally relaxing enough to lace his fingers through yours without cutting off your circulation. You selected a movie on the seatback screen and watched together while sharing a pair of headphones.
Hours later, when the lights dimmed and most passengers had dozed off, Joel whispered, “Ain’t never done this before. Traveled, I mean. With someone like….”
The honesty in his voice tugged at your heart. You squeezed his hand. “First time for everything.”
He nodded, his dark eyes wide and round. “I’d like to do this more with you.”
“Me, too,” you murmured. That three-word phrase ached to tumble out, but you swallowed it down as you watched Joel’s eyes flutter shut.
The damp chill of London air hit as soon as you stepped outside Heathrow, the sky a stubborn gray streaked with jet contrails. Joel looked like a fish out of water, equal parts jet-lagged and wired, hauling both your suitcases from baggage claim with stubborn insistence.
“Dad!” a voice called before you could argue with the impossible man.
Sarah came barreling through the crowd, bundled in a stylish coat, her Texas twang now tinged with Oxford polish. Joel barely had time to set the luggage down before she launched herself into his arms.
“Hey, babygirl,” he murmured into her hair, voice thick with emotion. A sheen of tears glinted in his beautiful eyes, and you watched the display with warmth flooding your heart. Neither of them noticed the picture you snapped with your phone.
When Sarah finally pulled back, her eyes darted immediately to you. A mischievous grin spread across her face. “And this must bethe woman who changed my dad’s life.”
Joel’s ears went pink. “Sarah—”
You reached out to shake her hand, but his daughter was already swatting your hand away, rushing in to hug you warmly. “Lovely to finally meet you in person! I feel like I know you so well already from all the video calls. I’ve never seen him like this, you know. So much less grumpy!”
“Do not,” Joel muttered, cheeks flaming.
Sarah only smirked, switching into her playful Britishisms. “Oh, but it’s true. Proper smitten, this one. Practically a soggy biscuit.”
Joel groaned. “Lord, help me.”
You laughed, instantly charmed by her wit, and Sarah looped her arm through yours like you were already family. “Come on then! Let’s get you both settled. You’re in my city now, and I’ve got the perfect itinerary. It’s late though, so we’ll start fresh in the morn.”
Joel trailed behind, shaking his head but unable to hide the faint smile tugging at his mouth.
For the first time in years, the weight on his shoulders felt like it’d been lifted completely away. He felt like he was floating on clouds.
Sarah wasted no time slipping into full hostess mode. The next morning, she showed up at your hotel with a messenger bag full of guidebooks and a color-coded itinerary.
“First things first,” she declared, handing Joel a paper map of central London like it was the Magna Carta. “Dad, you’re in charge of navigation.”
Joel eyed the maze of streets and underground lines like it was written in another language. The map was worse than the most complex architectural plans he’d ever seen. “Hell, Sarah, this ain’t Texas. Roads on here look like someone dropped spaghetti on a page. How am I supposed to navigate this?”
“That’s why it’ll be fun,” you teased, peering over his shoulder. “Think of it as a scavenger hunt. We’ll just follow you and see where it takes us.”
Sarah smirked, already tugging you toward the Tube entrance. “Brilliant. Just watch, he’ll get us lost within five minutes.”
Joel muttered something about “two against one” but dutifully followed, map in one hand, your hand in the other.
Joel’s phone buzzed with a text from Tommy as you all waited for the next train in the Underground. He was left behind, happy to dog sit while you traveled with Joel and insisted on sending daily proof of life photos while you were across the pond. This first one depicted Walter and Penelope sitting side by side in cowboy hats, tongues lolling, with the caption: “Howdy from home.” The ever-present scowl on Walter’s face really made the look.
Sarah nearly choked on her tea laughing, while Joel muttered about Tommy’s bad influence. His smile betrayed him though, and you already had thoughts of making a cute calendar using pictures of all Walter’s outfits for Joel.
By afternoon, Sarah shepherded you both into a cozy pub near Covent Garden. Dark wood beams, fireplaces, and a chalkboard menu boasting “Pie of the Day” delighted you as you all settled at a table.
Joel ordered a pint of bitter, giving the glass a suspicious sniff before sipping. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Ain’t bad.”
Sarah laughed. “High praise, that. Quick, write it down for the history books.”
You added, “Don’t get too used to it. Next round’s on me, and I’m ordering us something with a ridiculous British name.”
“Like what?” Joel asked.
Sarah grinned. “A cheeky Vimto or a Snakebite. Proper university classics.”
Joel set his glass down firmly. “Ain’t drinkin’ that. Ain’t nothin’ good ever come from somethin’ called a Snakebite.”
By the second pint, Joel had loosened up enough to let Sarah snap a photo of him and you by the fireplace. “For the group chat,” she announced, ignoring Joel’s groan. Leaning over towards you, she whispered, “That would make a great holiday photo. Imma text it to you.”
You gazed at the photo repeatedly the rest of the night, charmed by how the roaring flames backlit the two of you, looking happy and warm in thick sweaters and matching grins. Love clearly sparkled in yours and Joel’s eyes, plain as day. There was no denying it anymore.
The following day, you enjoyed breakfast in your room before Sarah arrived, insistent on dragging you both through Oxford Street for last-minute Christmas shopping. Joel practically choked on his coffee when Tommy sent a shot of both dogs in sunglasses, posing like a buddy cop duo. “Mutt Riggs and Detective Penelope have thoroughly investigated every inch of my house.”
Joel showed you both the buddy cop before leaving the room. Sarah laughed so hard she snorted tea through her nose, causing a coughing fit. You had to lend her a sweater due to the mess she made of the one she wore. While she changed in the bathroom, you teased Joel that Walter looked exactly like him when he’s trying to look intimidating. Joel flashed you a long-suffering look that unknowingly proved your point but squeezed you in a bear hug, nonetheless.
Hours later, Joel trudged behind you and Sarah, loaded down with bags like a reluctant pack mule. “We’re gonna need another suitcase for all this nonsense.”
“Dad,” Sarah said sweetly, waving off his grumbles, “you’re a natural at this. Very Father Christmas chic.”
You slipped a scarf around his neck and pretended to appraise him. “He does have a certain Santa energy, doesn’t he?”
Joel growled, but his ears were pink. “Keep it up, both of you. See where that gets you.”
“Probably another pint,” Sarah shot back, making you laugh.
Later, you ducked into a little shop full of trinkets and Joel reemerged holding a small, wrapped package. He handed it to you, awkward but determined.
“For your desk. When you get that job you deserve,” he said. Inside was a beautiful paperweight engraved with your name, sleek and polished. Your throat tightened.
Sarah watched the exchange with a knowing smile. “Hopeless, Dad. Absolutely, hopelessly, in love.” A flush of warmth rushed through you when he didn’t bother denying it.
Another buzz of Joel’s phone ended the spell. This time, it was a picture of the dogs in Christmas sweaters. Penelope looked elegant and stately; Walter looked like he was about to file a grievance.
Sarah leaned over her dad’s shoulder, a delighted laugh spilling from her lips. “Uncle Tommy is a menace, I love it,” she declared. “He needs to start a Insta for them or something.”
You, meanwhile, gleefully saved every single one of the photos. “I’m making a calendar,” you told her quietly, “for your dad. Walter & Penelope: Fashion Icons.”
“Holy shit, that’s perfect!” Sarah whisper shouted, drawing a look from Joel for cussing. Brushing him off, she added, “He’ll love it, just like he loves you.”
That left you deliriously speechless.
On Christmas Day, Sarah insisted on the most stereotypical of tourist meals for lunch. “I can’t let you leave without fish and chips wrapped in paper. It’s tradition.”
Joel frowned at the heaping parcel of fried cod and chips. “Don’t look like much.”
“Just try it,” you urged. You’d had it a few times back home, but nothing beat the authenticity of having it in London.
He took one bite and paused, eyes narrowing. “Alright. I stand corrected. That’s damn good.”
Sarah slapped the table. “See? London: one. Joel Miller: nil.”
He shook his head, but there was laughter in his eyes. “Y’all just enjoy gangin’ up on me, don’t ya?”
You leaned against him with a grin. “Every second of it.”
The flat Sarah shared with her friends was strung with fairy lights, stockings pinned haphazardly to a mantel. You and Joel exchanged small gifts over tea, Sarah chattering a mile a minute about her classes, her friends, her favorite bakery.
Joel mostly just sat back, quietly content, his gaze drifting between his daughter’s animated face and yours. Two halves of his world, finally in the same room.
At one point Sarah nudged you with a wicked grin. “You know, Dad snores like a chainsaw, right? Good luck with that.”
“Sarah,” Joel warned, but you only laughed. “I’ll manage.”
Sarah smirked. “Oh, she’s a keeper.”
Joel pretended to grumble, but when you caught his eye, the softness there said everything.
For the first time in years, Christmas wasn’t something Joel endured. With you and Sarah on either side of him, it felt like something close to joy.
The morning of departure, Heathrow felt heavy in Joel’s chest. He hated the thought of leaving his little girl behind, no matter how much she’d grown up. Sarah clung to you first, eyes shining, as she said goodbye.
“Take care of him. Don’t let him brood too much on the plane, yeah?” she whispered, her voice wobbly but teasing. The tightness of her hug tugged at your heart.
You hugged her back tighter. “I’ll do my best.”
Then it was Joel’s turn. He held his daughter like he was memorizing her shape, kissing the top of her head the way he had when she was little. “Love you, babygirl,” he murmured, his voice rough. He never wanted to let go.
“Love you too, Dad. And don’t be a grump with her,” she shot back, dabbing at her eyes but smiling. “She’s clearly the best thing that’s happened to you in ages.”
Joel sniffed, not about to argue with that.
The flight home was quiet, but not in a lonely way. You leaned against Joel’s shoulder, half-asleep, while he scrolled through Tommy’s latest barrage of dog photos — Walter in a paper crown from a Christmas cracker, Penelope in antlers, the pair of them in matching wigs, and the last with brightly colored leis. Joel shook his head, muttering, “That man’s gonna be the death of me,” even as his thumb lingered over the pictures, saving each one to his phone before sending each one to you.
By the time the plane landed in Austin, Joel was itching to get back home to his pup and routine. The moment he and you walked into Tommy’s place, Walter launched himself like a cannonball straight into Joel’s legs, baying his relief. Penelope followed with her trademark dignified prance, only to break into a wiggly dance when she saw you.
“’Bout time,” Tommy grinned, handing Joel a beer and you a sparkling cider. “Reckon these two thought you’d abandoned ‘em. Had to spoil ‘em rotten to make up for it. Don’t worry, I only bought three new squeaky toys each.”
“And a million new outfits.” Joel rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop smiling as Walter snuffled at his boots.
That night, the five of you gathered on Tommy’s porch to watch the neighbors set off fireworks. Walter barked at every pop, Penelope judged him for it, and Tommy nearly choked laughing. You leaned into Joel, your head against his shoulder, warmth spreading despite the winter chill.
When midnight struck, Tommy whooped, Penelope sneezed, and Walter tried to eat a sparkler wrapper. Joel kissed your temple, his hand sliding over yours. “Happy New Year,” he said softly, the words carrying both promise and relief.
You looked up at him, smiling through the noise and the chaos. “Happy New Year.”
You kissed him then, conveying everything you still weren’t ready to put to voice. And for the first time in longer than either of you cared to admit, it felt like a year worth looking forward to.
By morning, Tommy’s kitchen was a scene of domestic chaos. Walter barked at the toaster. Penelope whined at the fridge every time it opened. Tommy burned the bacon because he was too busy laughing at Joel, who had just stubbed his toe on the corner of the table.
“Christ almighty, it’s like a zoo in here,” Joel grumbled, but there was a softness to it.
You padded in wearing one of Joel’s flannels, hair mussed from sleep, and immediately grabbed a mug of coffee. Walter abandoned his sentinel post at the toaster to flop at your feet. Joel watched the whole scene like a man who couldn’t believe his luck.
“Think this is what you want, huh?” Tommy teased, handing Joel a plate piled with the less-burned bacon. “A woman, two dogs, chaos in the kitchen? ‘Cause buddy, looks like you’re already livin’ it.”
Joel grunted, but his ears went red. He slid a plate in front of you before answering. “Ain’t the worst thing,” he admitted quietly.
You caught his eye over your coffee mug, smiling like you knew exactly what he meant.
After breakfast, the three of you took the dogs for a walk down the quiet, frost-dusted street. Walter snuffled every yard. Penelope trotted with purpose, as if she was in charge of the whole neighborhood.
Joel slipped his hand into yours, tentative at first, then firmer when you squeezed back. “Reckon this year’s gonna look a lot different,” he said, his voice low, like he was testing the words out loud. “But maybe… better. If you’ll stick around.”
“Joel,” you said softly, almost laughing at how unsure he sounded. “I’m not going anywhere.”
The dogs tugged ahead, tangling the leashes, and Tommy hollered from behind, “Y’all gonna keep starin’ at each other, or are you gonna help me wrangle these two idiots?”
Joel chuckled, cheeks warm, and pulled you closer. “I need to tell you somethin’,” he murmured. You met his gaze eagerly and, without hesitation, he said, “I love you.”
Your face transformed before his eyes, a bright smile taking over, eyes sparkling. “Well, what a coincidence. I love you, too.”
tbc
Part Eight
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