a/n: I got this one out for my birthday month! I wasn't sure if I would be able to, so I'm real happy. Hope you enjoy it it and as always REBLOGS and COMMENTS are what keep me goin'! I LOVE hearing your analysis on characters, things you like or (more likely in this chapter) don't like! heh heh. Just keep in mind we're heading for a HEA eventually....
Thanks for all your support and being gracious about me updating a little slower going forward. It really takes the pressure off of me. And to the several anon asks about how to send me money to treat myself (because y'all are the sweetest) the only way as of right now is paypal (unfortunately) via [email protected] (you are NOT obligated in the least, this is just for those who asked.)
love, emma
story masterlist here
Chapter 19: Under the Lights
The entire walk back to your house you don’t think you blink once. Your eyes stare blindly ahead of you, feet moving mechanically on a trail you’d know blindfolded. Home. Safety away from potentially prying eyes and the memory of Joel’s cruelty.
The world feels tilted. Almost like those silly fun house carnival attractions you used to enjoy walking through with your sister. You used to love how everything moved in a colorful tunnel as you walked the straight plywood towards the exit, the swirling effect tricking your mind.
It always resulted in you and Charlotte teetering through the fun house hand in hand, shoulders bumping before you made it out the end of the tunnel, blinking at the sun outside the attraction and laughing, head fuzzy and feet wobbly.
But nothing is funny about this. Nothing is funny about the way Joel looked at you as if you were nothing.
Useless.
That word keeps floating in your mind. That word that's followed you for what feels like forever. Your teeth gnash together, clenched tightly, jaw muscle feathering. You know that if you open your mouth even a fraction a low, mournful howl will escape you.
You arrive and you go to your bed, not even bothering to get undressed. You close your eyes and you sleep. It’s the sleep of the exhausted, the sleep of the shocked. When you wake up hours later the sky is still dark, your eyes crusty and your mouth sour.
Strangely the first thought you have when you wake up isn’t Joel, its Chestnut. How he heard your scream and came thundering towards you. How he sacrificed everything for you, for someone who couldn’t even keep him safe. The thoughts you’ve been trying to avoid since it all happened.
You can still hear the sound of him munching on apple skin, of the gentle whinny he made when he saw you approach. The way he made you feel cared for and safe even in the darkest moments on patrols.
Chestnut. I’m so sorry.
You rise to shower, brush your teeth and then you crawl back into bed naked. You don't know how long you cry for because now you can't hold them back. You curl into the fetal position, eyes slammed shut and your body wracked with sobs.
It goes on like this for two entire days.
Barely eating, barely getting out of bed, barely living. But oh so many tears. Tears of anger of longing of pain. They were brought on by memories of Chestnut’s nuzzle against your cheek, of the way Joel's eyes went dark, memories of the things he used to say, the sweet things he would croon in your ear.
I wanna give you everythin'.
Was it fear that made him do this? Had what happened with you out on patrols just terrified him into this? Or was it something worse? Was it a wake-up call for him that you weren't worth his time? That you were in fact useless? Had he just suddenly realized that caring for you was too big a burden?
That thought makes you sick.
///
The knock on your door Saturday morning wakes you, face sticky with tears, leg sore under the bandage and back aching from laying in so much the last few days. You try to ignore the thrum against wood, hoping whomever is on the other side of the door just fucks off.
But the banging persists and with great effort you pull yourself from bed. You throw on a robe and shuffle to the front door.
Jennifer stands on the other side, smile dimming when she takes in your puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Then she looks down to see your bandaged leg and she goes white as a sheet.
"What the fuck happened?"
You tell her quickly, glossing over some of the embarrassing details, not lingering on others. It's painful to recount it. You want to go back to bed and sleep. You want to keep crying over a love that will simply never work. You want to become invisible like before.
Jennifer throws her arms around you pulling you into a bear hug that you stand stiffly in. News travels eventually around a small town like Jackson, even if those involved are tight-lipped.
"I'm so glad you're okay," she says emphatically.
"Yeah me too."
You say it without conviction. Right now you wish the bullet had gone right through your heart. Surely it couldn't hurt worse than it does right now? Jennifer releases you, eyes going down to your bound calf again.
"Is it really painful?"
"Nah, it wasn't that deep. Looks worse than it actually is." You raise your leg and circle your ankle as you recall your discharge orders from Lily. "Lily said I should be able to start walking on it."
"Oh good, then you're still up for getting the tree tomorrow."
Fuck. The tree. You'd forgotten all about it. You feel the blood drain from your face, trying in vain to come up with a reason you can't join them.
"I'm sure Joel will do most of the work chopping it down," Jennifer adds. "You and I get to do the fun decorating stuff. Tommy says he's stringing up the lights next week and...."
Jennifer's voice fades into the background as your breathing accelerates. You feel rooted to the spot, stricken at the thought of having to see Joel again.
"I think I'm getting a cold," you suddenly tell her, cringing at how lame that sounds. You want to curl into yourself. You want to avoid Joel for the rest of your life.
"We don't have to do that much," she says, softening her tone at your hesitation. "We can do a bit each day until you feel better."
I'll never feel better again.
You can tell Jennifer won't accept anything less than you compliance and you're too tired to fight her on it. So you force a smile and nod and Jennifer tells you she’ll be back to pick you up tomorrow mid-morning.
“If you need anything let me know,” she says giving you a tight hug in farewell.
A new heart, Jennifer. I’d love one of those.
///
By the third day you find the strength to pull yourself from bed, to shower, to tug on clean clothes, to brush your teeth. And it's because you're no longer fueled on heartbreak, but on the molten heat of fury.
Joel Miller is no picnic himself. Recalcitrant, withdrawn, quick to anger He's no fucking prize, there's a reason he's been single ever since he got to the city, you tell yourself. Good looks couldn't hide his many shortcomings.
You cringe at the way you used to think about him. The way you dreamt about waking up in his arms, the trust you put in a man you barely knew. You thought you knew him, but you couldn't have. He couldn't look at you like a stranger like he did that last day if you really knew him. The only thing consistent was Joel with his scraps of affection. Joel who you don't understand but still want despite knowing he potentially doesn't see you like that.
How dare he think that he makes the rules for everything.
You want to scream or punch something but do neither. Instead you go to the kitchen and begin to rummage through the cupboards. You take the red canister of Folgers coffee in your hands and you dump it into the trash. You don't even want to keep the can anymore.
“Fuck your fucking coffee.”
You start scanning the kitchen shelves and surfaces and you spot the flowers on the table that he brought you, from the night that you thought was a date. Pathetic. How were you so pathetic over him? Mooning about a future with Joel fucking Miller?
He’s just a man. An old, bitter man who couldn’t truly care about anyone unless it was his daughters. No wonder he was a single dad, no wonder his wife or girlfriend or fiancée or whatever left him. He would have disappointed you too if you’d been stupid enough to stay with him.
You dodged a bullet, you avoided a fate you would have bemoaned. You’re happy he’s gone. Delighted you don’t have to put up with his mood swings and his miserable fucking puppy-dog eyes.
You brutally rip the flowers to shreds, spit flying as you growl out how much you can't stand him. You want every piece of Joel to be wiped from your home, torn, ripped, and ruined. You want it to be like he never existed. You want to savagely tear him from your life and scrub him from your mind.
Your chest is heaving by the time you’re done, the shredded paper at your feet and scattered along the table. Your eyes fly around the room, desperate to find some other evidence he was in your life, needing to destroy it.
You spot the red of your scarf and you stomp over towards it, fingers outstretched. That red fucking scarf. You'll take great joy in plucking it apart stitch by stitch and throwing it in the trash. You’re just about to pluck it from its spot on the hook when there's a knock at the door.
Your strides stop and you glance to your right. Your entire body is vibrating, hoping its Joel. Your adrenaline is pumping, almost wanting the confrontation. You want to tell him to his face that he’s the useless piece of shit, not you!
Instead as you pull open the door you see that Ellie looking at you with wide eyes and an eager smile. She takes in your flushed face and tangled hair and you see her assess you quietly before she speaks.
"Hey wanna go for breakfast together?"
You feel a pang of hurt go through you just at the sight of her. She’s part Joel and yet not. She’s a piece of the puzzle that doesn’t fit into your anger. You deflate at the sight of her, all the anger flooding out of you.
"Hey Ellie," you offer with a weak smile. "Uh, I'm kinda tired."
"The snow will wake you up," she insists reaching for your hand. "C'mon! I haven't seen you in days!"
Because I haven’t left my house in days. Because your dad broke my heart.
You feel detached from your body, looking down at her tiny fingers on your wrist, the eager look in her eyes. She's Joel's daughter, a piece of him. And while you don't want to think about Joel anymore there's no way to push Ellie out of your heart. She did nothing wrong.
"Sure, let's go."
///
It's not so busy this time of the morning and you and Ellie have an entire table to yourselves.
You sip your hot tea slowly, savoring the taste before you dig into your eggs and pancakes, eating with gusto. You're hungrier then you thought. You're on your third mouthful when you notice Ellie smirking at you.
"See? I knew you needed to come for breakfast."
You swallow, grinning. "When you're right, you're right."
She is right. Some of the wild fury you’d been living off of has dimmed a fraction. You don’t feel happy, but you don’t feel as reckless as before. You even smile a few times when she tells you something funny about school.
"So where have you been hiding all week?" She asks sounding years older than her teenage self.
"Been sick in bed," you lie, swirling the milk in your second cup of tea. "Haven't really left the house."
"You and Joel must've caught the same bug," Ellie reasons between bites of egg. "He's been in bed the last few days too."
You swallow your grimace. You don't care what Joel's been doing. You don't care if he's caught a cold. You hope it turns to pneumonia. You hope he puked for two days straight.
No, you’re not going to waste thoughts on Joel anymore. You want to push him from your life and your mind. Instead you turn all your focus to the sweet-faced teen across from you drinking her milk in gulps.
"So how did the date with Dina go?"
"Real good," Ellie grins, a dusting of pink under her freckles. "She loved the flowers."
"Yeah?"
"And she thought the apple tarts were the best fucking thing she's ever eaten. I told her we made them together. I think she was pretty impressed but I dunno, maybe she was just saying it."
"Dina doesn't seem the type to blow smoke."
"Yeah, she's honest," Ellie nods, looking at her pancakes with a soft pull of her mouth to one side. "She just says what she's thinking all the time."
"You always said honesty was important to you," you remind her.
"Yeah... I really like her," Ellie offers quietly, eyes unable to meet yours. "I think I want her to be my girlfriend."
Your heart swells just as acutely as it cracks. Love is possible for some. Love is not possible for you. Love was never in the cards for you, but for Ellie? There’s a lifetime of possibility with the person she cares for.
"I think that's a great idea."
"How do I do that?"
"You say Dina will you be my girlfriend."
"That's it?" Ellie leans back in her chair a little awe-struck. "That easy?"
Yeah, that easy. So easy that you and Joel never mentioned it in the weeks you were together. So easy that you just assumed you were together until he said those horrible things and cast you aside. Your face contorts into what you hope is a smile.
"For some people it is."
You spot Dina over Ellie's shoulders entering the dining hall and scanning it for Ellie. When she spots her you see the way the girl struggles to hide a goofy smile before approaching the table, swinging her long black braid over her shoulder. You've seen Dina plenty of times around town but this is the first time you've seen her look nervous.
"Hi El."
Ellie jerks her eyes up to see the girl standing awkwardly beside the end of the table. You smile to yourself, trying to look at your tea to give them privacy.
"Hey Dee.”
The two stare at each other with that puppy love look of flushed cheeks and quickened breathing. You can’t help but sneak a glance at the two of them before going back to your teacup, fingers wrapped tightly around it.
"Wanna walk to school together?"
"Sure."
Ellie shoots you a concerned look, worried you'll be offended at her sudden departure. You give her a subtle wink, raising your teacup to your mouth.
"Have a great day."
Ellie smiles at you, pulling herself from the table and chatting animatedly with Diana. You don't miss how their shoulders touch as they walk, how they can't stop looking at each other and smiling. You should be jealous or hurt but you feel neither of those things. You just feel happy for her.
Ellie has been through so much in her short life, knowing that she has this connection makes you feel good. It makes you feel like there's still hope left in the world for other people.
You take a glance around the fairly sparse canteen, trying not to focus on the couples and the families that sit bunched up together. You feel so impossibly alone right now. With Ellie gone you decide it’s safe for you to leave.
You’re just sliding off of the bench seat when a voice calls out your name. For a split second it almost sounds like Joel, so much so that you actually whimper anxiously. But when you glance up it’s to see the friendly face of Tommy striding your way.
“Hey,” Tommy smiles as he takes the seat opposite you. His cheeks are pink tinged and his jacket thick, but there are dark circles under his eyes.
He looks like he’s been out all morning despite the early hour. You wonder if Maria is okay, but right now you know you can’t be any help to her. There’s too big a chance of seeing Joel at their house. And honestly, you’re so broken yourself you don’t think you can be around too many people. Still despite this, seeing Tommy look so tired across from you makes you feel guilty, like you should be checking up on your friend.
“How’s Maria?”
“She’s doin’ real good actually,” Tommy says and there’s a relief in his smile when he says this. Like the storm clouds have passed by. “She’s up and she’s spendin’ lots of time with Douglas. Things seem… good.”
Despite your own heartache a smile blooms across your features.
“That’s awesome.”
“Yeah,” Tommy says nodding. He gives you a brief smile, one that seems agitated and it sets off alarm bells.
“What’s up Tommy?”
“I was wonderin’ if you’d maybe you’d wanna start a little shop in town. A bakery. We don’t have one.”
That was not what you were expecting. The town of Jackson City is being built up every week. Last week there was the addition of a glazing studio and the glass was being steadily replaced in shop windows and homes.
Still, his suggestion throws you.
“But the kitchen-?”
“You know better than anyone they’re overburdened as it is,” Tommy acknowledges, hand lifting. “Besides, we’re hoping to shut down the dining hall for lunch and dinners next year.”
“What?”
“A bunch of folks wanna do their own restaurants,” Tommy says with a twinkle to his dark eyes. “Alice wants to start up a BBQ joint, Lark wants to do a sandwich shop. Nancy and her husband are talkin’ about opening up a little café and an in Inn for folks traveling through. Could mean good trade. Plus folks can get their own groceries now we got a steady supply at the Twin Sisters Grocers. If you did some of the breads and desserts I think that would be amazin’.”
You stare at him, eyes wide as he gives you all this detail. It sounds so modern in a world that feels so left behind. You can almost imagine the bustling downtown filled with hand painted signs and bulb lights. How children will run through the streets in a world that isn’t as far away from the one you recall.
You’d never considered starting your own shop in town because you never thought you had that much to offer aside from your labor. But you can imagine it now – the scent of cinnamon buns in the air, soft dough rising in the ovens. The thought of it makes you feel anxious and excited all at once.
“We could find someone to assist you,” Tommy offers when he sees you hesitate. “There’s plenty of folks who would love it, I’m sure.”
“But what about patrols?”
Tommy licks his upper lip nervously, a trait he and Joel share in common. It makes you physically cringe, the pain of it sinking deep in your belly.
“Well, some new folks that just moved into Jackson last week that’re a great shot and a came with their own horses. When they heard about patrols they were real interested.”
Tommy goes quiet and only the sounds of scraping silverware and quiet conversation in the distance remains. Realization falls over you like a heavy blanket the longer you stare at one another.
"You're taking me off patrols."
"I never thought you liked ‘em much," Tommy says with a furrowed brow. "I remember at the start how nervous you were and Joel mentioned how anxious you get and we figured this was for the best. Thought you'd be relieved."
So this was Joel's idea. Of course it was.
You're off patrols. Your last tenuous connection to Joel, that thin string, is now severed. And along with that is a bitterness that chokes you. It’s clear that the entire ruse was just to get you off of patrols. No need to pretend a bakery was ever actually something the town needed or wanted. You feel your eyes hardening, your jaw clenching.
“I don’t think a bakery is my thing. But I get if you want me off patrols, just stick me anywhere,” you tell him quietly. “I don’t really care where I work.”
Tommy looks troubled by your reaction, but he doesn’t make any move to change your mind. He seems to know you well enough to know you’re not in the mood for further discussion. Instead he blinks at the table, searching his mind for somewhere to slot you.
“Gardening might be nice.”
“Sure.”
“Okay then,” Tommy says uneasily and sensing the growing tension in the air he rises, pulling his jacket collar up before he prepares to head back into the snow. “But if you change your mind about the bakery, just gimme the word.”
“Uh huh.”
You don’t want him exit the dining hall. You don’t even remember going home. All you know is that one moment you’re in the dining hall and the next you’re curled up in your bed, the tears so violent they wrack your body, the sobs silent.
///
There was a time in your life when you guarded everything about yourself. When people in Jackson City knew only your first name. When they thought of you as quiet and deeply withdrawn.
You wish you could go back to that time.
Because now as you make your way from your home to collect the tree with Jennifer and are greeted with a myriad of friendly faces. All you wish is for your previous anonymity. You're nursing a broken heart you can't tell anyone about.
You wish you were once again invisible.
Jennifer chatters on beside you, her Hands gesticulating wildly in front of her. But you barely pay attention. You're still cold despite being bundled up, but you think that might just be your sensitivity to everything; Loud noises, dark rooms.
You could have denied Jennifer if you really tried. You could have told her you didn’t want to go, that your leg was too sore. But there had been that pathetic part of you that was desperate to see him. That part that craved the sound of his voice, the sight of his face. The part you tried to time and time again smother, but it would not die.
You also feel the need to show that you aren’t hurt, that you don’t care about him just like he doesn’t care about you.
So you and a bright and chirpy Jennifer had met Joel in the Town Square avoiding each other's eyes by looking studiously at the ground. Jennifer had been none the wiser chatting happily as the three of you made your way into the forest towards the marked tree with Joel carrying a large sled behind him.’
“This is just the best time of the year,” Jennifer said, nudging you gently. “Don’t you think?”
You had only been able to smile weakly and nod while your mind filled itself was filled with crowded thoughts, all of them centered on the tall man who won't meet your eyes or engage in conversation.
When you pass the same farmhouse he fucked you weeks earlier, whispering that you were his, you actually feel a physical twist in your stomach.
I kinda like. S’homey. Place has good bones. Good size bedrooms too.
This was the place that you showed him, your secret spot.
You gonna take what's yours? That's my girl. You go on and take it.
Joel doesn’t even glance in the general direction of the house. You know because your eyes drift to his back, watching to see if he tenses at all. But he looks nonplussed from behind, just walking steadily, his legs long and outpacing you both.
Joel doesn't speak to either of you the entire time. Just grunts when Jennifer asks him something and orders you both to be careful when he starts to chop the tree down. You and Jennifer stand to the side as he brings the axe down into the trunk.
Sweat gathers at his neck and he lets out deep grunts when the axe head connects with the tree trunk. He shrugs off his jacket, tossing it onto a nearby log before rolling up the sleeves of his flannel to the elbow. Then he gets back to work. His shoulders are always broad, but under the flannel you can see the biceps that bulge out with every swing, see the ripples of back muscle and see the sheen to his temples.
He's magnificent.
Despite how angry he makes you, how hurt you feel, you can't deny he's a sexual powerhouse, especially in moments like this and judging by the way Jennifer stares she is similarly affected. Watching Joel chop a tree down is almost pornographic.
Every grunt he makes takes you back to his bed, every curl of his bicep reminds you of how he held you against the wall as he entered you. Finally you have to look away because you're entire body is thrumming with desire.
You’re disgusting for still wanting him after everything he’s done to you. Shame suffuses your entire body, making you heat up all over in humiliation. You don’t want him load the sled, tying the tree to it. You just trudge behind Joel and Jennifer who are now in a minimal conversation. Jennifer does all the leg work, peppering him with questions as he tugs the sled behind him.
“You must have had to do a lot of chopping in your construction job.”
“Nope. Learned it in the QZ.”
“Oh, I didn’t know they needed lots of wood chopped.”
“Was chopping bodies for disposal.”
That ends the conversation quickly. Jennifer casts a wide-eyed look at you before she just stops talking altogether.
You reach the church shortly after, watching as Joel hefts the tree inside. He sets it up in the stand, wedging it between the screws before tightening. He stands, rubbing the sap from his hands on his jeans. Jennifer, hoping to restart the conversation smiles over at him.
“Did you want to help with the rest of-“
"You two are the decorators," Joel mutters, effectively cutting her off.
Then he's gone, leaving the two of you to hang the baubles and string the lights. You don't mind though, you felt sick with him being there.
Once inside the church basement you feel like you can relax a bit. Joel is gone and it's just you and Jennifer. The place is cold but after working for a bit hauling out decorations from the storage and setting everything up you both begin to warm up.
You chat back and forth about where to hang certain items, where to tell Tommy and Hank to string the lights, how to hide some of the more threadbare items artfully.
"Are you coming by to get your dress finished?"
Jennifer asks you this as you restring some of the old ornaments. At her inquiry you tense up all over, leg throbbing, heart aching.
"I don't think I'm gonna go to the dance," you say averting your eyes.
"It's still a week away, your cold will be over by then," Jennifer reasons before she looks concerned. "Unless you think it's something serious? Is it your leg?"
You shake your head. "No, my leg is fine."
"Then why?" Jennifer asks as you pass her the strung ornament. She hitches it over the window ledge, securing it with twine
"I don't have a date."
I don't have a date because the guy I'm in love with broke my heart. I don't have a date because he doesn't want me anymore. I don't have a date because I'm a useless burden.
You feel your eyes start to burn, a lump in your throat.
Don't do it. Don't cry. Hold it together.
But it's too late, you can feel your lower lip twitching, your chin starting to wobble and before you can swallow them back, two lonely tears roll down your cheeks.
"Oh honey," Jennifer coos before wrapping her arms around your shoulder, hugging you loosely.
"It doesn't matter," you say, stiffening and moving from her touch. "I don't even like big crowds."
And Joel will be there. He'll be there so beautiful and broad and you know he'll smell good. He'll break your heart further just by existing and it won't matter how gorgeous you feel because all you'll be able to focus on is how he's not yours. How he was never truly yours.
"Is it the guy you were seeing?"
Your eyes snap to her face. "What?"
"C'mon, you've been so secretive the last few weeks, way more smiley. I caught you that morning pretending to look for a bracelet."
Jennifer lists off these with amusement in her eyes, no hint that she actually knows who your secret man is.
"Luke never mentioned anything so I figured it wasn't him," she says. She dips her eyes to your twisting fingers. "Unless it was Luke and he's just being private?"
"There was no guy," you insist, eyes on the next ornament you now pull from the box. "I was just feeling weird because it was the holidays. It’s a hard time for me."
Jennifer seems like she wants to tease you but she stops and looks at you with resolve, a hand taking yours gently between her own soft palms.
"What do you think about being each other's date for the party?"
"Why?"
"I don't have a date either," she continues before shooting you a sardonic look. "And we are both gonna look way too hot in our dresses not to be going. Fuck all the losers that didn't take advantage of asking us when they could have."
You feel your face break out into a relieved look, tears blinked away.
"I love that idea," you say gratefully. "I'd love to go with you."
She smiles widely, dancing in spot delightedly as she offers a little Yay! You feel slightly more relaxed about the event.
"Perfect, I'm gonna have the most beautiful girl on my arm that night," she tells you with a little bob of her head as she begins to hang more ornaments on the tree.
She's being generous of course. Jennifer is easily the most beautiful girl in Jackson City, but her comment still brings cheer to your face.
"Okay, the candy canes look good there," Jennifer says with the serious appraisal of a decorating veteran. "Let's do the tree tomorrow. Tommy can string the lights first. We can just finish with the ornaments here.”
Jennifer chats on a bit more as you pass her baubles, promising that you’ll help her with doing some popcorn and cranberry strings. And not for the first time in your friendship you wonder what you did to deserve a friend like Jennifer.
///
Despite your great time with Jennifer, you still feel dark most days. You need to get out, you need to clear your head and shooting with Luke seems like the perfect chance to do it when he suggests it one morning for breakfast. Despite you no longer being on patrols, the thought of focusing on something else appeals to you.
Jennifer is busy helping with textiles, but she offers to lend you her gun. So you agree, hauling the borrowed weapon from Jennifer, ammunition in your pockets.
Luke is, as usual, a nearly perfect shot. He reloads, smiling briefly when you clap for him as he knocks down his fifth can in a row.
"You're so good at this," you sigh wistfully. "You don't even need shooting practice. Why do you come out with us all the time?"
Pink creeps up Luke's neck. You see it peeking up above his scarf as he aims at the next target.
"Guess I like spending time with you guys."
In earlier months such a confession from Luke would have brought a thrilling little sweep to your stomach. But now? The sensation is a dull flicker. You take the gun from him, smiling sweetly as you aim for the remaining can. It’s far away, father than you’ve ever shot. Despite this you focus intently, making the world disappear as you train your eyes on it.
You clear your mind of everything. No Joel, no Chestnut, no raider. There’s not even birdsong as you stare at the far away tin can. You can only hear your heartbeat.
You shoot.
"Amazing," Luke breathes behind you as the can bursts off the log, shot up into the air before falling into the snow.
"Holy shit, I can't believe I got that one," you say in awe.
"We need to get you some practice with a moving target," Luke muses as you secretly cringe. There's no way you'll hunt for practice, not a chance.
"Your turn again," you tell him, handing off the gun.
Luke takes it from you as you jog over to re-set them up. You trot back over to see Luke raise the gun to eye level, shooting you a playful wink.
“I’m really proud of you,” Luke says when you arrive back beside him. “I know how much you’ve been practicing.”
Proud of you.
The words hit you directly in the chest, momentarily winding you. It makes grateful tears spring to your waterline. Someone is proud of you. And he isn’t saying it for anything other than he wants to build you up.
"Luke, you’re the most wonderful person," you say, hoping that it gives even a tinge of sincerity. "I'm shocked you haven't been snapped up."
It's a stupid thing to say, something to fill the awkward chunk of time between your first comment and the second. You regret it immediately but thankfully Luke doesn't seem upset, more thoughtful.
"I was married actually," Luke says, his light eyes going flinty. He raises his gun to his eyes, shooting and knocking the smallest can over. "So I guess technically I was snapped up."
"Wait, what?" You bring a gentle hand to his forearm, willing him to put down the weapon. "You were married?!"
Marriage in a post-outbreak world is rarer, especially with people your age and younger.
"Technically."
"Do you feel like talking about it? The whole marriage thing?"
"Sure."
You and Luke move to one of the benches set up, pushing the snow from the seats before plunking down. Luke brings out his Thermos, offering you some before you decline.
"So ... Married," you prompt, still disbelieving. You cross your legs, facing him with your chin in your palm.
Luke's neck bobs as he swallows his coffee, nodding.
"Yeah, uh, where I grew up it was pretty normal to be married."
Luke looks a bit embarrassed to be telling you this but you are fascinated. Luke always seemed like such an easygoing person to you, you'd imagined him in one of these with a bunch of loving family members.
"What was it called?"
"The Way of Eden."
You squint, trying to recall the name. You and Chiyo had traveled a lot but you'd never heard of anything like the way of Eden. You tell Luke as much.
"Not many people know about it," Luke says, shrugging as if he's a bit embarrassed. "It was a religious settlement."
"Oh."
"Yeah, they had kinda strict rules... Like no touching certain animals, no interacting with non-believers and you have to commit to community values," he explains patiently, realizing that you're not mocking him or judging, you're just curious. "The whole thing was about repopulation so they wanted people together as soon as possible."
"Were you in love?"
"Love isn't taken into account. You don't get to choose your spouse," Luke says laughing hollowly. "I got matched with a girl around my age. I'd never spoken two words to her."
"Was she nice?"
"No." The word is short and clipped. "She was an excessively cruel person."
"But what did your parents say?"
"My dad was the... Pastor," Luke says tightly and you decide you don't want to know anymore. There's something about the way he clenches his jaw that tells you it's not a good topic.
"We were together five years," he offers up, answering what you won't ask. "I did woodworking and she was on chapel duty. And I thank whatever entity above that we were never able to have kids."
You lapse into silence for a moment, the weight of this confession falling over you. Luke was married. He had a wife.
"Are you still married?"
"If you ask them back in the settlement, yeah," Luke frowns, "but if you ask me I never was. I never wanted it."
"So you ... How did ..." You struggle to formulate the sentence, hands palm up swaying. "How did you get here?"
Luke sighs, taking a deep sip from his Thermos. When he pulls it away his lips are pink and damp.
"I left. Packed a bag, took one of the guns, horses and I left in the middle of the night."
"Left your whole history behind," you say softly to yourself.
"Same as everyone else in Jackson City."
You nod. It's not lost on you that this would be an opportune moment to tell him about. Charlotte, to tell him about your own life and your own experiences. But something holds you back. Instead, you shoot him a grateful smile reaching across the bench to grasp his hand in yours.
"Thank you for telling me all of this," you say with sincerity. You mean it, there's something that's really humbling about him sharing this part of himself with you.
"I've only told you and Jennifer about it," Luke confides, cheeks pink. "I'd appreciate if you didn't ..."
"I wouldn't say anything to anyone," you promise him. "This is just between you and me."
Luke smiles at you crookedly, eyes going butter soft.
"You're so nice," he says kindly, laughing softly when he sees your furrowed brow. "I don't mean that in a... What I mean is that you're gentle. You're so kind to people and you're so thoughtful and-"
"And useless."
It jumps out of your mouth, muttered to yourself more than anything. You only know that Luke heard you when he suddenly stops short and his voice rises.
"Who the fuck told you that?"
Luke doesn't get angry very often, so his response takes you aback. You see the anger there in his light eyes, the clenching of his thick fingers. You swallow, forcing the voice that expels between your lips to be steady.
"No one important."
Luke seems satisfied with this response.
"Wanna keep shooting?"
"Yeah."
You both stand and turn your attention to the remaining cans propped on the log. You peer at them, a hand shading your eyes.
"Did you want me to set some more up?"
When no reply comes you drop your hand and glance over your shoulder. Luke is still holding the gun at his side and you're confused as he lowers it.
"Is everything okay?"
Luke looks at you strangely, almost nervously.
"Can I kiss you?"
The question surprises you, causing your brow to arch.
"You want to kiss me?"
"Yeah," Luke nods. "Is that okay?"
You think about it for a moment, feet shuffling in the snow.
"I don't have a lot of experience," you admit, and now it's your turn to look shyly at the ground. You can feel your face burning in embarrassment.
"Neither do I," Luke laughs, licking his lips nervously again. "First and last person I kissed was my wife."
There's some comfort in that but you don't know how you feel about kissing Luke so soon after the whole Joel thing. But then you hear his voice in your ears, a dark rumble of cruelty.
I don't need some useless patrol partner who can't even shoot straight
"Yeah. Okay."
Luke flashes a brief grin your way before his fingers grip your chin, holding you in place. His eyes dart to your mouth and before you can do anything his lips are pushing against yours. Your hands go to his shoulders, fists gripping the collar of his jacket for purchase.
Luke's lips feel rubbery, his mouth overly wet. You're unsure if this indictment is because you're indifferent to Luke or if he's just no match for Joel. Joel kisses you like you're oxygen, like he wants to breathe you in. You feel desperate for Joel in a way that doesn't make sense for you.
Or at least you did.
Luke’s large hands slide to settle over your hips, holding you. He kisses you gently, no force, no tongue, just a sweet and timid touching of mouths before he pulls back. There's a beat of silence as the two of you come to terms with what just happened. You blink at him curiously.
"I thought we owed it to ourselves," Luke explains, his cheeks pink. "To uh, to try that."
"Uh, yeah, totally," you nod. "Should we do it again?"
Luke smiles and nods, head tilting to capture your lips again. You shut your eyes languidly, leaning into the sensation of his mouth on yours.
You wait for that same pleasurable sensation to overtake you, to make your insides burn like a raging inferno the way it did with Joel. But as Luke continues to kiss you, arms wrapping around your middle, in comparison it feels like the weak flame of a birthday candle behind your ribs.
Stop thinking about Joel.
You wait for the world to get quiet, for your body to prickle all over. You anticipate the ache that is sure to start between your legs and the warmth in your belly.
But nothing comes.
Instead all you can focus on are the weird tactile sensations. His mouth feels wet, lips chapped from the cold, tongue acrid with stale coffee. He sighs softly against your mouth, exhaling through his nose as the kiss deepens.
You close your eyes, forcing yourself to find pleasure in this moment. The kind of pleasure Joel gave you-
Joel.
Joel's eyes, his mouth, the way his curls felt weaving through your fingers, the way his body felt resting heavily between your thighs. Joel appears behind your eyes and your don't chase him away. In fact you feel a sudden pulse between your legs, making you arch against Luke.
Luke responds in kind, arms holding you by the base of your spine. A small whine escapes him, a really high-pitched thing that makes you wince.
No no no. Everything about this is wrong. Everything about this feels forced and insincere. It doesn't feel right.
So what, the only way it feels right is with a guy who can't stand you anymore? That can't be your only opinion, right? Either way the moment is carrying on far too long for you and you step back, breaking the kiss.
Luke's face is entirely pink, his eyes unfocused. He stares at you with a strange look on his face, something that you don't quite understand and you wonder if he’s mirroring your own expression.
"Thank you."
"I should get back," you croak, cheeks flushed and heart aching. Luke stares at you, swallowing.
"I'll walk you," he offers stiltedly.
"No, thanks, I'm okay," you smile. "Besides you need to practice now that I’m getting so good you’ll have some real competition next time."
Luke laughs a little too long at that before he's nodding and turning back to the target with his rifle raised.
///
Your first shift in the greenhouse is on Thursday and you arrive early, face still puffy from poor sleep and nightly cry sessions.
An Asian woman named Petra wearing a bandana and heavy clothing waves at you as you advance. She’s wearing a dirty apron that holds a myriad of gardening implements.
"Hi," Petra greets you, pushing some stray stands of hair from her face. "You used to be on kitchen duty right?"
"Yeah."
"This is a way better gig," she says handing you a pair of thick gloves. "Short shifts, quiet space."
She introduces you to the other worker inside, an older man who waves absently before going back to pruning.
And Petra is right, the greenhouse works just fine for you. It's quiet and relaxing. No one really talks inside and the result is therapeutic. And since you have previous experience from the kitchen, you learn quickly how to harvest.
All you can smell is the fresh soil, the sound of ripping roots as you tug the fresh veggies from the earth. That's all the job is. Gardening, harvesting vegetables and fruit for meals in the canteen. Spraying water on new planting. It's meditative and calm.
It feels like a sanctuary for you after the most brutal severing of connections you've ever experienced.
And it's fine, but it's not enough.
Nothing will ever be enough.
///
"You never told me Joel was so funny."
This comment out of nowhere spears you. You have to fight valiantly to suppress your surprise. The two of you are in Jennifer’s house; a giant bowl of popcorn and a smaller bowl of cranberries sit in the center of her coffee table. The two of you have been stringing tons of it with a needle and thread, chatting about what will happen at the dance.
"Funny?"
"Yeah," Jennifer smiles, stringing the cranberry after the popcorn, chasing both down the thread. "I was having breakfast the other morning and he asked if he could sit with me. Can you imagine? Anyway, obviously I said yes and I was shocked at how funny he was."
Joel is not funny. He's barely got a sense of humor. How on earth is he sitting there with Jennifer making her laugh? Why was he sitting with her at breakfast? You force your face and voice to remain neutral.
“I never noticed.”
"He's so different to what I thought," she continues on, oblivious to your internal pain. "He was so attentive when we were talking. I always thought he was kind of cold and stuff, but he was really sweet. He was asking all about decorating, seeing how we were getting on."
You're going to be sick.
“I uh, gotta grab the cookies from the oven.”
You stagger to the kitchen, feeling the blood drain from your face. What the fuck is Jennifer talking about? Why is Joel acting so nice to her? He barely tolerated her before. And why the fuck do you care? It’s not like he’s your boyfriend, he made that abundantly clear.
You take the cranberry cookies from the small oven, pulling them out and sliding them onto the cooling racks on your counter before returning to see Jennifer humming to herself, perched on the couch.
“I forgot to ask,” she says when you reappear, “how did shooting with Luke go?”
Oh great. Another awkward topic. You shrug, eyes remaining on the bowl of cranberries as you pierce a particularly plump one.
“Uh, fine. I’m getting better.”
Jennifer is quiet and when you glance up she’s giving you a squinty little stare. She places the string of popcorn she’s been working onto the table, turning to give you her full attention. You pretend not to notice until she talks.
“Spill.”
“What?”
“Whatever you’re not telling me.”
“Uh… Well,” you swallow before clearing your throat. “We were just talking and we, uh, kissed.”
The room is so quiet a pin could drop and you look back to her face. She smiles with raised brows, making you flush.
"You kissed Luke?" Jennifer asks breathlessly.
"Uh, he kissed me," you say, blinking as she jumps up from the couch.
"Oh my gosh," Jennifer is pacing back and forth, looking at you while wringing her hands. "This is so exciting. I didn't think you two were ever gonna... What was... What was the kiss like? Were there fireworks? Did he use tongue?"
She's talking a mile a minute, her face frozen in a smile as she no doubt silently congratulates herself on her matchmaking skills.
"It was nice."
Jennifer looks at you from the corner of her eye, her pacing suddenly stalled. She throws herself back into the cushion opposite you holding your gaze with a disbelieving look.
"It was nice?"
"Yeah."
Jennifer turns, folding her legs and staring you down.
"Nice is not a term you use when the kiss is good."
"I'm just... I don't think I'm in the right head space for romance right now."
"How come?"
And there it is; the perfect opening to tell Jennifer everything. To admit through sobs that a man broke your heart after you offered it up. That Joel took the candle in you and snuffed it out.
You could break down and tell Jennifer everything that transpired between you and Joel, but you don't see what good it would do. It would drive a wedge between you two when she found out how you felt about Joel this whole time.
Thoughts of losing both Joel and Jennifer all at once makes you feel nauseated, your stomach flipping.
"I guess I've just been preoccupied with Raider stuff," you lie.
"But do you think you'll go for him when you’re feeling better?"
She has a distant look on her face, a strange one you can't pin down. You wonder if she suspects about anything.
"He's really nice guy," you finally offer with a shrug. "There’s not many single men I'd trust in this town."
Jennifer nods, lips thinning. She doesn't believe you; that much is clear but she's also not pushing the issue. Maybe she can sense that you're too delicate for it today.You stand up, moving to your kitchen to retrieve the cooled cookies. You arrange them on a plate artfully before re-entering the living room.
"Those look so good," Jennifer says with obvious delight, eyes wide. "The second I'm done stringing these. I'm taking that big one in the middle."
The two of you exchange smiles, and you hope the one that you force upon your face seems genuine enough.
Something has been stuck in your brain since she mentioned she and Joel having breakfast. You don't want to bring it up, but you feel like you have to.
"So has anyone asked you to the dance?"
"No," Jennifer says confused, pointer finger wagging between you and her. "I thought we were going together."
"We are," you insist. "It's just... I wondered if anyone asked you after we decided to go together."
It's a pathetic way to beat about the bush and you seem to have confused Jennifer who stops chewing to squint at you.
"Did someone ask you to the dance?"
"No."
"Are you wanting to ask someone else?"
"No."
"Okay..." Jennifer trails off, giving you a bemused look before she resumes her task, raising the needle to her popcorn. "No, no one else has asked me. And even if they did I'd have to turn them down. I already have a hot date."
Jennifer gives you a friendly wink before she moves her popcorn string to the side, hand reaching for the cookie plate.
"I need another one."
Delighted you push the plate closer to her.
"I'm glad."
"I wish I could eat your baking all the time," Jennifer sighs, popping the cookie into her mouth and humming appreciatively. "It's so fucking good."
At her words you think back to Tommy and his suggestion of opening a bakery. You wonder what advice she would have given you. But it doesn’t matter, that’s not the life for you. You’ll fade away in the greenhouse, forgotten and once again, invisible.
///
You don't sleep very well anymore.
Your leg is healed, so you can't blame that and it's not just Joel that keeps you from slumbering; it's also the terrible memories of losing Charlotte and your father, of losing your mother.
Charlotte telling you that you abandoned her. Your father's dying scream. Your mother's soft voice telling you to wake up. All combine to wake you up in a cold sweat, sobbing and gasping for air.
And there's no warm, broad presence beside you in bed. No murmured soothing words against your temple.
You can make it go quiet for yourself.
It's the only gift he ever gave you that was worth anything. The reminder that you could do it yourself. Though on the really dark, scary nights it's hard to recall this.
Like this evening when the moon is merely a sliver outside your window, casting ominous shadows in your bedroom. You sit up shakily, dropping your feet to the floor and making your way with a stumble to your kitchen.
You're so thirsty, so drained of tears that you think your body is dehydrated because of it.
You grab a glass, clinking gently against the others. You drink the cool water down, gulping loudly. After your third glass you pour another and trudge up to your bedroom. The stairs creak underfoot, the inky blackness a strange comfort. You carry your glass in front of you, yawning gently.
You go to the bedroom, pressing the warped door open, your eyes drifting to the window when you suddenly freeze as a figure outside slips nearby.
There's someone out there.
You are silent, eyes blowing wide as you scan outside for the figure that just caught your passing gaze. Your body goes cold in fear, of memories you try to suppress.
And then you realize who it is and feel the heat come back to your face.
It's Joel, standing at the end of your street. If it weren't for the holiday lights strung on the nearby home you don't think you would have noticed him in the blue black darkness.
He's tucked to the side of the house across from you, partially hidden by the shrubs. But there's no mistaking his wide shoulders and tapered waist, even in his thick leather jacket.
And for a moment you think about screaming at him from your window. Of throwing it open and tossing out obscenities that would make your neighbors blush.
But you don't. You remain standing in the shadow, hand clutched around your water glass. He can't see you in the darkness but you wonder if he senses you.
What the fuck is he doing here? He never explained why he did this before, and you don't get it now. He doesn't want to see you anymore so why is he here?
Is it possible he does want to see you? That he's checking up on you? The thought shouldn't make your heart leap and yet the traitorous organ does.
Stop it.
Even if Joel is here because he misses you, even if he is here because he regrets how he spoke to you, the damage is done. He broke you. Shattered you into minuscule pieces and then left you for the wind to dispose of.
You do not forgive him.
You place the glass on the table next to your bed before going back to the window. Joel's face is tilted towards it, but too far for you to see his expression.
It doesn't matter.
You close the curtains with a snap regardless.
///
"What's going on with you?"
"Huh?"
You're in the textile shop with Jennifer a few days later, the pit in your stomach growing. She's done the finishing touches on your dress and she needs you here for the final fitting. She works hurriedly as you stand on the podium, facing away from the mirror. She glances up at you, thread clenched between her teeth.
"You seem... Different."
"I'm fine," you insist, forcing a weak smile on your face. "Just tired. Gardening has me up really early."
The hour is late and you are tired from your shifts. Gardening means short shifts more often through the week. It also means getting up early. But you don’t mind, you’ve barely been sleeping anyway
"I still don't get why you switched to that," Jennifer murmurs as she pulls the thread through the fabric, tightening it around your waist.
Because Joel took me off patrols. Because a man I was falling for suddenly decided that he didn't want me anymore.
"I was just too anxious on them."
"Right," Jennifer nods, half distracted by her sewing. "Oh well, I heard Gregory from the market signed up to go with him. Wants to move away from stocking shelves."
You don’t say anything to this. And besides, Jenny is standing back, hands stemmed on her hips as she takes in the dress.
“Okay. The front is nearly perfect. Turn around.”
You do, feeling your heart race excitedly as you take in your form. You can't get over how beautifully constructed this is. Even before the outbreak you don't think you ever owned anything so perfectly tailored. The skirt of the dress is full and moves beautifully as you shift from foot to foot. You only have a moment of self-doubt as you gaze at the neckline.
"You don't think it's too low cut?"
Jennifer gives you a look of mock outrage before embracing you from behind, staring at you in the mirror.
"Fuck no!" Jennifer insists, her chin hinged over your shoulder. "You need to show off your assets, girl. Luke's gonna have a heart attack when he sees you in this."
Luke.
Right.
Because you're supposed to like Luke.
Because Luke is a nice, normal man. He wouldn't string you along and then tell you he isn't your fuckin' boyfriend. He wouldn't get you pulled off patrols.
"We just need to take it in a bit here," Jennifer says squinting in thought as she pinches the fabric at your shoulder. "Then it'll be perfect."
You still can't believe how gorgeous it looks and it's not even finished yet. You feel beautiful. You haven't felt beautiful in so long. Beautiful was reserved for a time before infected and fighting for one’s life. Beautiful was never an option until you met Jennifer. She's brought beauty back into your life.
"I just can't wait to dance in this. I'm never taking it off!"
Jennifer takes your hand in hers and spins you around again in front of the mirror. You can't help but smile, giggling along with Jennifer when there's a tinkle of the front door opening. She glances over her shoulder.
"Shit, forgot to lock the door."
She straightens and goes sailing off towards the front of the shop. In a moment of vanity you watch yourself in the mirror, shifting your hips back and forth to watch the fabric swish.
You feel beautiful. You haven't felt beautiful in so long. Beautiful was reserved for a time before the infected and fighting for one's life. Beautiful was never an option until you met Jennifer. She's brought beauty back into your life.
You hear footsteps and low voices.
"Sorry we're-" Jennifer starts but her voice dies.
You glance up in the mirror to see what caused this and you immediately go stiff as the vision of Joel and Ellie striding into the room reflects back at you.
"Come on in," Jennifer breathes, stepping back so that Ellie and Joel can enter more fully into the room. You turn around, hands folded against your chest, feeling strangely naked despite being dressed.
Ellie holds a few pairs of jeans in her grip, her face breaking into a wide smile as she sees it's you by the mirror.
"I've never seen you dressed up before," Ellie observes with a broad grin as she walks over to you. She reaches a hand for the fabric of your full skirt, thumb rubbing the soft fabric.
Joel's dark gaze is on you, you feel it in the periphery. You don't let yourself look up though. You keep your attention on the grinning Ellie.
"Damn, you look really good!"
Your cheeks are on fire with the extreme praise and attention, unaccustomed to compliments regarding your appearance. You hide your face behind your hair the best you can.
"Thanks. It was all Jennifer. I just asked for a dress, she's the one who made magic."
Ellie gives a nod at this, still not Jennifer's biggest fan but giving her a chance because obviously you see something in her. She glances over at Jennifer who's standing uncomfortably close to Joel.
"You did a good job."
"Thanks Ellie."
Jennifer gives a shy smile and you don't miss how her eyes flit over to Joel standing inches away from her. You let your own attention move from her over to the tall man, cheeks heating further when you notice his eyes are still on you.
And despite everything you're a little desperate to have him come closer to you, to tell you he never meant a word of what he said. A need for him that bypasses your own dignity. He scans your expression before blinking his eyes in the opposite direction towards Jennifer.
"We just came by to drop off some stuff to get fixed," Joel tells her as Ellie moves back towards her, holding the jeans aloft.
Jennifer takes the jeans from Ellie, looking through them asking a few questions about how they want them repaired.
"You do patrols and this?" Joel inquires, ignoring the desperate gaze you throw his way. You can't look away from the two of them, the way Jennifer is going all fluttery.
"I don't really work here anymore," Jennifer says tagging the jeans. "I just like to make stuff for folks around town."
Ellie is looking around the shop in interest, but Joel and Jennifer are locked in on one another.
"But don't worry," Jennifer promises. "I'll leave a note for the folks who come in tomorrow morning."
She places the jeans onto a nearby table and reaches for a pencil to scribble a note. Ellie takes her time to glance through the fabric that lines the shelves along the wall.
Joel however has his attention on Jennifer.
"That's mighty kind a' you, Jenny."
Joel's voice is low and syrupy. Your eyes go to his reflection in the mirror and you see him smiling softly at your friend. Your stomach twists.
"S'no problem," Jennifer replies equally silky. "I like to help."
You don't miss the subtle way she tilts her hips, arching just enough to be enticing without being too obvious.
You watch the way Joel's thumb moves to rest hooked on his belt buckle and the way Jennifer's eyes flit there, slowly scanning back up his body, matching the seductive smile Joel sends her.
"You makin' a dress for yourself?" He asks.
"Yeah, mine's all finished up," Jennifer says blushing prettily under his gaze. Then she leans forward and drops her voice to a breathy purr.
"It's red and a little scandalous at the back."
Joel openly scans her body from top to bottom before nodding in approval, his voice pure seduction.
"I bet it looks real nice on ya."
It's like you're not even there. It's like the two of you never existed. The mixture of pain and fury overtakes you, making you need to close your eyes to steady yourself.
He's not yours. He was never yours.
You want to scream. You want to slap him across the face. You want to rip this dress to pieces. But mostly you just want to get away from him.
Thankfully Ellie is now bored of the shop and as you crack open your eyes you see she gives you a wave before looking at Joel.
"Joel can we go? I wanna get good seats for the movie."
"Yeah s'a good one tonight," Joel tells her before giving Jennifer a slow wink.
"Night ladies."
His eyes slide over you in passing but you don't offer him anything other than a wounded glare. This seems to satisfy him.
Jennifer waits until the two of them are a good distance away from the shop before she comes skipping over to you, eyes bright.
"He totally checked me out!"
"He did," you say evenly.
Jennifer doesn't seem to notice your muted tone, she's already remarking that she's certain Joel will ask her to dance, that she'll finally get a chance to feel his muscles for herself.
"I mean he was pretty obvious," she giggles. "I cannot wait for the dance."
You smile weakly and you respond as supportively as you can. Jennifer is in a crush bubble and Joel is giving her all the attention she craves.
There's a moment when you consider breaking down and telling her everything, but then your eyes catch your dress in the mirror. She's done so much for you. She's been a friend, a tailor, a cheerleader. Telling her seems impossible now. You've left it too long.
What would you say to her? "Hey Jennifer I was really into Joel and despite him telling me he wants nothing to do with me I don't want you seeing him"? You'd look insane, or worse - pathetic.
No, instead you'll do what you've always done; hide the feelings deep. Don't share them with anyone. You've seen what happens when one shares their heart.
///
A late December dump of snow that week has most everyone miserable and hiding indoors. Patrols have been suspended this week - not that you would know for sure. You've been removed from them after all.
You decide to go to the Tipsy Bison that evening because you can't stand being inside your home another day. You go because you want a drink. You go because working in the greenhouse is isolating in the winter months and you don't know anyone there.
Everyone else in the greenhouse has their clique and you have... Well, no one. Jennifer is on patrols, so is Luke. Maria and you had tea yesterday and she did seem in good spirits, but she’s busy with the event this weekend. Ellie is in school so... You keep to yourself.
You had considered playing hermit longer after the humiliation of Joel's rejection but some strange inner anger buoys you, forcing you to go about your days as if nothing has changed.
You weren't in the wrong. You'd done nothing besides misplace your affections. You tell yourself it doesn't matter. As if you're not removed from patrols, as if the feeling of Joel's mouth on yours doesn't haunt you.
So you trudge through the snow and push open the door to a loud group of ruddy faces and barked laughter. Someone is playing the jukebox, some old tune you don't recognize.
The Tipsy Bison is warm with the bodies and loud with all the voices and gentle music when you finally push yourself into the center of the room. The bustling nature of it used to intimidate you, but now the sound is almost comforting in its fullness.
Your eyes sweep the room for an empty seat, finding none before your eyes go to the bar and you feel yourself go still.
Despite not seeing his face because it's tilted away from you, there's no mistaking who the broad shoulders belong to. Joel is seated there, shoulders hunched. He's got a tumbler of whiskey in his right hand on the bar. His hair looks like he's been running his hands through it and he's not alone.
Jennifer is there on the stool beside him twisting her own tumbler in her hand and tossing her hair over her shoulder as she laughs merrily.
Jennifer who Joel claimed he didn't enjoy the company of. Jennifer your friend. Jennifer who you realize has no idea the depths of your feelings for Joel. Jennifer who is laughing coquettishly at something Joel is saying.
And then you see it, her delicate hand sliding over his, her beautiful, sparkling eyes on his handsome face. You can't see it from where you stand, but you just know he's smiling at her. The nice kind of smile he rarely threw your way.
You feel everything in you go cold at the intimacy of the action. You thought Joel rejecting you was nothing you couldn't handle and now you see how wrong you were.
A cold hand is at your elbow, dragging you back into the world. It's Penny, already at least two pints in sitting in the chair behind you.
"I snagged a table, sweet pea, come join me," Arthur's wife says in that charming twangy way of hers, like some gap-toothed lifeline. You feel your heart swell with gratitude as she motions to the vacated seat across from her.
"Thanks."
You collapse into the chair and watch as she takes a long sip from her glass. You can see the tattoos poking out the edge of her sweater on her wrist.
"Arthur didn't really have a taste for the stuff," she explains pointing at the beer. "But I sure missed it."
As Penny chats about she and Arthur you nod along, offering hums instead of replies at first. You smile at the right times, answer briefly, but your attention is on Jennifer seated at the bar next to Joel.
You watch them covertly over Penny’s shoulder, noting that Jennifer has been deep in conversation with Joel for at least ten minutes. Her hand is no longer on his, but their knees touch under the bar twice. Each time is like a hot dagger between your ribs.
"You and your fella are on the outs, huh?"
Your attention is immediately back on Penny surveying you with more shrewdness then you'd thought her capable of at her current level of sobriety.
"Huh?"
"Well I see you sneakin' glances over there and I see him chattin' up your pretty friend so I just put two and two together."
"He's not my... We're not together. We're just- we used to be patrol partners," you offer lamely. "But not anymore. I got moved to the greenhouse."
"Ah, I see."
Through her bleary eyes you can see she doesn't believe you. But it doesn't matter because your eyes have risen back over her shoulder to see Jennifer and Joel snuggled up at the bar. When she makes him chuckle quietly you think you might actually be sick.
They look perfect together. You can just imagine them parading through town arm in arm knowing all the while that he kept you his dirty secret. You wonder how it'll feel when Jennifer's stomach swells with life and Joel gives her a ring to show the world she's his.
Bile rises in your throat.
Immediately you fix your eyes to Penny's drained glass. You manually force your breathing to slow; to calm yourself but the world is growing so loud. The kind of buzzing loud that has you gripping the sides of your chair for stability.
You can't just sit here and watch them fall in love. You can't watch them grow closer and know that you were so casually tossed aside. And yet like some glutton for punishment you raise your vision back to them at the bar.
There's a smile from Jennifer, that same flashing sweet grin she uses on every man she likes and you have to force your eyes back to the redhead across from you.
"How did you manage to stay in a relationship with Arthur all these years?" You ask Penny abruptly.
Her bony fingers swirl around the damp lip of her glass before she puffs up her top lip in thought.
"He's always been there when I really need him. Never given me any reason to doubt 'im." She tilts back in her chair. "But I think love is different for different folks. Some are scared of it, reminds ‘em of what they stand to lose. Other folks run headlong into it with arms wide open."
She leans forward on her elbows.
"What kind are you?"
"Wouldn't know," you say with a painted on smile. "Never been in love."
Penny's thin lips curl into a small smirk.
"You sure about that, sweetheart?"
You hum a non-committal response, your face growing hot the longer she stares at you.
Your vision travels back over to where Jennifer now places her empty whiskey tumbler (since when does she drink whiskey?) onto the bar top. You can't help but swallow harshly when Jennifer places a hand on Joel's broad shoulder before leaning in for a kiss to his cheek.
You don’t watch her lips connecting to his bronzed cheek. It would be too much to bear. You raise your hand to your forehead to shield your face, waiting for Jennifer to leave. When the doors swing shut you lift your gaze to see the Bison is still bustling but Jennifer has indeed left.
"Alright, I got us the seats you get us the drinks," Penny says with a soft slap to the glossy table top. "I'm parched."
Panic overtakes you. She wants you to up to the bar where Joel still sits, shoulders slumped? You can hear your heartbeat in your ears. You can't explain to Penny why going up to the bar is impossible, it's too humiliating especially after what she implied.
You scan the still busy bar and decide that Joel won't even see you're there if you're quick.
Stay on the far end of the bar, grab the drinks, head back to the table. Easy.
You give a brief nod, licking your dry lips and tell yourself that Joel is on the far end of the bar. That in this crowd he won't notice you. That this can go off without a hitch.
You shuffle nervously towards the busy bar. The place is packed, music is going loudly and several folks give you a hello in passing that you reply to with a short wave and nod. You get to the bar, trying to shield yourself from Joel by standing beside Stan the burly mechanic who often works in the dam.
You catch Gary the bar tender’s attention with a quick wave of him over. He gives you a polite smile. Reba is off for the night, so instead it’s the dough-faced Gary with his thinning gray mop combed over to the side.
"What can I get ya?"
"Two beers please."
Gary glances over your head at Penny who bobs her head along with the music playing on the jukebox and his smile promptly drops.
"I already told your friend she's cut off."
Gary's voice is loud due to the music, but it still feels like it draws everyone's attention your way when he says it. Just then Stan sees a friend across the bar and calls out their name, crossing the pub to join them and leaving you exposed.
You immediately feel as Joel's eyes snap to the side of your face but you don't give him the satisfaction of acknowledgement.Nevertheless your cheeks prickle with embarrassment.
"I didn't know," you mumble.
"There's a limit you know?" Gary continues on as if you're the one over imbibing. "Can't have one person taking more than their fair share."
"Just one then. She can have my glass," you say tightly, eyes stuck on Gary. "I'm not that thirsty anyway."
You're convinced that Joel is still staring at you with what you assume is disgust. Fuck, what if he thinks you followed him in here? New shame envelops you. You want nothing more than for this interaction to be over with.
"You know that's not how it works darlin’," Gary says as he wipes down the bar. More heads are turning your way and you feel your heart hammering.
Someone knocks into your shoulder but you're stuck in place, convinced that through the throng of bodies you can smell Joel now, that heady cedar and almond soap smell that has your knees knocking. Warmth seeps into your back as a voice is offered out behind you, low and rumbling.
"Just give her the damn drink, Gary."
You turn to look over your shoulder and see Joel is there, jaw tight. At first all you can fixate on is the vein in his neck, then the patch where his beard doesn't quite grow. Your traitorous eyes move up to the soft plump of his lips.
Fuck you miss those lips.
Even after everything your body still yearns for his. To feel that all encompassing safety and protection. And was there kindness? Care? You thought there was, but perhaps that was mislaid along with your affections.
When you finally summon the courage to dart your gaze to Joel's face you see his big, dark eyes are trained on you. It has you breathless and confused. And suddenly it's too much. Gary's complaining, the noise of the bar, the bodies milling around you, and Joel's confusing eyes.
You stumble away, muttering "just forget it" and then you're out the door of The Bison, your face flaming and your heart in your ears.
You struggle in the snow for a moment, slipping over a slick patch of ice with heart in your throat when a strong hand grips you by the elbow, keeping you from falling. You glance over your shoulder but you already knew who it was the second he touched you.
“Careful.”
You attempt to jerk your arm back from him, wanting to give a snide reply but unable to find your voice. Instead you’re about to take off again when he pulls you after him into the dark space between the Bison and the Grocers where the snow hasn’t accumulated.
Its pitch black in the alley, casting you both in shadow. He backs you up against the wood siding of the Bison, the chill felt through your jacket as you gape at him. He’s still as a statue, just holding your arm against your chest, pinning you against the wall with his touch and stare.
“What do you want?” you finally ask, wishing your voice didn’t sound so wobbly.
“You seemed upset.”
His voice is soft, his warm breath whiskey-tinged. He’s clearly had more than one. This infuriates you – that he can only talk to you when he’s inebriated. You wrestle a bit with his grip, trying to tug your elbow from his strong hand. But not surprisingly he doesn’t relent.
“Stop doin’ that,” he commands gently.
And despite everything that’s happened you listen to him. You stop wriggling and just stand there, breathing inches from his pouty mouth. His hips slowly curve, coming to pin you against the wall. His hands take your wrists, and instead of pinning them to the wall as well he urges them around his neck as his face descends.
“What are you-“
"Wanna give it to you," Joel murmurs behind your ear, pressing a damp kiss there. "Let me."
And despite everything Joel has put you through your knees still buckle at the sound of his husky words. If he hadn't been pinning you against the building with his hips you would have fallen to the ground.
Joel wants you. He still wants you. And your pathetic, needy body still wants him.
Your fingers lace around his neck, holding him. You feel his hard length between your legs, despite the jeans you both wear. He's not trying to be subtle; his hips grind into yours, his cock hard and seeking. His mouth drops lower, his hand coming to cup your breasts over your jacket and squeezing. You shudder a moan, your body coming alive everywhere he touches you.
He shifts and slots his thigh between your legs, mouth moving along your throat as you keen, hands gripping his jacket so tightly they’ve gone bloodless.
"You wet?" Joel murmurs against your jaw as your pelvis rasps against the denim of his thigh. When you don’t reply he practically growls. “Answer me.”
"Yes," you groan.
And you are. You can feel it, warm and simmering low in your belly, making each roll and rut of your hips feel like heaven. Joel can sense it; he must because he smiles against your skin, licking a small patch before he groans against your throat, pushing sloppy kisses up the column. You sigh, head tilting back to give him better access. He drags those soft lips along your skin, breathing against it, inhaling you.
His hands slide to cup either side of your face, thumbs hooking onto your lower teeth and tugging, urging your mouth to open to him so that he can search your tongue with his. He licks into your mouth desperately, frenzied.
His hands begin to fumble at your jean button, his mouth still dizzying you as he moves from your lips to your jaw. His mouth is so soft and full. He's at your neck before you shake yourself from your stupor.
"Joel what the-"
He's attempting to tug your jeans down but you grip them by the belt loops, wrenching them out of his grip.
"Joel we're in public."
"No one'll see," he promises, his pelvis still grinding against yours.
"I'm not fucking you," you shoot back at him, hating how turned on you are despite the circumstance. Hating that even after everything your body still craves his touch. Joel's body is curved over yours, his frame broad and his eyes searching your face.
"Just lemme make you come," Joel breathes warm air over your cheeks. "Just wanna see it... Need to hear it."
His hand slides down the front of your jeans, under the waistband. You make a little groaning sound of disapproval, but Joel's lips graze your earlobe.
"I'll make you feel so fuckin' good. I always do."
You shudder when his cold hands meet your warm pussy. He groans against your neck, a sinful sound that has goosebumps rising everywhere on your body like a ripple in water.
"Already wet f'me," he rasps against your ear in approval. "Always so fucking wet."
Long fingers slide on either side of your clit, rubbing forcefully and you want to protest but...Fuck it feels so good
"Seein' you in that dress," Joel murmurs, mouth latching behind your ear and kissing in a way that sends tingles through your entire body. "You got no idea how much I fucked my hand this week thinking about you in that goddamn dress."
Your forehead drops to his shoulder and you can feel the relief in his voice as he feels you start to succumb.
"That's right, just relax."
His voice is so low and rumbled you can feel it everywhere. Your hips widen as he steps between them, fingers working tirelessly against your clit. You whimper into his neck and you feel him swallow when your hips start to rut against his fingers.
"Yeah, just like that. Keep makin' those pretty noises. Who’s got your pretty pussy dripping?” Joel croons, his hot breath buffeting your cheek as his fingers flick open the top button of your jeans.
"You, Joel."
"Fuck," he grunts, breathing heavy and hot against your skin. "Say my name again. Tell me who makes you this wet."
"Mmm," you keen, hips rolling. "You, Joel.”
Joel is eager, his breathing elevated and his eyes unfocused. You feel his fingers dance over your slit through your soaked panties.
“Yeah, this is all for me,” he murmurs almost proudly. You gasp when his fingers curl around the fabric, slowly sliding between the lips of your glossy cunt until he’s knuckle deep. He begins groaning as he watches your brows saddle at the full feeling of those two thick digits sinking into you.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
Joel nods, smiling dazedly as he begins to pump his fingers in and out of your dripping slot, his body pressing yours into the wood, shielding you. He kisses the corner of your mouth, groaning appreciatively when you start to whimper.
“That’s it,” he grunts, fingers curling within you. "Who you gonna come for?"
"Y-you."
"That's right," Joel smiles against your collar, sucking there. "Me."
And you want to sink into his touch and let go, to surrender into this pleasured dance you know so well with him. You want him to fuck you right here, not caring that anyone could pass by and see you.
But then you hear laughter from inside and it reminds you of Jennifer laughing with Joel previously. All at once your mind can't stop replaying the moments of he and Jennifer. Jenny. Jennifer touching him. Joel's smiling. I'm not your fuckin' boyfriend. Jennifer’s hand over his. I don't need some useless-
Despite your body screaming for release you pull back from him, tugging him by the wrist out from under your pants. You push back from him violently, watching as he stumbles backwards in the snow, looking agitated. His middle and forefinger glisten against the outdoor Christmas lights along the bars eaves. You button up your jeans with shaking hands, glaring at him.
"I don't know what's going on with you but you need to sober up," you tell him sharply.
"You were close," Joel says with mouth in a firm line of displeasure. "You were soaking my fuckin' fingers."
"Sleep it off, Joel."
"I need to see it," he says almost desperately. His glassy eyes blink slowly. "Just need to make you come one more time and I can..."
He stops himself and you feel your confusion growing. Something frosty enters into his gaze and he pushes himself back from you, looking down his nose at you.
"Forget it," he says taking another step back from you. "Just fuckin' forget it."
Oh no. He doesn't get to play mind games and then walk away like you're the one who did something wrong.
"Your horny and wanna make a girl come, is that it?" You scowl. "Well I’m sure if you follow Jennifer home she'd love to make that fantasy come true for you."
You shoulder past him before he can give you any reply. You don't want to hear it. You hate that you cared for Joel in any way. That you made yourself vulnerable with the worst possible man you could have chosen. You feel Joel's hand wrap around your wrist.
"Don’t fucking touch me, Joel."
He drops your wrist and takes a physical step back at the vitriol in your voice.
"And how dare you get me taken off patrols."
Joel's face is contorted into confusion. "But you don't like-"
"You don't know what I like," you tell him flatly. “You don’t know me at all.”
It’s a shameful lie. Joel might know you better than most any other person alive on this planet. But you can’t admit that to yourself, you don’t want to acknowledge that the one person who knows you best is the one person who hurt you most.
"I know what's best for you," Joel states as he stares at you.
"No Joel, you know what's best for you,” you bite back, teeth bared. “And I don’t need you looking out for me. Wanna know why? Because you’re not my fucking boyfriend.”
You don't bother to stick around and see if your comment landed. You need to get away from him before he sees the wet sheen to your eyes.
///
“That dress is so elegant, Jenny. You look like you could be a politician’s wife.”
“Is that a good thing?”
"Totally."
The two of you are at Jennifer’s house, dressed in your beautiful gowns and doing your last minute primping. Jennifer’s dress is an elegant crimson number with a plunging back that reaches just above the dimple of her bottom. When she moves she looks like something out of a magazine and the moment you saw it this evening you could only utter: “Holy shit.”
“Trust me,” you say in awe. “You’re going to turn heads.”
Probably Joel’s.
No. We’re not thinking about him. Enough.
She fluffs your hair once more, pinching your cheeks - "for blush"- and tells you to bite your lips to redden them.
“You look so great," Jennifer squeals when she’s finished. "Okay, now you can look."
She gently spins you to face the mirror in her bedroom. You see her grinning face over your shoulder and then you take a moment to sweep your gaze over yourself. Your breath hitches in your throat as you take in the reflection before you. If you ever felt beautiful before this moment, it's been so long you can't remember.
"Jennifer..."
The words won't come. They don't exist.
You stare at your reflection in the mirror, not quite believing what you're seeing reflected back at you. The woman in the mirror that stares back at you is stunning, with a dress that hugs all her curves, soft looking hair, and a graceful air you never thought you could possess.
Disbelieving tears actually come to your eyes as you look into Jennifer's reflection. She's smiling as well, and her eyes look shiny.
"You look so beautiful."
"So do you."
Sisterly affection flows through you as you flash grins at one another in the mirror's reflection. You'll never have Charlotte back, you'll never have that sister bond but in this moment Jennifer feels like a sister to you, a beloved part of you that you cherish.
You spin, taking her into your arms and hugging her fiercely around the middle. She gives a little oof for the tightness of your embrace.
"I don't know what I'd do without you, Jennifer," you whisper, mouth against her shoulder. "You're the best friend I've ever had."
Her arms wrap around you and you hear her sniffling, squeezing you before releasing. Her face is pink and she's wiping at her eyes, laughing.
"Damn it, don’t say anything else sweet. I don't wanna be all splotchy."
///
Entering arm in arm to the event with Jennifer makes you feel brave, like you can face anything as long as she's there. But you're quickly distracted by the way the place looks at night. Along with the decorations you and Jennifer spent days on, Tommy and some of the other folks have strung Christmas lights up, pale gold circles that line the space and make it look like something out of a story.
It's something like before the outbreak, faint memories of decorated malls you and Charlotte used to walk through; marking off items you'd excitedly bought for parents.
"Holy shit."
Jennifer glances over at you in confusion at your quiet utterance before her face relaxes into a smile.
"Oh that's right, this is your first one. Well, take it in, honey. This is what it's like every Christmas and .. " she stops, smile dropping. "Wait, are you okay?"
She's looking at you concerned and when her thumb brushes your cheek you realize tears have escaped your eyes.
"I just..." You swallow, wiping your damp face, laughing at your emotional response. "I don't think I ever imagined life could be this wonderful again."
Jennifer looks around at the space again, as if seeing it through your eyes and she nods, smiling gently.
"Yeah. I know what you mean."
"Hello, you two!"
You and Jennifer glance over to see Maria approaching. She looks beautiful, wearing a pale blue dress, her coiled hair twisted on top of her head, her dark skin glowing in the soft gold lighting.
"No Douglas tonight?"
"Grace is looking after him," Maria smiles. "She knew Tom and I would be run off our feet trying to organize everything tonight.”
She explains that Grace is one of the sweetest, older women in town. She isn't much for parties anymore, so she happily volunteered to take care of baby Douglas this evening.
"I have to say, you look amazing Maria," Jennifer says, mouth agape.
"Me? I've got nothing on these dresses," Maria says, mouth agape as she takes you both in. "They're stunning."
"Jennifer made them from scratch," you tell her, motioning to Jennifer who stands shyly there at your shoulder. "She's the best seamstress here in town."
"Why the fuck do we have you on patrols then?" Maria laughs, looking at the beautiful girl smiling embarrassed behind you.
"Because she's a great shot too," you insist and you feel like a proud older sister once more.
"Damn," Maria whistles lowly. "Jennifer you're a dream woman."
Jennifer laughs out loud at this, thanking Maria.
The two of them begin chatting and you take this time to gaze around the room once more.
The tables are positioned so that they're circling the empty dance floor. Friends are sitting at some of the tables drinking punch. Others are milling around the long wooden table laden with the food everyone in attendance brought.
"I'm gonna put the food on the table," you tell the women, hefting the tarts and brownies in your arms. Ellie is there when you approach, swiping a cookie and looking guiltily at you as you approach, smirking.
She's dressed in black trousers and a pale blue sweater dotted with embroidered white stars. Her hair is brushed, half up half down.
"You look great.”
“Not as great as you.”
“I disagree,” you say with a laugh. Ellie shrugs, a little embarrassed, a little delighted at your praise.
“It's only missing one thing," you say, tugging the blue ribbon from your hair.
"But I gave that to you," Ellie frowns as she watches this.
"And I want you to wear it," you finish for her. "My gift my choice. Now turn around."
She does slightly reluctantly allowing you to tie it into a sweet bow. When she turns around she's smiling.
"Do I look nice?"
"No. You look beautiful."
You're not expecting her wiry arms to go around you, hugging you tightly. Instinctively you curl around her, bending slightly to hug her back.
"Okay, I'm gonna go find Dina," she says with a wave as she pulls back. "See you later!"
Then she's gone, disappearing through the crowd. You gaze after her, smiling gently before eyes on the opposite side of the room catch yours.
Joel stands at the edge of the crowd, hands in his pockets and an inscrutable look on his face. Your heart jumps into your throat, jolted.
You don't miss the soft inhale he makes or the way his eyes flick over your body before he turns abruptly to walk the other way. Your skin prickles in delight at his reaction.
You got no idea how many times I fucked my hand thinkin' about you in that dress.
Good. He can eat his heart out tonight for all you care. You hope he goes home and jerks it, crying about how he fucked everything up. You hope he comes sobbing into his clenched fist as he mourns the loss of you in his life.
You turn quickly, like you've just seen a horrible accident on the road in front of you. You march back to Jennifer and Maria who seem to be wrapping up their conversation.
"Looks like everyone is here," Maria acknowledges as She glances over your head and looks at the milling people. "Better get this show on the road."
///
Dinner is delicious.
Turkey, potatoes, thick bread, gravy, roasted vegetables, cookies, cakes, you lose track of everything. Wine and beer is littered through the long table.
You're wedged between Maria and one of the kitchen staff you haven't seen in a while. Luke is across the table having arrived late with a burnt bean casserole he attempted just as everyone was moving to take a chair.
Maria and Tommy are at the other end along with Ellie, Dina and you assume Joel. You wouldn't know because you don't let yourself look down in that direction until Tommy stands to make a speech.
The children scream with laughter, talking over one another as they eat, some of the few toddlers crying in their parent’s arms. And instead of frustration all you can feel is gratitude. Life now is messy and loud and chaotic. But there’s something about the vibrant exuberance of the children feels hopeful.
You eat slowly, taking your time to look around the table. Your eyes land on Oliver and his girlfriend laughing several times. When they do you glance at Jennifer sitting across from you, but she doesn’t seem upset. She’s deep in conversation with Luke and some of the women next to her.
You glance around to see Cherry slapping the table and laughing at something Grant is saying. Luke chuckles next to you, his arm swinging behind the chair at your back, casually landing on it. He's warm and he smells like the outdoors.
"I'm kinda nervous," Luke tells you both quietly, drawing your attention back to the conversation. "I haven't played and sung for this many people before."
Luke and the rest of the gang from the coffee house event are putting on the music tonight. He's been practicing like crazy and despite his talent he still seems a little anxious to be performing.
"You're going to do great," Jennifer insists with e comforting pat of his hand. "Even if you do sound terrible, we'll be out here cheering for you anyway."
"Totally," you add with a small grin.
The three of you laugh and continue to eat. And soon enough dessert is announced by Tommy telling everyone who's interested to bring their plates to one of the side tables where the desserts are artfully arranged.
People quickly scramble to take their turns to go through the bounty of items and you're very proud to see your brownies are already gone and the apple tarts close behind when you eventually wander up to the table with Jennifer.
"There's so much stuff," she says in awe. "I can't wait to try one of my tarts."
The two of you grin at each other at that. When you eventually arrive to that side of the table you can see only one tart remaining on your plate. You're just reaching for it to give to Jennifer when your fingers bump into anothers going for the same target.
You glance up to see Joel, eyes widening as he realizes it's you. The both of you start, like you’ve seen a car crash, snatching your hands back abruptly.
"You made 'em,” Joel tells you robotically with a motion towards the plate. “You should get to enjoy 'em."
You don’t reply, feeling uncomfortable as he continues to stare at you. His eyes are flinty and don’t linger on yours when you gaze up.
“Oh there’s one left,” Jennifer announces from behind you delightedly. She swipes it from the plate, oblivious to what’s happening. She talks to Selena behind her, the two of them chatting about tonight’s dance.
You remain staring at Joel, and when memories of the other night bombard you all you can do is stride from the table, your cheeks heating.
A sick part of you wonders if he’s watching you leave, if he’s turned on by you in the dress. Another part wants to dissolve into sobs because he doesn’t feel like the same Joel. He’s recalcitrant and withdrawn and he’s nothing like the warm, sweet man you were starting to uncover.
You stride away from the crowd and hide out near the coats, internally berating yourself. You cannot fall to pieces every single time you see Joel. You both live in this town and you need to get over him.
“Alright everyone, we’re gonna start with a requested tune,” comes Luke’s voice from one side of the large basement, distracting you. He and the rest of the group from the last event stand with instruments in hand, starting with a jazzy rendition of Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree.
You see Jennifer and some of her friends move onto the dance floor, shrieking with laughter. They spin each other, hair flying wildly as Luke smiles on. You scan the bustling space, thankful you can no longer see Joel’s dark presence looming over the festivities.
"Why are you hiding in the corner, honey child?"
You spin around to see Penny standing there, amused. Arthur is nowhere to be found, you can only assume he's off getting punch. She wears a nice pair of pants and a thick sweater. Her hair has been braided and looped over the crown of her head. She smiles broadly at you, coming closer.
"I'm hot," you lie with surprising ease. "Just needed a little air"
"Of course," she says with disbelief dripping off of every syllable before she scans your dress "Well ain't you just a vision."
"That's very kind of you to say," You offer with a shy little motion towards the skirt of your dress. "Jennifer is the one who did all of this."
When she doesn’t reply you glance up to see her surveying you with a concerned look.
"You doin' okay?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
Penny stares at you for a moment, analyzing your expression with a furrowed brow before shrugging.
"No reason. Anyway, I'm off to find my man, I'll see you out on the dance floor, honey."
"Sounds great."
You watch her fading presence as Luke croons out something sweet from the stage, an up tempo song you're not familiar with. Jennifer is on the dance floor with some of her friends, she waves you over smiling big. You shake your head with a smile and she rolls her eyes good-naturedly before going back into a spin with her friend Jason. You go towards the floor to watch, stopped when Tommy spots you.
"Well, don't you look beautiful," he says pulling you into a half hug. "Maria's gonna go crazy when she sees you in that. She keeps talking about how she wanted to see you in something other than jeans."
“I saw her already,” you say politely, feeling your face grow hot with the attention. “She said she liked it.”
Tommy motions to the bustling dance floor.
“How come you’re not out there cuttin’ a rug with your friend?”
“I’m not an experience dancer.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Tommy insists with a smirking scoff. “You think any of these folks are pros?”
Most of the people moving over the wooden plank flooring have no rhythm. Some spin each other laughing, others focus on their footwork. Most however just jump and swing their arms to the best of their abilities.
“I guess not,” you say with a giggle.
The tune slowly fades, replaced by something smoother, something slower, a mournful tune to your ears, but maybe it’s just because of how you’re feeling. Your eyes drift to the dance floor. Luke’s eyes are closed, his voice deep and soulful.
“Tonight, I wanna give it all to you…In the darkness, there's so much I wanna do…”
You recognize the tune from before the outbreak, a song your dad loved listening to by a band called KISS. But this tune is slowed down, bittersweet and full of longing as Luke sings, his brows saddling with emotion.
“…And tonight, I wanna lay it at your feet….'Cause, girl, I was made for you and, girl, you were made for me…”
Jennifer has found a partner, a spotty-faced boy from the grocers. Much too young for Jennifer, but she’s likely just indulging him to be kind. His face is pink and he keeps nodding as she chats casually with him.
“That’s no reason-“ Tommy stops himself mid-sentence, his eyes drifting over your shoulder. “Oh hey, Joel, c’mhere.”
You stomach drops. You refuse to look behind you, but you know that Joel is approaching. You force your eyes to move back to the dance floor, not even acknowledging when Joel comes to stand next to Tommy. You know that if you rush off now it’ll look suspicious, so you pretend not to notice him.
“What do you want?” Joel mutters, voice low and cutting through the saccharine tune.
“You gotta get out and dance, brother.”
“Not a fuckin’ chance. This music is shit.”
"Don't be a grouch," Tommy says nudging his shoulder against his brother’s. "Take the pretty lady for a dance."
Your head snaps back in their direction, eyes blown wide. Joel is looking at you, and this close you can smell that sweet, spicy cologne he wears. He watches you raise your hand, head shaking in protest.
"No that's-"
Joel just steps forward, fingers circling your wrist and he practically drags you onto the dance floor behind him. You try to tug out of it, hearing as Tommy tells you both to try your best not to step on each other’s feet.
"Joel we don't have -"
But it’s too late; you’ve been brought into the throng of warm bodies on the dance floor. Joel takes you into his arms stiffly, his right elbow tucked beneath your armpit, his hand on the small of your back. His other hand clasps yours lightly, holding it aloft as your free arm rests on his bicep, hand loosely at his shoulder. You’re close together, but not quite touching bodies.
You can’t help but glance around at the crowd, watching to see most couples with their bodies pressed tightly together, fingers laced behind necks, broad arms wrapped around waists as Luke continues to sing.
“Tonight, I wanna see it in your eyes….Feel the magic, there's something that drives me wild…”
A group of zealous dancers enter the dance floor and knock against you, shoving you against Joel’s front. You give a grunt of surprise, relieved that Joel doesn't pull back as if disgusted. If anything his fingers dig into your waist, holding you there.
“…'Cause, girl, you were made for me and, girl, I was made for you…”
Joel is so warm and the dance floor is heating up. You know your face is flushed, your hair dishevelled. It makes you feel vulnerable in a way, your walls slightly cracked. The briefly discordant tune wraps its way around you, pulling you into an emotionally anguished place.
You miss how you could talk with Joel about anything. You miss how he held you. You miss his mouth on yours, his skin pressed to your lips, his deep growled groans as he filled you. You miss how it felt to have him smile just for you, or the way you could make him laugh.You miss how it felt to be cared for by him.
“…I was made for lovin' you, baby, you were made for lovin' me…”
You let your eyes move from his mouth to his eyes, surprised to see them trained on your face. It's a confusing look of both irritation and deep openness as you sway back and forth. It emboldens you to ask the question that's been in your mind for weeks, murmured only loud enough for him to hear.
"Why do you hate me?"
His thumb is rubbing gently along your knuckles in his hand, his other hand splayed against your lower back, holding you tightly against him.
"I've never hated you."
Outside it looks like two people dancing to a slow song, but at this closeness you can see the way a sheen covers his dark eyes, making them glossy. It takes your breath from your lungs in one sweep.
"I miss you."
The words come out gently, huffed between your bodies, escaping past your teeth and tongue before you can stop them. And to your horror your chin begins to wobble, your eyes growing damp. You close them quickly, stopping the tears from falling.
"Baby."
He whispers it and it's so soft you're not sure you actually heard it. But when you open your eyes his irises have gone soft at the edges. The longer you stare into each other's eyes the surer you are that this feeling you've been carrying isn't one sided.
Joel doesn’t hate you. Maybe even the opposite if his wet gaze is anything to go by. But it doesn’t help does it? It somehow makes it worse if he loves you and still pushed you away. Makes it worse that he must know how much you ache and yet still continued to distance himself.
But that fire in your belly has sizzled to coals, replaced by the heavy feeling of longing as you gaze into his limpid stare. And then you feel them; the words that have been there on your tongue for weeks. The ones that haunt you.
"Joel, I lo-"
A loud cry goes up, startling the both of you into snapping your heads in the direction of the door. Wayne has appeared with the wine barrel over his shoulder and everyone is cheering, glasses raised.
And then just as he took you into his arms moments earlier, Joel drops you. His hands slide from your waist and he steps back as if he's been burnt.
“Joel,” you begin, confused at his reaction.
His eyes search your face for something that you can't understand and then he's striding away from you on the face floor, his long legs carrying him out of your sight. You watch him shoulder through the crowd of the dancing couples whose eyes move from his receding figure back over to you standing on the dance floor alone as the music continues, Luke’s voice a velvet croon.
“…I was made for lovin' you, baby, you were made for lovin' me…And I can't get enough of you, baby, can you get enough of me?”
Blind panic consumes you, humiliation soon joining it when you see the couples begin to whisper, some eyeing you. You feel an ugly flush starting to go up your neck, your eyes growing wet as you try to spy a good escape route.
"I must have this dance."
You swallow the tears when you turn to see Arthur behind you extending his hand in your direction.
“This song is simply too good to sit through,” he prompts, hand moving closer to you. He's wearing a sweater with a Santa face stitched onto it. You didn’t really notice it until just now and something about the absurd sight makes you want to laugh to yourself.
Your face breaks into a watery grin as you accept his pudgy hand, allowing him to gently pull you towards him. He sees the sheen to your eyes as you nod, allowing him to sweep you into a turn.
"Penny insisted I take you for a spin before all the other bachelors see you're available," he tells you with a charming grin on his ruddy cheeks.
The two of you look over to see Penny at a table on the edge of the dance floor holding a beer while waving at you both enthusiastically. You almost cry in relief at not being completely abandoned in front of everyone.
"Please tell her thank you," you tell him, relieved that your humiliation is somewhat over.
“Of course,” he assures you. The two of you dance to the ebbing slow tune, your shattered heart making it impossible to focus. Your eyes stare out into the distance, unable to register what’s just happened.
“You deserve a better man than that,” Arthur says quietly out of nowhere. You glance up to see his disappointed expression before giving a weak shrug.
“He was never mine to begin with.”
Arthur hums a reply, hand tightening around yours. It’s a protective movement, one that reminds you of a father-figure. That alone has your chin wobbling precariously, but you’re able to stuff down those ugly feelings when a fast tune starts up.
“Thank you, Arthur.”
“Anytime, sweetheart.”
He presses an air kiss next to your cheek and you suck in a deep breath; ready to exit the dance floor and face pitying glances when the familiar friendly face of Cherry is there, coming to stand in front of you in a way you can only think of as menacing. She’s wearing a sweater and tights, her severe expression offset by pale lipstick.
"Lemme get a dance in," she insists with a dramatic bow to you, extending her hand. You take it with a surprised laugh, letting her spin you around the dance floor to a light-hearted tune. You didn’t know she was such a good dancer.
Jennifer is close behind, swinging you around the dance floor to an upbeat version of “Take On Me”, the two of you mouthing the words at one another.
Then it's Hank from the gates at your elbow, insisting he get a dance with one of his favorite Jackson residents. He’s a terrible dancer, but his bad moves and his quiet swearing under his breath as he counts his steps makes you laugh.
Then it’s both Arthur and Penny, the three of you in a circle dancing to Footloose with a bunch of the lyrics messed up. You don’t care, the beat is good and you feel beautiful in your dress as you spin, swishing dramatically.
You finally get off the dance floor flushed and smiling to yourself. Joel’s horrible expression is fading from your mind because you can't remember the last time you had so much fun. Jennifer is at your side, clapping for Luke who is ending his set.
"Alright everyone, I'm gonna take a break. But the rest of the band has some tunes for you to enjoy so get off your asses and dance!"
The crowd laughs, some going back to their tables to join their friends, others hitting up the dessert table or grabbing another drink.
“He’s so good!” Jennifer tells you, her face warm and flushed from the crowd. Her breath is alcohol tinged and warm on your temple. “I’m shocked at how good a singer he is!”
“I know!”
“Have you seen Ollie and his fucking girlfriend?” Jennifer says against your hear over the music that rises in volume. She scoffs when you shake your head. “Apparently they’re getting married in the spring. Married.”
You pull back prepared to see the devastation on her pretty face. She shakes her head disgusted, eyes on you. She isn’t crying, nowhere near. But you can tell that she’s upset. It’s a dash to her ego, a strong rejection. And then all at once you both speak at the same time.
“He’s an idiot to turn you down, Jenny.” “I’m really happy for you and Luke.”
“Oh uh,” you both laugh at this, belatedly hearing what she said to you. “Yeah, Luke’s a great guy…”
You want to confess to her that no matter how much you try, you can’t muster up enough romantic enthusiasm for him. That Luke is an amazingly patient, funny, kind, good friend but that's all he'll be to you.
“Yeah, you’re really lucky to have him,” she tells you with a deep exhale as the two of you make your way off the dance floor. “Anyway, I need a breather. I’ll see you in a bit.”
Before you can reply she surges ahead and threads through the throngs of jovial revelers, her crimson dress disappearing in the crowd.
You’re on your way to the punch table when you pass Maria and Tommy chatting with a group of folks who work at the dam. Maria shoots you a smile, about to greet you when Barry lurches over, his voice booming. Barry is a tall, barrel-chested man that tends to take over most conversations, even when he’s not tipsy.
“Great party you two. Even better than last year.”
“Thanks man,” Tommy says clinking his beer bottle against Barry’s. “Glad you could join.”
The group chats on about the dance, how next year they’ll have to move it to the barn due to the high volume of attendees.
“Jackson keeps gettin’ bigger and bigger,” Tommy says with a proud look at Maria. “Soon we’ll have to build a whole dance hall.”
The crowd laughs and you can’t help but smile at the thought. Who knew what Jackson would be like in ten years? Would you still be in your same home? Would you still be in the greenhouse? Or would you consider the bakery idea?
“You two work so hard to make this community thrive,” Barry adds, swaying a bit while Maria smiles beatifically at him. “And you do a damn fine job.”
“Thanks, Barry.”
"But what about them Raiders, Tom?" Barry asks, blinking back the bleary drunkenness from his eyes. "What are we doin' about them? I’m getting’ nervous and I ain’t the only one."
The mood suddenly drops to a thick tension you feel. Some of the crowd nods, murmuring in agreement. Tommy, who has been so pleasant suddenly darkens in a way that is pure Joel. The sight of it makes your stomach flip unpleasantly.
"We got the traps, we got patrols going out four at a time now," Tommy says, mouth in a thin line of displeasure. “And we’re doin’ two shifts a day.”
"What about the last-"
"Barry," Tommy warns, his jaw ticking. "Maybe it's time to hit the dance floor, yeah?"
You've never really seen Tommy upset before, he usually so calm and laid back. It makes you uneasy to see. But Barry is oblivious to the social cue; he just shakes his head and keeps blathering on.
"I'm serious, Tommy," Barry says, tipsy but not drunk. "Pete from last patrol said there was rumor about a whole camp of 'em."
You watch as Maria's eyes drop to the floor, eyes distant. Her shoulders sag and you feel yourself exhale on her behalf.
"A camp?" Maria repeats, brow furrowed. She shoots a quick look at Tommy and then back at Barry. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah, I-"
"I said we're on it," Tommy assures, casting a worried look at Maria and then back at the burly man in front of him. Barry seems to get the message now, bleary eyes blinking.
"Uh, right. Yeah, sounds good, Tom. Talk later."
He raises his beer, nodding and lumbering away to rejoin his table of friends. The crowd tapers off, whispering to one another about what just went on. You have to admit that even you feel a bit anxious about it.
"Someone should check on Douglas," Maria says worriedly, her eyes scanning Tommy's.
"Honey, Grace has it handled."
"Tommy, I wanna go check on him," Maria insists.
Tommy wraps his arms around her.
"Okay, baby, if it'll make you more comfortable, you go ahead,” Tommy murmurs into her hair. Maria exhales, relieved.
She takes Tommy's face between her hands and gazes up at him, eyes glittering. And then she kisses him so tenderly you feel slightly embarrassed and have to look away. The moment feels private and so you leave them and draw over to the punch bowl.
You scoop some of the lemonade into a chipped mug, your mind racing about what Barry brought up. Shit, what if there are more Raiders? What if they’re waiting in the wings, preparing to get revenge for what happened to their friend Joel killed?
“Penny for your thoughts?”
You glance up from the punch bowl to see Luke smiling at you.
“Too bad currency is a thing of the past,” you muse. “What’re you up to?”
"Taking a little break," he explains, taking a sip of his pale drink. "Thought I'd see if you wanted a dance."
"Sure."
A very vindictive part of you is hoping that Joel is watching you right now. That he sees how Luke smiles at you and places his hand at the small of your back, guiding you to the dance floor. You hope that he watches as Luke sweeps you gently into his arms, smiling down at you.
You stare up at Luke and feel your heart swell with gratitude. Luke would never treat you like Joel has. Luke is kind and sweet and you were an idiot to ever overlook him.
The dance floor continues to pack and you're pressed tightly against Luke who holds you delicately. Your eyes dart across the dance floor to see if Joel lingers, but you can’t see him. For all you know he already left for home.
"Have you seen Jenny tonight?"
You glance up at Luke’s words, trying not to fixate on how different his body feels compared to Joel’s.
"Yeah, we came here together." Your eyes scan the large space but you can't see her trademark blonde locks. "Can't see her right now. Maybe she's in the bathroom. She was upset earlier."
Luke looks concerned. "She okay?"
"Ollie went back to his girlfriend and now they’re engaged," you say with a wince. “I think she’s having a tough time with it.”
"Poor Jenny," Luke sighs. "She never gets an easy break."
"No, she doesn't," you agree, thinking of her past. Luke looks distantly into the crowd of people.
"She deserves someone who treats her like a princess,” Luke says in a rush, mouth pursed. "A girl like her is.... Well... She's special."
His voice has gone strange and you take a moment to survey his red cheeks and the way he’s stammering when he speaks. And then like a dam bursting to flood your mind, snatches of moments past flash in your mind. Luke asking Jennifer if she wanted to ride with him to do repairs. Asking if she wanted coffee. The excitement in his expression when she invited him to go shooting. The way he was always sure to sit next to Jennifer at every opportunity. And even the flush to his cheeks when you asked why he bothered going shooting with you in the first place. “I guess I like spending time with you guys.” How did you never see it before?
“You like Jennifer.”
It spills out of you, hushed between your bodies as Luke’s face goes a deeper shade of red, confirming your suspicions. He continues to hold you, his eyes skittering away from your own as he nods.
A girl like her is special.
A girl like Jenny is perfect. A girl like Jennifer is what men like Luke and Joel want. Shame and pride are a potent cocktail stirring in your belly as you stare him down.
"If you liked Jennifer all this time then why did you kiss me?"
Luke at least has the good grace to look embarrassed. He leads you to the side of the dance floor, still holding you, but trying to give the two of you some privacy. He looks around, sure that you both won’t be heard before diving in.
"From the minute she introduced you and me, Jenny just kept saying you and I would be this great couple. She said that we had so much in common and were well suited and I figured she was probably right.” He sees the flinch in your expression and goes on. “I mean, I love spending time with you, I don’t ever regret it. You’re funny and pretty and, anyway, I thought that I should give us a chance.”
“But you don’t feel that way for me.”
Luke grimaces and you feel a hot throb of rejection settle behind your sternum. It’s not like you want Luke, but it doesn’t exactly feel great to be rejected no matter what the situation.
“I’m sorry. I've liked Jennifer for a long time and the feeling isn't going away. I can't stop thinking about her," Luke continues softly swaying you from side to side and you see the pain that lingers there in his voice and tone and for a wild moment you think it reflects your own.
“Why didn’t you just ask her out if you liked her?”
“Jennifer would never go for a guy like me and now I feel like I’ve fucked everything up,” Luke moans, eyes slamming shut in embarrassment. “There’s no way we can all be friends again.”
“Sure we can.”
Luke’s eyes crack open. “Really? You’re not. . . I mean, the two of you are best friends and-“
“Luke, it’s cool, I promise.” You try to say the next part gently. “I really, really wanted to like you the same way you like Jennifer. And honestly, at first I think I maybe did but. . . we’re not a good fit. When we kissed I just felt like there was no chemistry that way.”
“You seemed to like it,” Luke hedges, his own pride obvious.
“I was thinking about…” you feel your cheeks heat, “…someone else.”
You see Luke physically relax, the two of you still dancing slowly, eyes on one another. And it’s like you both realize at the same time that the whole thing was so ridiculous because you both burst out in small chuckles.
There’s something so freeing about getting this all out in the open. Knowing that Luke doesn’t want you like how he wants Jennifer is strangely liberating. There are no signals to give off, no concern of leading him on. You can just exist as friends.
“You know, I don’t get why she wanted us together so bad,” Luke says with an uncertain chuckle, spinning you as you nod.
“I think she just likes playing Cupid,” you say with a laugh. “She sees two people who should be together and she just wants them to-“
And suddenly you stop mid-sentence as you think back to all the times spent together with Luke and Jenny.
You think of when Luke touched you in front of Jenny, how she would go quiet in the more recent times. How she wanted to know how you and Luke were getting on. All the times she asked about Luke. The strange way she reacted when you told her that you’d kissed him. The way she told you that you were lucky to have a guy like Luke. A
And then like a thunderbolt to your brain it hits you: all this time you were so preoccupied with Joel you didn't even realize the signs. Jennifer likes Luke but thinks you like him. All the anger you were holding falls from you like an unwelcome jacket, a smile breaking over your features as you realize.
“Luke, Jennifer likes you.”
“No,” Luke scoffs, eyes rolling. “No, she likes guys like Ollie. Big, handsome manly-men.”
You bubble forth a delighted laugh, head shaking.
“I can’t believe I didn’t get it until just now. Luke, she totally likes you. You have to go find her," you say over the music, dropping his hands. "Go and tell her how you feel right now, tell her everything. Trust me, Luke."
Luke stands awkwardly, brows furrowed.
"But you and I have kissed," he reminds you. "And the two of you are best friends. I know how she talks about you."
“I’m happy to confirm there are no hard feelings on my side,” you say, almost laughing at the concern in his expression. “I swear. I feel the exact same way about you, Luke. You’re an amazing guy and you deserve an amazing girl. A girl like Jenny. She can come and check with me if she’s not sure. But trust me, Luke. She likes you.”
“Really?”
It’s like you just told him a cure for the Outbreak was found. He’s beaming so brightly he may just block out the lights Tommy strung around the room. A grin is spreading across your features and a flutter begins in your chest.
"I'm serious Luke. Go tell her."
“Okay uh… okay, yeah,” Luke says, smoothing his hair awkwardly and glancing around the busy space. “I’m just gonna go and find her.”
“I’ll look too,” you say, almost giddy. “I’ll tell her to look for you on the dance floor.”
“Good, Great, okay.”
And then he’s gone, dashing from the dance floor in pursuit of Jennifer. You want to laugh, your heart beating just as excitedly as if he was professing his adoration to you. You think of your friends together and there’s a profound joy that settles over you.
You exit the dance floor just in time to be stopped by a solid figure holding a handful of wine glasses in his long digits.
“Here,” Barry says, thrusting a wine glass into your hand. “Gonna do a cheers pretty soon. Bad luck to have an empty glass.”
“Thanks Barry,” you say taking it from him, distracted.
You begin to scan the crowds looking for Jennifer’s telltale blonde hair and listen for her tinkling laugh but you find neither. You go to where the crowd is lessening, some of the families with younger kids preparing to leave.
You go towards the doors, your beaming face twisting to see if you can spot her when a flash of crimson catches your eyes. You turn your eyes to the right and Jennifer’s familiar frame comes into view.
Only she’s not alone.
The two of them are half-hidden by the coats hung on the hooks. But not hidden enough.
Joel is leaning against the wall; his head tilted back, eyes closed languidly. One palm is pressed flat against the wall; the other is at the small of Jennifer's back, holding her against him. Jennifer has her hands on Joel's shoulders, standing on tiptoe, their hips grinding against one another slowly as she kisses his neck. The sight is sensual and intimate and it makes you physically recoil.
The entire world starts to get loud and garbled. The kind of feeling you used to get when swimming and your ears got clogged with water. Then echoes of tonight's comments.
Jennifer you're a dream woman. A girl like her is special. Dream woman. Special. Special.
Jennifer is a dream woman; Joel's dream woman.
Jennifer continues to kiss Joel's jaw languidly, going to suck delicately at his neck, not noticing that you’re watching them. Now all that you can really hear over the din of the celebration is a sharp high pitched buzzing noise in your ears.
Her hand slides over his belt, nails catching on the gleaming buckle and that's when the wineglass you've been holding falls to the ground, shattering. Wine spills like blood over the floor, splashing onto the bottom of your dress.
At the sound of its crash, Joel's eyes jolt open, piercing you. He doesn't change his expression or his movements. His cool appraisal has you swallowing anxiously as Jennifer whips her head around, her eyes glazed and mouth puffy. She looks dishevelled, like Joel has fucked her once already. Has he fucked her before? Surely she would have mentioned. The thought brings bile to the back of your throat.
But it's not Jennifer that you're upset with. It's Joel standing there with his hand still on her back and his dark eyes fixed on you. The world feels tilted, your feet having trouble finding their footing. And then a strong feeling goes through you, but not the one you expect. It's not fury or betrayal or even embarrassment.
It's pity.
"Really, Joel?" You say with a scoff.
Joel looks struck by your response before his eyes dart to your feet where the broken glass rests. The red wine begins to seep between the floorboards. His tone is low and growled when his gaze darts back to yours.
"Clean it up."
You give a disgusted sound in your throat before shaking your head ruefully at him.
"You don't give me orders anymore."
Jennifer seems completely bewildered, looking between you and Joel for a beat. She's about to say something when Ellie appears at your elbow, calling your name cheerfully. You try to school your features into something resembling a pleasant smile.
"Hey, Ellie."
You try to sound upbeat, but you're emotionally spent. Ellie quickly sobers as she takes in your expression. She's about to ask what has you looking so out of sorts when she catches sight of Joel and Jennifer partially hidden in the corner.
She takes one look at Jennifer's fingers limply resting on Joel's belt and looks at him disgusted.
"What the fuck is going on?"
Ellie gestures towards Joel and Jennifer, the latter of which seems stunned into not moving. All the bravado in Joel's expression flees at the first sight of Ellie. His eyes go owlish in his face, blinking rapidly.
"Ellie? I thought you were just here for the dinner,” Joel croaks. "Since when do you go to dances?"
"Since Dina asked me," Ellie replies pointing over her shoulder to where Dina stands grabbing punch.
"Oh I... I didn't know you were stayin’," Joel stammers.
"Guess not," Ellie shoots back before she's facing over to you, seeing the gloss to your eyes, the position of Jennifer and Joel, the spilled tray at your feet. Ellie is a teenager but she understands heartbreak just fine.
The music continues on in the background, a low thump of the bass guitar. Jennifer is still thrown by everything, stepping back from Joel to cast a flummoxed look around at everyone.
"You wanna come hang out with me and Dina?"
You shoot Ellie a weak smile. You want to embrace her for her kindness. For her understanding despite her young age.
"I don't understand," Jennifer murmurs as she peers at you, her face contorted in confusion.
Her eyes go from your blotchy face over to Joel, taking in the red of his cheeks and the way his eyes can't meet yours. Something like understanding passes over her features.
"I have to go," you say shooting Ellie a tight smile. "Starting to feel a headache coming on. Enjoy the party."
You can't even look at Joel as you glide away, your feet hitting the wood floor harshly as you start to jog out the door. The sound and lights of the party are behind you, your eyes wet and your body shaking by the time you get home.
You're not there when Joel's eyes move back up, looking to Ellie with shame clearly written in his expression. You're not there up see the repulsed look she gives him.
"I'm gonna stay at Tommy's tonight," she tells Joel with a disappointed shake of her head. Before he can say anything she's gone, leaving him alone with Jennifer.
The music flows around them, the distant sound of dancing and laughter mingling with the notes which seems so discordant with how things are going right now. Jennifer backs up a fraction, her hands at her side as she stares at Joel. He's looking in the direction that you left, his mind replaying your face moments prior.
Joel had been expecting the hurt in your eyes. Had readied himself for your tears, braced himself for your anger, but he hadn't been expecting the obvious pity you held there in your hurt gaze.
Joel also isn't expecting the sharp slap across his face, jerking his head to the left with a grunt as the crack of it sounds out. Isn't expecting Jennifer to turn from some sweet, country girl into a furious woman before his eyes, her mouth curled into a snarl.
"You fucking asshole."
And then she's gone, striding from him and through the group of people milling near the front door of the church.
And when he's left all alone, his cheek red and his heart aching, Joel tells himself that he did what was needed.
PLEASE READ: This is PART 2 of 2 for this chapter because apparently Tumblr wants to make my life a nightmare and won't let me post the whole thing in one. So please don't panic, PART ONE IS HERE.
Also important: TAGS AND WARNINGS FOR THE WHOLE CHAPTER ARE FOUND AT THE BOTTOM OF THE CHAPTER UNDER THE JOEL GIF. SCROLL THERE TO SEE ANY WARNINGS OR TAGS.
RATED 18+
And lastly... please review. This chapter is over 30K. It was re-written after laptopgate 2024. It is blood, sweat and tears. Please review, reblog, and COMMENT. Even if you're mad at me.
Chapter 18: Useless - Part 2
The day begins like any other.
You’re shivering with Charlotte slept against you, her tinier body snuggled as close to you as possible, her dirty hair pressed against your cheek. The two of you are chained to the large metal radiator in the corner. It clinks when you shift a bit.
She's warm, which is a boon considering how cold it's been. You gaze down at her still slumbering face. You see the length of her lashes, the slack of her mouth. You notice the way her normally full cheeks have started to go hollow and the dark bruises under her eyes. You haven't seen your reflection in months but you can only assume you look similar.
Muffled laughter begins behind the door and this startles her into waking. She yawns softly before raising her head.
"S'early," she offers, seeing the sky outside the window is still dark.
"Must be hunting today."
The bedroom doors open and Red steps out, still talking to his wife Freckles. You never learned their names, never wanted to, but in your mind they're categorized by features. Beard and Ponytail arrive moments later, followed then by Smokey, the Raider who never stops smoking even when the air becomes acrid and you choke on it.
The entire group is suited up in their hunting gear, large guns strapped to their backs. Smokey goes to unlock the chains around both sets of wrists before tugging you both to a stand. You both learned early on that compliance was the only way to stay alive, although some days you don't know why you bother.
Freckles helps you both into heavy jackets and your boots. You both stand, slightly wobbling.
"Toilet?"
You both nod.
They aren't cruel to you in the traditional way. They take you to the bathroom. They give you water and feed you both an apple and slice of cheese while they drink their coffee and eat their toast and muffins. They let you sit in the chairs and sometimes if there are leftovers they shove their plates towards you. You always make sure Charlotte has first dibs.
"Gonna be a long one today," Red, the de-facto leader tells the group, sucking at his back teeth. "Grant on the CB says there's a big house half a day by truck. He'll meet us at his place first."
"What's so great about it?" Ponytail is always challenging Red, glaring at him from behind her taped glasses.
"Big place, nicer’n this. Old lady that's there is a hoarder. Never leaves unless it's to get medicine or food. She's got chickens out back too."
Freckles whistles lowly in appreciation. Fresh eggs sound good.
"Why doesn't Grant try on his own if he knows about it? S'just some old lady."
"Says too much noise coming from the house to be just one person," Red confirms. "Doesn't wanna go unarmed. Needs one of the Searchers."
"Which one?"
The Group slowly turns to scan between you and Charlotte huddled close together. You feel their greedy eyes bouncing between the two of you, trying to decide who is better for this mission.
"Might as well bring 'em both, 'n Grant can choose."
///
The ride is long and cold. You and Charlotte bump in the back of the truck, your bodies huddled together for warmth. Despite the heavy clothes and jackets you're both still freezing in the crisp air.
Grant's compound is dirty with high chain link fencing; vicious looking dogs that pace back and forth as you arrive. They've been trained only to bark if infected come near, but they growl lowly when the Group and you and Charlotte approach.
Grant pops his bearded head out from the shack he calls a home. Despite everything happening in the world he remains portly, well fed and ruddy-cheeked.
"Up the road a ways," he tells Red before spitting a line of brown chewing tobacco into the dirt. “Place called Rock River. Used to belong to the real hoity toities before everything went down.”
He and Red chat a moment longer before Red motions your way. Grant scratches his ratty beard with a thoughtful look on his face before deciding.
"We can bring 'em both. Place is big."
"If there's nothin’ there you know it costs to use 'em," Red warns. "So you better come through."
"Don't you worry about that. Old lady's got lots of space in that big house. She'll have plenty worth trading for."
The group chats amongst themselves quietly before Ponytail breaks from them, stalking over to you with a frown.
"Here," she says handing you a large bowie knife from her belt. "You see anything you start stabbing and screaming."
If you were more naive you could think of this as a kindness. But you know better. This is a protection of assets, the privilege that comes with being a good and dependable pet.
You turn the gleaming knife around in your palm, eyes tracing the serrated edge. The errant thought of jabbing it through her throat crosses your mind. But even if you stabbed one of them the others would gun you and your sister down within seconds.
You grip the knife in your hand, motioning to Charlotte behind you.
"What about my sister?"
Ponytail sneers.
"Share."
She stalks off and you glare after her.
“Here," you tell her Charlotte after handing her the knife. "Make sure you have a strong grip on it."
"What about you?"
"Take care of yourself Charlie."
///
Grant takes you and your sister in his truck, citing that the open back of a truck is no place for two ladies. Grant affords you more kindness than the others, but you know his intentions aren’t philanthropic. You’ve seen how he eyes your sister when the two of you are brought out to him.
“Got you two something.”
Grant’s meaty hand grabs something from the front of his rattling truck, handing it back to Charlotte. It’s a chocolate bar, old and white from age but she tears into it happily, breaking it in half. The two of you eat quickly, starving most if not all days.
“Thank you.”
Grant’s dog Lady, beside him in the cab of the truck, resting on the blanket afforded her regarding you both with an intense glare in the backseat. She’s an old dog, Grant’s most loyal companion and he brings her everywhere he goes. She’s too old to hunt, too old to do much of anything except shoot nasty looks at everyone.
“Here we are.”
Grant helps you both down from the truck, his hand lingering on Charlotte’s a little too long. You wince, grabbing her and tugging her out of his grip. The Group pulls up alongside Grant’s truck and all of you take a look at the large estate.
The house is dilapidated, wood hammered over windows, the lawn yellowed and withered. If it weren’t for the faint clucking of the chickens in the backyard you would think it abandoned. A large tree sits in front of the house, a tire swing attached to it, an obscene mockery of old fashioned family life.
Freckles passes you one of the flashlights and you take it.
“Alright you two,” Red says sucking his teeth. “Go on.”
You and Charlotte link hands, taking a deep breath and making your way towards the home. The rest of The Group hangs back inside the vehicles. If there’s a horde of infected they’ll get away easily.
This is the panic that always overtakes you at the start, the hurdle you have to overcome. The infected. You do it because if you don’t you’ll be killed. Your sister will be killed. And so you trudge with terrified steps up splintered wood steps, pushing the creaking door open.
You swallow thickly, listening for anything. Charlotte does the same, her head tilted to the side. When nothing but silence greets you the two of you exchange nods and step inside.
You’ve developed a silent shorthand for when you’re together, a way of communicating with barely imperceptible movements. Wide eyes: I hear something. Squinting eyes: Careful. Nods: Safe. There are dozens more, but those three are the most commonly used.
You stand back to back, arm linked as you move through the first room. Creaking floorboards and old furniture rest inside. There is no dust, no debris. This house is lived in. That means there’s a chance there’s someone here. But they’re a human someone.
You move through the bowels of the house, flashlight raised in front of you. Charlotte is silent, her eyes scanning the space around you both. You move through the hallway, flashlight scanning the empty bathroom.
You move to the kitchen, eyes on the muffins that sit on the table. Your mouth waters and you look at your sister. She’s seen the same thing. Without words the two of you scramble over to the table, gripping the muffins and hungrily shoving them into your mouths. The sugar makes your jaw ache, the taste of it so sweet on your tongue. Charlotte has her eyes closed, chewing quickly, savoring it all.
You wonder if the place has anything to drink. What if she has milk? You haven’t had milk in years. The thought makes the food thicken in your mouth. You swallow before turning, preparing to see what’s inside the fridge.
A flash of movement starts in front of you and a blinding flash of pain rips into your abdomen that drops you to your knees. The flashlight goes rolling under the cupboards and you grip your stomach, knelt over.
Charlotte hears your groan of surprised pain, whipping around to see an old woman with a shaky hand holding a bloodied knife. The woman looks terrified, her frizzled hair in a loose bun and her hands gnarled. She looks at you in horror at what she’s done.
“I’m so sorry,” she gasps.
She doesn’t finish. You watch as you baby sister takes the knife and slices it brutally across the woman’s neck. Red spurts like rubies along the edge, flying over the floor.
“Charlie, no!”
The woman drops to the floor beside you, her hand around her throat as she tries to staunch the blood flow. You look to see she’s fallen on her knife, the handle digging into her spine. Your breathing is labored as you try to assess the situation. You fall back on your training.
“Is there anyone else in the house?”
She shakes as the blood pours from her, the sticky warmth spreading. She stares up at you with saddled brows, regret apparent on her face. Charlotte is sniffling; rubbing at her eyes as the knife she was holding clatters to the ground. She’s never killed anyone before, not anyone human.
"Only m-my grandson," the old woman whispers, her gnarled hand coming to grip your jacket. "Please.... P-l-lease take care of him. He's -"
You watch as the light fades from her eyes and she slumps back. Her fingers fall limply from your jacket to land on her abdomen. You glance up to see Charlotte’s eyes spilling tears, her face paling and her entire body shaking. She’s going into shock.
“I didn’t mean to-“
“You did what you had to do,” you tell her honestly, your voice dead as you hold her, warming her up by rubbing her arms. “And now we have to scan the house. We have to do our job. C'mon."
It takes a few moments of this before the life comes back to her eyes.
“Your stomach.”
“Its fine,” you insist, groaning as you stand. “It hurts but she didn’t get me too bad.”
You’re lying of course. The pain is there, but adrenaline is overtaking you for the time being. You take a nearby tea towel and press it to your stomach to stop the blood flow. You dig around in the kitchen drawers, frustrated before moving to the bathroom. You pull out the drawers in there, thankful to find several packed bandages.
With Charlotte’s help she winds it around your abdomen several times, keeping the tea towel snug to your body, securing it around your ribs.
“Great, thanks,” you insist with a wheeze. “Let’s go.”
You go back to the kitchen, both sets of your sneakers and the bottom of your jeans drenched in her blood. You can’t find the flashlight and none of the lights seem to be working. The boarded up windows make the place dark and murky.
“Grab your knife,” you instruct Charlotte. She does so, attempting to dislodge the one under the woman but giving up when it won’t budge.
You glance around the kitchen, disappointed to see nothing that will help aside from a butter knife. She must store her weaponry elsewhere. That will be something to report back to Red; that will earn you both extra rations tonight.
You take Charlotte’s hand in yours, guiding her through the rooms a bit more at ease knowing that there’s only one other person in the house. You make your way up the stairs, marveling at how well-maintained the home is.
The first room holds a bed with plush looking sheets. You have the strangest urge to touch them, but you don’t. You know The Group will take them for themselves, you best not get attached. Maybe you could talk them into giving you one of the pillows to share though.
Next you come upon an office, your eyes scanning the various books held on sagging shelves. The Grey’s Anatomy textbook propped up on the large desk. Yellowed pages full of script and drawings catch your eyes and you step into the room.
One is of a human brain, different labels on each section. You were never good at biology, but you can see that she was working on something to do with brain and serums. You take a look at the journal with hastily written in script. It dates back four months.
Charlotte takes a look around the room, pocketing a small pencil as you read.
You however are coming to realize something as you look at the beakers and different plants and herbs before thumbing through more of the entries. She’s written it there in plain English, and you feel your stomach tighten at the realization.
"She was trying to make a cure," you murmur to yourself, looking at the sheets of paper and notes.
Charlotte draws over, her eyes wide as she scans the pages, her hands trembling in ancitipation.
“Did she? Did it work?”
You look at the book half opened in your grip, flipping to the latest entry. A single sentence stares back at you, ugly and short.
“Subject remains infected.”
Disappointment floods the both of you, shoulders sagging. There is nothing quite like the pain of lost hope.
“I don’t know why I thought for one second it was possible,” Charlotte scoffs angrily.
You start when she rips the journal from your hand and flings it against the wall. You can see the furious tears in her eyes, the curve of her mouth as she pushes more of the papers off the desk.
“I don’t know why we even bother! We’re never escaping this fucking nightmare!”
Glass beakers go crashing to the floor as she kicks over the desk and you grip her around the elbows, tightening so that you’re bear-hugging her. It sends a searing pain through your abdomen, fresh blood starting to seep through the bandage.
“I’m going to get us out of this,” you promise her, your forehead against her spine. “I promise.”
It’s a hollow oath and you both know it. It’s been years of this and you’re no closer to saving her, no closer to escaping. She just goes limp in your arms, silently sobbing. You let your sister cry, her sobs wrung from her tiny body. And then you release her, gripping her face in yours.
“Trust me Charlie. I’m going to protect you.”
She opens her mouth to say something when a thump sounds out from down the hall.
The two of you start, Charlotte gripping the knife from her jean pocket. She raises it, eyes going to you and narrowing. You nod, the two of you slowly making your way down towards the hallway.
Thump…thump…
You stand outside a door at the end of the corridor, your eyes going to the pale blue sign on the door. It’s got whimsical cartoon dinosaurs all over it, hand painted.
Ryan’s Room. No girls allowed.
"Her grandson," Charlotte says with sad eyes, her voice a whisper. "He’s just a kid."
Your stomach sinks as you realize the same thing. Charlotte lowers the knife to her side, looking at you with an imploring gaze. The thumping has ceased.
"We could take care of him," Charlotte reasons. "He could be like our little brother. We could tell them that he'll be a searcher like us."
You shake your head, frustrated. The Group would never go for it, not another mouth to feed. And not a young child. They would see no use in it. And you don’t need another person to look out for.
"Charlotte we have to do our job. We scan the house and report back. It's not up to us to rescue anyone."
“After what I did to his grandma,” she says with a trembling lower lip, “I can’t leave him here. I just can’t.”
You see the toll that today has taken on your sister. Her first kill of an innocent, the guilt of that and leaving a child behind would break her further. You can’t have that happen. With a frustrated exhale you grip her shoulder.
"We can help him escape the house but that's it, Charlotte," you tell her in a whisper. "Give him time to pack a bag and run to the nearest QZ. Tell him how to avoid Raiders, but that's it. He cannot come with us."
Charlotte nods and you hate to disappoint her. What if this kid is really young? Can you really turn your back on a frightened toddler in peril? You can only pray Ryan is old enough to get to a QZ on his own.
Charlotte breaks into a relieved smile, giving you a tight hug. The door is creaked open and you wait at the doorframe. You don’t want to scare the kid. He likely heard the noise from the office, likely taught to hide if he hears something.
“Hi Ryan,” Charlotte coos into the darkness. “We’re not here to hurt you.”
She steps into the room, fumbling for the light switch. But something feels off, something that makes you grab her shoulder and tug her towards you out of the room. You both stumble back further, horrified when a snarling sound emits from the dark room.
"Oh fuck!"
Your sister whimpers as the rotting corpse of a young boy leaps towards you both at the door, gnarled fingers outstretched. Half his face is covered in the fungus, his teeth ground down to points.
You both fall back onto the rotting wood in shock. In terror Charlotte loses her grip and the knife clatters to the floor. You stare at the boy, seeing the thick rope tied around his waist and secured to the heavy bed. He can go no further than the door. Despite this he swipes at your both fruitlessly.
You begin to grope around on the floor for the fallen knife, your eyes wide with fearful adrenaline. The boy makes a chilling clicking noise and you hear the groaning of wood.
Your fingers finally grip the knife and your sister shrieks again as you scrabble to a stand, pulling her back by the shoulder. The boy is halfway out the door, dragging the bed behind him. You hear the wood splintering
"HELP!"
You hold your knife in front of you as you drag Charlotte backwards to the stairs. You hear the sound of the Group coming up the stairs with Grant leading them. They have their weapons raised, and Red barks at you from the bottom step.
"How many?"
"O-one infected up here," you shout at him. "One dead woman in the kitchen."
Red sprints up past the rest of the group and takes the knife from you. His glare is narrowed on the boy stuck by the width of the bed and the doorframe. He snarls at the Group, swinging his arms wildly.
You pull your sister along with you as you hear the wet sound of a knife being thrust into flesh. Red has often remarked that he doesn't like to waste bullets when a knife will do just fine. There's a wet thunk and then finally a silence. Charlotte has tears streaming down her face and you go to wipe them.
"It's okay," you tell her, wrapping her in your arms. "You're safe. I've got you."
“Fucker took my knife,” Red snarls as he stalks back. “Can’t get it out of his fuckin’ skull.”
You and Charlotte make your way out of the house, followed by Grant.
“You stay here,” he instructs. “We’re gonna load up.”
The two of you sit in the back of the truck, Charlotte shivering as you attempt to comfort her. She doesn’t speak, just keeps whimpering and whining. The Group goes through the house, pilfering useful items, weapons and foodstuff before loading them into the vehicles. They all make jokes and smile as they tally up their goods.
“You both did good,” Grant says with a smile as he finishes up. His round face is sweaty from excursion. “Let’s head back. Hop up front.”
You nod, crawling eagerly from the back of the truck bed. You wait for your sister to join you, confused when she stays there, holding onto one of the mattresses that Grant took from the house.
“I’ll stay here,” she mutters.
“Charlotte, its freezing,” you say, urging her to stand by grabbing her by the shoulder of her jacket. “C’mon.”
“Alright,” Red calls from his truck on the other side of you. “Let’s head back.”
“Charlotte, c’mon.”
Charlotte remains crouched, shaking her head as Grant comes alongside you.
“I’ll hold the furniture,” she insists. “Make sure it doesn’t fall out.”
“Nah, don’t need that,” Grant insists. He’s big and strong and before she can deny him he’s holding her under the armpits and lifting her unwilling form out of the back of the truck bed. He settles her down on the ground, smiling at her patiently. “Besides, I don’t get your company often. I wanna take advantage.”
Charlotte doesn’t smile back; she just stands there until you take her hand, cajoling her into joining you. You open the door, urging her in before you. You see the blood around her sneakers and the bottom of her jeans. It matches yours, left from the old woman in the kitchen. You wince.
Charlotte is withdrawn as Grant brings the truck to life. The previously sleeping Lady awakens at the sound, giving a little sniff as she licks Grant’s face. He smiles lovingly at her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
Lady sniffs the air again, her bleary eyes scanning the truck bed. She fixes her gaze on Charlotte, who stares back balefully. You both start when Lady begins to growl and then bark.
“Hey now,” Grant soothes, patting her belly. “Enough ‘a that, Lady.”
But Lady isn’t stopping. The old bitch is up on all fours, trying to leap into the back seat. Her eyes are fixed on Charlotte and you can see how the blood has drained from your sister’s face. Grant’s bemusement suddenly shifts and his eyes go to the rearview mirror, his eyes lingering on Charlotte before going back to the snarling Lady and then back to Charlotte.
Grant stares at her for a long moment before sighing. You watch his pudgy fingers go to the ignition, slowly turning the key to stop the truck from running. You stare at him, confused when he opens the door of the cab with another sigh, grabbing Lady by the collar and dragging her out of the cab. He closes the door, leaving your sister and you sitting in anxious silence.
You reach over and grab her hand, tightening yours around it. She gives you a watery smile.
“I love you.”
“Love you too.”
You turn to watch Grant out the window talking to Red in the truck. They look serious. Red keeps shaking his head and throwing up his hands before he and Ponytail shove open the doors and follow Grant back to the truck.
You’re startled when the door is yanked open and Red grabs Charlotte by the back of the neck, dragging her out of the truck. She shrieks and you clamor down, held back by Freckles as you attempt to intervene.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
Red holds Charlotte by the upper arm in front of him, nodding at Grant. Grant, looking devastated grips Lady by the collar, guiding her slowly towards Charlotte. Lady immediately goes crazy, barking madly and almost foaming at the mouth as she nears your sisters ankle. Charlotte whimpers, looking at you fearfully.
“Leg,” Ponytail says pointing at Charlotte’s blood-smeared jeans and sneakers. Freckles holds tight to you as you try to wrench out of her grip, shaking your head. They think she’s infected? Are they stupid?
“It’s not her blood! It’s from the woman we killed in the kitchen!”
Grant guides Lady backwards, watching as Smokey comes over, yanking up Charlotte’s jeans to show everyone a faint bite mark above her ankle. Everyone circling around lets out a groan of disappointment. Your stomach drops and then your world collapses on top of you. You fall to the ground onto your knees, unable to comprehend what you’re seeing.
“Musta’ got snagged by the kid upstairs before we got there,” Red remarks. “Fuck.”
He shakes his head as if he’s more irritated than anything. He looks your way, anger in his eyes.
“And you?”
You don’t answer him, you can barely hear anything. Everything is muted, like you’re under water. This can’t be happening. You just stare at her as Lady is brought over to you by a wet-eyed Grant. You don’t even acknowledge the dog sniffing at you; you just shake your head with wet eyes as you gaze at your sister.
“Charlie it’s not from the kid, right?” you ask with a trembling voice. “It’s a mistake, right?”
Charlotte doesn’t answer you.
She just looks at you with heartbreak in her eyes before she’s thrown to the ground by Red. She cries out as the cold ground bites into her hands and knees. A scream sounds out from you, ripped from your lungs at the sight of your sister in pain. Red looks at the rest of The Group before nodding at you with his head.
“Load her in the back.”
You’re halfway to your sister, jogging with your outstretched fingers almost touching hers when you feel arms around your middle, tugging you back brutally.
“No!” you shout as they begin to drag you over to the truck. “You can’t do this! CHARLOTTE!”
Smokey and Ponytail grab Charlotte by the wrists, tugging her screaming body back to the large tree outside the front of the house. You watch in despair as they begin to wind rope around her body, tying her to the tree. She screams your name, her face crumpled in terror.
“Just one moment,” you beg as they hold you, “I just want to say goodbye.”
“Too dangerous,” Red announces. “Only got one ‘a you left now. Can’t take any chances.”
You scream and struggle and when you won’t stop Freckles decks you across the face. Blood goes spurting from your split lip and you immediately silence. Terror is there in you, knowledge that if you make more screaming noises you’ll be hurt further.
You’re thrown into the back of Red’s truck, just as you were that morning when it was you and Charlotte huddled together. Your ankles are tied together, attached to one of the heavy dressers brought from the home. You lean over, your frantic eyes able to make out your sister’s trembling frame and Smokey and Ponytail headed back towards you.
Charlotte continues to scream your name, shouting for you. You can’t understand why they’re leaving her tied up like that. You look over when Red is about to get into the driver’s seat, your heart in your throat.
“You can’t leave her out here,” you beg him, tears falling down your cheeks. “Please. You can’t.”
Red takes a look at Charlotte tied to the tree, shrugging at you before clamoring into the front seat.
“She’s as good as dead. And I ain’t in the business of wastin’ bullets.”
///
Joel is holding you, as he has been the entire time you’ve been speaking. You know he’s looking at you in the dark, seeing the tears that stream down your cheeks as you cling to him. But your eyes are a blur of tears and blue-black night.
“I never understood if they did it to punish me or if they really just didn’t want to waste bullets,” you say in a voice so detached it doesn’t actually sound like you.
“The last thing I remember is she was screaming for me. And all I could do was sit there, holding my hand out, useless, crying and watching her get smaller and smaller…”
Joel shifts to a seated position, you half in his lap, his fingers trailing soothingly up and down your spine once more.
“I left my sister out there to turn by herself because I was too weak to fight back,” you say through clenched teeth. “I should have forced them to take me to her. I should have grabbed Red’s gun. I should have done something, but I was so scared.”
“You woulda been killed.”
“And my sister wouldn’t have had to die alone,” you whisper, tears slipping onto the pillow under your head. “I was her big sister. Her hero.”
Joel must sense that there’s no use trying to rationalize how you feel. It’s no different than how his emotions get the better of him when he talks about the night Sarah died. Sometimes in grief there is no logic, only pain.
“And I was never able to go back,” you tell him, swallowing. “Chiyo and I were so far from it by the time we started for Jackson City. We didn’t have enough to get us back to Rock River. So I don’t know if she’s still out there, wandering around, trapped in an infected body. I don’t know if she was killed. I’ll never know.”
Joel clings to you, holding you tighter than he ever has as your face moves to his shoulder and the sobs begin anew. He seems to know that nothing he says will help in this moment, nothing he tells you will change the past. Instead he holds you in both and spirit, the compassion flooding from him into you as he rocks you in his arms. There are tears on your temple but not from you.
“I’m sorry,” he says in a thick voice. “I’m so sorry, baby.”
You’re not sure what he’s apologizing for.
///
Joel holds you until you fall back asleep and he’s there when you wake up, fingers trailing over your cheek. You lick your dry lips, eyes crusty from sleep as you peer up at him in the early morning light.
"Did you watch me sleep all night?"
His lower lip sticks out slightly, a shoulder brought to his ear in a noncommittal shrug.
"Wasn't really that tired."
You see the way he sleepily squints down at you, watching as he poorly swallows a yawn. You could ask him why he did it but you know why.
"Liar."
Joel chuckles rich and soft before kissing your cheek. With a pout you let him extricate himself from your limbs. You yawn, listening to him using the shower before exiting dressed a few minutes later, damp hair curling at the ends.
He crouches down beside your bed, his broad hand coming to push back the hair from your forehead. He kisses your face over and over, soft, feather-light kisses, warm from his plush lips and you melt into them.
"I got a lot to do today. Helping Tommy with building some shit, meeting with Hank about the fencing and then guitar with Ellie."
You're disappointed of course, but there's not a part of you that's resentful. You had an entire night with him; he has a life outside you and you him. Your hand goes to loosely wrap around the wrist of the hand he has against your forehead, ready to tell him as such.
"But I can cancel the stuff with Tommy and Hank if you need me to," he murmurs, mouth against your forehead. "Just say the word. I could even reschedule with Ellie, she’d understand."
You gaze at him from your pillow, taking time to memorize the wrinkles around his eyes, the plush of his lower lip, the gray creeping into his beard and hair. You are in awe of the way his dark eyes seem so soulful, so open as he looks to you like you bring out the sun.
You lift your head just to kiss him gently, citing that it’s fine, that you actually need some time to yourself, that you’ll see him tomorrow for patrols and eventually after many kisses and ‘you sure?s’ he leaves you, looking concerned until you throw a pillow at him and tell him to get lost.
Left alone in the quiet of your home, in the bed still warmed from Joel’s body, you stare up at the ceiling. Contrary to what you expected there is a lightness about today, of sharing everything with another person. There is freedom in telling Joel everything, even the parts you kept from Chiyo. It makes you feel strangely reborn in a way.
You’d expected darkness and depression, but instead you’re met with a strange sense of calm. You know however that the ugly thoughts may resurface, muddling your thoughts. On days when your brain feels crowded it helps to go for a walk, to clear your head and make sense of the world. So you pull on your boots and you make your way to the old farmhouse.
Buckley is there at the end of the street wagging his tail merrily as you give a scratch behind his ear. You pass him and begin to wander down the quiet path leading to the farmhouse. As you do your mind is cluttered with emotion and feelings you have to sift through.
You still can't believe you shared all of that about Charlotte with Joel. Further yet to can't believe he didn't try to give advice or press you for more details. He just held you, shed a tear and watched over you until you woke the next morning.
Your heart feels achy but in the best way. Like there's so much love inside your meagre body can't contain it all.
You enter into the old farmhouse but take your time, scanning the space through fresh eyes as you recall Joel's assessment of the place the last time you were both here.
Place has good bones.
It's the kind of thing someone says when they want to buy a place, isn't it? When they envision starting a life with someone else and-
Stop it.
You walk up the stairs, making sure to note every scuff mark, every chipped baseboard, every threadbare carpet in the bedrooms. You wonder about the family here before. No knickknacks were left behind, no personal effects.
It's a blank slate in some ways, the walls even more bare than yours at home. But the small bits of furniture that remain speak to a family.
You pause, glancing into the first bedroom. The narrow bed, the faded pink stars of the wallpaper. You can imagine that a young girl one resided in this room, she did her homework under the window, read books in a chair by the corner.
You move to the bigger room with no bed, but one rickety end table. The walls are a faded taupe color, attached to a large bathroom with a rusty toilet and a shower with a missing door and broken shower tiles.
But the longer you stare, the more this visage fades from view and morphs into something out of a dream. You can imagine everything repaired, the windows washed and casting warm light in every room.
You can envision a working claw foot tub and Joel's handyman skills working at refinishing the broken tiles, making a mosaic in colors of your choosing.
You imagine nights walking wrapped in a towel, slick and warm from the tub into Joel's waiting arms. Of nights taking turns bringing each other to toe-curling orgasms as you cling to the sleigh bed from his bedroom back on Rancher Street. You're not shocked when you feel your cunt throb in your jeans.
You go to the next bedroom, looking at the large boarded up window and thinking it would be perfect as an art room for Ellie once it was spruced up. You could even do some crafts in here when you felt like it.
The next room is at the far end of the hall. It's got it's own private bathroom, a large bedroom. It's not as independent as Ellie having her own space in the garage, but maybe she'd like it anyway.
You can almost hear her girlish laughter as you sit on her bed and brush her hair, whispering about Dina and first kisses. In that same fantasy you can imagine Joel poking his head around the frame and saying something about interrupting girls day.
You can easily envision mornings laughing over coffee with Joel in the kitchen, of Ellie rolling her eyes but unable to keep the grin from her face as you and Joel press your lips together gently.
A family.
Nothing like the one you envisioned as a young girl, but perfect to you in this world.
You catch your reflection in the busted mirror above the sink. You're beaming, actually fucking beaming at this imagined scenario. At the sight of it you flush, eyes averted to the ground.
"Stop it," you murmur to yourself out loud, frowning. "You fucking loser."
It's too early to be thinking like this, to have such domestic fantasies of moving in together and becoming some little family. You're being silly, delusional.
You had such little romantic experience before outbreak day and then after that you felt stunted. Dating in the QZ wasn't the same, romance was odd and rushed. Even without a wider context of relationships you know that you're thinking too far ahead, wanting to move too fast.
But one thing is clear as you walk along the uneven wood towards the front door, you are thinking of a future with Joel Miller.
///
Patrols arrive the next morning and as you get dressed that morning you're strangely giddy. You pull on your socks smiling. You hold back the urge to skip into town, swallowing the excitement of seeing him.
You want to talk with him about Ellie and Jennifer and see what he thinks. He asked you to the dance, obviously he knows what that means. But maybe he doesn't want anyone knowing until then. But you need to tell him Jennifer needs to know now, the minute you get back from patrols.
Joel isn't there yet and Hank tells you that you're early, smiling when you hand him the bag of apple tarts.
"What're these for?"
"Practice," you smile, taking some of the peels from a separate bag and bringing them over to Chestnut.
"Hello beautiful boy," you say, pressing a soft kiss to Chestnuts soft nose. "Did you miss me?"
You hold out some of the apple peelings, grinning when he huffs his warm breath along your palm before indulging. Midnight stands nearby, the two of them secured to the fence in anticipation of patrols.
"Here you go," you offer almost shyly, your palm flat and your eyes on the ground. There's a shuffling and then you feel his warm breath on your palm. Your eyes peek up to see Midnight surveying you warily even as he munches on the snack.
You're gradually aware of a warmth behind you. You glance over your shoulder to see Joel standing there. He's smiling subtly, his voice dropped for only your ears.
"Told ya you'd win him over."
That same warm arousal builds in your lower belly as you tell yourself to look away from him, knowing that the longer you stare the harder it is not to kiss him. His eyes flick to yours, the pull clearly strong in him as well.
"There you are Joel," Hank says cheerfully coming up behind him. "The horses are all ready for ya both."
Joel's expression immediately drops and he turns to face Hank, wearing his customary scowl.
"Good." He glances down at the bag in Hanks hand curiously. "S'that?"
"I'd offer you one of these tarts but your partner there only made enough for me."
He shoots you a playful wink as you giggle. The look Joel shoots Hank could wither fruit on the vine. He looks over at you.
"Are you ready to go or not?"
There's something about Joel pretending to be stern in front of everyone that amuses you, and if you're honest, turns you on a tiny bit. You muse that it rests in the knowledge that Joel is so sweet and soft but only with you, away from the prying eyes of Jackson City inhabitants.
It makes you try very hard to swallow a giggle when he looks at you dismissively before throwing his leg up over the saddle. You and Chesnut follow him out, the gates closing behind you.
"I liked your apple tarts, you know."
Joel is watching you out of the corner of his eyes. You glance over, seeing his face looking solemn.
"Huh?"
"Those ones you gave Hank. I liked ‘em."
"Oh good."
You ride beside him, lost in thought. Why is he bringing up your baking? Was he hungry? Joel is never hungry on patrols like he's trained his body to only feel hunger during the lunch break. Realization slowly dawns on you.
"Joel are you upset I didn't bring you baking?"
"No," Joel says quickly, frowning at the empty space in front of him. "Just that if you're goin' around givin’ out baking I wouldn't mind some."
He looks over sharply when you start laughing to yourself, your cheeks sore by the time you're done.
"Joel, I just figured you'd have some when you came over next."
You don’t miss the pink at his cheeks as he nods almost shyly.
“Okay. Good.”
You and Joel are quiet the next little bit, knowing that silence is paramount on patrols. It doesn't stop you from watching him out the corner of your eye. Doesn't still your heartbeat when he randomly glances over at you and smiles.
You give Chestnut a gentle pat behind the ears, looking down at your beloved horse with affection. He moves at a steady clip, his movements smooth and focused.
"Hey."
Joel's whisper draws your attention to see he's looking at you not with warmth but instead heavy concern.
"It’s our turn to check the traps," Joel offers with a gentle tone. "You okay with that?"
What a difference Joel's kindness makes. When he asks you to do this instead of commanding it. You nod, following him dutifully atop Chestnut.
"We'll be fast," he tells you as the two of you jump off and tie up your horses on the outskirts of the forest. The same one you ventured into before. Both horses huff at each other, their breath caught by the chilled air and frozen.
You fumble with Chestnuts reign, distracted by the way Joel's arms bulge in his jacket. Filthy images of him in bed are invading your mind as you half-heartedly tie Chestnut to the nearby tree by Midnight.
You feel your heart pound delightedly when Joel catches your gaze and gives you a smirk and a wink.
"Let's go."
He reaches a hand towards you and you take it with a grin up at him. This all feels so natural, so easy. He seems so comfortable walking with you through the snow, a faint look of contentment on his features.
You make your way through the forest quietly. Got the first time since you took his hand you feel anxious, despite having him at your side, gun always ready. You still hate the forest, still haven't gotten used to the thin fingers if branches that strain forwards you.
Joel must notices this because he gently urges you into one arm, dropping your have so that he can band an arm around your shoulders, holding you. You both survey the traps quietly, seeing nothing of note.
"Jennifer is making me a dress for the dance," you say out of nowhere as you circle them twice, just to make conversation. "It's blue."
"Yeah?" Joel's eyes flick down your body, likely imagining it. "I'm gonna enjoy seein' you in that."
"Why do I feel like you'll enjoy taking it off me more?"
Joel bursts into a laugh before he catches himself, remembering you both have to be quiet out here.
"Damn, I remember when you were a shy thing offerin' me cookies. Now look at you, getting’ me hard in the middle of patrols."
Oh.
Your face feels warm and you have to look away from him, suddenly shy. That familiar thrum begins between your legs and you try to change the subject.
“I’ve been practicing my shooting,” you offer with a creak in your throat. “You might be surprised at how good I’ve gotten. I hit four cans at practice the other day."
You walk behind him with your shoulder’s back, feeling cocky.
"Four cans huh?" Joel says lightly. You glance over to see him suppressing a wry grin.
"Oh shut the fuck up," you say with a laugh and playful shove at his shoulder. "I'm so sorry I didn't grow up in Texas with a shotgun next to my pacifier."
Joel chuckles loudly at this, the rich sound bouncing off the trees. You grin at the sound, your heart thumping delightedly. Again he remembers himself, smirking at the ground and shaking his head in amusement.
He seems to think of something before reaching into his pocket. He produces one of his knives, a thin thing he barely ever takes out. He places it in the center of your palm, urging your fingers to wrap around the handle.
"Let’s see how good you are at aimin’," Joel says with a crooked grin. "Stay here."
He walks over to one of the fallen trees, placing his flask atop it. Much like when you and Luke and Jenny practice shooting the tin cans. His boots crunch over the snow as he comes to stand in front of you once more, his face coming into view as you gaze up.
His dark eyes are like liquid heat, bright and hypnotizing. It makes you feel like you're in the calm before the storm. He eyes you slowly, gaze drifting over every inch of you, his hand coming to readjust himself in his jeans.
"You look good like that," he muses, his voice low and rumbling. He takes a step forward, disbelief and lust making his speech sound slurred. "Holdin’ my knife.”
You roll your eyes, secretly pleased.
“I haven’t practiced throwing knives, Joel.”
“Then this is your first lesson,” he offers cheekily. "Hit the flask."
"I'll wreck it."
"I barely use it," Joel reasons before his mouth hitches on one side as he looks meaningfully at you. "Plus I don't think I have much to be worried about."
“Hey!”
"Prove me wrong, darlin'," Joel says, coming to stand behind you.
Darlin'. It sounds so good coming from him in that low, husky twang. You wonder if he said it on purpose to throw you off.
"I'll even give you a pointer to start you off," he continues. "Step one is actually raising your arm up."
"Okay, get outta here," you grumble, trying not to smile as you shake off his hand on your shoulder. A knife can’t be that hard to throw.
You breathe slowly, your chest rising, holding. You remember what Jennifer said about thinking of something safe. Your something safe is standing behind you.
"That’s my girl," Joel murmurs behind you, breaking your concentration just as you throw. Not shockingly the knife goes wide, sinking into the snow.
"Just jitters," you tell him as he goes to retrieve it. "I'll get the next one."
"Mhm."
You take the cool blade into your hand once more, feeling him standing there behind you. You tell yourself to ignore him and that this is the shot you’ll make. You balance the knife in your fingers, trying to find the best spot to grip it.
"Are you aimin'?" Joel croons in your ear as his hands start to slide up under your jacket. Cold air hits your skin, causing goosbumps to rise. You twist your head to look at him, seeing the merriment that dances in his eyes.
"What're you-"
Your breathing hitches when his large palms slide up under your sweater and then under the band of your bra until your breasts rest heavy in his eager hands.
"So soft," he murmurs, kissing the back of your neck as his thumbs trace your nipple.
His voice is low, seductive and it drips between your legs like warm honey. His large hands begin to knead your breasts, his greedy fingers locating your nipples with ease. They immediately pucker under his touch, mercifully warm from being in his gloves. He tugs at them, making you moan, knife wavering.
"C'mon, baby," Joel murmurs with a grin, his hands sliding down your skin, coming to slide down the front of your jeans, rubbing your swollen clit through the denim. "Concentrate."
Baby. He's definitely doing this to fuck with you. Your ass rolls against his front, not immune to the erection pressing into your lower back.
"Hit it and I'll fuck you," Joel promises his breath hot against your cold cheek. "Right against that tree there."
You follow his finger pointing at the large trunk a few feet away. You're swaying in his arms, unable to concentrate but you raise the knife anyway. It's held tightly in your grip, but Joel isn't stopping the fingers that rub between your legs, making you arch.
"You're so fuckin' soft," Joel rumbles against your hair. "But I know just where you're the softest."
You gasp when you feel him unclasp the button of your jeans. Your body breaks into goose bumps as his greedy fingers find their way underneath the waist of your panties.
"C'mon and aim," he urges you in a rough whisper, the tone teasing. "Show me how good you are."
"I can't," you mutter, already giving over to the sensation, your hips rolling as his fingers slide between your slick folds. His thumb circles your clit and you cry out, nerve endings already strained.
"You were just braggin'," Joel reminds you. "Four cans was it?"
"Only the one time," you tell him breathlessly, ass rolling against his hardened front, feeling his long fingers starting to thrust up into your velvet clutch. "Just once. And that was with a gun."
Joel's wet mouth is sponging along your neck as your eyes shut, your back leaning against his front. He's holding you upright, your legs turned to jelly as his thumb comes to tap and circle your clit, his second and third finger curling within you.
"I wanna watch how good you are with a knife," he says softly, moving the hair sticking to your heated cheek and kissing there.
You look over your shoulder at him, your free hand gripping him by the back of his neck as you feel his fingers thrusting deep.
"Joel, please."
Joel gives you a quick peck and now he removes his fingers from your panties. You feel his hands going on either side of your hips, positioning you.
"C'mon sharpshooter," he teases. "Let's see."
You raise the knife shakily, swallowing.
Focus.
You want to impress him. You want to show him that you're better than he thinks. But his hands are still at your hips, holding. You inhale slowly, forcing all other thoughts to leave you. You raise your gun, looking through the scope.
The flask. The tiny silver square that glints at you in the sunlight, teasing you. It becomes the only thing you can see, the rest of the world going fuzzy and quiet. Throw it on the exhale.
You throw it.
You see the flask wobble as the blade whizzes by, the rush of air upsetting it slightly but it remains standing. Your shoulders sag in disappointment. Joel grabs you, gently spinning you around to face him. You're surprised to see he's grinning as he hoists you into his arms with a grunt.
"Close enough."
You laugh at that, holding onto him like a horny koala, your legs wrapping around his waist. You kiss his neck, desperate to feel him as he carries you to the tree. He pins you against it, his mouth and hands hungry for you.
He sucks your tongue into his mouth, groaning lowly as your thighs squeeze around his waist. Your hips begin to jerk, chasing the friction that builds between you and its only seconds before your jeans are shucked down and your panties are pulled to the side before he’s plunging into you, a condom over his cock.
He pushes your sweater up and tugs your bra down, exposing your breasts to him in the chilled air. You keen as his mouth sucks at your nipples, tongue flicking as you arch. His mouth kisses your collar, tasting you everywhere with your back biting into the bark of the tree. He raises his head back up, eyes on your face.
There's something about Joel's warm body and the frigid air that makes you feel so awake. The dueling sensations make everything feel more acute, sharper. The bristles of his facial hair rough on your neck as he kisses you there, the softness of his thick curls in between your fingers. He sinks deeper into you, his soft groans muffled against your neck.
You feel safe with him, you feel alive for the first time in years. You urge him deeper; as if by doing that he can physically feel the adoration you carry for him.
He moves you both in rhythmic undulations against the tree, hurried in desire but gentle in execution. He wants you to feel good and you want the same for him. You grip your arms around his neck, murmuring softly between kisses about how good he makes you feel.
"Anyone else make you feel this good?"
"No," you gasp, hips rutting against his. Your hand is on the back of his neck, your face inches from him as you bounce against him, thighs spread wide to accommodate him, the rasp of the bark against your tailbone.
"Only need my cock," Joel grunts, thrusting himself to the hilt with a rumbling groan. "Only need me."
You stay gripping his neck, eyes on him as he buries himself in you over and over, grinding his hips to yours, his mouth chasing yours as welcome him deeper. You rise and fall like the waves of an ocean, bodies in a dance as old as time, in a rhythm as ancient as time itself.
"Not just because of that," you whisper, your body still moving in time with his. You're gaze is still stuck on him, soft.
"No?"
Joel's cheeks are red circles, his body increasing in tempo as he pins you against the tree. You can see the question in his dark eyes, the almost hopeful expression.
"You make everything good."
It comes out in a whimpered rush. It escapes you so quick you don't even have time to think about it because you're cresting, falling over the edge into bliss as Joel continues to fuck you through it against the tree.
He kisses you, urging your thighs to part further. He pivots his hips, circling them and your eyes begin rolling back at the sensation. Your fingers grip him by the shoulders, bouncing against him, your back rasping against the bark of the tree at your back.
"Joel I don't wanna stop,"
"We ain't gonna."
"I d-don't just mean now," you groan as he starts to withdraw and thrust into you with relish. "I-I mean-n-n..."
You can't say anymore, your words are gone, lost in the trees that shake with the approaching wind.
"I know what you meant, baby," Joel says as his mouth covers yours again. "I know."
A thrill goes through you at his words and you kiss him back ardently, neck tilting back when he hits the perfect spot deep within you. Your spine lengthens as you arch violently.
"Fuck! Right there!"
His forehead presses to yours, his eyes inches from your own. He's staring at you, unblinking as his hips continue to rhythmically jerk.
"Come for me," he rasps, eyes not blinking. "Come on my cock right now. Gimme what’s mine."
Joel moves his face to your shoulder, his growls feral and loud against your jaw. It's the kind of noise that makes you keen and come harshly on his still pistoning cock, coating him.
"That's it," he praises as his hips start an even faster rhythm, making every part of you bounce for him. And then your entire body shudders as you come for him, offering desperate little whines as he continues to pound into you.
“Fuck, I can feel you flutterin’.”
He releases with a growl at your neck, making you moan as you continue to come down from your high. His hands come to your face, the end of his sharp nose grazing yours. He’s panting, his face flushed and his stare intense.
"I wanna give you everythin'."
You grin, feeling completely wrung out. You kiss him softly, everything inside you blooming. Then your head is against his chest, hearing the staccato of his heartbeat as you catch your breath.
I love you, Joel.
The words rest behind your teeth, gnashed down by nerves. You can't say them out loud. Not yet. But they exist and in your mind you can scream them over and over.
You drag his mouth to yours, sighing when he shows no hesitation. He's never said it, but you can feel it on his side. The warmth he casts over you with his smile, his words. A Joel you found by digging in his shadow.
He moves you both in rhythmic waves against the tree, hurried in desire but gentle in execution. He wants you to feel good and you want the same for him. You grip your arms around his neck, murmuring softly between kisses about how good he makes you feel.
You love him.
In this moment with him, in so many moments the words bubble up inside you. Like a still corked bottle of champagne, waiting to be popped. The words rest behind your teeth, gnashed down by nerves. You can't say the words out loud. Not yet. But they exist. In your mind you can scream them over and over.
"Well ain't this cute."
Your blood runs immediately cold as your eyes blow open. Joel's motions immediately stop, his grip on you tightening. He's facing you against the tree so you can see the moment his eyes widen in horror.
"Caught myself two little lovebirds.”
The voice is a low growl from behind Joel. You lift your head up to see a man with oily hair standing, watching you both. He wears a thick jacket, gloves with holes and his face is drawn thin and malnourished.
A raider.
Your blood runs cold, that familiar fear cloying in your throat.
"Might wanna get dressed," the man says amused.
Joel's eyes meet yours briefly as he tucks himself away and you pull up your jeans, both buttoning in a hurry. He's trying to gauge your reaction. Your eyes are blown wide in terror and Joel murmurs something that sounds like stay behind me, but the blood is roaring in your ears.
The raider holds a gun in his right hand and a smile stretches over his thin lips. He cocks it when Joel reaches for his shotgun resting against the base of the tree.
"Ah ah, I don't think so, friend."
Joel grits his teeth and continues to stand in front of you, shielding you from the man. You tremble behind him.
"Sorry to interrupt love birds. But I think you might have something of mine." The man eyes you both. "A shipment of medicine? I was delayed a bit and rumor is you folks helped yourselves."
"We don't have it," Joel tells the man flatly. "We just came to check the traps."
"C'mon now," the man laughs, the gun still aimed at you both. "You think I don't know a liar when I see one?"
He comes closer; his eyes glancing over at you huddled behind Joel.
"I told you we don't fucking have it," Joel repeats.
The humor flees from the older man's face.
"Now I've been polite but you're really starting to piss me off. I know you have my shit and I want it back." The man sniffs angrily. "We heard about a guy fittin' your description. Came by with a few others last week."
"We did come looking for it last week but we didn't find anything," Joel relents.
"Now why would you go and do that?" The man asks as if he's actually offended. "Stealin' another man's property?"
"Didn't know it was yours."
"Well it sure as shit wasn't yours, now was it?"
Joel says nothing, but you feel his breathing hitch. His broad shoulders that you stand behind seem to slump. You don't have any way out of this.
You peek your head out the side of Joel, eyes fixed on the grungy raider glaring at Joel. You want to help in some way.
"P-please," you whisper in a stammer. "We don't have your things. I swear."
The man's eyes slide over to you, his face a sneer.
"Like I'm gonna believe the words of a whore," the man spits out with a cruel smile.
"Watch your fuckin' mouth," You hear Joel growl. His hands are balled fists at his sides.
"You wanna try that again?" The man asks, pressing the gun to Joel's forehead. You feel your body shaking when you feel Joel's body tighten up. His back is to you but there's no mistaking the way he holds himself terrified.
"The others will come lookin’ for us," Joel warns the man. "Leave us be and we'll pretend this never happened."
“Ain't no one gonna find you out here."
"You wanna bet?"
The man's eyes narrow. "Even if they go come lookin' after ya I'll be long gone."
"Your tracks won't be." Joel motions to the man's heavy boots. "We got bloodhounds that'll sniff you out in under an hour."
Joel is still stiff but his voice is cold and menacing. You see the man in front of him falter slightly before his yellowed eyes flick your way. They rove your body hungrily, sucking at his back teeth before he speaks.
"In that case I better get my kicks in while I can." He gives a gap toothed grin your way. "Girlie it's been a while, so be polite for me. Get on your knees and show me why your friend here keeps you around."
When you don't move he reaches around to aim his gun at your head. Your stare at the barrel pressed between your eyes.
This is how you die.
You whimper, eyes wet with terror. You finally found something to live for outside of your own survival and this is how it ends? Dead in the snow at the hands of some stranger? Before anything more can happen Joel pushes in front of you, the barrel now aimed at his chest.
"Get the fuck away from h-"
Joel doesn't finish the sentence before the man hits him harshly with the butt of his gun. Joel hisses and he folds at the waist, his face cracking to the side. You shriek, your voice carrying through the forest.
“Joel!”
"I don't wanna repeat myself, girlie."
The injustice of all of this makes furious tears roll down your cheeks. This bastard is going to take everything from you after all you've been through. Images of Charlotte flood your mind, the sound of her screams, the sight of Maria covered in her own blood, the way Penny held you as you sobbed for your dead family. All of this pain, this horror, its never-ending.
A scream comes from you, an unholy terrified thing from the bottom of your toes as you glare at the raider, your eyes wild. The man looks momentarily taken aback at the sight and sound of it, gun faltering.
And then it all happens so fast.
A loud whinny echoes through the trees shocking all of you. You turn to see Chestnut comes hurtling towards the group of you through the trees. His gallops are slick in the icy snow, his breath coming out in white clouds as he streaks towards you.
"The fuck?"
The man is confused. He might be wondering if there are more of you about to surround him.
Joel whirls around to face you, half his face covered in sticky blood. He bear hugs you to him, tackling you to the ground. He cushions your fall but you let out a grunt as your spine hits the snow. The air is punched out of your lungs.
Instinctively the man raises his weapon, his gun aimed and with a terrifying finality he pulls the trigger. It’s like slow motion, watching as Chestnut’s eyes widen so much you see the whites. Red blooms at the side of his head and you scream.
"No!"
Chestnut goes stumbling and then crashing to the ground, a strangled whinny of pain going through the forest before a hideous silence settles.
It's a split second but it's enough, Joel's hand is already on the butt of the shotgun. It's in his grip within seconds and before the raider can do anything Joel's aiming it at the man and pulling the trigger.
A spray of red shoots from the man's shoulder, dotting the snow and causing his gun to drop, but not before shooting widely. He turns on Joel with a snarl.
"Fucker!"
You can't see Joel's face from where lay in the snow but he moves as if he's on autopilot. A force to be reckoned with. His shoulders are tight and he raises the gun to his eyes.
Joel blasts the raider again and you watch the spray of red that explodes from his head. This one sends the man crumpling onto the ground, blood pouring from the half of his face that's now missing. He lands forward in the snow, the red of his blood seeping into the white earth like ink on paper.
There's a throbbing in your leg that you're noticing as Joel is urges you to stand, pulling you onto his arm, his face a contortion of anxiety and frustration.
"C'mon, get up. We gotta go."
He hauls you towards the entrance of the trees without thought, one arm around your waist, the other hand aiming his gun at anyone who you may meet along the way.
Your eyes however land on the frozen body of Chestnut. You sweet, darling savior. A creature that heard your scream and came running. His ribs don't expand and he lies with eyes wide open, unblinking. He's not moving.
You go to step towards him but Joel continues hauling you away, his eyes fixed in front of him.
"We have to go."
Your hand reaches fruitlessly for Chestnut as Joel drags you from the clearing. Tears slide down your cheeks and your voice is cracked.
"We can't leave him out here, Joel. We have to bury him or something."
Joel's face betrays a shadow of regret.
"We don't know if this guy had friends who just heard a bunch of gunshots. We gotta go."
His breathing is rapid, but his focus is clear. He knows what to do in this situation whereas you’re blind with panic and regret.
"I didn't tie him properly," you sob, your cries cracked in the cold air. Each inward breath feels like a stabbing behind your ribs.
"You did," Joel insists distractedly, guiding you both through the trees.
"No, I was just so excited to touch you," you spill out, not caring that it's embarrassing to admit this. Your heart aches too painfully to care. "I was distracted and ... He's dead because of me."
Your feet fumble, tripping up as you hold onto him as you beg him to do something with Chestnut. He grunts, righting you and urging you to keep going.
"I know you're scared and sad and I can't take that away, but we gotta go," Joel says pulling you more aggressively.
You choke down another sob, finding your footing and running back alongside Joel until you make it out of the clearing and back to an anxious looking Midnight, still tied to the tree. The horse watches warily as the two of you approach.
You're trying to muffle your sobs as Joel kneels, motioning for you to stand on his thigh to climb onto Midnight's back. You're halfway onto the horse when his dark eyes widen and you stop climbing confused at his expression.
"You're shot."
You look down at your leg to see a bloom of red starting under the denim.
"It's not mine," you insist, swiping at the denim. You hiss when you realize in fact you did get hit. The stray bullet must have grazed you. You were so focused on that was happening around you that you didn't even notice.
You raise your eyes to his terrified face. "I don't feel anything."
"It's shock."
You should be crying. You should be feeling something, but nothing is happening. You just feel cold all over.
Joel looks like he's going to be sick.
"I'm fine," you insist with a tremor in your voice.
You're shaking, body going cold. Joel is pushing you onto the horse, urging you to wrap your arms around his waist when he climbs in front of you.
"Hold tight."
He takes off like a bat out of hell, the trees whipping by you all as Midnight gallops back to Jackson City.
You fade in and out of awareness. The pain in your calf keeps you awake, but what just happened has you feeling absolutely drained. You could cry when the familiar sight of Jackson's walls come into view. Midnight huffs exhausted, clopping quickly to the entrance. Joel’s spine straightens, his voice a gruff boom.
"Open up!"
You see Hank climbing down from the watchtower, calling for Fred and others. Joel throws himself off the horse.
"She's hurt!" Joel shouts, his voice cracked. "Bullet to the calf."
The doors remain closed. Your body tightens, anxiety holding you. You hear Hank's voice through the heavy wood.
"Grab the dog."
"No time for the dog!" Joel roars. He bashes his gloved fist against the closed door until Hank opens it a crack, his face just visible through the thin slit.
"Joel you know the rules," Hank says quietly eyeing you both. "Someone comes back injured from patrols, we gotta test 'em."
"S' fucking ridiculous,” Joel pants, motioning to you. “She's bleedin' out."
"We've already sent for the doctor. Just sit tight."
You're whimpering from the pain as Joel paces back and forth in front of you, looking increasingly agitated with every moment that passes by. Finally Melody from the dog kennels jogs over with a bloodhound, followed by the town medic, Lily.
Melody raises her hand in front of the dog that eyes you. Joel helps you down from the horse, murmuring something to you that you can’t hear.
"Boba...check."
Melody gives a snap and the dog takes off trotting towards you. Boba sniffs you as you try to remain standing. After a moment the dog rubs his face against your kneecap, accepting the scratch behind his ears.
Boba moves to Joel, sniffing at his boots before he moves back to Melody, unimpressed at having found nothing of note.
"All clear."
You see Hank visibly relax. Lily, the medic on shift for the evening urges you both inside the gates. Lily is a ruddy faced woman of about fifty. Her strawberry blonde hair is cut just at her jaw.
She always has a sense of no-nonsense, a professionalism that makes you feel safe. She was a nurse back before the world went to shit. She doesn't ask you much outside of what occurred out there.
"You're both gonna come to the infirmary," Lily informs you after a quick rundown of what happened. Joel says nothing, but he urges you onto his shoulder, helping you limp after the woman to the nearby hospital bay.
She puts you in the first room, usually saved for things like surgery. Lily’s eyes flick between the two of you briefly as Joel helps walk you to the bed, his face grave.
"You stay out there," Lily instructs Joel when she enters with her medical bag. He looks about to contest this but the door is closed in his face and you’re too tired to fight for him to remain.
She helps you slip off your jeans. You wince as the denim peels away from the dried blood of your wound and Joel peers from over her shoulder.
"Just a graze," she says sounding relieved.
She helps you into the bed, tugging off your jacket before you lay down. Sweat is drenching your hairline, you're body sweaty but cold. Lily keeps insisting you drink water even after you've swallowed the pain pills.
She patches you up slowly, cleaning the wound on your calf carefully to avoid infection. You lay tensed up; eyes scrunched shut as she works on you. It hurts, despite the painkillers she gave you.
"Joel, I can't work if you're breathing down my neck. And I thought I told you to wait outside."
Your eyes crack open and you shakily raise your head to see Joel in the room beside the bed, gazing down at your leg with what looks like anguish. You follow his eyes and glance down to see the puckered flesh of your calf being sewn together.
A wave of nausea goes through you and you lay your head back down on the pillow.
"I'm okay," you tell him quietly, as if Lily isn't in the room with you. He drags his eyes from your leg to your face.
"This never shoulda happened."
He looks angry, but not at you. His eyes have that haunted, distant look to them. A look you've grown to fear when you see it in the eyes of people you care about. Without thinking you reach for him, but he stays standing with his arms hung at his sides. It's like he's a million miles away even as he stares at you.
You stretch your arm further, fingers aching to come into contact with any part of him. In your desperation you begin shifting in the bed.
Lily sighs, irritated at your movement as she attempts to work on your injury.
"Joel, go wait in the other room. I'll be there in a sec to get you stitched up."
Your hand lowers to the bed despondent when Joel says nothing. He takes one lingering last look at you and then he's stalking away from the bed, slamming the door behind him.
///
Lily doesn't let you leave the infirmary until late the next afternoon with a bandaged leg and a few pain pills in a bag. She gives you crutches to use, citing you probably won't need them long.
She sends you home with specific care instructions that include finding her the second the site begins to swell.
You attempt to use the crutches but find them more cumbersome than helpful. You make your way home stiffly, trying to focus on not slipping with your psyched leg, ignoring the looks that the others give you on your journey.
You settle in on the couch, napping and taking pain pills when necessary. The sky darkens and your mind goes to Joel. You hope he got patched up okay. You don't remember hearing him after Lily left your room.
You're a little surprised he hasn't been by to check on you today. A part of you thought that he'd want to be after everything that happened. You know you wish you were in his strong arms right now, feeling protected.
I wanna give you everythin'.
There was something about the emotion in how he said that, his large hands holding your cheeks. Something that makes you think that perhaps he was thinking the same as you were.
That you love him. It snuck up on you or maybe it just feels like that. One second he was an asshole you couldn't stand and now he's the one person you want to see more than anything.
There's a knock on your door just as you think about putting yourself to bed. Relief spreads over your features as you glance at the locked door.
Joel is finally here.
Delight floods through you, combating the sting that goes along with standing and hobbling over to the door. You tug it open, surprised to see that it's Tommy on your porch.
"I come bearing food," he says, raising a crochet bag to eye level. Whatever's inside smells amazing and your stomach rumbles. You give him an appreciative grin, pushing the door open.
"Come in."
Tommy enters the home, closing the door behind him. He places the bag on the coffee table where you have your leg propped up. He looks at the injury, his lips thinning before he forces a weak smile.
"So how's the patient?"
"The patient is doing okay," you shrug, yawning from both fatigue and the pills. "What's in the bag?"
"Stew and Maria sent over cookies," he tells you pointing at the bag. "She says there nowhere as good as yours but that she hopes you like ‘em anyway."
You give a soft chuckle at that while Tommy looks around your home, observing the small pieces of yourself that you've started decorating with. The framed photo of your parents on the mantle of the fireplace, the paper flowers on your dining table. The space is far from homey, but it's getting there.
"You need anything ‘side from food?"
"Nah."
You shake your head. Tommy exhales slowly, coming to sit on the coffee table, facing you with his hands folded between his legs. He looks serious.
"Joel told me what happened to y'all out there."
You wince, not wanting to think about what occurred. Tommy seems to understand this and so he speaks softer, more gently.
"I know it's askin' a lot, but you got enough energy to answer a few questions about it?"
You swallow. "Sure."
"Joel tells me the fella was older, early sixties."
"Yeah."
"He look well fed?"
"No, pretty thin from what I remember."
"Any distinguishing features?"
"Not really. Just old."
Tommy swipes a hand down his face in thought. "Did he say if there were more of ‘em?"
You take a moment to think about what happened.
"I can't remember," you answer honestly after a beat. "I don't think so."
"S'what Joel said," Tommy sighs, looking grim. "Was hoping you mighta heard somethin' more."
"Honestly I don't remember much. I was hiding behind Joel for most of it."
There's a shame that comes with that admittance, embarrassed that while Joel stood between you and a loaded gun all you did was cower pathetically behind him.
Everything is so tinted with panic and fear that it's hard to hold onto any details outside your own terror. You attempt to hide a yawn but Tommy sees it, giving you a smile that doesn't touch his eyes.
"I should let you rest. I'll stop by tomorrow to see if you need anything else."
He stands, heading towards the door.
"I'll be fine, Tommy you don't have to do that."
"Maria'll kill me if I don't," Tommy grins and this one seems sincere. You grin back, brows raised when he stops mid-step.
"If you have the energy tomorrow night we're playin' a movie in town," Tommy suggests brightly. "Curtis and Viper. Thomas found it on the last patrol."
"That sounds fun," you acknowledge, pressing your thumb into your forefinger, distractedly.
Despite everything, this visit has warmed you, touched by your friend's care for you. When his hand is on the doorknob you add:
"Tell Maria thanks for the cookies."
Tommy grins, giving you a little mock salute before closing the door behind him.
"Will do."
///
The medicine does its job and you fall into a fairly dreamless sleep. You wake bleary-eyed with cotton mouth to see it's after eleven. And like most mornings as of late, your thoughts turn to Joel; the tingles that go through you when his beard grazes your neck, the sweet way he exhales when he's inside of you.
And it's not just the tactile, it's everything. It's him sharing his deepest pains and accepting yours. It's his smile when you say something funny. It's the softness of his eyes
I wanna give you everythin'.
You want to give him the same. You want nights and days with him, dances and card games, dinners with he and Ellie. A family.
Images of Jennifer and Ellie go through your mind, going through an imaginary list of their potential responses. In the end you realize it doesn't matter. You're going to tell them tomorrow, you tell yourself. No more waiting.
Jennifer will understand, you're sure of it. She may be hurt at first but she's an understanding woman, she's your best friend. As for Ellie... That may be up to Joel. But either way the truth is coming out.
The dance is in less than two weeks and you want to go feeling happy and beautiful on Joel's arm. You want people to smile and greet you. You want both of you laughing with Jennifer and Luke, you want to dance with Maria and Tommy there cheering you on.
With this fantasy in mind you shower and dress in fresh clothes, wrapping your red scarf around your neck and tugging on your gloves.
Your leg is still sore, but you can walk just fine on it, only limping slightly. The pain is nothing to you though because you're buoyed by the promise of Joel's face bleeding into a smile when he sees you, the warmth of his eyes when he opens the door.
You make it there quickly, thankful you don't run into anyone you know on the way. Your heart pounds in anticipation as you rap your knuckles on his door. There's a shuffling and then the door creaks open. Joel stands there dressed in his customary flannel and jeans. His hair is damp from a shower. He blinks at you slowly.
"What're you doin' here?"
The response is colder than anticipated, but you chalk it up to him being in pain. You can see the stitches running over his cheekbone, subtle but there. Another scar, another horrible memory. You reach a hand out to touch him, confused when he steps back further into his home, tilting his face from you.
Silence falls and he doesn't invite you in. Indecision starts to creep into your belly; making your body feel colder the longer you stand there staring at him. He remains half in the shadow of his dark home. He doesn't look welcoming or even relieved to see you. He seems hard and unmoving.
"Is Ellie home?"
"School."
“Oh. Good."
He raises a brow at that, a flash of movement on an otherwise stoic face. He doesn't look away from you, but he doesn't beckon you closer. You think perhaps he's feeling a bit out of sorts from what happened and you think perhaps this is a good time to brighten his day.
“I thought we could talk?”
He turns away from you, walking into the house but leaving the door open. Confused you trail in after him, following him to a room you haven’t seen before. This one is neat and organized. It’s got tables holding papers with scribbled notes, pieces of wood and hammers hung on shelving. Joel is digging around in one of the drawers.
“I’ve never been in here,” you observe. “It’s so organized.”
“Have to be organized if you’re in construction.”
“Guess old habits die hard,” you offer brightly, coming to stand behind him. Your hands trail over the wood table, noticing the carved dog in wood. It looks like Buckley.
“Yep,” Joel mutters to the bolts he sorts through.
You thought that hanging with Joel at his place would be a good idea, a chance to talk and hold one another. But judging by his tense shoulders and the way he won’t look at you, you decide perhaps an outing might be better.
"So there's a movie on tonight. A Curtis Viper one. You were saying that you and Sarah watched those movies right? You wanna go and-"
Joel sighs, throwing the last of the bolts into the drawer. He slams it, turning to face you. He crosses his arms, his lower spine balanced against the table. An ugly darkness has settled over Joel's features. Something you recognize as one recognizes the sound of distant thunder; a warning. It makes the rest of your question die in your throat.
"I'm not goin' to the movies," Joel says quietly.
There's something about the way he's looking at you, this quietly intense stare that makes you shift the weight from one foot to another.
"Oh, are you busy?"
"No."
You give an awkward huff of a laugh at his truncated response. A breathless, insecure thing borne of the building gravity in his face.
"Then, why-"
"Because I'm not your fuckin' boyfriend."
And just like that the cold, cruel Joel is back.
You thought he'd been cast aside, slain like some mythological creature. But no, he's here in the flesh standing with his painfully beautiful eyes and disdainful curl of his mouth. You feel uneasy, a creeping insecurity flirting across your features.
"I never said you were, Joel."
No, the words had never been spoken aloud. But hadn't they been there, seeping through the cracks? Hadn't it been whispered in the touch of his fingers on your skin? Hadn't it been huffed over your heart when you told him about your sister and he told you about Sarah? Hadn't the two of you morphed from something more than just patrol partners?
Apparently to Joel that's all you two remain. He stands with his feet planted, dragging his muscled arms into a tight cross over his chest. You wish he'd look away from you with that ugly expression, but at the same time you long to look at his face.
"I’m not fuckin' you anymore," Joel says stiffly. "I'm done with all that."
You feel the way your eyes well at the cut of his tone. You swallow thickly and as your do you see it - the flash of soft that creeps into his gaze. The brows that almost saddle before forcing themselves into a knot. He turns angrily, facing away from you to busy himself with his tools.
"Joel, please," you say barely above a whisper, blinking back the tears that threaten to spill over your lash line.
"Please what?"
You exhale softly before wiping your damp eyes with the back of your sleeve.
"Please don't do whatever it is you're doing."
You watch his shoulders sag, head facing down.
"What am I doin'?"
"Pushing me away." You blink at his back. "What I don't understand is why you're doing it."
"You're actin' like we were in some kind of relationship," Joel says, the sneer evident in his tone. "We were just fuckin’ each other because we were bored."
"That's not true," you tell his shoes.
"It is true," Joel says, voice dead. He starts busying himself with putting away his tools.
You stare at his broad shoulders a moment, wanting to pull him harshly to face you. Insist with a scream that he tell you the truth.
"We wouldn't share the things we've shared with each other if this was just sex," you insist, chin wobbling. "You... You wouldn't ask me to go to the holiday party."
He falters for only a moment, his broad hand sweeping a few screws into a drawer.
"I would if I wanted to get you in bed," Joel says over his shoulder and you don't miss the ugly curl of his mouth as he says it.
"Joel, you can't-"
"You're a good lay," Joel cuts you off. "But I'm bored of it so I'm done. You’re gonna have to find a new fuck buddy."
You let out a soft sound halfway between a whimper and a gasp. It physically hurts to hear this coming from Joel, to hear the words that you secretly feared. That you pinned all this affection on a man who saw you as nothing more than ready sex.
But you don't want to believe him.
"Joel you can't... You don't mean that."
He balances the base of his spine against the table before launching off of it. He comes to tower over you, tilting his neck down, forcing you to look into his face. His eyes are fierce.
"I'm only sayin’ this once and then I want you outta my house." His voice has dropped to a menacing baritone. "I don't wanna see you anymore."
You physically recoil at this statement, not just from the words but from the dark pitch of his eyes.
"I don't need some useless patrol partner who can't even shoot straight clinging to me like some needy little-"
He stops abruptly when he sees your shaky hand rise between the two of you. It's like you're holding him off from physically attacking.
"Stop," you all but beg, cringing away from him. "Just... Stop."
Joel's mouth closes slowly, jaw clenched so tightly it tics. It’s almost like he catches himself and you’re half convinced you see regret in his gaze.
Useless.
The world is tilting, growing hazy as you try to steady yourself. You take a moment to breathe deeply, trying to organize the thoughts racing in your mind.
Joel doesn't care for you at all. You're a fucking idiot to have thought he could. You built up this vision in your head of some tragic romantic figure when he's been clear all along. He never promised you anything, never claimed he liked you outside of your time fucking together. You pieced that together with your own delusion, taking snippets of moments and trying to give them deeper meaning.
"I'll leave you alone," you tell him in a shaky voice. You blink rapidly, refusing to cry in front of him. "I... I'll... I'll go. Just please stop talking."
You twist around, swallowing the sob in your chest. You grope for the doorframe, the world becoming a watercolor blur. You move into the cold of the night and it stings the tears on your cheeks.
You think you hear his footsteps coming towards you, creaking over the wood porch and you hold your breath. Seconds pass and you realize it's your imagination.
You're alone.
As you walk back to your home in a daze you think of the doe that first day on patrol. The empty look in its eyes after Joel killed it. At the time you'd only been able to think of Chiyo, about how his eyes had that same glazed look when you killed him.
But now you realize you were the doe all along, just waiting for Joel Miller to strike.
WARNINGS/TAGS/DO NOT READ FURTHER UNLESS YOU WANT SHIT TO BE POTENTIALLY SPOILED.
tags/warnings: romance, love, soft!Joel, ANGST, gore, blood, Animal death, human death, mentions of guns, P in V (protected), oral (m and f receiving), dirty talk, trauma, clickers, horror. I think that's it.
--------------------------------
TAGLIST
Please note that due to the volume of people asking to be added to my taglists (thank you all!) I have stopped adding to the list and started an update blog here that you can follow asap for all stories!
brat three: i don't wanna feel feelings | joel miller
pairing/AU: joel miller x brat!female!reader – no outbreak
summary: joel’s brat summer is coming to an end.
warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! age gap, enemies to lovers vibes? swearing, drinking of alcohol, smoking, reader wears a dress, heels and makeup but otherwise no other descriptions, use of pet names, some angst, smut, brat tamer!joel, dom!joel, some daddy!joel, manhandling, some light bondage, degradation (whore, slut), oral sex (f+m receiving), multiple orgasms, creampie, unprotected sex (don’t do it!!), no use of y/n
a/n: ok so here's part three to brat! there's one more part planned, and then that's it! <3 big thank you to @dustydaddyyy for reading through this, i love you!! <333 happy reading! 💚
main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3
from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.
The gravel moaned under your heels as you carefully left your uber at the foot of the driveway. The air smelled of summer; flower-y notes with a hint of anticipation. Cars lined the driveway, tightly parked with the wheels almost hanging in the air over the ditch. The sky turned purple then pink as the sun started to dip beneath the horizon, the small beams of light coming through the doors of the big barn beamed brighter and brighter the closer you got.
This wasn’t the first time you’d crashed a party, but it was your first wedding. You’d looked up the place online, Pecan Grove Ranch. It was nice, but pedestrian, not filled with the extravagance a party of this size would rank up in your father’s circles – the ones you’d been dragged too ever since you were old enough to put on a charming smile. This felt real, no fake happy smiles and secret codes, just people gathering to celebrate love.
Love.
It had always been a thing that happened to other people. To your friends, to the protagonist in a movie, to the person on the other side of your kiss. They always thought they were in love with you, but love always felt like a joke everyone was in on except for you, a story told to sell movie tickets or for a song to hit number one.
Sex was different, sex you understood. It was like acting, and you had no problem slipping into the role. It was fun, it was a release, it was a fleeting connection you couldn’t help but chase.
One you were chasing right now.
Maybe Joel was right, maybe you are desperate, but it was his fault for leaving you like that, right on edge but without the release. Honestly, it was his fault you were here, you thought as you stood outside the open barn doors.
Off to the side a few of the guests had gathered around a picnic table. Billowing white smoke clouded them as you watched their animated conversation between drags of their cigarettes and sips of their drinks. A small boy ran past you, almost crashing into you as a little girl chased after him with a giggling laugh. They chased each other on the grass, as they ran between the large trees where a million lighting bugs danced between them.
The air felt light like cotton candy, a sweetness of celebrated love coated the faces that emerged as you stepped inside. The picking guitar intro of TLC’s ‘No Scrubs’ met you at the door, followed by a large cheer, bordering on collective scream, coming from the people on the dance floor. Walking slowly, you followed the back wall of the barn. A light breeze came through the open doors and windows, and tugged at your dress as you closed in on the bar.
Open bar… Nice, Tommy.
Most of the guest had their assigned seats at the round tables pressed up against the wooden walls of the barn. They must’ve been moved to make room for the dancefloor, you thought as you leaned up against the side of the bar. It was rustic, made entirely of untreated wood and decorated with large white bows. The bartender was around your age, handsome, and painfully bored it seemed by the way he lit up when you approached.
“What can I getcha?” he asked, a charming lilt to his voice.
“Um…” your teeth caught on your bottom lip, as you scanned the drinks menu. They all had quirky names, most likely inside jokes or references to the wedding couple that mostly went over your head.
“One ‘Contractor Juice’, please?” you ordered, holding back from cringing at the name. At least you got this reference, and the promise of mint and citrus mixed with alcohol had never failed you before.
“Sure thing, doll,” the bartender smiled, a little too sweet for your liking, or maybe you’d developed a preference for grumpy frowns.
“So… bride or groom?” he asked, making conversation as he worked.
“Um… groom,” you told him, leaning your back against the bar as your eyes rolled over the tables, searching.
“Ain’t seen you up here yet,” he said, a question unsaid hanging in the air as he handed you your drink.
Turning around, you thanked him and slipped a five-dollar bill in the tip jar. “There,” you said, “Now you can turn off the charm.”
You watched how he tried to hide his smile, as he held up his hands in a surrender, “Who’s to say I can turn it off?”
He smiled when you rolled your eyes at him. It was cute, two dimples separated by perfect white teeth. At the start of the summer, you might’ve let him fuck you at the end of the night, but the summer was coming to a close, and you had your eyes set on someone else.
He had his back turned, but you knew it was him, you’d recognize those broad shoulders anywhere. Something bubbled under your skin then, and your hands felt clammy around your glass – you were nervous, there was a whole room between you, but he still managed to make you nervous.
Maybe this was a bad idea?
He sat with his body turned, his hand around a beer bottle, as he watched the dancefloor move. Your eyes followed his and found Tommy where he danced, his hand clasping a woman’s, a woman you’d only seen in photos.
Joel’s daughter.
She was beautiful. Clad in a dark lavender satin dress, matching the other bridesmaids. Her dark hair was slicked back and gathered at the nape of her neck, held together by a matching satin bow, perfect curls spilled across her back. Her smile was even prettier as she laughed and sang with her uncle, swinging to ‘Build Me up Buttercup’. It was the same smile you could see across Joel’s face as he watched them.
The drink burned slightly from the acidity at the back of your throat, and you were grateful that he’d been heavy on the liquor. You needed to catch up, let the alcohol loosen you up, pull away your unexpected nerves.
“Who’s that?” you heard behind you. A warmth coated your neck and cheeks at being caught staring, and the embarrassment mixed with anger.
“I don’t think that’s any of your fucking business,” you scoffed.
The bartender huffed out a dry laugh, “Jesus, it’s wedding small talk, no need to bite my head off.”
“Well, I’d prefer it if you didn’t talk,” you told him, sending him an annoyed look over your shoulder.
When you turned back around, Joel’s seat was empty, the beer bottle he’d nursed left behind on the table, the only sign he’d ever been seated there in the first place. Your tongue found the straw of your drink, twirling it around while you sipped, eyes scanning the dancefloor.
Nothing.
Did he slip out? Out to catch some fresh air or go to the bathroom? Maybe you could find the restroom, hover outside the door and ‘accidently’ bump into him?
No.
You cringed. Did you even hear yourself? As you took another sip, trying and failing to come up with a plan, a familiar gruff voice heaved a heavy sigh behind you.
“You got to be fuckin’ kiddin’ me.”
He didn’t look angry, but the way his hand rubbed over his face was worse, he was disappointed to see you.
“What the fuck you doin’ here?”
“Celebrating Tommy, and–” you squinted your eyes, looking at the name scrawled elegantly next to Tommy’s on the bar menu, “–Maria... aren’t you?”
You gave Joel an easy smile, and stepped closer, crossing one foot nonchalantly over the other. There was no way in hell you’d give him the satisfaction of seeing you even a bit phased he’d caught you crashing his brother’s wedding.
A huff escaped Joel at your lie before the corners of his mouth pulled ever so slightly in a dry, sarcastic smile.
“That’s cute,” he told you, his voice devoid of any humor in it, tone entirely disbelieving.
“I’ve been known to be described as such,” you grinned.
Joel didn’t seem to like your joke, his face not moving an inch. “You know this is way out of line, right?”
“What?” you snorted, taking a sip of your drink as your eyes fanned out over the room for a second, before landing back on Joel, “Aren’t you happy to see me?”
Joel let out an almost incredulous scoff, shaking his head as his eyes quickly scanned across the room, going to Tommy still on the dancefloor with Sarah. Something seemed to flash over his eyes, or maybe it was the lights but he leaned forward then, fingers wrapping around your forearm in a firm grip.
“Way to make it obvious,” you said under your breath as he pulled you a bit. Not letting him have it, you planted your feet, “What the hell are you doing?”
“Don’t be a fuckin’ brat,” he told you, his voice filled with annoyance.
Something ignited in you then, and you knew you had him right where you wanted him. Unable to contain your smile as the words crossed his lips, you felt them settle in your core, drip down your thighs like sticky honey.
“You’d know just what do about that, wouldn’t you?” you challenged, your eyes burning into his, and for a second, you had his attention. He held your gaze, and his eyes flickered with the same intensity you felt.
A beat passed between you, and you watched as his jaw tightened, waiting for the bomb to tick down to zero.
Then it popped.
The guests cheered as a song faded into another, and Joel took a step closer to you. His hand released your forearm to slip around your waist as his eyes never left yours.
“Come,” he spoke through his teeth, his voice low and quiet.
The feel of his hand so close to your skin sent your brain into a temporary reboot. You’d craved it all week, missed him so close to you, missed his scent on your skin, and you let yourself be steered away.
Quickly, Joel led you out the barn doors, his hand firmly pressed against your lower back as he looked over his shoulder. The music faded as he guided you towards a handful of small, scattered cabins hidden away behind a grove of trees. The trail snaked its way from tree to tree, your heels digging into the gravel making it hard to keep up with Joel’s pace. He walked with haste, passing cabin after cabin until the hand on your lower back looped around your waist, turning you around to face him as he came to a stop outside the last cabin.
His eyes drilled into your own, giving you a wild look, “I want you to leave,” he said, voice stern.
Leaning into his touch, you tilted your head to the side and let your eyes roll over him. He’d combed his hair back, wavy curls held back by gel. You raised your hand to cup his cheek, letting your thumb run through his trimmed scruff, hints of salt and pepper shone under the rising moonlight. The full of his lips was pressed together in a tight line, your eyes trailing your thumb as you let it gently run over his lips. Something softened in him under your touch, his eyes brown and deep as they watched you, it made your heart pick up its beat, hammering out of your chest.
Leaning closer, your eyes flickered to his lips again, and you thought about how you didn’t know what he tasted like, didn’t know how his lips felt against your own. You were so close now; his breath came out in small puffs against your face. Slowly you tilted your head, your nose accidentally brushing up against the crook of his own.
“You owe me a fucking orgasm,” you whispered.
His hand around your waist tightened, and with a small huff he tilted his head back.
“I owe you nothin’, princess.”
God, he could be stubborn sometimes.
It might’ve annoyed you if it didn’t turn you on as much as it did. You loved how he made you work for it, and he was worth doing the work. Something deep down inside you knew it. Joel was a good man. If you weren’t careful he’d remove the walls built up by that lonely girl you’d kept hidden inside; one emotional stone at a time. Maybe it was ironic? The man who’d devoted his life to building walls, now breaking them down?
“Why do you deny yourself something you want?”
“You...” Joel swallowed hard, dark eyes watching your face with an unreadable expression, “You're a piece of work, you know that?”
The words stung more than you’d like to admit, and when Joel’s hand slipped from your body as he stepped away, a wave of anxiety washed over you.
Had you gone too far?
Joel didn’t look happy, and a small knot started to tie itself in your stomach under his gaze. You watched as he unbuttoned the top button of his tuxedo jacket, making it fall open and showing you his perfectly pressed shirt underneath. His right hand dug into his inner pocket, fishing out a white key card.
His steps were heavy up the front stairs to the cabin, almost dragging, like he moved through molasses. The lock clicked as he held the key card against it, a green light blinking before he opened the door.
Dumbfounded, you stood at the foot of the front steps. You’d riled him up, played your little game and he’d gone along with it like always.
Was this how it was gonna end?
He stood in the opening, hand on the handle with one foot on either side – halfway in, but also halfway out. He didn’t move, his head tipped forward, weighing his options. Then he sighed and pushed the door open, and stepped inside the darkness.
“C‘mon, get in before anyone sees you.”
The cabin was quaint, but cozy, with only the necessities. It was more like a hut, not bigger than a hotel room. A narrow hallway opened up to the bedroom, with a door to the right leading to a bathroom. Joel had placed his overnight bag on the chair in the corner, a worn leather duffle bag with a dark t-shirt and pair of jeans thrown over it, clearly thrown in a hurry to get ready. White lace curtains hung over the windows, bright against the dark wood of the paneled walls.
The clinking of Joel’s belt pulled you from the silence, your head twitched like a reflex turning towards him. He’d shed his tuxedo jacket, his broad shoulders fighting against his pristine white shirt. He walked towards you slowly as he removed his cufflinks; the warmth in his eyes had turned darker. Taking a step backwards the back of your thighs pressed into the chair, almost tipping you over, but he caught you, one arm tight around your wrist while the other threw the cufflinks on the pile of clothes behind you.
“You say ‘red’ ‘nd we stop,” he told you, eyes holding your gaze so intently you didn’t dare look away. An inaudible breath pressed past your lips when his other hand cupped your cheek, the touch reminding you to nod your head.
“Or I pinch you,” you said.
A pleased smile spread across his face, “Good.” He punctuated his approval with a light pat to your cheek.
Stepping away, he nodded towards the bed, an unspoken order, while his hands found his tie around his neck where he tugged at the knot. You sat at the foot of the bed, knees pressed together, waiting for him to make the first move. The white sheets smelled strongly of detergent, nothing like the faded hints of his cologne mixed with sawdust you’d smelled on his own sheets that first night he’d fucked you.
The tie slipped from his neck and you fell back on your arms, feigning boredom while you let out an audible sigh. It made him laugh.
“What’s so funny?” you queried, your brows pulled together in a frown.
A smile leftover from his chuckle coated his lips as he stepped closer, your legs spreading for him to slot between as he threw the tie on the bed beside you.
“Nothin’.”
Over you, he gently rolled up his sleeves with practiced hands before he wrapped a hand tightly around your upper arm. Then he tugged.
“Hey!” you said, fighting against his grip as he manhandled you. He turned you roughly, his other hand fingering the zipper of your dress, while the other held you in place. “Be careful with the dress,” you whined.
“Stop actin’ like a fuckin’ child,” he muttered, helping you out of your dress.
“A child? Well… that doesn’t bode well for you with what you’re about to do.”
That stopped him in his tracks, eyes burning as he let go of you. “Jesus Christ,” he hissed, throwing your dress over his pile of clothes, “you’re fuckin’ unbelievable.”
Freed from his grip, a smirk pulled at your lips as you shuffled up the bed. Leaning back on your elbows, you seductively parted your legs for him, showing him the darkened patch of fabric scarcely covering your cunt.
“You keep saying that,” you smiled, saccharine and sticky like syrup.
“I’ll stop when you finally start behavin’.” Joel’s hand wrapped around your ankle, tugging you towards him with a hard jerk, making a giggly squeal escape you.
“Never– HEY!”
A ripping sound tore through the room, your skimpy panties tattered in his large hands. A smirk spread over his face. The motherfucker looked mighty pleased with himself.
“Surprised you’re even wearin’ these,” he said, thumbing at the wet patch of arousal, before he tossed them to the floor. “A slut like you should’ve gone without, shouldn't you?”
The warmth of his touch over your knees had you twitching for him, goosebumps following his hands as they rubbed gently up and down your legs. His eyes never left your face though, watching every reaction you gave up.
“I…” your rebuttal trailed off when he fell to his knees, slotting between your own and spreading you open for him, one hand glided down the outside of your thigh to your ass, while the other found your aching clit.
Then he spat. A thick blob of saliva ran from the top of your mound down your clit, where it combined with your arousal shining through your glistening folds.
“Joel!?” you gasped when the rough pad made contact, pressing down with just the right amount of pressure, spreading his spit around in small circles.
You kinda hated this part; getting eaten out. No partner had gotten it right before. Not that it wasn’t enjoyable, it could be, but never seeing stars good… And you couldn’t help but think about that first time someone had gone down on you, about the boytoy you’d had wrapped around your finger freshman year. He’d given you an orgasm maybe 60% of the time he’d fucked you (which was a better successrate than your later hook-ups), but his comment as he’d gotten on his knees for you for the first time still rang loudly in your head.
It’s not supposed to look like that, is it?
The small laugh he’d let out had only made it worse, and you’d dumped him less than twenty-four hours later. Now, you hated having a man this close to your pussy.
Your hand found Joel’s shoulder, where it pushed. “I don’t…” you interrupted yourself with a hand over your face, not wanting to look at him.
“What, baby?”
Suddenly he was there, hovering above you, caging you in with his body, heavy hand pushing at your own over your face.
“Ain’t in the mood for the orgasm I owe ya, is that it?” he smirked, and you stayed obstinately silent for a second.
“What is it, hm?” he asks you, “Not gonna let me taste that pretty pussy?”
Pretty…
“Joel…”
Your eyes searched his face, looking to find where he’d hidden his lie. His face grew sterner, eyebrows pulling together in a furrow.
“Tell me.”
Your front tooth caught on your lip and a heat prickled up your neck. You couldn’t tell him, you just couldn’t. Joel’s palm found your cheek, heavy and safe against your skin, letting his thumb sooth you and your eyelids fluttered from his touch. A breath got caught in your throat when he leaned forward, placing a soft kiss to the column of your neck, your pulse vibrating under his lips.
“Do I have to wring it outta you?” he whispered against your skin, his hand gliding from your cheek to fit around your neck. The air between you changed and you forced yourself to snap back into your disguise.
“I’d like to see you try.”
A deep rumbling laugh vibrated against your skin and Joel found your eyes again. His hand around your neck soothed over your skin and you found yourself pushing up into his hand, daring him to tighten his grip.
“There she is… my brat,” he smiled.
Mine.
He was gone before the possessive word could settle, hovering over your body as he rid himself of his shirt. You couldn’t help but drink him in, he was so handsome, broad and strong with speckled grey hairs trailing to the heavy bulge hidden away behind the soft fabric of his dress pants. His undone belt clicked as he moved closer, climbing onto the bed between your legs.
“Scoot up,” Joel ordered with a tap to the outer skin of your thigh.
The huff you let out was exasperated, earning you a stern look as his large palms found the cheeks of your ass, patting your skin lightly, before he helped you move. The way he fluffed the pillows behind your back was almost tender, and your eyebrows pulled together in the slightest frown.
“Is your definition of ‘wringin’ it outta me’–” you mocked his drawl, “–fucking like a boring old married couple in missionary? Is that what you used to do with your wife?”
The way Joel’s eyes hardened made a smile break over your face. Quickly, you regretted the smile when his hand clasped around your wrist, bending it backwards towards the bed post.
“Hey! What are you doing?” you demanded, playfully fighting against his grip, but Joel was too strong.
“Behave.”
“But I hate that,” you exclaimed with a sigh, pushing your head back into the pillow.
His silk tie tickled against the thin skin under your wrist, and you had to turn your head to watch him as he tied your hand to the bed. The way he did it exuded no nonsense; his eyebrows were tied together in concentration as practiced fingers danced over the knots, testing them with a light tug.
“I’m givin’ you what you ain’t closed to earned– so you oughta be grateful, princess, ‘nd thank me,” he told you as he moved on to your other hand.
Joel raised an eyebrow at you when he grabbed a hold of it, daring you to put up a fight again.
“Thank you, Daddy.”
The way you said it was sugary sweet, and you knew he didn’t believe a word you said, but a pleased smile settled over his lips either way. Then his fingers found his belt, tugging it from his waist all in one go, his muscles moved under his skin from the strain. The leather felt harsher around your skin than his tie, but Joel made sure to not tie it to tightly. When he was pleased with you, he found his spot between your legs again.
His rough hands teased over your naked skin, eyes fixed on the way it gave way for him when he squeezed ever so slightly. You couldn’t help but watch him – there was nothing you could do now, your hands literally tied.
“I oughta tie these too I reckon,” he mused, pushing your legs wider, “but I’m outta rope,” he chuckled, way too pleased with his own joke.
“Ha-ha-ha,” you said, voice dry with an unimpressed look on your face.
Lowering himself, he placed playful lovebites to the soft skin of the inside of your thigh. The lower he got, the closer he got, you felt yourself brace for impact as your eyes found the ceiling.
You felt his hot breath first, gentle huffs against your spit-soaked clit. How soft his kiss was, you didn’t expect– didn’t expect the fluttering touch of his lips down your pussy, so gentle against the core of you. A stuttering breath caught in your throat, and quickly you melted against the pillows.
“Hey,” Joel caught your attention. He had that look in his eyes, something dark and filled with lust as he let the scratch of his rough beard rub against the thin skin of your inner thigh. “Look at me, only me, you hear?”
He underlined his order with a soothing kiss to the sensitive skin, pulling a nod from you. Pleased, his lips skated downwards, teeth nipping playfully at the skin, leaving small bursts of electricity in the wake of his touch.
“Such a pretty pussy, baby– all wet ‘nd messy f’me.” Joel spoke with a deep bass, as two fingers found your seam, swiping them through your folds. “Listen,” he told you, as the slick sound of your arousal filled the cabin.
The beat in your chest seemed louder and louder in your ears the more he taunted you. You didn’t want to do this with Joel – fake it – feel that stone of disappointment sink into the depths of yourself as the orgasm you so desperately wanted fizzled away into nothing. Couldn’t he just rub your clit a little? Finger you instead?
With his fingers Joel spread you apart and a heat travelled up your neck. You felt so exposed, and you had to fight not to look away from him when he leaned forward with the flat of his tongue, tasting you. A breath caught in your throat like a reflex, and a low hum rumbled out of Joel’s chest, almost in… contentment. Your eyebrows met in a furrow then.
He couldn’t seriously like this?
He continued to lap at your folds, taking his time, and it felt… good, really good. When he licked a stripe from your hole to your clit, you couldn’t fight back your moan.
“C’mon, let me hear you, princess,” he said, his tone of voice way too cocky.
He latched on to your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue in a way no man had ever done before. It was intense, sloppy, almost primal. Small, breathy sighs built in your chest, and you wished you could touch him, hold on to him.
Joel licked down through your folds again; his tongue teasing at your hole. “Is–” you cut yourself off with a surprised gasp, reeling from the way his tongue pushed into you. “Is t-this what you call e-eating pussy?” you tried again to taunt, far from convincing.
Joel didn’t bother with a reply. Instead, he switched his tongue with his fingers. The wet mix of your arousal and saliva made the slide easy. A breathy whimper escaped your lips when he curled them, hitting the spongy spot inside you and hurling you quickly towards your release.
“Fuck,” you sighed, bucking your hips against his lips closing around your clit again.
You couldn’t stay still, your hips moving erratically to meet the swipes and zigzags of his tongue. Never had it felt like this, this good, this perfect. His fingers moved easily in and out, in and out, with a slick squelch. Squeezing your eyes shut, Joel coaxed you closer and closer to your orgasm. The pads of his fingers hit you just right, massaging with every thrust. An increasing pressure swiweled in your stomach around the laps of his tongue around your clit. Your back moved on it’s own, arching off the bed as his makeshift restraints tightened with your movement. A hand found your ass then, holding you flush to his face and you felt yourself starting to wither.
“There she goes… my good girl,” he hummed against you, “Come all over my tongue, princess.”
You let the wave of pleasure wash over you with a broken scream. You didn’t have to fake a thing as your whole body shook with your orgasm. His fingers continued their pace, pushing through your spasming walls and prolonging your ecstasy. Every sigh and whimpering moan was real, and you lost yourself in the buzzing feeling of Joel taking you apart and putting you back together again.
When the aftershocks fizzled out Joel pulled his fingers, slicked up and soaked from your cunt. A cocky grin coated his face as he brought his fingers to his mouth, licking your cum off his fingers. When your eyes found his, something in them had you slipping under, a want so strong to drown in them.
He climbed off the bed, your blissed out gaze rolling over him as he removed his dress pants and underwear. You could feel yourself go doe eyed when he took his hard cock in hand, giving it a few practiced tugs as he studied you at his mercy, spread apart and dripping with a mix of your pearly arousal, his spit and your cum.
He was perfect; his broad chest, tanned under the Texan sun with speckled hairs trailing down his torso where it ended in a dark wiry patch at the base of his impressive cock. Your mouth dropped open in the smallest of o’s – you wanted to taste him again, feel your spit mixed with his precum on your tongue, the thick head of his cock knock at the back of your throat.
“Daddy…” you pleaded, putting on your best puppy dog eyes.
“What, princess?” he taunted, voice laced with fake pity as he climbed on the bed again. Letting go of his thick cock, he wrapped his hands under your armpits and hiked you upright against the pillows. Under him you couldn’t help but soften at the edges.
“What d’you want, huh? What does my slut want?” he continued, straddling your body, two strong thighs on either side of your torso. He was so close like this, veiny cock inches from your waiting mouth. Reluctantly, you tore your gaze away to find his eyes, focusing hard on finding your words as you could see him start to stroke himself again in your peripheral. The large head of his cock grazed your lips with every stroke, pearling a salty taste of precum for you to taste.
“Why do you ask, when you already know?” you said, your voice lacking your infamous bite. A smile tore at Joel’s face, and a rumbling laugh escaped him as he moved closer.
“Maybe my cock pluggin’ up that throat will make you behave f’me?” he mused, like he was speaking his inner thoughts out loud and you weren’t even there. “At least you’d be quiet for once.”
His other hand found your chin, then, robbing you of your answer as he squeezed at the flesh, forcing your mouth to pop open. “Kiss it for Daddy, princess,” he ordered, slapping his cock on your waiting tongue.
When he let go of your face, you wrapped your plush lips around his thick head, suckling wet kisses to the tip. A lewd moan escaped you at the familiar taste of him, his musk filling your nostrils. It was addicting, Joel was addicting, and you needed more.
The desperate whine you let out, earned you a reprimanding slap to your cheek. “Don’t get greedy now, ‘m gonna give ya what you want,” he told you and pulled back, while the sting prickled away. You couldn’t help the pout forming, and Joel was quick to sooth it away with his thumb tracing over your lips.
“Listen, baby,” he found your eyes, “You kick me, alright? You kick me ‘f you wanna stop.”
“Okay,” you sighed.
“Okay, what?” he demanded with a slap of his cock against your cheek, smearing glistening precum over your skin.
“Okay, Daddy,” you smiled and dropped your mouth open so he could feed you his cock – all the way this time.
“That’s it, my good girl.”
Eagerly, your plush lips wrapped around his cock, his heavy cock plugged up your throat as he made room for himself. You didn’t gag right away like last time, you had practice now. As he pushed himself deeper, his hand braced himself against the headboard, while the other cradled your head – his rough thumb skated gently over your skin as he gently rocked his hips.
“Fuck,” he moaned above you, “That’s it, slut, let me feel your throat open f’me.”
Closing your eyes, you tried to calm yourself, holding back your gag reflex as tears started to prickle at your eyes. Even with practice, Joel wasn’t easy to take. Your lips stretched wide around the girth of him, swollen and used as spit slicked up his pubes. With each rock of his hips you felt the bulbous head knock at the back of your throat, bruising your flesh.
The sight of you must’ve been pornographic; your throat bulging with every rock of his hips as your spit dripped down your chest, pooling at his thighs stretched over your chest.
A vicious gag choked you, and Joel pulled back quickly, his cock wet with your spit bopping heavily in front of you face. You spluttered between gasps of air, spit bubbling at the corners of your mouth as tears ran in a steady stream, smudging your make-up. His hand cradling your head tightened slightly, tilting you to catch his eyes as something close to worry flashed over his face.
“Don’t close your eyes, you hear me?” his voice was strict, “‘nd I need ya to kick me!”
“Keep going!”
Your voice was hoarse and wet, but it didn’t seem to convince Joel. His face gave nothing away, stern and hard, teeth biting down a scowl – but his hands were tender, stroking at your skin.
“Ain’t ever been with a woman who’s as much of a slut as you I reckon,” he mused, his hand leaving your face to grip himself, tapping the length of himself against your skin.
“Embarrassing way to admit you haven’t been with a lot of women, Joel,” you told him, hiding your smile behind a soft kiss to the wet head of his cock.
“Jesus Christ.” A laugh escaped him, surprisingly light for someone out to punish you.
Moving your head, you started to press light kisses down his shaft, waiting for Joel to take control again, to punish you – like you ‘deserved,’ but all he did was a whole lot of nothing. When your tongue finally reached the base of him, your cheek pressed into the crease between his thigh and hip as your lips brushed gently against the soft skin of his balls – so heavy and full. Wrapping his hand around himself, he stroked in languid motions, like he savored it, wanted to memorize every calculated jerk.
“‘s that what you want, huh?” he asked, voice low and dark, almost tainting, and you couldn’t hold back the mewl escaping you. “Go on then, princess, suck on my balls like a good whore.”
With his other hand he guided one of his balls to your mouth. When you wrapped your lips around him, suckling gently at the sensitive skin, a deep groan fell from Joel’s lips.
“That’s good, princess, that’s so fuckin’ good.”
Being so close, breathing in the masculine musk of him, you almost squirmed under his weight, your cunt desperate and dripping with arousal. You felt so dirty, sucking on the balls of a man more than twice your age as he had his way with you. It would never feel like this again with anyone else – you knew it, you didn’t know how, but you did.
“C’mon, give the other one some sugar too.”
Humming out in an agreement, you let go with a pop as he guided the other ball into your waiting mouth for you to suckle around. The rhythm of his strokes picked up when you flattened your tongue, licking at the seam.
“God,” he groaned, “such a fuckin’ slut f’me– so fuckin’ desperate for my balls in your mouth–”
Joel cut himself off with a deep groan, as he backed up, making you chase after him as he held himself at the base, squeezing. Your restraints dug into your wrists, and you whined in defeat.
This bondage act was starting to get old.
“Gonna come already, old man?”
Joel didn’t seem to like your attitude, his joints cracking as he climbed back onto the bed, the welcomed weight of him now gone.
“That’s rich,” he spat, “coming from the one showin’ up here all desperate for me to fuck her.”
“Well, I’m waiting,” you told him with a roll of your eyes, voice bored.
That seemed to finally inspire some action in him. With stern eyes, and a stern grip, Joel parted your legs to slot between. The way his hands dug into your skin hurt, angry finger-shaped welts as he manuveroured you, had you wishing for the dizzying pain of a bruise tomorrow to remind you of this, of Joel.
Your hips bucked when you felt the blunt head of his cock against your clit, making him throw a hand over your waist to keep you still. A heat coated your cheeks when you heard it, the slick sound of your wet cunt as he dragged himself up and down your folds, coating himself in your desperation.
“Missionary?” you bit, fighting hard to hold back your moans as he teased at your dripping opening, “You’re so old fashioned.”
“I like to watch brats break when they finally get a cock in them,” he bit back, “Now beg f’mine.”
“No,” you hiccuped, with a weak shake of your head.
Joel played dirty – his thumb came up to graze over your clit, as he continued to tease his cock at your opening, pressing in slightly and then pulling out again just as quickly. He had you squirming for him in seconds, desperate to feel him make a home for himself inside you.
“Beg, brat.”
His thumb on your clit pressed down harder in tight, practiced figure eights, and you had no choice but to break. You needed him, needed Joel inside.
“Please,” you gasped, “Please, fuck me.”
But Joel continued circling his thumb, drawing you closer to the edge again. It got harder and harder to stay still as he pushed at your boundaries. Everything inside you screamed for him, like you were a piece of metal and he was the magnet. You couldn’t stay away, you’d always end up pressed against him.
“Whose cunt is this?” he demanded, suddenly hovering above you, dark eyes staring into yours. A large palm held your head in place, anchoring you to him, his face, this moment.
“Yours,” you whispered, “Yours, Joel.”
His name left your lips as a sight, the syllables stolen out of the air when he pushed at your opening, heavy cock splitting you in two and seating himself in your heat. He had your legs shaking, head lulling into his palm at the pleasurable pressure poking at the depths of you, where no one but Joel could reach.
“It’s okay, baby– you come on that cock if ya need to,” he hummed, a hint of condescension in his low voice as he continued to rub your clit.
Everything was coming to a head. Pleasure beamed through your body, like a supernova, as you exploded for Joel, shaking under his body as your eyes rolled back in your head. Whimpering moans stole your breaths, and you almost didn’t register Joel’s deep voice rumbling against the collum of your throat.
“C’mon… that’s it… good girl, that’s my good girl– y’feel so good, baby.”
His warm breath felt sticky against your skin, and you found yourself hoping he’d never leave; that you could somehow tattoo how he felt against you on your skin, let him mark you as his.
When your legs stopped shaking, Joel’s thumb stopped bullying your clit. He let you catch your breath, heaving chest slowing to steady rhythm again. His eyes found yours again, and for a moment they were almost tender, as something real started to weigh between you. You wanted to say something, anything, but Joel pulled away, hooking his arms under your knees before he finally started to pound into you, chasing his own high.
“Fuck,” you gasped, your walls already sensitive from the multiple orgasms he’d already given you. The way he split you open around the girth of him, it was always too much, you couldn’t see how you’d ever get used to the feeling of him.
Joel's breath got heavier as he picked up his pace, balls slapping wetly against your ass, as deep groans vibrated through his chest.
“That’s it, princess, you take it,” he rambled, “Good girl– go dumb on that cock f’me.”
His hands dug into your skin, his mind so caught up in you, in the way you felt squeezing around him.
Slap, slap, slap.
He was so deep, he must’ve fucked his way into your stomach. You felt yourself go limp in his arms, letting him take what he needed, letting him use you for his own pleasure.
“God, y’were made f’takin’ my big cock, baby.”
“Gonna fill up this pretty cunt– watch it leak outta ya.”
“Please,” you begged between harsh thrusts, your tits bouncing with every sway of his hips, “Please, come inside me, Daddy.”
With a particularly sharp thrust, his balls pulled tight against your ass, and Joel came. Deep groans of satisfaction filled your ears, the sweetest sound, as he pumped you full. He rutted into you until there was nothing left, your cunt overflowing with his sticky seed. A content sigh left your lips at the feeling, your body finally sated.
Thoughts traveled to the next moments, how you wanted him to pull you into his chest, strong arms pulled tight around your body as you both calmed down. To be held close in his embrace, a comforting hand at the back of your neck. You wanted him to kiss you, longed to feel his lips brush over yours. You searched for Joel’s eyes, searched for a small inkling of reciprocation.
Maybe you’d say something stupid – finally let go of all the feelings you can’t control anymore.
But Joel’s eyes didn’t want to catch yours, and he pulled away too quickly, sliding his softening cock from your ruined cunt. You were gonna make a mess of his sheets, you probably already had judging from the slick feeling on the inside of your thighs as you closed them.
Something in the air felt loaded suddenly, and you wanted to reach for him, touch his rough skin and ground yourself away from your nagging insecurities– But you couldn’t, your hands were bound. His strong back muscles moved under his skin as he fished his shirt from the floor, now crinkled, ruined.
“Wanna go again?” you tried, pushing at his back, barely out of reach, with your foot.
He let you push at him, but the sigh he let out as he stood to his feet to get dressed had your stomach tie itself in a knot.
“This ain’t happenin’ again,” he sighed, getting dressed.
“Sure,” you nodded in a scoff, unconvinced as a mischievous smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. Between your legs you felt yourself start to leak, his thick spend running down your folds to your ass, and onto the sheets.
When he finally turned around, large fingers fiddling with the small buttons of his shirt, his eyes finally caught yours. Biting down on your lip, you spread your legs coquettishly, showing him where he’d claimed you.
His eyes, however, never wandered, the familiar warmth that you had seen barely a few minutes ago now gone, his expression stoic and unreadable. You felt the knot in your stomach from earlier tighten.
“I’m serious,” he told you, and almost on instinct you felt your legs close as he leaned over you, untying one of your hands, “You ever pull something like this again, and it’ll be the last time you ever see me.”
You felt your face drop despite yourself as he untied the other hand, the corners of your mouth straightening out as a small frown appeared between your brows. You were silent for a moment as Joel walked to the other end of the room, plucking his jacket up off of the chair. Your eyes tracked his movements apprehensively.
“I thought you liked it when I behaved this way,” you said eventually, and you hated the way your tone sounded. You had meant for it to be a challenge, a call-out of his hypocrisy, but instead you sounded like a child; disappointed and petulant.
“Listen,” he started, voice calm but with a seriousness that made a nervousness tug at the back of your neck. “You’ve had your fun, and I can tolerate a lotta shit, but–... you gotta learn some fuckin’ boundaries.” Your frown only deepened at his words.
“Comin’ here–” his voice stalled as he shook his head, shrugging on the jacket “This is my family, my brother’s wedding– my fuckin’ daughter is here… You can’t just show up in my life like some kind of trainwreck every time you need me to fuck you.”
“How else am I supposed to do it? You don’t exactly text,” you bit back, “And don’t pretend like you don’t like it,” you fumbled for a retort.
“That’s just a shitty excuse for unacceptable behaviour, and you know it,” Joel said, and you felt yourself get angry at how calm he was.
It was embarrassing; your cheeks burned bright like a flame, and it fueled a deep pit of annoyance inside of you, one you didn’t even know existed as your jaw bit down in a clench. Lifting your chin in a defiant scoff, you’re not proud of the next words out of your mouth.
“You’re full of shit,” you said with a shake of your head, “You’ll barely last a week and you know it... you love it, love putting me in my place like this.”
“Sure I do,” Joel said with a nonchalant shrug, “But I sure as shit didn't sign up to deal with your antics... that’s a job for your real Daddy, sweetheart.”
That last comment felt like a slap in the face. A job for your real Daddy. In your chest you felt something cave in, as a paralyzing shock swept over your body. You went cold, so cold as your eyes drifted past Joel, and swiveled into the wood walls. He was right, Joel was right, but you never imagined he’d slap you in the face like this with the truth.
“So, listen up now, this is what you’re gonna do,” Joel said as he stepped towards you, looking you straight in the eye, ”You're gonna take your shit, ‘nd your shitty attitude, ‘nd you're gonna quietly slip outta here ‘nd pretend like you were never even fuckin’ here in the first place. ‘s that clear?”
You were barely able to nod before he stepped back and turned his back on you. When his hand found the doorknob, he threw you one last look.
“You better not be here when I get back.”
part four -> here!
hopefully this was okay? please let me know what you thought of the new part! a comment telling me your favorite part is always welcome, and my ask box is always open to chat <3 and thank you for reading!!
love your edits so bad 🥲 was listening to drivin’ on 9 by the breeders (you should give it a listen if you’re down i think you’d like it 🤎) and it reminded me of your joel edits so i had to run over to your account and tell you how much i love them
AWWWW ANON I‘M TEARING UP!!!!!!!!!!
Thank you thank you;)! You don’t know how much this means to me <33333333333 this genuinely has made my whole entire day and ily ily ily!
As for the song, I just gave it a listen and it’s SOOOO road trip w Joel! Thank you for the song as well doll! I’ve been meaning to edit Joel again but school is already burning me out so bad:((((
I will try and squeeze one out but I don’t know when:(
Anyways, thank you AGAIN ;) sending lots and lots of love and hugs and smooches 🥹💋🎀🌸🍨
hi: i wrote this in an afternoon on the bus and barely edited this. it only exists because seeing that photo of General Acacius made me feel hornee things®. I don't know shit about roman gladiator times, this is just a debauched excuse to be railed by the man.
trope: forced marriage
pedro character: Marcus Acacius x female reader (you)
warnings: innocence kink, age gap (not specified, but he an old peepaw just how we like him) , names like whore because i am one, forced marriage, Au as fuck because i have no idea what happens in the movie, virgin bullshit, eating out, pp in vv, dubconish, i think that's everything.
RATED 18+
"Take to the bed," the muscular man tells you in a raspy voice as you enter the bedroom, wishing you had your fur. "I leave early for battle at dawn."
He makes no move to leave and so you glance from the waiting bed back over to the imposing figure standing by the fire. His tousled, greying curls are touched by the flickering reflection of the flames behind him.
This is all new to you and almost surreal. You've been taken from your modest home and brought here to a lavish home in Rome. You glance over at your new husband timidly.
"Are you to remain here all night?"
"We are wed," he replies with a wry grin. "Of course we shall spend the night together."
You've been shipped here under your father's greedy love for coin. And now you stand here in the bed chambers of the man who became your husband only hours ago.
General Marcus Acacius; a man double your age with the kind of quiet strength that made you anxious when you first laid eyes on him today, only moments before he slipped the ring onto your finger and you were announced as his.
He drank only a bit of wine at the wedding, a stark contrast to the family of yours that acted like the animals in Marcus' stables with every glass poured. Of course they would celebrate; they'd made a small fortune on your marriage, having sold you off like cattle.
And you now stand across the room from him, your husband, General Acacius, Marcus. A man who served under the infamous Maximus. He cuts a fearsome figure both on and off the battlefield with his broad, muscled frame and serious countenance.
You wear the traditional wedding night garment, a thin dress that is practically see-through. You pull your arms over your chest, hiding your nipples that poke through the thin fabric.
When you'd come to the room you'd been surprised to see Marcus there waiting for you, stoking the fire. You'd been told by the servants that your new husband would be preparing for battle all night. It had brought you some comfort.
But Marcus is here in nothing but his tunic cinched at the waist. His armour is in a pile by the door, his sword there as well. Without it he's still terrifying.
Marcus notes the arms you hold over your chest for modesty and he feels arousal begin to drip lazily into his veins.
"Undress," he says plainly, his dark eyes trailing over your body.
You make no move to follow his orders. If anything you seem angry with him. His fingers twitch next to his thigh as he waits for your compliance. It doesn't come.
The dark grey tunic he wears hangs just above his knees so when he walks over to you you're able to see his muscled legs rippling with power. You quiver as he finally stands in front of you. One thick forearm goes to rest against the wall above your head, his neck craning so he can look you in the face.
"I said undress."
"You will not order me about as if I were your slave," you seethe, your head craning away from him. "I am your wife."
"I am twice widowed," Marcus murmurs as his wide finger traces the curve of your delicate collarbone. "I have come to realize I have little need for a wife."
"Then why bring me here away from my family and my homeland? Why marry me at all if you have no need of me?"
"I have no need for a wife," Marcus repeats roughly, his exhalation landing over your face like a wine-soaked cloud. "But a man always has need for a ready cunt."
You rear back and your hand flies through the air so quickly he's clearly not expecting it. The slap you deliver to his bronzed cheek is so hard that he flinches back at the sensation, but his head remains facing you.
"I am no whore," you hiss. You've never been spoken to like this. "Nor a hole for you to fill at your leisure."
You're horrified when you see him lengthen under his tunic, thick and fearsome looking to your inexperienced eye. He smiles at you when you gaze back up at his face, a feral, ugly grin that has you backing against the stone wall as he advances, his pelvis nudging yours.
"You will be fucked well," Marcus whispers. "So well you will happily call yourself my whore."
You push at his broad chest, free of his usual armour and yet hard to the touch like iron. He doesn't budge, he just presses his pelvis into yours, pinning you to the wall. You feel him there between your legs, warm and waiting and large.
His hand comes to grip your jaw, forcing your unwilling mouth to his. He kisses you fiercely, like he owns you. It disgusts you. He pries your lips open with his own and as he licks into your mouth his tongue tastes of sweet wine.
You wince, trying to wrench from his grip. He only smiles, hands coming to meet at the collar of your nightdress. You shriek as he begins tearing the delicate fabric down the middle and exposing your breasts to the chilled air.
"I desire to see what is now mine," he murmurs, a hand coming to palm your breast.
You bat his hand away, slipping sideways from him into the centre of the room near the bed. He doesn't look upset; he looks amused, as if he were playing a game.
You hold the torn fabric of your dress at your chest, covering yourself as you back away from his advancing figure.
"I am not your anything," you grimace. "Leave at once."
Though your voice is strong you back away, a shuffled step for each strong stride of his until you feel the bed hit the back of your calves.
"This is our wedding night," Marcus says silkily. "And we must consummate."
Before you can deny him he jabs his strong fingers on either side of your clavicle, causing you to fall backwards onto the bed. You gasp when he follows after you, lifting the hem of your dress.
His head is thrust under, making you kick out your legs in fear. What is he doing under there? Fear has you convinced he may bite you.
You go to pull away further when you feel him starting to part your thighs. You squeal anxiously, twisting.
"Get off!"
"Calm yourself, wife," he orders gruffly from beneath your nightgown. He's stronger than you, his hands wide and it's only seconds before he's got your legs hinged over his shoulders.
You continue to cry out, desperate for escape. You're terrified of this brute of a man.
His mouth finds your cunt swollen and wet and when he lays his wide tongue flat and licks a stripe up the seam you suddenly go quiet. You can feel him smile against the lips of your pussy.
"So soft," he murmurs, kissing your sex reverentially before his tongue darts out to sample you again. It's been so long since he had a cunt this soft and sweet against his tongue.
Your hips jump and Marcus can't help but smirk. Under your nightgown all he can see and smell is your sex, open widely thanks to his hands, glistening with his saliva and your own arousal. He feasts on you, groaning as he gets swept away by the sensations your whimpers create in him.
You're on your back, looking up at the beautifully painted ceiling. A celestial pattern that mimics the night outside your window. Your chest heaves, nipples pert and straining as his mouth works against your cunt, making you tingle everywhere.
He's on his knees beside the bed, you're thighs hinged on his broad shoulders, the cream of your skin against his ears. He doesn't care that tomorrow his knees will ache because devouring you as you thrash for him on the bed has him feeling like a young man again.
He sucks the lips of your pussy into his mouth with relish, his hips grinding into the edge of the bed when you cry out. You hear him chuckle before he continues and the sound reminds you that you don't want him touching you like this and bringing out these feelings you've only heard whispers about. Not a man who has decided you're nothing more than a thing to fill.
"Ssstop," you slur above him, unable to focus as your vision blurs.
"No."
You keen breathily, your hands scrabbling to grip the bed. His broad hands cup your ass, forcing your sex harshly against his mouth. You hear vulgar slurping noises coming from underneath your nightgown and your eyes roll back.
You've never had a man before. Your mother warned you about husbands and their selfish desires in the bedroom. But this doesn't feel like what she warned you about. This feels good.
You feel a pressure beginning between your legs and you panic, trying to force Marcus' head from between your thighs but he just grips stronger, tilting his head from side to side as he drinks you down, his tongue wide and stuffing your cunt.
When be begins to suck brutally at your clit, bliss overtakes you, causing your back to arch and a shuddering scream to leave your throat.
Your hips undulate as he continues to fuck you with his tongue, stopping only when you begin to whine that it is too much. He licks you gently after that, cleaning the evidence of your orgasm with relish.
With a creak he stands beside the bed and removes his tunic. In a daze you lay on your elbows, gazing up at his broad, muscular body knowing that if he wanted to he could snap you like a twig. His cock rests heavily between his legs, just as thick and long as you thought. Despite the pleasure he brought you there's still that glint in his dark eyes, a mockery that you can't stand.
"Get away from me."
Your cunt pulses, drooling with your previous release. You try to curl into a ball, facing away from him.
You think he may leave you be but you feel his hand grip your waist. You thrash as he rips the rest of the nightdress off your body before forcing you onto your hands and knees.
"It is now my turn to take, wife. Ready yourself."
He pushes you down onto your belly, curving your ass up to the sky. Then he crawls over you, his hands pinning yours to the bed under his. You feel him there at your entrance and you feel terrified tears stream over your cheeks.
"No need for fearful tears," he assures you as his mouth meets your neck. "You will be crying for more of my cock soon enough."
You cry out as he pushes the head of his length between your dripping folds. He's much too big, the intrusion too great.
"I will make this quick," he grunts. "For your benefit."
Marcus can hardly believe how good the velvet clench of your cunt feels sliding along his cock as he pushes through your virginal barrier. Not since his first wife has he come close to anything this divine.
His teeth come to grip at your shoulder, biting there, marking you as he feeds his cock into your pussy from behind.
Your cries are muted, your pain ignored, because all Marcus can feel is bliss. Bliss as he marks you forever as his. Bliss as his thick cock stretches your walls, bliss as your pussy stings straining to take him all.
And by the time he's buried with his hips against your ass, your shoulder is bruised with the indents of his teeth.
"No more," you beg as he begins to move within you. "Let it be done."
"We have only started," he muses, kissing your damp cheek. "The best is yet to come."
His frame is so broad it covers you entirely, like you're wearing him as a robe draped over your curved body. He rocks into you as his massive hands press yours into the bed.
You feel him pull slightly out before buying himself within your womb. You cry out, head falling forward as the slick feel of his cock buries itself deeper and deeper with every subsequent thrust. With every pump he moves the both of you forward before pulling you back.
And just when the pain is too great, you feel it morph into pleasure. The feel of him thrusting in and out going from sharp to a pleasurable throb.
Marcus senses the change in you when your back starts to arch and your hips start to lean back to meet his. You're enjoying it now, just as he knew you would.
"You like this."
He grins to himself when you don't answer and instead let your head hang between your shoulders.
He continues to tease you, never letting up, waiting until your noises become breathless and needy and then he recedes, chuckling when you whimper his name.
What feels like eternity later the two of you are slick with sweat, your limbs shaking as Marcus watches you from above. His hands are on your hips now, pulling you against him.
He spreads your cheeks wide, groaning when he watches his thick cock filling your tight pussy to the brim.
You're begging for him to give you the same pleasure as before, nearly sobbing with how cock-drunk you are. He feels so good buried between your thighs.
Marcus only smirks down at you, a hand pressed on your lower back, urging your ass up higher for him. He thinks about all the things he's going to do with you before leaving for battle.
The thought is exciting him, sending him erratically pumping as he tilts you back, hand coming to strum your clit as your spine kisses his front. He holds you on his thighs, spread wide and bouncing.
"What are you?" He pants, his lips squished against your cheek, his fingers curling, making you see stars.
"You're. . . You're wife," you manage to croak out, your hands gripping his forearm slung over your chest.
He fucks harder into you, his cock hitting the spot your own fingers can never manage. It's causing more stars behind your eyes, your body limp in his grip like a doll.
"What are you?" Marcus demands again, only now he punctuates his question with a firm slap to your cunt.
You ache where he slapped, but a pleasurable one that sends you closer and closer to falling off the edge of bliss once more. Only this feels so much bigger, so much more intense than when his mouth was on you.
"Say it."
You writhe on his cock, held by one arm around your middle, the other fucking you with his thick fingers over your clit and his thicker cock splitting you with every upward thrust.
"Please, Marcus."
Marcus is so sweaty, his muscles gleaming in the low firelight. He moans lowly, the sound making your toes curl. Then his warm breath is hot on the side of your face.
"Say it and I will give you all that you desire."
You're so close, that pleasure ebbing and coming back stronger with every swipe and thrust. You try to sound it out, but the shame overtakes you again.
"I am you. . . I am your. . ."
Marcus is groaning into your ear again, his thighs twitching as your arousal soaks down his length. But he doesn't stop filling you over and over, his eyes closing as he revels in the pleasure of your milking cunt.
"Say it."
And now he presses the heel of his palm against your sex, holding you by the throat under your chin as your head snaps back onto his shoulder. Exposed like an animal Marcus stakes his claim, latching his mouth onto your neck and sucking.
"I am . . . I am. . ."
His thrusting continues and now he forces you back onto your hands and knees, draping his body over yours, fingers and cock never stopping, only drilling you from a new angle. He watches your sweet ass ripple for him as he pounds into your cunt, marvelling at how puffy and shiny and perfect she is.
"Say it," he booms and you can feel his thrusting growing staggered, his body fucking into you with all that he has.
And you can't hold the words back any longer, not when it feels like your very ecstasy hinges on them being said out loud. It tears from you, ripped from your very vocal chords as he sinks into you, your voice shrill and cracked as you scream it.
"I am your whore!"
The answering groan of Marcus in your ear makes you cry out loudly, coating his stroking fingers with hot arousal as you cum.
“My whore,” he hisses as you buck against him.
You shake the entire time, confused at how everything in you burst like a ripe berry on the vine and yet you remain outwardly unchanged. Surely you very soul must have left you at that pinnacle of pleasure. You've never felt anything like it.
And yet here you remain, in his arms in his bed, human and alive. You both pant heavily, the room smelling of sex and sweat and the oils in your hair.
Marcus tugs you against him and you roll towards his body, pliant and willing. His mouth finds yours but it's soft and delicate. Your hands run through his soft, greying curls.
"Are you satisfied?"
You ask it quietly, almost afraid to know his true thoughts. He's experienced in so many ways, twice your age, strong and capable. And yet the kiss he gives you is gentle. It curves as he smiles against your waiting mouth.
So during my time here on Tumblr, before I started posting my writing, I, like many others, read (and still obviously read) lots of fanfiction. What I’ve also seen is writers post their amazing writing, maybe take a break due to lack of motivation (understandably so) and then get their inboxes filled with people nagging at them to post the next part. There’s a difference between asking nicely when the next part is going to be posted and straight up being rude and nagging the writer to post the next part. I’ve encountered so many people who have written such amazing stuff I will personally never be able to achieve and then get anonymously (!!!) insulted by the readers on here to finally post the next part because they can’t possibly have a little empathy and patience for the writer. Some of you lack both of those things, and it makes me disgusted to see. What do you think will happen when you write such rude things to someone, forcing them to do something the writer isn’t ready for? Do y'all really think it encourages us more? Because, news flash!!! We don’t owe you anything, and we don't get paid for this. The main thing that goes over most people’s heads is that you do not know us personally, and you don’t know what’s going on in our homes, or in our personal lives, generally speaking. Keep in mind that pestering people will not encourage them to write or post the next part, it’ll just take more of their motivation away! This is not directed at anyone, it’s just discouraging to see my mutuals (who I love very much) go through these things that very much affect them!! Shocker, right? Your words can actually have an effect on people??!
tags: mentions of trauma, smut, soft!Joel peeking out, LGBTQ2 themes, mentions of skin harm. idiots in love, mutual pining.
a/n: Hey y'all - 13.5k words (yeah) a LOT happens in this chapter so I suggest you take your time reading. And if you liked it, comments are really the thing that touch me most. They make me write. When I see a lack of engagement it makes me wonder if I should bother goin' on. I think most authors feel like that you know? So consider commenting and re blogging to keep your creative artists bein' creative! I'm going on vacation in a few days so that's why I'm posting now since internet will be spotty! Enjoy!
MASTERLIST HERE
Chapter 14: Coffee-Flavored Kisses
Jennifer knocks on your door early the next morning, looking expectantly at you as you greet her. She doesn’t return your smile; instead she pulls her coat tighter around her, not quite meeting your eyes.
"Can I grab my cake? I told some of the ladies I'd have them over for coffee this afternoon."
She seems strangely closed-off, her mouth thinned and you suddenly realize why.
“Oh shit, I forgot to bring it by,” you say feeling embarrassed at the oversight. “Come in, I’ll grab it for you.”
Jennifer still looks upset when you return, attempting to hand over the cake on a plate to her. She makes no attempt to take it, instead she lingers at your door, looking unsettled. Something is wrong and clearly it has nothing to do with the delivery of her cake.
"Is everything okay, Jen?" You place the cake on the stand by the door, your hand braced on the door. Jennifer takes a deep sniff, her eyes blazing.
"When were you going to tell me?"
"Huh?"
"Margaret said she saw you going to Joel's the other night with the cake you made." Her cheeks are blotchy. "The one you said you were making just for practice."
A stone settles in your stomach, making the rest of your body run cold. You swallow, blinking. Jennifer twists her mouth to the side.
"Anything you want to tell me?"
Fuck.
Tell her it wasn’t you. That Margaret was mistaken.
Tell her that it’s not her business.
Tell her the truth.
"It was for Ellie."
Jennifer hadn't been expecting that. Her brows knit and all that tightness in her upper body leaves her.
"What?"
"Ellie invited me over for dinner that night. I made the cake because she asked me to."
You watch as the fury leaves Jennifer's body, like a balloon deflating before your very eyes.
"But... But why didn't you just tell me?"
"You know how Ellie is, she's private," you say, hoping the half truth is enough. "I never know how much to share with other people."
Jennifer's face blanches and she covers her cheeks with both hands. You see the regret and humiliation overtake her, washing her body until all that remains is a lingering pink at her previously pale face.
"I'm so embarrassed. I'm so stupid."
"You're not stupid," you comfort her, guiding her to your table. You slide her cake in front of her, iced beautifully.
"I added some strawberries on top for you."
"Of course you did, because you're an amazingly thoughtful friend and I'm a total bitch."
Jennifer looks so disappointed in herself. It makes you want to hug her, but instead you take the chair opposite her.
"Its fine, it happens."
"I just hate the thought of being lied to,” she says, glancing at the cake admiring the details.
This is your chance.
Tell her. Tell her everything.
But what is there to tell? Nothing! Joel plays hot and cold. He's not interested in a relationship so what's there to tell? That he uses you for sexual release sometimes? The thought of admitting that out loud feels humiliating and it solves absolutely nothing.
“I understand.”
"Please forgive me," Jennifer begs, looking at you with limpid eyes and a pang goes across your chest.
"There's nothing to forgive."
///
Patrols with Joel that day start out nondescript. He’s neither unkind or demonstrative as you both ride towards Teton. You both simply do your job; you paying attention to your surroundings as you go whereas Joel is unusually quiet; his dark eyes scanning the horizon.
Your gun feels heavy on your back today and you surmise it must be because you spent the entire previous evening tossing and turning after he left stumbling towards Rancher Street. He made no mention of it today and part of you wonders if he even remembers. He looked pretty out of it and you don’t feel like reminding him. What good would it do?
Joel glances back at you, catching your eyes on him and gives you a hint of a smile before turning back. Your stomach flips uncomfortably.
You’re getting confused about Joel.
Sometimes you can’t stand him. You find him utterly horrible at times, but then there are these moments, these pockets of sweetness that make you think the former is an act. A front that he puts up to keep himself safe.
You can relate to that.
Even though your front is more passive, more quiet and withdrawn compared to Joel’s hardened exterior. You learned to zig while he learned to zag. He is loud and strong and scares people off, like a dog who barks and bares its teeth at those who encroach. You’re the cat outdoors for the first time, curious and frightened, taken to hiding behind bigger animals for protection. It was always that way, hiding behind your mother’s legs at daycare because you were frightened. It’s why Charlotte meant so much to you, because you were the one she stood behind, you were her protector.
You wonder what turned Joel into this person. Yes, he lost his daughter in a terrible way, but there’s something else there in Joel. Like a match waiting to be struck. Like he almost wants the pain. Was it there before Sarah? Or does it have something to do with Ellie?
Before Jackson City your softness had never been seen as a hindrance. It was your father who sat with you and your sister, helping you practice how to make those folded paper flowers you'd seen in a donated book. Your father who encouraged your soft side, who didn't want you hardened by life more then you needed to be. Part of you is thankful to him for caring; the other part hates him for not preparing you better.
You wonder what he would think of you now.
At lunch you feel Joel’s eyes lingering on your downturned face and you raise your gaze to meet his. Instead of looking away he simply continues to stare. You swallow your sandwich before raising your brows in question.
“That was real nice of you to make that cake for Ellie.”
“I love baking,” you shrug, feeling shy but pleased.
“You always baked?”
“Since I was younger. My mom taught me.”
Joel tilts back in his chair, rubbing at the back of his neck and rolling his shoulders. He’s sore.
“You said your Mama was visiting her sister out near here during the outbreak?”
“Yeah.”
“You radioed the QZ’s around here?”
“All of ‘em,” you admit. It’s what you’d done your first months here, trying to see if there was even a hint that your mother was still alive and thriving in one of the nearby communities. Nothing had been turned up.
Joel is quiet, thoughtful as you continue eating. Your mind is stuck on something though, something that’s been skipping around in your brain like a CD with a scratch.
“I thought you and Ellie knew each other for a while considering how close you are. But you seemed just as surprised as me about her birthday.”
You’ve known Joel for not that long, but you can see it in the way he holds his mouth and shutters his lids that what he’s saying next isn’t the whole truth. He doesn’t look in your direction, fixated instead with something on the floor.
“We went through a lot,” he admits. “I was, uh, well I was supposed to take her to a group. A medical group because, you know, she’s immune. And they couldn’t help, uh, so I brought her here.”
He’s lying. It’s there in the way he searches for words, groping for them like a person blinded in the dark.
“And the truth?”
You mimic his words from Ellie’s birthday. If he catches it, he doesn’t say anything. But he does belatedly flick his gaze over to you. His eyes grow cloudy and it’s like you see the physical wall that he puts up. Joel frowns, going to hoist his gun over his shoulder.
“We better get goin’.”
You ride back to town in near silence, stopping at a familiar part of the forest with the horses. It’s the time of the month to check the traps; your least favorite part of the job. You swallow as you hitch Chestnut to the nearest trunk before following Joel into the dense underbrush. Limbs of trees loom above you like interlacing fingers, casting the woods in a semi darkness.
“Go on ahead,” Joel says gruffly.
You don’t know why he suggests it, but you feel safe with him behind you. Not as safe as when he leads, though. But you surprise yourself with knowing exactly what trail to follow. Your fingers absently plays with the hem of your jacket, your eyes darting from place to place nervously, landing on rocks and stumps and finally the traps.
“Empty,” Joel announces in a voice that holds no reflection of how he feels about it.
You’re delighted; an empty trap means no clickers or raiders nearby. It’s a good thing.
“Wait,” Joel says from behind you. “I heard something.”
And before you can think rationally, that icy hand of fear is sliding up your middle to curl its fingers around your throat. You freeze, your eyes blowing wide and your body starting to tremble. All your lessons with Jennifer, all the advice Joel gave you; everything is gone in that instant. Your hearing dims and your feet stay planted even as Joel urges you to move forward with his elbow.
But you can’t. The thought of something jumping out at you has you completely paralyzed. Your body can’t even tremble, it’s so stiff. Every limb is too heavy, like they’re stuck in cement. Everything in your brain screams that you need to move, but rational thought is gone. The ability to move your body is gone. All you can do is stand there, terrified with your bladder threatening to release itself.
“Move.”
There, the sound of his rumbling timbre is in your ear and for a moment your limbs seem unstuck. Like his voice is that magic key to unlock the chains you’ve self inflicted yourself with. You lurch forward like Frankenstein’s monster, your body stiff and shaky.
“What the hell is goin’ on with you?”
Joel has come around to your front, facing you with a knit of his dark brows. You can only stare at him, like you have locked-in syndrome. His voice is firm and vivid, but the rest of him is wobbly, like he’s a mirage.
“J-Joel-“ you manage to grit out, “the raiders-“
“There’s no fuckin’ raiders,” he snaps, irritation flooding his features.
“What?”
“There’s nothin’ out here,” he repeats, shifting his gun back over his shoulder. “You said you’d been havin’ lessons, I wanted to see how you’d gotten on. Not very well, you didn’t even get your fuckin’ gun out.”
A mixture of deep relief and deep anger slithers through your body, drowning you in a shaky mixture of adrenaline that has you placing your palms to his chest and pushing harshly. He stumbles back, surprised.
“What was that for?”
You shake your head, hating the tears that come to the forefront. Not because you’re sad, but because you’re so fucking relieved nothing was actually out there and so fucking angry that he would pull that.
“Why the fuck would you do that?”
You hate how shaky your voice is as you ask him. You expect him to come back with his customary ire, but instead he keeps his voice even, taking a step back to you.
“You said you wanna stick with patrols, so you need to toughen up.”
“You’re just doing it for some power trip.”
“No, I’m not.”
You want to slap him. But instead you turn away from him, heading back to the horses. You’re barely two steps away when you feel his gloved hand grip your elbow, tugging you back to him. You skid along the snow, wrenching out of his grip and facing him.
“You do this because you like being in control.”
"No, I’m doin’ this because if you don't prep yourself you'll let the fear get to you when it really counts," Joel snaps back. "You can't let the fear run your life."
Now he slides past you, finished with the conversation. You hate it when he does that. You follow him with a sullen scowl, furious and humiliated. You hate that he pulled that shit on you but you hate it worse that you failed such an easy lesson.
"Lots of people are afraid, Joel."
You tell this to his broad back, not expecting him to answer. But he stops, turning to look at you full in the face.
"And it's good when it's useful. But yours ain't," Joel looks frustrated. "When you freeze up there's no way of escaping. No way of thinkin’ clearly. You gotta push through it or you’ll get killed."
"Easy for you to say."
"No. It's not." Joel's eyes spear you in place.
For a moment you falter, unsure of what he’s getting at. When has Joel ever panicked? When have you seen fear overtake him? That night of the snowstorm he headed out by himself with only a gun and his wits. Joel would never understand what it feels like to be afraid.
"Joel you're tough. You're strong and good with a gun and-"
"And my daughter is dead because I got scared.”
You stop whatever you were about to say next with a sharp glance his way. For a moment the two of you just stand staring at one another as your stomach hollows. You’re not positive you heard him right, but you just know that you did. You say nothing, waiting to see if he’ll continue.
"I know what debilitating fear is." Joel swallows. "And I know that fear is why my daughter isn't here now."
Suddenly it all clicks for you as he says that. The frustration he holds for weakness, for fear, for anything that can't protect. Everything hits you and the realization nearly takes your breath away.
Joel shifts from foot to foot, blinking rapidly. It’s the first time you’ve seen him near tears and the sight of it cracks something in you. You step closer to him, your voice and expression soft and imploring.
"Joel, you don't actually think that's true, do you?"
"I know it is," Joel tells you flatly. "If I'd just acted instead of standing there, terrified outta my fuckin’ mind then Sarah would still be here."
"I don't believe that."
It flies out of your mouth without thought. Joel eyes you.
"You weren't there."
"I didn't need to be," you insist, voice firm. "Everything I've seen in you and heard about you from everyone who knows you lets me know that you did everything you could for your daughter."
"You weren't there," he repeats.
“Tell me what happened.”
You’ve never been this commanding, this forward with him about Sarah. It’s been one of those topics you danced around, avoided. But right now it feels imperative he open up about her. You’re relieved when instead of scowling at you he just slumps his shoulders, his lower spine against the tree.
“We were runnin’ and this soldier came up and he shone this light on us and I said the wrong fuckin’ thing, I said my daughter’s hurt, her ankle. I didn’t say she just twisted her ankle. They thought she was bit and. . . I . . . I just stood there, terrified. I just said okay. I said we’re not sick. I didn’t fight. He raised the gun and-“
Joel breaks off, twisting away from you. He’s not crying, but he’s also not far off. You can only see his profile, blinking, starting at the trees. From this angle you can see the scar near his temple, the one that his curls normally cover. He must have received it during the same terrible moment he lost his daughter. A forever reminder.
You know that he’s not even your friend, just a colleague at best and yet. . . more than that. He’s a human, he’s a human who has lost someone he loved more than life itself and you can relate to him on that. It’s what makes the words spill from your mouth.
"Joel, I know that if you loved something you'd protect it with everything you had."
Joel’s profile shifts and he stares at you a long moment punctuated only by the occasional blink.
"You don't know me."
You don't reply to that. He's right, you don't know him. He's wrong because you feel like you might.
You're confused because the pain in his expression almost hurts you to see. Like it stabs your stomach from the inside.
"Could you have done anything different? Really?" You watch him shift his weight from foot to foot. "If you could go back in time to that moment, could you have honestly done anything that would have saved her?"
As he stares off into middle distance again you know that he's replaying that horrible moment in his mind, trying to see how he could have escaped, protected Sarah, done something different. When he doesn't say anything for several moments you prompt him.
"Did you have a weapon?"
His sigh is heavy. "No."
"Did the soldier?"
"Of course."
"It was a shit situation where you had no weapon, your daughter was injured and you were outgunned. Tell me how any of that is your fault."
Joel says nothing, but you can see the curl of his fists. And suddenly you don't want him to talk anymore. You don't want that haunted look in his eyes to move into the rest of him. You want to repair him, to sew his inner wounds and bandage his heartache because no one deserves to lose their child; no one deserves to live with the kind of guilt he does.
Joel stalks off, coming to stand by a nearby tree. His palm rests on its trunk and you watch as his head tips between his shoulder blades. Everything in you warns that Joel is in immense pain and that he doesn’t want to be bothered. Like a bear with a splinter in its paw, if you go up to him right now you’re going to get hurt by his snapping.
But your feet are guiding you to him, your eyes wet and when Joel hears you approaching he turns around, looking confused. He raises his arms up, making a small noise in his throat when you throw your arms around his middle.
He goes stiff in your arms and it feels like you’re embracing a marble statue.
"What're y-" Joel starts but stills as your arms continue holding him in place, your cheek resting on his sternum gently.
"Please just ..."
Your words fade out as you squeeze him softly, pressing your face into his chest. You try your hardest to pour all the care and the compassion that you hold for him in that moment and pray he feels it through his clothes. Tears are slipping down your cheeks as you imagine the pain he’s going through.
You're surprised when he responds, his muscled arms going to wrap around your shoulders, holding you against him. You can hear his heart under your ear, picking up in tempo, likely terrified of this showing of this emotion to you.
“I understand, Joel,” you whisper, your voice trembling. Because you do. You know the guilt of failing in your role as protector. You know the guilt of carrying on while others don’t. And so you hold him without judgment, without reservation.
You close your eyes, touched when you feel his chin rest on the crown of your head. The two of you stand in the dense forest, embracing tightly to one another. You think it might look strange to anyone who might come upon you, but in this moment it feels right.
“You did everything you could," you murmur against the buttons of his jacket, the two of you held in this position a moment longer.
"Wasn’t enough," Joel says in a voice thick with emotions. It rumbles through his chest into your body, and your hold him a little tighter.
"It was enough, Joel,” you sniff. “You’re enough, I promise."
///
"Wait, there are how many other flavors?"
"Tons. I remember we had this peanut butter crunch thing," you tell her with a dreamy look in your eyes. "And cheesecake and mint and-"
"Cake in ice cream?" Ellie interrupts.
"Yeah," you nod before shrugging. "And they had stupid names like Wavy Gravy and Chubby Hubby."
"That's fucking stupid."
You nod in agreement. You've been talking at length with Ellie about ice cream as you drink your milk and pick at your muffin the morning after patrols. You’re waiting to see if you can find Penny and Arthur this morning at breakfast. You want to introduce them to Ellie.
“Why did they call them those names?”
“Marketing.”
“Huh?”
“Tricking people into buying things, basically.”
“Oh.”
Ellie seems satisfied with this explanation so you don’t keep going. Sometimes she exhausts you with all her questions about your life before. She asks you things you realize she’s never experienced and part of it saddens you. Sometimes you don’t like to think of all you had before, with your house and family and horse riding lessons. You’d been blessed in many ways.
After your experience with Joel yesterday the two of you had been strangely quiet on the ride home, the sound of the horses hooves and the nature around you the only noise. You still followed dutifully as Joel scanned the surroundings, but the two of you felt tense. Like Joel had shown you his underbelly and was anxious about it.
You slept horribly again last night, only to be awoken this morning by an excited pounding and Ellie reminding you that you were going to take her to the dining hall to see ‘the tattoo guy’.
So now you sit drinking coffee, thinking about Joel and Ellie and confused because you think there’s something about Joel that calls to you. A secret pain that you recognize and accept in each other.
“Is that her?”
You break from your thoughts, eyes focusing on Ellie who’s nodding her head at the door to the dining hall. You glance over your shoulder to see Penny walk in; her shock of red hair on her head and her tattoos peeking out from under her sweater, creeping onto her hands and up her neck.
“That’s her.”
You stand up, walking over to Penny and explaining that you brought Ellie. Penny is altogether delighted to bring her meal over, sitting across from Ellie and fixing her with a cracked smile like the two are old friends.
“So you’re the one my husband’s gonna stab, huh?”
Ellie nods and smirks a bit at that, as do you when you take a seat next to her.
“And where’s it gonna be?”
Ellie’s hand goes to tug the sleeve of her sweatshirt. In a panic you almost go to stop her, but when Ellie pulls up her sleeve you can see the skin where her bite used to be is now mottled and an ugly red.
“What happened there?” Penny asks, eyeing the scarring.
“S’a chemical burn,” Ellie explains coolly. “Got it a few weeks ago when I was doing custodial.”
Penny casts her eyes to Ellie, narrowing them. The girl holds her gaze, almost defiantly. Then you see Penny relent, she nods in understanding while you feel yourself deflate. How long ago did Ellie do this to herself? Was it because of your reaction to the bite? It’s been a month or so since then. Ellie won’t meet your eyes.
“Might have to wait a few months for it to heal proper,” Penny replies, non-judgmentally. “Give Arthur plenty of time to draw you something real special.”
“We were hoping he might be with you this morning,” you say.
“Arthur’s at work,” Penny tells you both, taking a long sip of her coffee. “But I’m his best client so maybe I can answer some questions you got.”
“Can I see some of them?” Ellie asks, motioning to the woman’s hand where several ferns overlap one another, touched to a star cluster. Penny nods, stretching out her arm across the table and tugging up her sweater. Ellie’s eyes widen in amazement, seeing the variety of outlined images etched into the woman’s skin.
Ellie stares at Penny thoughtfully, her eyes following the lines of the vines, the unfurling petals, the intricate pieces of nature forever etched on Penny's skin. You see the longing there to cover up her sordid history and your heart aches.
"It's gonna look beautiful," you assure her. "I can't wait for you to get it."
Penny gives you a small smile. You never noticed that many of her tattoos are nature based; fern outlines, flowers, some detailed, some sketchy. A beautiful tapestry that when combined make a garden of memories, you assume.
“Arthur did all of these?”
“Yep.”
Penny looks proudly at her arm before turning her neck, pulling back her hair over her shoulder so that Ellie can observe the delicate vines that go from her shoulder and curl around her ear. You let your eyes linger on her ring finger where a small letter A resides in spidery script.
"How did you two meet?"
"Back in the Virginia QZ. I was in disposal, he was teachin'. Went to the bar one afternoon and I saw him there sketchin' these wildflowers that grew in the park. I offered to buy him a drink if he sketched me one. I dunno why, I guess I thought it would be a nice momento to look back on. Durin' it we got to talkin' and I guess we never stopped. That was...hmmm, I guess eight years ago?"
"Do you still have the picture?"
"Better yet, that was my first tattoo." She pulls up her pant leg to reveal the tattooed outline of delicate petals and stamen. "So I'd always have ‘em."
“Woah that’s cool,” Ellie breathes, looking at it.
Penny gives her a lopsided grin, pleased.
"S'my happy place," she says, eyes falling shut as she tilts against her chair. "I could just lay there for hours while he works away on me."
"Doesn't it hurt?" Ellie’s voice is tight, her eyes large. She’s nervous.
"Maybe a little at first. But I like the hurt, you know? It feels good coming from him. Maybe cuz I know he'd stop it the second I asked or maybe because it makes me forget I'm living in the fuckin' apocalypse." She gives a crooked smile at that. "I just know that every time I'm finished I feel like a little bit of the ugly is gone from the world. Like the beauty of his art washes it away."
You're surprised to find a lump in your throat at that statement.
"That might be the most beautiful thing I've ever heard," you offer quietly.
"Nah I'm not the words person. That's all Arthur. Poems, art. I'm just the muscle." At this she flexes her skinny arms, making you and Ellie giggle.
“I want it to have a moth, one that looks like this,” Ellie explains, opening her sketchbook and pointing to the image she’s drawn. You look over her shoulder, amazed at the detail and the delicate beauty on the page.
“That’s gorgeous.”
“It’s on the guitar Joel gave me,” she explains patiently.
“He gave you a guitar?”
You blurt this out, surprised. For some reason Joel gifting anyone anything feels momentous.
“Yeah, told me it was for my birthday. Said it was a placeholder until he could travel through time with me.”
The two of you share a secret smile before Ellie is turning her attention back to Penny. She shifts her book closer to the older woman.
“Do you think your husband could do something with that?”
“Arthur can do anythin’ with anythin’,” Penny promises with pride in her words. She’s proud of her man, supportive of his skills. You can see the love there reflected in her words and actions.
Penny leaves you both to grab another apple and when she’s out of earshot Ellie is beaming so broadly her eyes disappear.
“I can’t believe I’m finally gonna get one!”
You smile back at her, delight flooding you as you look to the normally withdrawn teen and see her looking so overjoyed. You want to wrap her in an embrace, but you falter when you glance down at her reddened arm.
“What the fuck?”
A voice draws your attention and Dina is there at the end of the table, looking at Ellie’s arm with horror. She holds a tray in her hands and it dips as she stares in shock.
“What happened?” Dina asks, indicating to the arm Ellie now covers by tugging down her sleeve.
“None of your fucking business,” Ellie growls.
“Fine.” Dina wrinkles her nose in irritation. “Was just trying to be nice.”
“Why start now?”
Dina gives a scoff before flipping her braid over her shoulder.
“You know Ellie, you can be a real asshole.”
Ellie says nothing as the girl stalks off to join the other table and you can see she’s still scowling, but now her cheeks are pink as her hand rests over her covered forearm. You glance down at her hand, your voice tender.
“Ellie when… what happened there?”
Ellie turns her attention back to her untouched muffin, her spirits dimmed a bit.
“Just. . . Felt like I needed to do it.”
“Was it because of how I reacted?”
“Fuck no,” Ellie frowns. “It was just, Joel has always gone on and on about my scar being unsafe. Then there was talk about those raiders and it started to make me paranoid if they found me. So I just. . . you know, made sure it was camouflaged. I didn’t want to put me or Joel in danger.”
Sympathy guides your tone. “Does Joel know?”
“No.” She frowns, looking away from you. “He doesn’t need to know.”
You nod, unwilling to push further. You aren’t her mother, this isn’t your place. You feel guilty for stealing this moment of joy from her, and your attention drifts to Penny’s coffee cup, forgotten.
"Wish it wasn't carrot today," Ellie mutters, poking her muffin with a fork. "I fucking hate carrot."
"Me too."
Your eyes are still on the empty coffee cup.
Real coffee. Real coffee.
"I just know they have better stuff in the back that they're not giving us," Ellie grumbles, distracting you from this internal monologue.
"Yeah, the-" something flickers across your brain, and errant thought suddenly moving to the front of your consciousness.
You think of when you were on kitchen duty, of the items not plentiful enough to be shared with the wider community. The ones stored until more came in or given away to those most in need. Your eyes snap wide as you recall the small container brought in the week you left. The one too small for sharing with the group.
But you'd been taken with the tin. You loved the shiny red outside and blue top. And you knew that the contents inside were of no interest to you, but you wanted that tin. It made you feel bright and happy and hopeful when you looked at it.
But there were rules in Jackson City. You weren't allowed to just take things for yourself. But you had known that if you asked it wouldn't have been given to you, not as a single woman. Items given from the kitchen were divided fairly and those with bigger families got bigger items.
And so when eyes were tilted elsewhere you'd hidden it in your apron, rushing to the far storage room. With a beating heart you'd shoved it under the empty sacks used for hauling berries. They wouldn't be utilized again until the spring.
You'd planned on finding a way to get it out, to smuggle it back to your place. But then that had been the week Maria told you that you were switched to patrols and all thoughts of the red tin were lost.
Real coffee. Real coffee.
"Hey, you wanna join me on an adventure?" you tell Ellie in a quiet voice despite the fact that you two are fairly isolated from the rest of the groups.
“Yes.”
“It’s gonna involve breaking the rules.”
Ellie grins, the good mood returning to her features. She lowers her voice conspiratorially.
“Good.”
“I need to break into the kitchen at the back."
"Okay."
You hold in a smile at the lack of hesitation in the girls reply. She looks excited about it if anything.
"Don't you wanna know what for?"
"Nah," Ellie shakes her head. "When are we doin' this?"
///
You still wonder if you should tell Jennifer what happened with Joel, but you reconsider. What good would it do? It’s not like you and Joel like each other, not like your moment of kindness somehow bonds you to each other.
But there’s something under your skin when he’s around. A feeling of being tilted off your axis that you can’t ignore, no matter how hard you try.
So you don’t mention it to her when days later she invites you and Luke to go to the movies, citing that they got a new film in she’s dying to see. She tells you about it, but you’re distracted as the three of you take turns shooting.
Movie nights are big for the people of Jackson City. It allows them a way to travel through time, to the ‘used to be’ of their world. Where they see McDonalds bags and shopping centers and beautiful, smiling faces. Where they see sun soaked beaches and can go around the world just sitting there eating popcorn in the dark surrounded by other patrons. You go every so often, but something about the dark and the crowds makes you uneasy at times. You always sit near the back, ready to escape when necessary.
When the three of you go to grab seats Jennifer doesn’t even question why you pick the back row, she just nods and tells you she’s going to get popcorn. Luke goes with her, asking if you want anything else. He does this while looking between your eyes and your mouth, making you feel fluttery inside.
The two of them walk off and as you scan the room you notice Ellie is seated near the front. She waves at you when she notices you standing beside the empty chairs. You return it weakly, and she turns her head back around, you watch as her ponytail bobs behind her, looking knotted. You make a mental note to help her brush it again.
“Pardon me,” a voice says and a young woman moves past you, another man shoulders you, excusing himself as the crowd of people begins to swell. You start feeling a bit breathless amongst the gathering crowd. It’s like there’s too many people right now and unlike the church, this space is cramped and the lighting dim. Your heart hammers and your nails dig into the flesh of your palm.
“S’cuse me,” comes a voice from behind you.
Joel.
Before you can respond his hand is on your lower back, gently guiding you to the left so he can pass you, his fingertips strong through the fabric of your clothing. You hold your breath as he presses, almost scared of exhaling.
Your body catches on fire where he touches you, making your heart race as you glance over your shoulder up at his face. He stares down at you with a soft expression.
What is he thinking?
You swallow, taking the seat you were saving, staring up at him. Your eyes stay on one another’s a moment longer and then he’s gone, waving at a very exuberant Ellie who shouts over the growing crowd that she saved him a good seat.
Seconds later Jennifer reappears with a bag of popcorn and Luke in tow. The two of them take a seat beside you, Jennifer pressing against you.
“I’m almost done my dress for the holiday party,” Jennifer gushes from beside you, popping some popcorn into her mouth and crunching quietly.
“Your dress?” You pause, brows furrowed. “Is it a big dress up event?”
“Everyone tries to look their best,” Jennifer says between bites of popcorn. “I just love any excuse to wear a dress.”
“Shit,” Luke mutters from the other side of her. “Can jeans and a sweater count as my best?”
“Of course,” she assures him before shooting you a rolling eyed look that clearly reads: men and fashion.
Luke starts to talk about his musical practice and how you and Jennifer should come out for their first ‘casual concert’ as he calls it. He and Jennifer begin to chat about the song list and you try to focus but all you can think of is Jennifer making a dress and that dinner with Joel and Ellie; In the south women dressed up for everything, just how things were done. You look down again at your shabby jeans and sweater under your jacket. You look so plain.
There’s the textile shop in town, a place to get clothing but it isn’t like going to the mall. Most of it is essentials like underclothes, jackets, jeans. Some people get clothing made there via bartering. But you don’t have anything worthwhile for trading.
“I heard this movie is good,” Jennifer says pointing at the large hung blanket that acts as a screen.
“Well we can’t exactly get refunds,” you muse.
The two of you exchange a smile before the lights dim and the movie begins. Jennifer suddenly stands, glancing down at you as the darkness grows.
“Hey, can we swap seats?” She asks you, looking from you to the screen. “I like sitting on the end because I have to pee all the time.”
You nod, swapping seats. Luke looks over at you with a warm smile before offering you some popcorn from his bag. The three of you are squashed up together with you in the middle. You share popcorn and you feel Luke’s arm warm against yours, understanding flooding you.
Nice play, Jennifer.
You try to concentrate on the movie but your eyes begin drifting over to the left side of the quieting room, soon landing on the broad shoulders of Joel, listening to something Ellie is saying to him as she eats her popcorn.
You still can’t believe you hugged Joel. That you willingly wrapped your arms around him and held him against you, inhaling the masculine scent of forest and wind and almond soap. Hearing his heartbeat thundering under your cheek and aware of how he gripped you to him.
“Do you like movies?” Luke leans over and whispers, breaking you from your conflicting thoughts.
“I like books better,” you confess. “But there’s something nice about entering another world.”
Luke nods in agreement and the two of you turn your attention back to the film. You feel Jennifer squeeze your wrist, smirking at you with encouragement in the dark and you feel your stomach sink.
Your best friend is sitting on your right, watching a movie unaware of how you’re lusting after a man whose crush she uses as a coping mechanism. How could you be so unkind as to lust after him too? You don’t need Joel like Jennifer does. She needs the distraction.
And yes, Joel says he doesn’t like Jennifer but he’s like most people – he doesn’t really know the real Jennifer like you do.
You made a promise to yourself months ago. That you would help Jennifer get Joel and you fully intend on keeping that promise. You just have to find the right opportunity. Satisfied with that you settle back in your chair, sighing softly. It’s an old movie, a space film you don’t recognize.
You focus on the movie, your eyes drifting to the left every so often, seeing Joel tilt to whisper to Ellie or just sitting, watching the film. You can see Joel’s tousled locks and a pang of longing goes through you at the desire to card your hands through it.
Where the fuck did that thought come from?
Sure, he’s handsome, but he’s also abrasive and rude and.. . . Memories are flooding you, how soft he is with Ellie, how he shared his food with you, how talented his fingers are, how you held one another.
Luke’s pinky brushes yours at one point during the middle of the movie and you freeze, your cheeks flushing. His hand is on his kneecap, his pinky rubbing back and forth against your outer thigh. You peek at him through your hair to see his eyes on the screen, a faint smile there.
You can’t remember the last time you felt this strange, happy jumpy feeling one has when they’re near their crush. That silly, breathless feeling that has you trying not to smirk through the scenes reflecting off the large white tarp.
When Luke’s hand navigates its way from his kneecap to yours you’re convinced you’re going to pass out. He leaves it there, heavy and warm through your jeans. Will Luke ask you to dance at the party?
Images of you and he dancing together are playing in your mind. A thought that has your entire body thrumming. It’s so normal to want something like that. You didn’t realize how much you craved normal.
All too soon the movie is over and the patrons begin to dwindle out of the makeshift theatre. You stare at Luke’s hand, sitting there on your knee when Jennifer’s soft voice speaks out beside you.
“Hi Joel.”
Your head jerks up so quickly something pops in your neck and you wince. Joel is stopped at the end of the aisle, looking at the three of you with an unimpressed expression. Ellie must have gone on ahead of him, because she’s nowhere to be seen.
“Hi Jenny,” he says smoothly, his eyes flicking to your knee and then back to her face. “Enjoy the movie?”
“Yeah, how about you?”
“S’okay,” Joel says. Standing there while the three of you sit he looks even taller, even more imposing and you throat runs dry.
“I figure we three should be headin’ out to find a tree soon,” Joel says.
His eyes flick between you and Jennifer, ignoring Luke altogether. Luke, you noticed, has removed his hand from your leg entirely. You feel a bit deflated and yet at the same time relieved. It’s a strange dichotomy that settles like a stone in your abdomen.
“Isn’t it a bit early?” you hedge.
“Party’s only a month away,” Joel shrugs. “And we won’t cut it right now; we’ll just leave a marker on it so others know not to touch it.”
You sneak a glance at Jennifer who is beaming up at Joel, trying her best not to look too eager.
“I’m pretty busy the next few days, but Jennifer has time, right?” you nudge her with your shoulder and she blinks rapidly a moment before understanding. She grins up at Joel with a demure look.
“I sure am. When do you want to go looking, Joel?”
“Last time I checked this was a group effort,” Joel says sourly. “That means we go as a group. The two of you find a time that works for you and get back to me.”
“But-“
He strides off, unwilling to listen to you trying to reason with him. You look back at Jennifer who appears fairly deflated.
“He’s a real stickler,” she shrugs.
“Don’t worry,” you tell her resolutely. “I’ll figure something out.”
///
You haven’t figured anything out by the following evening when you wait for Ellie outside the greenhouse.
You don’t know how to convince Joel to go off with Jennifer alone aside from flat out lying. But there’s a part of you that’s paranoid if you did that Joel might let things slip. What if he confessed to Jennifer about your trysts? How could she ever forgive you?
You’re still debating your options when you hear footsteps crunching over the hardened snow, smiling when Ellie comes into view. She’s wearing black clothes and a dark burgundy beanie pulled down low. Only her pale face shows, grinning at you.
“Glad you didn’t chicken out.”
“Joel didn’t wake up?”
“He’s only got one good ear,” she explains. “He doesn’t hear much if he sleeps on his right.”
You can’t help but think back to the chapel when you’d whirled around and sneered at him.
Not our fault you’re half-deaf.
You shake off the shame that starts at the edges of your body, focusing on the task at hand. You motion for Ellie to follow you, quickly twisting the lock.
You still have the code for the greenhouse, which means you still know where they keep the spare key for the dining hall. It’s always kept under the planter near the right. Ellie watches all of this in amazement, likely shocked to see this more devious side of you. Then again this is where she first saw you, so it’s likely that she knew all along.
“I don’t even know if it’s still there,” you confess in a whisper as the two of you make your way to the dining hall. It’s almost three in the morning and the space is empty. The Bison always closes at one, and even the stragglers are home by two.
“I don’t care,” Ellie admits. “This is fun.”
You pull her into a casual side hug as you both suppress giggles. The two of you approach the padlock and Ellie watches as you twist the key, pocketing it as the door creaks open. The two of you disappear inside, pulling it shut after you.
Inside is eerily dark and quiet; the tables all cleaned and lined up for the breakfast rush in a few hours. Your dual footsteps echo in the space normally full of light and laughter.
Now that you’re actually here inside you feel your heartbeat begin to pick up a little as you think about what you’re doing. If you’re caught there are serious consequences – even possible exile. It happened only once before according to the folks here, but who’s to say it couldn’t happen again?
“You shouldn’t be here,” you say guiltily to Ellie. “I shouldn’t have-“
“I’ll keep watch,” Ellie finishes, her eyes narrowed. You know that she doesn’t want to hear anything else you have to say.
“If we’re caught-“
“If I hear anything or see anyone dangerous I’ll hit the wall twice. You can go out the window they have by the freezer. I saw it my first day when they gave me and Joel a tour.”
“Ellie-“
“No one is gonna catch me,” she states flatly. “I’m really fast, faster than the other kids here.”
Ellie runs around the tables, weaving as she laughs.
“Shhh!” You call out, unable to keep the smirk from your face. “You want us caught?”
Ellie immediately sobers, running over to you as you approach the double doors that lead to the back room.
“Ellie-“
“Plus, if anyone does catch me I’ll just say I was sleep walking,” Ellie says with a lopsided grin, pretending to be a sleepwalker, her eyes closed and her arms held out in front of her. She begins to softly snore, shaking herself awake, pretending to be half asleep. “Huh? Where am I? How did I get here?”
You try to suppress a laugh even though you still feel guilty to have her as your accomplice. But Ellie looks so delighted to be doing this, so excited to have this bit of adventure that it pushes away the bad thoughts.
“You want anything from the back?”
Ellie pauses, looking thoughtful. “Something with chocolate.”
You nod, disappearing into the back room leaving Ellie to stand guard just outside them, her eyes scanning the empty space.
It’s weird, she hasn’t been alone in so long. Someone is always there – Joel or you, schoolmates or Tommy or Maria. Even Buckley hangs around if she wanders off from the main town. It’s like she’s never alone anymore and . . . she likes it.
She didn’t expect to like it. And yeah, she has plenty of time to be by herself in her room but she likes knowing Joel is on the other side of the wall. She might roll her eyes at him or get frustrated when he insists on telling her he’s going out even though she knows he is. She may get annoyed when he insists on reminding her to brush her teeth and eat breakfast. But she likes it. She likes having someone who cares.
And you became one of those people so quickly. There’s something about your presence that isn’t hard like the rest of the people in town. A softness and a humor that Ellie finds herself drawn to. There are times when she wonders if her mother was anything like you. When you brushed her hair and she closed her eyes she could almost imagine that you were her.
Ellie wanders back and forth along the line of tables, listening to hear you puttering around in the back. You’re quiet for the most part. Ellie hums to herself, thinking about school and her tattoo. She absently rubs her arm, thinking of how it will look decorated in Arthur’s ink.
A creak to her right draws her attention and she sees that the door has cracked open, letting a cool breeze inside. Ellie goes over to it, closing and locking it. It’s just as she’s turning back that she sees a flash of movement. Her heart jumps and she reaches for the knife in her back pocket.
But her hand stops its reaching when she sees the figure hunched under one of the tables, her braid unmistakable.
“Dina?”
Caught, the girl scrambles from under the table, heading for the far side of the dining hall. There are large windows there, big enough for her to climb out of to alert the rest of the town. Ellie doesn’t have enough time to warn you, she just takes off after Dina.
"Don't you fucking dare!' Ellie growls to herself, chasing after Dina between the tables.
Dina is like a rabbit skirting around the tables and chairs with ease. But Ellie has always been nimble and easily overtakes the other girl.
Dina grunts when Ellie tackles her to the floor, he two of them are quiet, the only sound of Dina’s body as she slaps onto the wood floor, so harsh her teeth clatter. Ellie sits on her stomach, pinning Dina down and shoving a hand over her protesting mouth.
Dina's cries are muffled under her harshly pressing palm. Ellie straddles Dina's stomach as the girl squirms.
"Shut the fuck up," Ellie growls, her face inches from Dina's. The two girls stare at each other, panting heavily. As the seconds tick by Ellie feels a strange swirling in her abdomen and she loosens her grip.
"You promise you won't scream?"
Dina nods and her large eyes strangely soft. Ellie removes her hand slowly, confused as to why it's suddenly trembling.
“Why are you here?”
“I… I was up early. Couldn’t sleep. I saw you from my window.”
She followed the two of you here.
Ellie is frustrated at being caught and strangely feels like she’s let you down. She pins Dina’s arms to the ground again, narrowing her gaze on the girl’s flushed face.
"You can't say anything about us being here, got it?"
Dina nods again, panting lightly. Ellie's face is still close and she can see the freckles scatter like constellations over Dina's cheeks. Ellie feels another swoop in her stomach that she attributes to the fear of being caught.
"Why are you always on my case?" Ellie rasps, her eyes searching the other girls. "Why'd you follow me here?"
"Let me go," Dina breathes and now she’s squirming under Ellie.
"No," Ellie insists. "Tell me. Why? Why are you always around giving me shit?"
"Ellie-"
"Why do you act like you're so much better than me?"
"Ellie just ..." Dina takes a sharp breath in, her eyes fixed on Ellie's mouth.
Ellie is confused by this until Dina jerks her face up, pressing her lips to Ellie's. Ellie feels her entire world tilt at the feeling of the girl’s mouth on hers. Soft and sweet and...
What the fuck? Ellie scrambles back off of Dina, her fingers on her lips. She stares at Dina in confusion.
"W-what did... Why-," Ellie stammers as Dina sits up, her face heating.
"Just … Don't say anything," Dina grumbles, pushing herself to a stand. "And I won't tell about whatever you two are doing here."
Before Ellie can attempt a reply Dina is on her feet and rushing out of the cafeteria. Ellie turns only when she hears you stumbling out of the storage room minutes later holding your prize; the red coffee can and a chocolate bar in the other that you toss in her direction.
"Got it. Let's go."
///
The next patrol seems to come so quickly, it’s already the afternoon and you’re heading towards Teton. You haven’t seen Joel all week and you’ve been pretty thankful for it. You still don’t know where the two of you stand. But you’re also sort of excited to see him. To give him his gift.
“Don’t have to check the traps this week,” he tells you over his shoulder.
“Right.”
You both continue on in the strained silence, doing your perimeter check. Your more alert today, your hand ready for your gun. You want to be ready in case Joel pulls another surprise test like last time.
You feel like getting to Teton drags on and on. The normally pleasant ride is cold and feels longer than usual. You take the time trying to remember books you’ve read or songs you used to enjoy, but you keep getting distracted by Joel ahead of you.
You keep remembering the feeling of his embrace. How he smelled, how warm he was, how gentle. Joel is so rarely gentle and you think this may be leaking into your subconscious.
This morning as you boiled the water you’d been daydreaming, thinking of the dance you want Luke to take you to. Only in this daydream its Joel you dance with, Joel who spins you around in his arms, holding you like he did in the forest. Joel who whispers in your ear that you look beautiful. Because in this daydream you wear a gown, not your jeans and sweater.
Eventually you make it to the safe house, tying the horses up and heading inside. Joel unlocks it this time, the same code as the last visit. But he allows you in first, stepping back and sweeping a hand indicating you should enter.
You thank him, walking up to the log book where you sign in, writing your names hurriedly so you can get to lunch.
Joel walks into the room, his boots scraping as he comes to stand behind you. You think he’s looking to make sure you filled the log book correctly but another part of you believes he’s just doing it so he can stand close to you. The only difference is today you don’t mind.
You stand with your back to him, feeling the warmth of his body as he stands there, peering over your shoulder. You feel his mouth draw near the side of your face and you hold your breath, waiting to see what he’ll do.
“Miller’s only got two L’s,” he rumbles against your ear. “Not three.”
“There’s only-“ you stop as you peer closer at your writing. “Fuck.”
In your exuberance to fill in the logbook you did in fact write his last name incorrectly. You scribble one of the extra L’s out as Joel chuckles softly behind you. You feel like an idiot, all fluttery and strange. Why are you acting like this?
When the time comes for lunch you’re actually nervous, thinking your plan might have been a stupid one. Why did you think of this? What if he thinks you’re pathetic for it?
Joel often eats his lunch the same way, starting with the peeling of his orange. Then he pops one piece of orange into his mouth, followed by the large meat sandwich, a few carrots, the rest of the orange and then finish with his coffee and whatever pastry has been included in the lunch bag. You watch him eat, trying to look away when his eyes dart to you. You nibble on your sandwich, taking your time.
You watch as he finishes the orange, wrapping the peel in the wax cover. He saves the peels to feed to the horses on the way back, keeping them upbeat. You started doing the same, finding Chestnut had an extra zip to his step when you did.
When he reaches for his bag you swallow your carrot, reaching into your bag and producing your thermos from home.
"Here, I brought you a drink," you say awkwardly shoving your Thermos at him across the table.
"I already got the one they packed," he says indicating to the Thermos in his bag. You falter, feeling shy.
"Yeah but … this one is... Different."
"Poisoned?"
"Not to my knowledge."
Joel smirks before nodding. You take a bite of your sandwich, chewing as you watch him unscrew the lid. He peers into the Thermos and you see him raise a confused brow.
It's not until he lifts it to his nose and inhales that he realizes.
"Where the fuck did you get this?"
You shrug like it doesn't matter and he doesn't press it. When Joel tilts it to marvel at it in the Thermos you're struck that the brew inside matches the color of his dark brown eyes.
You're confused that he's not drinking it. Just staring at it like he's never seen coffee before.
"I thought you liked real coffee," you say, head tilting to the Thermos. "I never drank it. Is Folghers not real coffee?"
"Folgers," Joel corrects your pronunciation gently. "And uh, yeah, it's real. S'what I used to make every morning before work."
You nod, still a little confused as to why he's not drinking it.
"Did you ever go to Starbucks?"
Joel gives one of those not-quite-a-smile quirks of his lips. "Yeah."
"What did you get there?"
"Black coffee."
"You went to Starbucks and you just got a black coffee?"
"Sure."
This surprises an amused smile out of you, one that stays on your face until you see Joel is staring at you. His eyes rest there a beat before dragging back to the Thermos. You watch as he brings it to his mouth and takes the first sip.
You don't realize you're holding your breath until it all rushes out.
"Damn," he says after swallowing. "S'pretty weak but still got that same flavor. Where did you get this? Really?"
"I used to work in the kitchen," you mumble, suddenly concerned that you'll be reported. "I uh... I hid it before so I could keep it… Just remembered it when we were talking about coffee last time."
"Why'd you hide it?"
"S'my favorite color," you say wincing at how childish it sounds. "The tin it came in is red. Anyway, I have a whole container of this coffee at my house if you want it. I just wanted to keep the tin."
Joel is staring at the coffee, mouth still pursing as he tastes the lingering flavor on his tongue. You’re confused when he shakes his head a little.
"You know I can count on my hand the amount of people that have done something for me," Joel says still looking at the thermos. "Side from my kids."
"It's what you do for friends," you reason.
"Are we friends?"
"I'd like us to be."
Joel nods slowly, eyes sliding to your face before going back to the coffee. He takes another sip, sighing gently. He closes his eyes and for a minute you see the lines in his face smooth, a state of relaxation overtaking him. You realize he's lost in a moment, a memory, a nostalgic moment.
"When she got old enough, Sarah used to make me coffee in the morning before she went off to school." Joels eyes are still closed. "She used to nag me about bein' more healthy. She had this look she pulled, scrunched but.. she could never look angry. Didn't have it in her. She was always like a sunbeam, happy and golden."
You've never met Sarah, never seen the photo Joel avoids at Tommy's house. Yet through the stories you've heard you can almost sense her, bubbly and warm, conscientious and sweet. You imagine wide eyes that disappear when she smiles and knobby knees as she sprouted over the years.
"She sounds wonderful."
Joel just nods with his eyes on his coffee.
“Thank you," he says softly and you don't know if it's because of the coffee or the memory it brought up. Whatever it is, it makes you beam at him, delighted.
"No problem."
The two of you continue eating your lunch, Joel ending on coffee and you on your hot chocolate. The silence is easy and you feel sated in more ways than one. You’re friends, its official. The thought warms you.
You both rise, about to head out into the main section of the house to check that everything is stocked up and there are no leaks. You're about to leave out the door when you feel Joel's hand on your shoulder. You turn, brows raised expectantly.
"What?"
Joel stares at you much like he was staring at you earlier. That inscrutable look in his dark eyes as they drop to your mouth.
You twitch in surprise when his fingers come to gently grip your chin. You're confused because this isn't how this works. He's usually more forceful, more demanding. Instead his hand slides from your chin to your jaw, resting there. With infinite deliberation he moves his face towards you and tilts his mouth gingerly against yours.
His lips are warmed from the coffee, slightly damp from where he licked his lips moments before. But as they graze yours you feel everything on you crackle with electricity that makes you start.
You inhale sharply, a soft little thing you'd assumed would be absorbed into the room. But Joel hears it, his strong nose brushing yours as he pulls back to look at you.
"What?"
"Nothing," you say quickly. Too quickly.
The lines between his brows deepen the concern evident. He wants answers and you know you'll have to give them if there's any chance of feeling his mouth again. You surprise yourself from wanting to feel them again.
"I've just never kissed anyone before. Not really."
His eyes widen only a fraction, the white leaking around the iris.
"You dated."
"I had..." You struggle for the word. "Encounters."
Fingers, cocks, hard fucking, slaps of flesh. Needling digits in flesh, around hair, between your legs. Never their lips against yours, never the gentle dab of their tongues in your mouth. Never softness.
Joel stares at you; the deep chestnut of his eyes is momentarily hypnotizing.
"And you never-"
"No."
Some tried, mouths on your neck, drifting upwards. But it always reminded you of them. Of the infected, the tendrils of green spilling from their mouths. It made you think of the neighbor that charged after you and your sister as you fled home.
So when those same needy mouths went to your face it made you wince and turn your head, made you tell them to just fuck you. They never turned that down. Kissing was just a means to an end for them anyway.
The only man you would have kissed willingly wouldn't tarnish the memory of his dead wife. And now the only man you'd kiss is staring at you. You feel shame at the scrutiny, as if he's seeing clear confirmation of your shortcomings.
You could move away, shoulder past him, pretend none of this happened. But you don't. You stand with your gaze steady, curious that Joel's mouth seems to be drifting closer.
When his dark eyes dart to your mouth you know you're not imagining it. And with the softest touch imaginable, Joel's warm lips press against yours. His lips seek yours not in the commanding way he is usually known for in life, but almost timid, as if he's terrified of fucking up.
His eyes are still open when yours drift shut, neck tilting so that the kiss can deepen. His lips part, you feel them and then the damp dab of his tongue along your lower lip, wetting it. You hear him inhale through his nose as he tastes you.
You make a cooing noise in the back of your throat, surprised at the sensation. Joel immediately ceases, his face pulling back again. Your lips tingle from his touch, your mouth almost chasing his before you remember yourself.
"S'okay?"
"Mhm."
"You wanna keep goin’?"
"Yes," you breathe, not even bothering to stop and consider what you're agreeing to.
Joel nods and to your surprise he sits on the chair he just vacated, tugging you towards him. You're about to go to your knees, assuming that this is what he's expecting but he shakes his head softly.
"Sit here," he murmurs, rubbing a hand over his thigh before both hands come to your hips to guide you.
He urges your legs to bracket his, to sit facing him on his lap. The chair creaks under your combined weight but Joel pays it no mind, his steady gaze is on your face. You don’t move, finding that your shock lends itself to keeping you there like a doll on his lap.
"Put your arms around my neck," he tells you in a husky murmur.
When you pause, shocked by the request, he takes you by the wrists, urging your arms around his neck. His arms slide around your waist, holding you there.
The warmth of his lips is still felt on your own and when he presses his mouth to yours you kiss him back, feeling inexperienced but taken care of. He pulls back a moment and when you chase his mouth this time he readily allows them to be captured.
You inhale at the sensation of his lips warming yours, feeling as his hands cup your cheeks, kissing you sweetly, taking his time, letting you explore his lips, his tongue, everything you want. You kiss him back, desperate for more of him.
You're trembling everywhere but you can't stop, you want more of this, to kiss him for hours. For him to trace his tongue over every inch of your mouth, your lips, fuck, just everything.
Joel’s never like this. You've never touched, never felt his hands on you like this. It makes you feel disorientated. Your eyes are heavy lidded as you stare into his, feeling the bulge between his legs that’s been there since you sat on his lap, pulsing and aching beneath you.
He nudges his nose against yours, urging your head to the side. You submit, feeling as his mouth works its way along your neck, wet and needy. Tingles shoot everywhere in response to his beard rasping against your skin and his soft lips trailing down.
You let out a shuddering sigh at the sensation, eyes closed as he continues. You feel his teeth scrape your carotid artery and you swallow anxiously.
What are you doing? Why is Joel doing this?
This thought distracts you until his broad hands slide up your sides, coming to cup your breasts. You hold in a gasp of pleasured delight when his thumbs find your hardened nipples and he grazes over them and you feel them pucker further. You watch as he squeezes your breasts, groaning when you do.
"Mhm," he murmurs when you whimper. "You like that, don't ya?"
You can only nod, your hands gripping his shoulders tighter as your body tilts further back, nipples tightening almost painfully. Joel tugs you back, hands leaving your breasts to splay against your spine, forcing your chest to his. Your head instinctively tilts when his lips find your jaw.
"I wanna give you more," Joel rumbles against your neck. “You want that?”
"Yes, I want more," you breathe, arms crooked around his neck. "Please, I-“
Joel doesn't let you finish before his mouth crashes against yours, his hands going to untuck the shirt you wear under your sweater from your jeans. You allow it, holding your arms up so he can divest you of the bulky sweater, leaving the t-shirt on for now. He lets his eyes travel along your breasts, the nipples peeking through the thin fabric of your bra and shirt.
You gasp when his head dips forward and he circles one through the cloth, sucking it into his mouth, wetting the shirt. You arch back, his hands on your upper back, pulling you into him. He groans, hips rolling against yours as you whimper for him, hands carding through his hair. It feels so good to let go.
“You’re gonna ride my thigh ‘til you come."
His words have the intended effect because you're hips begin to roll automatically, the second his palms urge you to do so. The seam of your jeans hits exactly the right spot, creating a pleasurable friction that has you starting to moan.
Fuck. It feels so good. How does he make it feel so good?
You don't understand how his hands urging you to press roughly against his denim-clad thigh has you arching, your body alight with an inner fire as you ride him there in the quiet room. This is Joel the man who just became your friend. Joel who - - - you can’t think rationally, can’t even finish this thought. You just surrender to how he moves your increasingly pliant body, the gentle touches, the needy groans making you come undone.
"Just like that," Joel says thickly, his eyes sliding all over your body from where you ride him, to the gentle bounce of your breasts, all the way up to your face with your saddled brows and parted mouth.
You need more; you crave his fingers, his warm skin. Your mouth finds his neck, pressing there for the first time. His skin is so warm, the color and temperature of gold sand warmed by the sun.
You feel that Joel is still so hard underneath you and your fingers slide between your two bodies, coming to cup him through the denim of his jeans. He gently disentangles you, tugging your hand from him and replacing it on his shoulder.
"Keep ‘em there," he instructs gently.
Your eyes fly open, concerned you've done something wrong but he doesn't look upset. You are about to say something when you feel his fingers coming to pop the button of your jeans open.
"You don't have to do anything," Joel tells you, his mouth grazing yours as he lowers the zipper of your jeans. "Just need you to feel good."
"You don't want... You know?"
Joel shakes his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You feel as his fingers trace over the damp spot in your panties and you shiver.
"Lemme give it to you," he says huskily.
You feel his fingers continue their trailing between your thighs, tugging your panties to the side, his fingers splaying around your clit. At the contact combined with his lingering eye contact you buck against his hand.
He watches your face with intense scrutiny, making you feel shy. You drop your head forward as your thighs tighten.
"C'mon," Joel says softly, his own arms banding around your waist and holding you to him. "C'mon, lemme hear it."
Joel is never tender and sweet and wanting you to make noise. He's always telling you to shut up, always insisting that you talk too much. Never letting you touch him aside from your mouth on his cock. What changed?
“You can take it,” he murmurs huskily. “S’all for you today.”
His free hand grips your hips, urging you to grind against him harder. He's never been this free with praise. Never been so tender. It makes you feel dizzy.
His hips are still rolling against yours, urging you to keep chasing that pleasure that seems just out of reach. For some reason its hard today, your confusion over what’s happening clouding the desire that bleeds into focus.
"So wet," he remarks, his fingers entering you, curling, coaxing you to come forward off that precipice. You feel as his thick finger enters your honeyed entrance, the thumb still rubbing your swollen clit.
You whimper, burying your face in his lean neck while keeping your arms on his shoulders and continuing to roll your hips against him. When he adds a second finger and increases the tempo of his thumb’s rub you start to quake. He puts his damp lips to your ear.
"I know," he rasps. "Keep goin', baby, I'll take ya there."
Baby.
It slips out. You know he didn’t mean to call you baby. Joel has never come close to giving you a nickname, neutral or otherwise. You desperately want more of him. To feel him deep within you, but something stops you. Something tells you that this has to be enough.
"That's it," he encourages with what could almost be a smile in his voice. "That's it. Doing so good."
"C'mon," Joel urges his hand on your chin so you can't look away. "C'mon and let me give it to you."
"Joel," you whisper for no other reason than wanting to say it. His praise is making you feel crazy.
Baby.
You force your head against his shoulder, groaning with abandon. You feel his large palm there, resting on the back of your skull.
"Go on, yeah, just like that," Joel encourages as he cradles the back of your head. "Doin' so good for me."
You ride his fingers with abandon, a stuttering moan escaping you when he adds a third finger and begins to fuck you that way, the tempo of his thumb on your clit never changing speed.
"I know," he croons sympathetically when your whimpers turn to needful whines as your pleasure ebbs and flows. Like a tide that recedes the more you chase after it.
"I know, you’re so close, just keep goin’."
You want it so badly it hurts. But you’re mind is so full, crowding you and making you feel suffocated.
"I can't," you grind out with frustrated tears in your eyes. Joel’s mouth is at your ear immediately.
"Look at me," he commands gently.
You lift your head, lips swollen, hair mussed and eyes glassy. Joel is similarly affected, his expression entirely painted with desire, hair mussed and falling into his dark eyes.
"You like doin' what I tell you," he says as he presses his mouth to the hollow of your throat. It's not a question. You feel his teeth scrape your carotid artery and you swallow. Yes, you love doing what Joel asks you when he's soft like this.
"Yes," you sigh.
"Then you're gonna listen to me right now," Joel says, his mouth at your jaw now as his hands continue to rock you against his leg. "And you’re gonna come.”
You're still desperately rutting against his hand, his bulge straining through his jeans. And there it is; that sweet wipe of your brain clean. When Joel’s words are all that you can hear and the loud, annoying thoughts that normally rule you are quieted.
Joel has told you to come and you’re going to.
“Gonna do that?” Joel teases as his tongue comes to trace behind your jaw. “Gonna be a good girl for me and come?”
Yes yes yes.
His words have you whimpering, pressing harshly into his fingers as you ride his thigh. Joel is gazing at you, his words melting into the background as everything else grows silent. C’mon, you’re so close, I can feel it. Go on and take it, s’all for you.
He holds you with one hand, the other still working between your thighs, urging you to keep going, fucking you with only his fingers and his words and yet it’s so potent you feel it in every nerve of your body. You feel Joel everywhere, you hear him everywhere.
You wanna be good for him and when the next pleasured wave overtakes you, you surrender completely. It bursts behind your eyes as everything releases within you and you cry out loudly, body thrusting intensely against Joel’s hand as he watches you, praising you as you fuck yourself on his fingers.
"Atta girl," Joel says and his voice sounds almost proud. “You take what you want. Go on.”
And you do, you ride him until you’re completely spent, shuddering in his lap as you feel your entire body light up, pleasure dripping through your veins as Joel kisses your neck, murmuring that’s right, just like that. Did so good for me as his arms circle your waist again.
You collapse against his chest, feeling boneless. You’re too tired to even hold him around the neck, your arms just drape to the sides and your cheek rests on his shoulder. You breath heavily, your heart pounding.
"Just sit there," he murmurs as he holds you, a hand running itself through your hair gently. "Take a minute."
"Okay."
You can’t believe what just happened. This was nothing like what happened before with you on your knees, nothing like the chapel back room. This was something different entirely. An experience that you can’t just push off as an encounter. You kissed him, you kissed him and wanted more.
Moments later your breathing slows and you don’t know what possesses you but you tilt forward before pressing a chaste kiss to Joel’s temple, right over the scar there. Joel’s eyes close as you do, his voice low and rumbling.
"Feelin’ okay?"
You nod as you crack your eyes open, a breathless smile on your face.
“More than okay.”
Joel is nodding at you, his cheeks pink and his eyes black with desire.
Without hesitation you dip your face and he eagerly accepts your mouth on his. His lips are damp and full and they feel perfect. A hand comes to hold the back of your neck, keeping you from pulling back too soon as his tongue begins licking into your mouth.
He kisses you languidly, as if you have all the time in the world. The thudding between your legs isn't gone, if anything is compounded when he groans when your mouth opens further, your tongue coming to dab against his.
You desperately reach for Joel's shirt, intent on popping open the buttons. His hands begin to travel under your shirt, sliding under the bare flesh there when his thumb comes to drag just under your sternum, catching on the end of the jagged scar there.
You feel Joel hesitate when that happens and you pull back, your eyes flying to his face to see him looking at you with worry.
Before you can say anything the loud neighs of both the horses breaks the two of you from this interlude. You hastily crawl off him as Joel rushes to the window, glancing down to where you hitched the horses. You pull on your sweater, feeling vulnerable.
"What's wrong?" You ask going up beside him and peering through the frosted glass to see the two horses nipping at one another. Chesnut gives another little whinny as Midnight nips him again.
"Nothin'," Joel exhales, relieved. "They were just playin'."
So were we.
Joel glances your way, and unlike your last patrols there's no darkness in his expression when he next speaks.
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