Summary: For most people, the world ended on Outbreak Day; for Laurel Haynes, it was the opposite. She wasn’t callous enough to say that the pandemic had made life better, but before the outbreak, she hadn’t had much of a life at all. She went where she was told and did what was expected of her; she existed. Laurel wasn’t sure she lived until she met Frank. Through Frank, she met Tess and Joel and Bill and Ellie. Through Frank, she learned what it was like to enjoy life, even when the world was crumbling around her.
Pairing: Eventual Joel Miller x FOC
Warnings: canon-typical violence, language, dark and suggestive themes. Subject to change, additional warnings per chapter.
A/N: I like a found-family, apocalypse slow-burn. So sue me.
TWO AND A HALF CHAPTERS LEFT??? girl im not ready for it to be over like imma need you to pop out for season 3 and 4 plssss!!! im joking i know u have other priorities, which is so valid and good for u! i just love this story sm and now im sad bc its almost over for now 🥺
Well all of YOU have far more than two and a half chapters left. You'll get updates for another couple months, promise. I just need to bust my ass to finish it so I can start working on [redacted] or [redacted] or [redacted]. I'm still deciding. 😘
Summary: Tess learns more about Frank on day one than she’s learned about anyone else in a long, long time. Surprisingly, she doesn’t mind.
Words: 2.6K
Warnings: guns, canon-typical angst, me filling-in Frank’s backstory because I can, takes place during the 1x03 flashback
A/N: Technically this is the first in my joel x oc one shot series. That said, Joel doesn’t have any dialogue in this and my OC simply isn’t there, so it can pretty much be read as straight fanfiction.
Masterlist | Next Chapter
August 2010
Tess was pretty sure she’d died and gone to Heaven. That, or she’d hit her head really hard. Hell, maybe she’d been infected, and this was some hallucination her brain had come up with while the rest of her body was invaded by cordyceps. That’d be fucking depressing, but she had to admit—this wasn’t a bad way to go.
She knew that it was a risk going to meet Frank in person; there hadn’t been an hour in the last week that Joel wasn’t reminding her of that. They’d only spoken on the radio, and everything he had to say was too good to be true: gated community, no infected, no FEDRA, stocked with supplies, and people willing to trade. Tess was prepared for it to be a trap, some kind of lure set up by FEDRA to catch smugglers in the act. At the same time, that was exactly why she wanted to go: no one else would be stupid enough to try it. If Frank was telling the truth, Tess and Joel would have access to resources no one else in Boston could dream of touching. “Good for business” would be an understatement. And if it was a trap…well, she’d trusted Joel to get her out of worse.
He hadn’t appreciated that argument when she told him. Now, though, he didn’t seem to have anything to say. Joel was a grumpy bastard at the best of times, but even he had a hard time complaining with a stomach full of venison and wine.
Tess took another sip from her glass—a sip of rich, delicious Cabernet out of a fucking crystal goblet—and shook her head in disbelief.
“Well, this really is—this is amazing.”
“Right?” Frank smiled and set about pouring himself another glass. He did a double take when he looked at his partner. “Can you not, please?”
Bill, the surlier of the two, reluctantly lowered his gun and clicked the safety on. He sent a dark look at Joel, sitting across from him. It didn’t escape anyone’s notice that the gun did not leave the table.
Joel nodded stiffly. “I’m the same way.”
“Oh, you’re a paranoid schizophrenic, too?” Frank asked dryly.
“I’m not schizophrenic,” Bill grumbled.
He glared at Frank, who was totally unfazed by his intimidating demeanor. Frank hid his smirk in his glass, his pinky raised with delicate poise. Bill might’ve owned the house, the traps, the supplies—but it looked like Frank usually called the shots.
Tess had to bite back her own smile. It was like looking into a mirror.
“Well,” she said again, clearing her throat to break the awkward silence, “can I just say, gun aside—which I get, by the way—how nice this is to have a civilized meal in such a beautiful place? It’s been so long, and…I mean, I wanna thank you, even if we don’t end up working together. I really needed this.”
Tess nodded to herself and left it at that. A part of her wanted to keep going—to explain that this felt like more than a meal or a break. It felt like stepping into a time machine and remembering the person she’d been seven years ago. It felt like some kind of cosmic reminder that she didn’t have to live the way she’d been living. There was still life outside the QZ, good people, peace. The whole world hadn’t gone to shit just yet.
Of course, she didn’t say any of that. She’d had two glasses of wine, but she was very aware of the way all three men were watching her silently. She was preparing a snappy line to cover her sentimental ass when Frank raised his glass.
“We are working together,” he assured her.
He gave Tess a knowing smile, and the way he held her gaze told her that he already knew how she felt. She didn’t need to say anything, because Frank was sentimental too. She grinned and clinked their glasses together.
Bill opened his mouth to complain, until Frank repeated, “We are.” At which point, Bill sank moodily down in his chair.
“You know what?” Frank dropped his napkin on the table, a mischievous look in his eye. “Let’s go inside. Tess, I wanna show you something.”
“No—”
“Actually, I have been wanting to see inside,” Tess said as she got to her feet. “Thank you!”
“Bring your wine—”
“Not inside! Frank!”
Frank ignored Bill’s shouting the same way Tess ignored Joel’s panicked expression. They grabbed their drinks and escaped toward the house, giggling like a couple of scheming schoolgirls. Tess spared one look back at the table, where Joel was watching her in betrayal. She winked, then followed Frank through the front door.
Shocking as the tidy lawn and flowerbeds had been, the inside of the house was just as baffling. Frank led Tess through the mud room, gesturing for her to wipe her boots on the doormat before stepping onto the ornate rug in the hallway. Tess couldn’t help but look around in wonder as she walked forward, taking in the paintings, the picture frames, candles, vases of flowers, stacks of books…
“I’m sorry about Bill,” Frank apologized, ushering Tess into the sitting room. “He’s an old grump with no manners, but he’s smart. He understands this a fabulous opportunity—for both of us. He just doesn’t like accepting help.”
“Oh, I know the type.” Tess snickered and peeked out the window at the front yard. “Do you think it’s okay to leave them out there?”
“Meh, they’ll be fine. It’ll be good for them to socialize a bit. Besides, I really do have something to show you. Let me just—” Frank took a hasty sip of his wine and placed the bottle on the coffee table. “—grab it from upstairs. Make yourself at home and I will be right back!”
He smiled, yet again, before scurrying upstairs.
Tess wished she could’ve made herself at home, because Bill and Frank certainly had a home, but she couldn’t bring herself to relax that much. As much as she teased Joel for his constant vigilance, she wasn’t any less paranoid. If she was, she wouldn’t have lived this long. So instead of sitting down on the couch and tucking into the wine by herself, she took the opportunity to poke around a little.
The centerpiece of the room was a grand piano, which Tess was too cautious to touch; some part of her was still hardwired to think of it as expensive. Instead, she opted to look through the desk in the corner, then the stacks of books on the coffee table, then the rows of pictures that lined the built-in shelves.
Most of the photos were old and yellowing, relics of a time long before the outbreak. Most of them showed an aging couple, a few family gatherings, a disgruntled kid Tess imagined to be Bill. He didn’t seem the type to move around. Chances were he’d planted himself at his childhood home, fortified it into a castle, and stood his ground. There didn’t seem to be any photos of Bill as an adult, before or after the outbreak. It looked like the electric fence and perimeter traps were his only way of personalizing the place.
Tess took a step closer to the shelf as a larger frame caught her eye. Inside were two Polaroid photos, slightly askew the way they were taped to the backing. They were creased and worn, but it didn’t look like the kind of damage that came from age; more like the way a book fell apart when you handled it too much.
On the right, Frank stood with his arm around a young woman, both of them smiling wide. Frank’s smile was natural, but the girl’s expression was forced, her eyes almost crazed as she strained her face into the biggest grin her muscles could manage. It was stupid and silly, an ordinary photo—which is why Tess did a double take at the second one.
The left picture was a candid of the same woman. It might even have been the same day, judging by her clothes. She was sitting in the grass, deeply focused on the book in her lap and totally oblivious to the camera pointed at her. In one hand, she twirled a short pencil; the other was resting on a semi-automatic rifle at her side.
Tess scanned the photos again to pick out the smaller details, ghosting a finger along the glass. It looked like they were at some kind of encampment in the woods, a fire going just outside the frame, some rusty cars blurred in the background. The girl’s face was dirty, a dark bruise blossoming on one temple. Frank was sporting some scratches too and, on closer inspection, he didn’t look much younger than he was now.
Footfalls on the stairs broke Tess’s train of thought. She quickly stepped away from the shelf and sat on the edge of the couch, just as Frank re-entered the room. He was carrying a large cardboard box, which he dropped on the floor with an unceremonious thump.
“Found it,” he said with pride, resting his hands on his hips. “We’ve got a little boutique just up the road. It’s a little upscale—dresses, heels, sports jackets, stuff like that—but I collected the more practical pieces. Should be some jeans in there if you want a fresh pair.”
“Wow, uh—yeah, that’d be great,” said Tess. “I’ve tried patching these a few times, but honestly, I think I’m making the problem worse.”
“What about you?” Frank asked. “Find anything interesting down here?”
“Huh?”
He nodded past her, and Tess followed his gaze back to the shelf…where she’d left her wine glass next to the frame. Fuck. A rookie mistake, and a bad one at that. She didn’t even remember putting it down.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized at once. “I saw the Polaroids and—”
“It really is fine, Tess. I’d be more worried if you weren’t curious.”
He chuckled as he walked past her, and though Tess was tense, he sounded genuine. He passed her wine back to her and picked up the picture frame, then joined her on the couch.
“So, you’ve got a camera?” Tess asked hesitantly.
“Yeah. Not something most people were looking to salvage back then.” He held the pictures out in front of him, smiling fondly. “Found it in an old department store while everyone else was digging for food. Laurel just about clocked me with it, but it was worth it.”
“Your kid?”
“No, no. Not in the traditional sense, anyway. We met in Baltimore QZ and—well, adopted each other, I suppose. Smartest woman I ever met.”
“Yeah?” Tess found herself smiling too, as if Frank was contagious. “She some kinda doctor or something?”
“Nope. Just smart. She knew a lot, learned fast, always quick on her feet. She…she saved my life, out there.”
Frank rubbed a hand along his chin, his solemn mood spreading just as fast as his smile had. Tess knew better than to ask any questions. The past was a sore subject for everyone these days. You never knew what kind of shit you’d dig up by asking, so it was safer not to say anything at all. Tess spoke about what was in front of her and that was it. Joel was the same way. So it surprised her when Frank continued talking unprompted.
“When Baltimore QZ collapsed…it was messy. FEDRA and the Fireflies were causing enough damage, and that was before the infected got in. After that, it was pretty much every man for himself. Laurel and I got out with a few others from our building, decided it would be safer to travel as a group. We figured we’d pick our way up the coast until we found another QZ to take us in.”
“You made it pretty far North,” Tess offered, mildly impressed.
“We had to,” Frank laughed dryly. “I mean, you know what it’s like, I’m sure. Most places are over-capacity already. Philadelphia, New York, New Haven, Springfield—they were either full or gone, so we certainly weren’t the only people out there looking for someplace to go. Between the raiders and—and the infected and the conditions and the lack of supplies…it was just me and Laurel by the time we made it to Massachusetts.”
This time, it took Frank a little longer to collect himself. He placed the picture frame down on the table and turned to his glass of wine. Tess wasn’t sure if it was more polite to give him some privacy or to sit there and wait for him to continue. Her conversation skills were more than rusty; the only person she talked to outside of making deals was Joel, and he made it easy by rarely talking back.
Tess glanced out the front window, checking that he and Bill hadn’t killed each other yet, until Frank cleared his throat.
“We almost made it to Boston, too,” he said softly. “We were only a couple miles west of here when another group cornered us. We were outnumbered and—well, I had a busted knee, so I wasn’t running anywhere. Laurel decided to lure them away and…that was the last time I saw her. I waited there for two days, but she didn’t come back.”
“I’m sorry, Frank.” Tess fidgeted and, worrying she might not sound genuine, added, “I’ve lost partners too and…it’s never easy. Sorry for bringing it up.”
“Oh, please—you didn’t.” Frank waved off her apology and shook his head. “No, I’m the one who started gabbing. You came here to trade supplies, not sob stories. I apologize.”
“No, it’s fine! It’s uh…nice, actually.” She was surprised to hear herself say it, more surprised that it wasn’t a total lie. “I don’t…talk much anymore. Like this, anyway. So…yeah. It’s fine.”
Frank considered her for a moment, thinking that over. He placed his empty wine glass back on the table and folded his hands together. “I know it’s silly, but…I’d like to think she’s still out there. That she found someone like Bill to take care of her, and…maybe she’s not that far away.”
Tess followed his gaze to the box of clothes, the cardboard marked with two pieces of masking tape: Woman’s Shirts, SM – MED.
“I don’t think that’s silly,” she assured him. “It’s…optimistic, but not silly.”
Frank chuckled and turned to look at her again. His eyes shone as he reached over to pat her on the knee. “You’re a good person, Tess.”
Immediately, a series of flashback played behind her eyes.
“I’m really not.”
“And I believe you believe that,” said Frank, “but I also don’t believe you’re right. I happen to be a fantastic judge of character. How do you think I weaseled my way in here?”
He gestured to the grand piano and Tess laughed. She really laughed, for the first time in what felt like a long time. She tried to hold onto that feeling as she and Frank dove into the box of clothes, sorting through what would and wouldn’t fit her, what could be repurposed, what was straight up ugly. And when she left, it was with a new pair of jeans and a strange feeling of hope.
It had been a risk, coming to meet Frank in person. Joel complained all the way back to Boston about how she’d abandoned him with Bill, how the trek was too long for regular trades, how she was out of her mind if she thought he was coming back. Tess couldn’t find it in her to care. Hell, she’d come back on her own if that’s what it took. If Frank was contagious, she wanted as much of his optimism as she could get.
I’m gonna need Chrissy & Steve for #10!!!! Gimme the Christmas feels!
10. slow-dancing in the living room to classical music
You ask, I deliver. Prepare for sugar plum sweet, tooth-rotting fluff.
Christmas Day, 1985
It had taken a couple years, but Steve was finally starting to enjoy Christmas again. He had hazy memories of bright Christmas mornings when he was a kid, but by the first grade, he’d been attending his father’s corporate business party. It was a big, fancy event at a high-end catering hall where the tables had ice sculptures and the utensils were real silver. Steve couldn’t imagine how much money the company blew on it every year. His mother practically disappeared for the whole month of December to plan it and make sure everything was perfect. Friends and family were always invited, but more than anything, it was a chance for his dad to suck up to other corporate assholes under the guise of holiday cheer.
Steve didn’t hate it—at least, he hated it less than the other events he got dragged to. There were always a couple other kids there, a handful he saw every year. The kids’ table slowly became the teens’ table, and then they’d sneak outside with a couple bottles of wine to wait out the party. It was fun, but he never really enjoyed himself; it didn’t make sense even in his own head.
The Wheelers had been the ones to break the cycle. Once Steve and Nancy were official dating, Mrs. Wheeler invited him over for Christmas dinner. Steve’s parents hadn’t been thrilled, but his absence at the party would give them an excuse to brag about how he was in a “serious relationship” with a nice girl.
It had been a good Christmas, right out of one of those old paintings of a picture-perfect family around the table. The Wheelers were nice, the food was great, and it was all just so much less pretentious than what he was used to. He actually enjoyed it, and things started to make more sense.
The next year, he couldn’t go back. The problem was that he didn’t have a girlfriend as an excuse anymore. In the end, he lied about being sick so he could skip the corporate party and go to the Henderson house instead. That dinner was way bigger than the year before—Dustin and his mom, Chrissy and her dad, even Hopper and Eleven. The two of them didn’t come together, exactly. Dustin just told his mom that El was a friend from school whose parents were out of town, and Claudia hadn’t batted an eye. Everyone squeezed around the table, taking second helpings of everything and, as Steve sat squashed between Chrissy and Dustin, he hoped Christmas would be like that every year.
Well. That Christmas wish hadn’t come true.
This year, Steve’s parents made it crystal clear that they were dragging him to the party whether he liked it or not. He’d pulled the girlfriend card again, hoping to spend Christmas with Chrissy, but it didn’t work this time. After twelve days of Christmas arguments and a ton of tense negotiations, they’d come to a compromise: Steve was coming to the party, but he was allowed to bring Chrissy as his date.
“I really don’t mind,” Chrissy said in the car, after he’d apologized for the hundredth time for putting her through this. “Last year was different for you. This year will be different for me.”
“Yeah,” Steve scoffed, straightening his tie, “if ‘different’ means listening to a bunch of snobby assholes brag about their lives until you want to drill a hole in your head.’”
Chrissy reached over, grabbing one of his hands from the steering wheel and gently stroking the back of his hand. “Well then, we’ll just have to hide in a corner and make fun of everyone until it’s time to go home.”
It pulled a smile out of Steve, even though he was still annoyed. He knew he was being overdramatic. They would be able to sneak out after an hour or two, but until then, he wanted to shield Chrissy from as much of the pettiness and cruelty that he could.
The Harrington house was decked out of Christmas with pin-straight lights lining the roof and an enormous wreath on the front door. It was pretty, but Steve couldn’t look at anything but Chrissy as she climbed out of the car.
She’d been trying to calm him down the whole ride over, but Steve knew that she was nervous too. Everything was wearing was new, from her red lipstick to her emerald dress, the skirt shiny with a complicated gold pattern. When he’d gone to pick her up from her house, the sight of her had knocked the wind right out of him. Just thinking about all the time and effort and money she’d put into her appearance to impress his parents and their friends made him that much angrier about the whole thing.
He grabbed her hand as they walked up the driveway, holding it tight so her fingers would stop trembling. “You’re gorgeous, you know that?”
Chrissy’s pink cheeks flushed darker as she rolled her eyes. “Thank you. Again.”
“You’re welcome, again. Hey, by the way—have I mentioned that you’re fucking gorgeous?”
That got him a laugh, along with a shove as they hurried up the front steps and into the house.
Inside, the decorations were just as neat as they were outside. Evergreen was wrapped around the banister and lining the side tables alongside towering red candles. They ventured into the living room, where the bough continued along the balcony until it disappeared behind the oversized Christmas tree in the corner. All the ornaments were shades of white and silver, right up to the shining star on top.
“They’re home, right?” Chrissy asked uncertainly.
The house was quiet except for the instrumental music drifting from the stereo, but Steve waved off Chrissy’s concern.
“They’ll be back. They probably wandered down the block exchange gifts with the mayor or whatever.” He gestured for her to sit on the couch while he headed to the stereo cabinet. “ I don’t know why they leave this shit playing when they’re not home. I can turn it—"
“No, no! It’s fine. I love The Nutcracker.” Chrissy was wearing a tiny smile, perched on the very edge of the couch cushion. “Reminds me of Mom.”
Steve pulled his hand back from the stereo. He sat down next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, easing her into a more comfortable position fully on the couch. She leaned into his side, and Steve watched the string lights twinkle in her eyes as she thought.
“Honestly, I barely remember it,” she said softly. “It’s one of those things where it’s like—I don’t know if I actually remember, or if I’ve just thought about it so much that I think I remember, you know? I was maybe…four and a half? Mom was already sick, but it was before things got too bad. I begged them to take me to The Nutcracker for like weeks.”
“Seriously?” Steve squinted at her. “You begged them to go to the NYC Ballet?”
“Oh God, no!” She giggled and lifted a hand to cover her mouth. “No, it was a local show. Just a bunch of kids, really, but it didn’t stop me from becoming obsessed. I listened to that tape until it broke. Told Mom I was gonna be a ballerina.”
Chrissy giggled again, but it was sadder this time. Steve didn’t need her to fill in the gaps. Her mom’s health had gotten worse, and Chrissy’s life became of a blue of hospitals and rental houses. Dance classes weren’t really on the table.
The music shifted into the next section, something even Steve could almost recognize. “This one’s…?”
“Waltz of the Flowers,” Chrissy supplied.
“Right. I knew that.”
“Sure you did, baby.”
She smirked at him and Steve pouted despite the warmth that filled his chest. He stood up abruptly, shaking out his suit jacket with a flourish, then held out his hand. Chrissy raised an eyebrow, bemused.
“What are you doing?”
“Come on.” He pulled her to her feet and led her to the middle of the living room floor. “What we are doing is dancing.”
“Steve—”
He ignored her protest and lifted his arm to force her into a twirl. Chrissy wobbled in her high heels and Steve caught her against his chest as she collapsed in a fit of laughter. He grinned and pressed a kiss to her hair, his free hand finding hers and weaving their fingers together.
“Okay, uh—step back with this foot,” he instructed, nudging her right with his left, “and now sideways with this one, then together. Then you come forward with this one—yeah, there you go—”
It was a clunky rhythm, both of them laughing as they struggled to find their footing. They were stepping more than they were dancing, the music barely a suggestion at that point. It took Chrissy’s brain a minute to catch up, but when it did, she tripped over herself as she looked up at him.
“Steven Harrington,” she said in awe, “are you…? Since when can you waltz?”
He could feel his face turning red, but tried to focus on keeping Chrissy upright as she struggled. “Well, ‘waltz’ is a pretty generous word…”
“Steve.”
“Fine, I—kinda. When I was little, my cousin had this wedding and I was the ring bearer and—it was this whole thing. She made everyone in the bridal party do this opening dance. I sucked and uh—it does not look like I got any better.”
He chuckled, but to his surprise, Chrissy pulled him to a stop. She looked at him in earnest, making sure she had his undivided attention before she spoke.
“You’re amazing, Steve. And I love you.”
“I know.”
Chrissy narrowed her eyes at him, annoyed and somehow still even happier than she’d been before. She tucked her lips in to hide her smile, then closed the distance between them so she could rest her head on his chest.
They swayed on the spot, forgoing the waltz and the complicated footwork. With Chrissy’s head on his chest, Steve could almost feel her humming along to the music. For a few minutes, Steve let himself believe that his parents weren’t coming home. They’d gone to some other party and he was staying here with Christine. They’d dance in the living room until she inevitably dragged him off to dinner—with their friends, with her dad, or maybe just the two of them. There wouldn’t be any sneaking or snide comments or arguments. It was Christmas, he had Christine in his arms, and he was going to enjoy himself.
So in Season 3, Steve tells Keith that his favorite Star Wars is the one with the teddy bears, AKA Return of the Jedi. BUT, RotJ didn’t come out on VHS until February of 1986, and we can assume that Steve didn’t go to the original release in 1983 because he was still “King Steve” and had zero interest. Therefore, by default, it’s canon that Steve went to the theatrical re-release of Return of the Jedi between late March and mid April of 1985, most likely accompanied by Dustin. Thank you for coming to my TED talk.
