cowboy like me
Chapter IV: Snowed In
Pairing: Jackson!Joel x f!reader
Chapter Summary: Snowed into the ski lodge, Joel and you use the time to figure out the push and pull between you.
Word Count: ~2.6k
Warnings: flirting, romantic tension, a tiny bit of swearing, mentions of Joel and reader's pasts, not much because this is mostly good old-fashioned fluff (they are so cute in this onee), slowburn
A/N: This chapter was written for day 17 of @fluff-cember (fandom: The Last of Us). I am so excited to share this because the prompts are what inspired me to write in the first place! So I wanna thank the creator of the challenge so much for that and I hope I did well! Enjoy the fluff (with a bit of angst in the middle because I can't help myself)! :)
Taglist: @mushgloomz (love her and feel free to ask to be on the taglist!)
fluffcember masterlist | masterlist
song recs: is this love - whitesnake and begin again - taylor swift ("For the first time, what's past is past") (dividers by @cafekitsune)
Joel returns your glance and your eyes lock. The silence is full of unspoken musings. What could transpire out of this? Is your truce from the past patrols solid enough to last you for these few hours? Longer?
First to break it, you stand up and kneel in front of the red brick fireplace of the lodge, looking for leftover firewood. The lodge is getting colder as harsh gusts of the blizzard hit it. Besides, you feel like the fireplace will offer some welcome comfort. There’s not much wood, but there’s some that could work. You take a box of matches out of your jean pocket to try and light it.
Joel comes over and kneels close to you. “Let me give you a hand.”
You hand him the box of matches. He rummages through the fireplace, looking for suitable wood. He hums as he finds it, taking out a log and scraping the match against the matchbox a few times until a small flame comes to life. He lights and carefully puts the log back into the fireplace until most of the wood catches the flame, starting a small fire.
You smile as you see the fire come to life and plop down on the floor, crossing your legs in front of the fireplace. You extend your arms, warming your hands. He smiles slightly, endeared by you and follows suit.
As you sit on the floor, you scoot closer and he glances at you from the corner of his eye, wondering what you’re up to. You’re not sure if it’s Joel or you’re starved for affection, but you scoot all the way next to him, feeling warmth pooling in your stomach at the proximity. You lay your head on his broad shoulder carefully, smiling. He tenses up slightly, surprised at the contact, but before you can register it he shifts his shoulder to accommodate you.
“Comfy, are we?” He’s ribbing you, but his wide smile betrays his emotions. He’s relishing in the warmth of your touch.
You smirk. “Shut up. Your shoulder was, like, right there.”
He chuckles heartily. “Yeah? An’ you claimed it as free real estate.”
You laugh, the sound vibrating on his shoulder. Yet again, he doesn’t seem to have any intention of moving any time soon. It makes you feel giddy. You’re so close you can smell his scent. It’s... Wood, gun powder... Lavender? And his unique scent that’s become familiar to you. In the moment, you feel the urge to lean in and kiss his neck, get lost in it. No, no, too close. You refrain.
The fire is crackling against the brick as you sit in front of it in silence for a moment, watching it. It casts an orange glow at the walls close by and heaps of warmth over your cold bodies.
He seems to relax further the longer you lay there. He inhales your scent too, his breathing evening out.
“Y’know, you should feel lucky you’re getting this for free. My shoulder’s a sought out commodity.” He smirks. Back to teasing.
You smile. You think you know what he’s trying to do. “Didn’t know that.”
“Yeah, there’s a line around the block of people waitin’ for this.” He smiles cockily and murmurs as a flicker of annoyance runs past his eyes. “Mostly women.”
There it is. You smirk at his attempt at flirting. “Oh really now?”
He nods, amused at his own joke. “Ya have no idea. So don’t get too attached.”
You chuckle. “I shouldn’t get attached to laying on your shoulder? Think I can handle that.”
“Good to know. No commitment suits me just fine.” He tries not to crack a laugh. “I like to keep my options open.”
You laugh but can’t help but wonder if there’s truth to his joke.
Joel’s a very closed off man. You can sense he doesn’t want to open up fully, and commitment is a form of opening up. Not to everyone, though. You’ve been committed to guys you felt nothing for.
It felt more like a practical choice than anything else; sleeping with someone else while relying on a man for shelter would be the stupidest decision possible. It stemmed from your possessive tendencies too. You wanted those men to be only yours, so you made yourself only theirs. A clear boundary. A drawn line past which no one is allowed besides you and them.
Joel... Isn’t just a means to an end, which scares you even more. If he’s trying to tell you he’s not the commitment type, he’s not your type either.
“You sound like such a dick.” You chuckle as you joke about his claim.
He shrugs. “’M just honest.” He keeps quiet for a second, memories of losing people he used to care about passing through his mind. His voice falters a bit. “Attachment ain’t for everyone.”
You sense the melancholic tone, knowing this stems from his past. You feel slight disappointment in your gut, knowing... Joel couldn’t give you what you need. Not that you’re looking for it right now, but that tiny glimmer of hope about a “maybe” or a “someday” in the back of your mind went out.
It hasn’t been a long time knowing him. You’ll survive.
You chuckle and raise your head from his shoulder and get up, trying to play it off. “Gotta get up then. Can’t risk it.”
He turns around quickly at the loss of warmth on his shoulder, but doesn’t say anything else.
You settle on an old couch in front of the fireplace. “Ah... Comfier than the floor.”
“You’re right about that one.” He gets up too and seats himself on the couch, a pillow between you. Both of you are comfortable with the reestablished distance.
Checking out the window for the blizzard somehow stopping after around half an hour, you’re both disappointed. You turn to him. “You told me Tommy and you spend hours at the lodge on patrols.” You chuckle. “What exactly do you do?”
He smiles. “We josh around, play guitar-“
You interrupt him. Have you heard that right? Prickly, no-nonsense Joel? “No way! You play the guitar?”
He chuckles heartily. “Why’s that so surprising?”
You chuckle back. “I just... Didn’t figure you for the type to be... You know... Artistic.” You grin widely.
He smirks to himself. “I’ll have you know, back in the day, I used to play all the time. Would play for hours, annoyin’ everyone in the house.” He pauses as a wave of nostalgia hits him. “Hell, even dreamed of bein’ a singer.” He shakes his head, smiling as he remembers his teenage musings.
You smile as you listen to him intently. You know what it’s like. “I dreamed of being a singer too. Grew up in LA surrounded by it.”
He shrugs, surprised to share something like this with you. “Guess we have somethin’ in common.”
You nod and smile teasingly, turning your head to him fully. “Who would’ve thought?”
Next thing you know, you get lost in talking about your favorite artists. His favorite singer is Johnny Cash and his favorite band Pearl Jam, classics from the nineties he grew up in. He’s very surprised by your extensive music taste and yet a particular fondness for Taylor Swift. You already know he’ll use it as ammunition to tease you.
The pillow between you was moved by Joel somewhere along the conversation, and you’re both leaning your elbows on the old couch, practically jumping into each other’s sentences. Time doesn’t seem to move so slowly anymore and you feel like you could spend all the hours stuck here just... Talking to him. Looking into his hazel eyes.
He leans on the couch, his eyes glinting in the light of the fireplace, all of the shades of mossy green and light brown in full show. You get lost in them.
You realize it’s not just about the conversation. It’s about Joel’s grounding presence. You feel like nothing could shake you as long as he’s around. Usually, you’d try to bury this feeling down in the depths of you where it’s deemed unreachable, but for the moment... You let yourself feel it in full.
You get a sudden idea. “Joel?”
He turns his gaze back from the fireplace to you. “Yeah?”
You smile bashfully. “Do you have a guitar laying around here?”
He smiles slightly and shakes his head. “No... I know what you’re tryin’ to do.”
“What?” You ask playfully, acting clueless.
“I ain’t gonna play for you.” He shakes his head and raises his hands. Playing for someone seems more personal to him than you thought.
“Why not?” You chuckle and give him your best puppy eyes and a feigned pout. You don’t want to breach his boundaries, you just hope to hear a bit of his skill. “One song... Please?”
“Damn, pullin’ out the big guns.” He smirks. “Puppy dog eyes and the magic word. You’re good.”
You keep up the puppy eyed expression, hoping the long silence will make him relent.
You’re about to give up when he breaks out into a chuckle. “Fine, fine. I’ll play somethin’ for you.”
He gets up and takes the guitar out of the bedroom of the lodge, coming back to the living room. It’s a classic brown acoustic guitar, a white moth design on the fingerboard sticking out. You can tell by the way he carries it with care and the proud way he shows it off to you this one is his favorite. “Here’s my guitar. Pretty nice, huh?” He smiles at you.
You smile back. “I love it. Looks well-loved by you too.”
He nods. “Damn right. Been playing this one ever since I got back to Jackson.” He sits down on the couch with the guitar and starts tuning it, turning the pegs and strumming the individual strings, humming the tones to himself. It’s quiet, but you notice he has a husky and deep singing voice. A faint thought passes your mind; you could listen to him sing all day.
Satisfied with how the guitar is tuned, he looks up at you. “Have any requests?”
You look to the side as you think. “I don’t know... What’s your favorite one to play lately?”
He doesn’t have to think long before he settles on a song. “Ya know ‘Is This Love’ by Whitesnake?”
You shrug. A love song? Full of surprises. “Of course I do. It’s a classic.” A thought pops in and you smile. “Wait... Can you play the guitar solo?”
He smiles proudly and nods. “Damn right I can.” He prepares to play, looking down at the guitar, before he speaks. “Bear in mind, I’m a little rusty.”
You’ve never seen Joel so hesitant about anything before. You can’t help a comforting smile. “No, no, it’s alright. I can tell you’re good.”
He smiles bashfully as he starts strumming the chords of the song, humming the lyrics. The sound is rich and full, evidence of years of practice, his deep voice perfectly in tune. The melody echoes from the walls of the lodge and you find yourself mesmerized by it.
You’ve heard a lot of guitar performances, but something about this one felt special... Even as the blizzard raged on outside, you felt like only him, you and the guitar in this room existed.
“Is this love that I'm feeling? Is this the love that I've been searching for? Is this love, or am I dreaming? This must be love 'cause it's really got a hold on me A hold on me”
He plays his version of the solo and you look at his fingers moving on the guitar with awe. This was obviously practiced for hours, the classic hook sounding more soulful on an acoustic guitar. His brows are furrowed and his movement careful. You can’t help but notice... Aware of it or not, he’s trying to impress you. Warmed by the fact, you’re smiling widely.
He ends the solo and looks up at you slowly, almost as if he’s scared of your reaction.
You clap. “That was so good! Rusty, my ass!” You exclaim fervently, your impressed reaction written all over your face. You try to hold your horses and say in a softer tone. “I loved it.”
He smiles softly and shakes his head. “Ain’t that good, but thanks. Been workin’ on this for a while.”
You smile and nod. “Yeah, I can see that... You know I don’t just give out compliments.” You chuckle. “Especially not to you.”
He smirks. “And here I thought you liked me.”
You feel something sink in you as you get scared you got figured out. But he seems to be just joking. You mask your mental blunder well and grin. “Poor you.”
“Poor me indeed.” He smiles as he looks at you fondly for a moment. He clears his throat faintly and gets up from the couch to put his guitar away.
Leaning on the couch, you look at him exiting the room. You’re lying on the couch pillows on your own for a short while, the warmth of the fireplace and the winter sun going down lulling you.
You close your eyes, getting in a comfortable position for a nap. As you do, Joel comes back into the room. “Hey.” He says your name quietly.
Opening your eyes, you turn to where he’s standing with his arms crossed. “Yeah?”
You hear care in his tone. “Gettin’ sleepy now?” He grins. “You don’t gotta sleep on the couch. There’s a bedroom down the hall.”
The walk to the bedroom feels tedious, but you figure it’s probably more comfortable. You rise from the couch groggily and smile. “Thanks. I’ll be back in a bit.”
He nods as you pass him to go to the bedroom down the narrow hallway, the floorboards creaking under your step. He looks at you walking to the bedroom with a frown, but decides to keep quiet and let you.
It’s small, a big bed in it, made with white sheets and a duvet folded on the side of it. The brown plaid covered wall above it is surrounded by light wood paneling.
The sheets look very dusty, yet clean, as if this bed – surprisingly so – hasn’t been used since the outbreak. You pat some dust from the sheets before you unfold the duvet and lay down, covering yourself with it. You tuck yourself in until you feel completely wrapped up and you close your eyes.
Joel stays in the living room and you figure it’s because he doesn’t want to interrupt your nap. You like how considerate and unimposing that is. He’s giving you space, but you know he’ll be there if anything goes wrong. Not that you mind his presence, but you like knowing that, beside the closeness, you can share distance too.
You think as you turn to lay on the colder side of the pillow; no arguments this patrol without trying for it. You’re finally settling into a comfortable rhythm. You’re growing fonder of him by the day and still don’t know what to make of it. You feel powerless to stop it, not for a lack of trying.
The last thing on your mind before you drift in peaceful slumber is – for once in your life, you might just let this happen. Damn the consequences.
