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Aug 18

where wings could heal. chapter 9. painting our nails, pillow fights, & other sleepover things.

Pairing: Joel x Reader Summary: Kat's first sleepover with Ellie & Dina leaves some alone time for mom & Joel. Warnings: MDNI, kissing, lil touching, no full-on smut yet! Word Count: 9000 words. Notes: Alright! You've been patient -- I know some people were ready for them to just kiss already in the last chapter! JUST WAIT :') the slow-burn smut is COMING (hehe ;)) I PROMISE! Masterlist here. Ao3 here. <<chapter 8 | chapter 10>>

what if i'm not a good person?you always say that i amyou don't really know me at all.

Wednesday, October 28th, 2037

Joel was about to tear his fucking hair out.

He had been so excited to come home from his longer patrol on Monday night, so excited that he had felt like he was flying back to Jackson, back from the gate to his house, and even to the mess hall.

And every moment since then had been goddamn miserable.

He’d done something, that much was certain. And even if he hadn’t figured that out, Ellie had sure made it clear for him on the way home from the mess hall Monday evening.

You’d said good morning when he’d come downstairs, but there was no coffee mug waiting on him like normal. You had cooked breakfast like you usually did, but as soon as Joel poured his cup of coffee, you had walked out of the room.

It wasn’t done maliciously — no stomping or slamming of doors or anything that Joel could pinpoint and say “hey what’s that about?” You were still your cheery self for Ellie and Kat. You answered any questions he had (even if they were as few words as possible).

To the untrained eye, everything was situation normal.

He waited, there in the kitchen, as the two girls left for school. He’d heard you getting ready upstairs, even humming and singing to yourself as you moved between your room and the upstairs bathroom. When he’d heard your footfalls on the stairs, he moved himself to the dining room table so he’d have the opportunity to see you — deciding that if you looked in his direction, he’d take it as his opening.

But you’d just kept singing to yourself as you stopped at the door and put on your coat.

And Joel saw that you’d tied your hair up, but the green ribbon wasn’t there.

And he didn’t understand why.

That was the hell of it for him, truly. He didn’t understand why or what he’d done wrong. He’d said something stupid, and he understood that, but he didn’t understand why it had hurt you so bad. That had been part of his apology plan — he was going to subtly ask exactly what he’d done or said that had hurt your feelings so badly.

He’d went to the construction site and spent most of the day replaying it all in his head, from the moment he’d gotten back through the gate. The only thing he could pinpoint as wrong was him asking you where you’d bring home a man — but he still didn’t understand what was so wrong about it.

I was jus’ tryin’ to get them off her back.

She clearly didn’t wanna talk about datin’…

And did it matter that when Maria had brought it up, that he’d immediately started picturing some other man taking you out somewhere? Getting to see you all prettied up and on his arm? Touching your face or your neck or your hands? Getting you alone? Kissing you, touching you, making you laugh and sigh and all the things he so desperately wanted to do and couldn’t?

Did it matter that those mental images had made him furious? Made him want to rip out a man’s throat?

No, he knew it didn’t matter. The only thing that really mattered was what he’d said, and he knew that.

He’d hammered, he’d sawed, he’d looked over blueprints, he’d surveyed what had been done and what else there was to do.

And he thought.

He thought about his reaction to men wanting to ask you out. He’d known that was coming — good Lord, you were so beautiful that the single men of Jackson would be fools not to try, and he’d known that from the first time you’d come through the gates. But he hadn’t settled himself with that thought — pushing it off for a later date in favor of the now, the effort of making you comfortable enough to want to stay in town.

But Maria’s question had brought it all to the forefront. And without any chance to process or to think about what his reaction should be, Joel had felt the irritation. But if he were being completely honest, the most devastating part was that it didn’t matter that he’d felt that way either.

Even if he’d been brave enough to tell you that, that the idea of another man’s hands or lips on you made him irrationally angry, you would ask him why he felt that way. And Joel didn’t know how to answer.

There was no ending where you and him could make a life. He got that. He’d gotten that from the beginning. Not only that you were 10 or so years younger than him, but you had had a lifetime of trauma and fear from rough and dangerous men.

And Joel was a rough and dangerous man.

Maybe not here, now, but it was always beneath the surface with him. That part of him had been at the forefront for too long for him to just shed that skin and forget it existed. Once you learned of his past, he knew you’d never want anything to do with him again — you’d never feel safe around him if you’d known all of the horrible and terrible things he’d done in the name of survival.

Not to mention that you were good.

All of those things that had happened to you and you were still good, pure, happy. You didn’t deserve the town grump ass. You didn’t deserve someone who stayed replaying things that had happened twenty to thirty years ago because he couldn’t deal with the fact that he’d gotten his daughter killed.

Not to mention all the Firefly shit with Ellie. She’d believed him whenever they’d come back from Salt Lake City, but he knew it was only a matter of time. Something would happen because something always happened, and he would lose her. He’d lied to her and he’d massacred everyone to save her and he knew that Ellie would never forgive him because the truth was that she could have saved the world and he made the choice for her.

You deserved better.

He was broken and dangerous and would end up alone due to his own choices and actions.

He’d sat with the feeling for a while, a complicated knot of emotions that he couldn’t even begin to start sorting out.

The only thing he could come up with that he could actually voice to you was that you and Kat lived in his home and were therefore under his protection — allowing a man that he didn’t know to be so close to you was paramount to putting you in danger.

Would you take that reasoning though?

No. He knew you wouldn’t. You might have had it rough, but you were headstrong as hell, more than willing and capable of trying to protect yourself. He’d have to come up with a better reason.

But he didn’t have any more to give.

By the time he’d made it home, his very bones were weary. His mind was in knots. He wanted to apologize, he wanted things to go back to normal. He wanted the comfort of your easy presence.

But no one was in the house on Rancher Street. It was silent and empty.

It reminded him of the early days after Ellie had moved out. Those days had been tough — Joel had spent a lot of time out of the house, almost like he was afraid to go home, afraid to sit in that darkness and silence and discomfort. Sleeping had been the hardest, but that was when he’d learned that reading before bed helped quiet his mind and it had become a habit that stuck.

Eventually the silence had become something that Joel looked forward to every night, the part of his day where he could unwind by himself, just enjoying whatever it was that he wanted to do.

He’d gotten used to that silence and it had been comforting to him, but now… now it was just a reminder of his faults.

Everyone’s stuff was there, just like they’d walked off mid-sentence or something. Kat’s half eaten afternoon snack crumbs were all over the table and her backpack was slung over a chair. Ellie’s school work was on the island with a stool pulled up, pencil dropped over the notebook and old textbook still opened to the problem set.

He didn’t understand — they always waited on him to get home before they would go to the mess hall. He was normally early enough to catch Kat’s afternoon snack (and eat one himself), but they would always piddle around the house before it was time to go get supper. He’d guessed that afternoon snack would carry on without him, but the trip to the mess hall kinda hurt. It was a ritual that had stuck early on, everyone always enjoyed walking together.

He groaned. “Fuck.”

But he just shrugged his coat back on, put his hands in his pockets, and headed back out into the cool fall air to the mess hall.

He was good at waiting, he always had been, but for some reason Joel was not good at giving you the space you needed. As soon as he walked into the mess hall, his eyes were searching, searching.

And there you were.

He liked that you were with his family. He liked that you were laughing with Tommy and Maria over empty plates. He liked that Ellie felt so comfortable with you there.

But goddamn if he hated that he wasn’t a part of it tonight.

Your eyes found his almost as instantly as his found yours. His steps faltered, just for a moment, and that space he was going to give you stretched tight and thin.

He missed you. He missed you in a different way than he had missed you while he was beyond the gates — then, he knew you were waiting to see him and you would be happy upon his return. But now? Now he knew you didn’t want him close, even if your eyes were saying otherwise.

Even if your eyes seemed to beg him to come sit down and act like everything was normal — he couldn’t. You’d avoided him, a decision that you’d clearly made whenever you were in your right mind, so he wasn’t going to spoil it just because your body reacted to his in the same way his did to you.

No, he wouldn’t go to you without an apology — without knowing exactly how his words had made you feel so he could keep from doing it again. But the apology couldn’t come now. Not in front of a crowd of people, not in front of your daughters, not in front of his meddling-ass brother.

With your eyes heavy on his back, Joel had gotten his meal in a to-go container and headed back to the quiet house to eat in silence.

The entire evening had been just like the one before. He suffered through it, sitting quietly on the couch as you and Kat existed just outside his orbit, just out of his reach no matter how badly he wanted to pull you back in. He had to rein in his emotions when Kat came down to tell him goodnight — crying or breaking down in front of her would be a mistake, he knew.

He’d sat up for hours in the living room, trying and failing to comprehend anything he was reading. He’d paced for a while, keeping his footsteps light on the rug to keep from waking you. When the grandfather clock in the hall had chimed midnight, Joel had given up and gone to bed. He’d even refused to look in your open doorway and was proud of himself for resisting the temptation.

And then, he’d woken early, before the sun had come up. He sat in the pre-dawn light determined that the day was going to be different, goddamn it. He waited until an appropriate hour to get up out of bed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes before throwing on some pants and heading downstairs. Since no one else was awake yet, he made coffee for you, putting it in your favorite mug.

He sat at the kitchen table, reading a book and sipping his own coffee. He heard you coming down the stairs and tried his best to set himself casually in the chair and keep his face a happy neutral before you entered. And once you did, he mumbled a “good mornin’” and glanced back to his book, trying not to be too eager.

He wasn’t good at these games — he never had been. most of the time, whatever he was going to say came out wrong anyway, so he had just never really mastered the art of saying things and acting like anything other than what he felt.

But he knew he could scare you off if he was too eager. If he crowded your space and tried to apologize before you were ready to hear from him or be near him, it would all go up in flames. If it took patience for the friendship between you to go back to normal, then Joel would do his best to be patient.

Well, that’s what he told himself in the kitchen, at least.

And when you’d turned around, he’d snuck a look at you.

You looked like you hadn’t been sleeping well — the dark circles under your eyes were even worse than they had been before he’d left for patrol — your hair was tangled and wild like you’d spent all night tossing and turning.

He waited.

He was very good at waiting.

And as you picked up the mug he’d sat out for you and took the first few sips, he waited for a “thank you, Joel.” He’d apologize for whatever it was he did or said, and then things would go right back to how they were before he’d left.

Only you didn’t. You didn’t say a thing.

Joel’s mouth fell open as you took the coffee in your hands and promptly walked out of the kitchen without another word.

He even sat there at the kitchen table the entire time you were upstairs. He was in complete disbelief.

This had spiraled out of control. That one comment had spiraled into something that Joel wasn’t sure he’d talk his way out of. He wasn’t sure an apology would work anymore and he no longer knew what to do.

He heard you calling up the stairs for Kat — “C’mon, it’s time to go get breakfast!” — and he waited until the two of you came barreling down the stairs dressed and ready for the day, still missing the green ribbon. He hadn’t even realized he was looking for it.

Kat called out, “Goodbye, Joel!”

And then the door was slamming shut.

And he still sat in the fucking kitchen. Like a goddamn idiot.

The house was silent as Joel sat there, looking into his coffee mug as if it held any answers. He drained the last sip of it and slammed it down on the table in frustration.

The only thing left to do was the thing that Joel always did whenever he needed advice for a woman: go directly to Tommy’s house and hope to God that whatever woman he was seeing would overhear Joel talking about his problems and give him good advice.

Luckily, both Tommy and Maria were home and let Joel in through the front door.

“Howdy, big brother,” Tommy called, sitting at the kitchen table. “Want some coffee? Eggs?”

“Yeah, actually,” Joel accepted, taking off his thick coat and sitting down across from Tommy. “Sounds good.”

He ate hungrily, reflecting on how much better scrambled eggs taste when they’re made in your own kitchen and you don’t have to hike through the early morning air to eat them. But he said thank you anyway.

“So…” Tommy ventured once the plates were clean. “Not very often we get to see you for breakfast.”

“Yeah, well,” he grumbled, looking away. “Girls left early for breakfast, didn’t feel like sitting in the mess hall by myself.”

Tommy just raised an eyebrow at his wife, but his words were for Joel. “Oh yeah? They didn’t give you a warnin’ or nothin’?”

“Nope,” Joel answered, popping the P. “Walked right by me without sayin’ a word, actually.”

“Even Kat?”

“No, Kat said bye, but…”

“You two have a fight or something?” Tommy leaned in on his elbows.

“No.”

He pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow. “Sure sounds like one.”

“Ain’t my business.”

Tommy chuckled, “I’d say it is, you’re the one she ain’t talkin’ to.”

Joel cut his eyes over to his brother and glared, but it was short-lived. He knew Tommy was right — he also knew that advice had been the real reason he’d come over here, and it was hard for Tommy (or, hopefully, Maria) to give advice if Joel wasn’t going to talk about it.

So he sighed. “She’s just been actin’ weird, I dunno. Every time I enter a room, she leaves it. If I talk to her first, she says the bare minimum and then figures out how to leave the room. I just — “

“Well,” Tommy drawled out, sitting back and folding his hands over his stomach. “What did she say when you apologized?”

Joel sat up, narrowing his eyes at his brother. “Apologized for what exactly?”

It was one thing for Joel to be preparing to apologize. He wasn’t sure what it was, but the way you were acting told him that he’d done something, but for Tommy to just offer it up like that… well, that meant it was something big enough that even Tommy had noticed.

Which made Joel feel like an idiot.

“For what you said,” Tommy raised an eyebrow. “I mean — you did apologize to her, right?”

Joel huffed. “I don’t know what I said that warrants an apology.”

“I see.” Tommy blew out his cheeks.

A plate clattered on the countertop behind Joel and he turned to see Maria drying her hands on a towel. When she was finished, she hung the towel on the sink and put her hands on her hips. “You know,” she said, softly, “she doesn’t owe you an explanation about who she dates or when she dates them.”

“I know that,” Joel bit out, a little harsher than he intended.

“Do you?” Maria snapped, raising an eyebrow at him.

He huffed again, shaking his head. “I wasn’t tellin’ her who she could date.”

“No, you were reminding her that she lives under your roof,” Maria crossed her arms over her chest.

The breath went out of the room. He slumped back in his seat, staring at the grain in the table. Shit. No wonder you were so upset. He would’ve never said that if —

Maria’s touch was soft when she put her hand on Joel’s shoulder. “I’m sure you didn’t mean it that way, Joel… But that’s probably how she heard it.”

“Christ,” he breathed. “I —”

Maria squeezed his shoulder and went back to the countertop. “She’s off today,” she commented as she gathered up some things.

“Alright.”

He didn’t know what else to say besides that, so he just got up and nodded to his brother. Then he put on his coat and headed back home.

(Still) Wednesday, October 28th

When you walked into the kitchen, you were a little surprised to see Joel with one hand on his hip, the other threading through his hair in frustration. He was muttering to himself, his eyes flitting back and forth from cabinet to cabinet. Almost as if he didn’t know where to begin.

You poured yourself a cup of lemonade and leaned against the island, taking a couple sips and watching it unfold. But still, Joel stood there, muttering under his breath.

It wasn’t that you weren’t still angry with him — because you were — but something about Joel standing there in the kitchen pulled you in and made you want to stay near him. Maybe that was why you had avoided him for three days — being around Joel, being in his orbit, just seemed to make you yearn for his closeness. His comment in the mess hall had just reminded you that whatever was going on here wasn’t anything but temporary — and you would do well to remember it.

But still… being near him was easy. Staying away from him was hard. Missing him was hard. For three days you had stayed away and you had missed him, yearned to be near him. The girls weren’t here, and he was already preoccupied. There was no one to witness you succumb to his orbit.

“Need a hand?” You asked, trying to keep your voice neutral — almost bored.

“Nah.”

You shrugged, even though he couldn’t see you, and leaned away from the island. Well, you’d tried.

When he spoke, his voice was sharp, but it didn’t seem like the anger was directed at you. “Wasn’t this the cabinet that the handles were comin’ off of?” He asked, gesturing toward the one in front of him. “It was this one right here, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, just checkin’.” And then under his breath, “Thought I was goin’ fuckin’ insane.”

“Why do you ask?”

His shoulders stiffened, just for a moment, as if he was surprised you’d asked him something.

“Uh —” he pulled on it, and the handle pulled the drawer without breaking off in his hand. “‘Cause it’s fixed now.”

You allowed yourself a small smile as he looked back over it.

“Damnedest thing,” he muttered. “Could’a sworn …”

“I fixed that last weekend.” You made sure to look down into your drink when his head whipped around to you.

“You did?”

“Yep, thought I’d take somethin’ off your to-do list while you were gone”

He didn’t need to know that you’d actually done it because you’d run out of things to do and were worried about him. After his comment in the dining hall…. No, Joel didn’t need to know that.

You didn’t think Joel had mean to hurt your feelings, in fact, you could bet with almost complete certainty that he hadn’t. Regardless of what his motivation had been in saying such a thing, he hadn’t sought you out to apologize, and that was what had really made you angry.

There had been a few moments here and there that you’d been able to tell that he wanted to say something, but if he wasn’t man enough to come to you and say that he’d made a mistake, if he was only going to take the opportunity whenever you just happened to be in the room… well, that told you more about him than anything.

He blushed and quickly turned back around. “Didn’t know you were handy like that.”

You shrugged and took a couple steps toward the doorway. “You didn’t ask.”

Not sticking around to see if the words landed how you wanted them to, you walked away toward the living room, glass of lemonade in hand.

It was too late in the day to chance a nap, so you thought maybe you could watch a movie from the DVD collection to pass the time until Ellie and Kat got home from school.

Hand poised over the last few that had been watched (all Halloween horror movies), Joel spoke up from behind you.

“You upset with me?”

You turned around with a copy of The Exorcist in your hand. “No.”

He tilted his head. “Sure seems like it.”

“I’m not upset with you, Joel.” You turned back, angrily shoving the DVD into the player, not even caring to see what it was.

“Then what? This about the other night at the mess hall?”

You sighed, shoulders dropping as you pressed play on the console. You allowed yourself a moment for your face to scrunch up in anger while turned around where he couldn’t see you. “You embarrassed me.”

When you turned back to face him, making sure your face was neutral again, he was looking down at his boots. Part of you wanted to rub his face in his mistake, to really pour on the guilt trip and make him understand how you felt.

But that’s not fair either, you know.

The last two days hadn’t been easy on you — it had been tough to get out of bed, to be a functioning person, but if he already thought you just some stray that he took in out of pity, you didn’t want him to think you were a weak crybaby too. So you’d sucked it up and acted like you didn’t care.

Except you did care.

When Maria had brought up some of the men who’d wanted to ask you out, you’d deflected, your eyes flickering back to Joel. It wasn’t that you wanted him to ask you out, especially not now that he’d made it clear how he felt about you, but …

Well, okay. Maybe you had wanted him to ask you out.

But that would’ve just blown everything to bits even more than it currently was. He’d given you a place to live… wouldn’t asking you out be … a conflict of interest or something?

Besides that, after his comment, it was embarrassingly clear that he had just been nice to you. It was you, so ridiculously fucked up from your interactions with men who thought that it was something more. He had just been nice. The way he treated you wasn’t special — he’d treat any woman like that.

You could hear the opening scene of the movie, but you were no longer interested in it. You desperately wanted him to say something, to apologize, to understand, and to reassure you that he didn’t think of you as a charity case.

To reassure you that you hadn’t been misreading him and he did care about you.

After another agonizing thirty seconds of silence, you realized he wasn’t going to speak.

“Joel — you made it sound like I don’t have anywhere to go. And I know I don’t, that I’m reliant on you right now —”

His eyes snapped up to yours and you could see the hurt and pain there, softening them. “That ain’t what I meant,” he rasped.

“I know.”

“Well, then why get upset?”

You extended your hands and let them fall to your sides. “It doesn’t really matter what your intention was, Joel. I didn’t think you were trying to be mean but I don’t know. you didn’t exactly man up and say you were sorry, either.”

“You looked uncomfortable ’n they jus’ kept on… I was tryin’ to get them off your back ’n leave it alone.”

Irritation flooded up into your chest. “I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“I know,” he whispered, eyes falling back to the floor.

You waited for his defense, for him to say that it was important that he said what he said for some ungodly reason.

Only he… didn’t.

When he looked back up at you, Joel only said, “I shouldn’t have said what I said.”

You held his stare. “No, you shouldn’t have.”

He looked away then, hand rasping against his beard. “If — “ he cleared his throat. “You got somewhere to go if you want to,” he murmured.

“What do you mean?” You narrowed your eyes. “There’s not any housing suitable —”

“I ain’t talkin’ ‘bout you leavin’,” he whispered. “Tommy ’n Maria got an extra bedroom. I can — I could —”

“Oh,” you whispered.

He was offering to go. He was offering you a way out. If you wanted to date, if you wanted to start living your own life, or if you were so angry that you wanted to be away from him, then you could have it. He’d live with his brother and you could have his home until more housing was available.

You stood there, just regarding him and his face. His eyes were wide, the hazel within them pained and desperate. His expression was agonized, and not just in the way that hard conversations made him uncomfortable. The circles under his eyes were just as dark as yours.

And this … this out. He was willing to uproot his life so that you could be comfortable.

The idea of living here, in this house, on Rancher Street, without him across the hall or in the living room or sitting in the kitchen with you… you didn’t want that. You wanted him to stay. This house wouldn’t feel half as inviting if he weren’t here.

So you just shook his head. He noticed the action and his eyes widened with the realization.

“I just — I don’t need you to make decisions for me. Not about who I can or can’t take home. Not about anything. I make my own choices.”

“I know that,” he said.

“Do you?”

He ran his hands through his hair. His hair was getting long — long enough to card fingers through, at least. It stuck up at odd angles, like he’d been doing that for three straight days.

“Yeah, I do.” He sighed again and you saw how soft his hazel eyes were. “I wasn’t tryin’ to make you feel like you owe me somethin’ or like I got some kinda right to tell you what to do jus’ ‘cause you’re stayin’ here. That ain’t what I want.”

Your breath left your chest then, and you felt the tears start pricking at your eyes. You didn’t want to owe him. You were terrified of owing him anything.

For once in your adult life, you had the opportunity here, in Jackson, to stand on your own two feet, to support your daughter and make a life. You’d spent years being reminded that you had to earn your place and that you owed the men in your life for keeping you safe — repaying that in affection and physical touch, usually.

You didn’t want that with Joel.

For once — for fucking once, it seemed like a real, honest friendship. he had always made you feel like an equal player. That was what you wanted. And even if it was just friendship with him for the rest of your life… well, that was better than the alternative.

You looked up and he stood in front of you, hesitantly reaching his hands out to your shoulders.

“You don’t owe me nothin’,” he whispered.

“You keep saying that.”

His fingers squeezed and you saw the flecks of brown in the green of his eyes. “‘Cause you keep actin’ like you do.”

You swallowed. “I’m still embarrassed.”

He nodded and took a step back from you, from the TV. “Fair enough.”

You’d missed the entire first scene of the movie, so you picked up the remote and slumped down in the chaise. Joel still stood there, between the couch and the TV, looking at you, wringing his hands.

You raised your eyebrows.

“Can — can I sit here?”

“Why?”

He looked down. “‘Cause I miss you.”

His eyes widened as soon as the words left his mouth, cheeks turning deep red almost instantly.

“You … you miss me?”

He shook his head, raising his hands and shaking them back and forth. “That’s not what I said.”

“It’s literally what you just said, Joel. That’s what just came out of your mouth.”

He pressed his lips into a tight line. “Jus—Jus’ forget it, okay? Just —”

You smirked, reaching out a foot to his thigh as he tried to walk past you. “Just sit down.”

And when he did, you held his gaze and put a hand out for him to take. “I’ve missed you too, Joel,” you admitted. “I didn’t realize that you were my closest friend until I was avoiding you.”

His eyes widened a moment, but he dropped his head, leaning over his knees. “You’re my closest friend too. Might be my only friend, ‘cept for Tommy.”

“You have friends, Joel,” you told him. “More than I do.”

“I might,” he allowed, sitting back on the couch, shoulders almost touching. “But none of’em I can talk to about chapters of Lonesome Dove whenever I cain’t sleep.”

“You could find easier friends,” you breathed, leaning in.

He matched the movement, touching his forehead to yours. His hand found yours and laced the fingers. “Ain’t nothin’ easier than bein’ with you. Trust me — everybody else jus’ gets on my nerves.”

He breathed then, easier than he had whenever he’d come into the living room.

A scream from the TV startled you both, jerking your heads away from each other and toward the sound.

He raised an eyebrow. “The Exorcist? Really?”

“It was the first one I grabbed,” you defended, pushing yourself up from the couch.

“Now, hang on a second,” he yelped, reaching out to grab your hips and pulling you back down beside him on the couch. “This is a classic. Might like it.”

“Doubtful,” you eyed him, but you stayed anyway.

And when he put his arm across the back of the couch, you leaned in to his shoulder, letting his other hand trace patterns on yours.

Friday, October 30th

Kat stood on the front porch with her little backpack stuffed almost completely full with her clothes and her Bear. Ellie, standing next to her, held Kat’s little hand in one and Glitter the baby doll’s car seat in the other. Dina, on the other side, held Kat’s other hand, waving furiously with her free one.

Staying the night at Ellie’s didn’t even really count as a sleepover, but it was tearing you apart. She looked so grown up.

You were having a hard time reconciling this almost seven-year-old in front of you with the little toddler that your heart said she should still be.

So you stood at the edge of the porch, watching them as they walked out to the sidewalk and turned to go around the house, calling out last-minute instructions.

“No scary movies,” you called out as Dina took one little hand and Ellie the other.

“We know.”

“No sugar after 8!”

“We know!”

“Make sure she brushes her teeth!”

The girls just giggled, but Joel leaned against the porch railing as he put a hand to your shoulder. “Easy, Momma. The big girls know what they’re doing.”

You knew that. You really did. But…

“I love you, Mommy!” Kat came running back to the porch to get one more hug and kiss.

Your arms opened wide as you knelt to her, crushing her to your chest and getting in as many kisses as she’d allow.

“And I love you, Kat. Be good, listen to Ellie and Dina. Okay? I’ll leave the backdoor unlocked in case you want to come home!”

She nodded, so proud as she ran off with them to the backyard. The teenagers had a big night planned: Kat’s favorite movies, some nail polish that someone in town had made, playing baby dolls, insane hairstyles and make up…

You sighed as they disappeared into the backyard. It should have made you so happy and proud to see her finally doing something normal for her age. And knowing that she would only be in the backyard should have made it easier.

But it didn’t.

This would be the first night of Kat’s life that you had spent away from her.

Six years of listening for her snores, falling asleep to the rhythm of her breathing. And tonight she just, wouldn’t be there.

The hole in your chest felt like an abyss, dark and sinister and your baby had just disappeared into it.

“C’mon,” Joel encouraged you with an arm around your shoulder. He steered you back toward the front door. “Let’s go inside. Too cold out here.”

With the sun gone, the warmth had fled too — you shivered, thankful for the warmth of him pressed against you. You were nervous for the trick or treating tomorrow, hoping that Kat’s costume was warm enough to actually be outdoors and stop by some of the houses in Jackson.

“Are you sure they’ll be —“

“They’ll be fine,” he said, firmly.

You’d noticed he’d moved the tv after watching The Exorcist with you the other day, just a little, but enough so that it wasn’t sitting directly in front of the recliner anymore. No, he moved it so someone who liked to sit on the couch (you) could see it clearly. It was a sweet, subtle thing, but Joel was always watching, he always cared. You thought it might be a subtle way of apologizing.

He plopped down on the couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table as he grabbed the remote. He patted the space next to him and grinned. “C’mon. Nothin’ to distract you from their first sleepover like movie night.”

“Sounds like you speak from experience?” You asked, sitting next to him and tucking your legs underneath yourself.

“Oh yeah. The pre-teen years were hard — Sarah was always wantin’ to go somewhere, be with her friends. Seemed like every weekend I either had an empty house or one filled with screamin’ little girls.”

You giggled, catching yourself leaning into him as he pressed play on the remote. He had the set up already laid out and waiting for you: movie ready, the best snack foods Jackson had to offer, a glass of strawberry wine (he wouldn’t reveal who he got it from or what he’d traded for it, but you knew it had to be a lot), a glass of whiskey, and the softest blankets he owned.

“Well, what’s the pick tonight?” You questioned, picking up your glass.

He grinned. “One of the last good scary movies ever made.”

“Oh? And what’s that?”

He pointed to the screen, perfectly in time with the title card. “The Conjuring.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh, hell no. I saw a trailer for that one like two weeks before Outbreak and refused to go see it. Absolutely not, Joel!”

“Why not?” He smirked. “You too scared?”

“Hell yeah I was!”

“Well, I ain’t askin’ you to see it alone,” he pushed, still grinning. “Ain’t like you’ll be home alone afterwards, either.”

“Absolutely not —” you squealed at the end, as Joel’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you to his chest and preventing you from getting up to change the movie.

“C’mon, darlin’. I got to see it one time. I can’t even believe somebody found it after all this time.”

“I can’t believe you actually enjoy stuff like this,” you gawked at him.

“You don’t?”

“No!”

He scoffed, relaxing his hold just enough that you could sit on your own. “You had The Exorcist goin’ a couple days ago. Thought you liked that one.”

“Ugh! I only had that on because I wasn’t paying attention and since it was daytime I just didn’t take it out. And, if you remember,” you poked him in the chest, “you sat here with me and forced me to watch that one too.”

He playfully rolled his eyes and you smacked his chest. “You’ll be fiiiiine,” he drawled out. “Didn’t have any nightmares from that one, did ya?”

You shook your head, unwilling to tell him that it was only because you’d spent the entire movie not staring at the screen — you’d been too busy memorizing the sound of his breath, the scent of him, the look of his hands and skin and — well, you hadn’t paid much attention.

“Please? Watch it with me. Tomorrow’s Halloween and I love scary movies — I don’t wanna spend movie night by myself.”

He gazed at you so earnestly that you couldn’t help it. You caved with a smile and a sigh.

He grinned then, boyish and mischievous as he put his arm around the back of your side of the couch, like he normally did. And like you normally did, you melted into it, into his side.

“Fine, but if I have a nightmare, you’re sitting up with me all night and watching Bugs Bunny, Miller.”

“Deal.”

It definitely was one of the scarier movies you’d ever seen.

At some point, Joel’s feet had left the coffee table, sprawling down the length of the couch as he laid down with his head on the arm cushion. He’d adjusted you too, curling you into his side between him and the back of the couch, your head on his chest.

Warmed by strawberry wine and the feel of him so close, the blanket was an excuse to cover your eyes at the scarier parts. In fact, you spent more than half of the movie covering your eyes, and Joel cuddled you close, whispering smart ass comments into your ear to keep you laughing.

A scary movie was definitely a lot less scary when wrapped in the embrace of Joel Miller.

When the credits rolled, you felt his sigh. “Well?”

“Terrifying,” you answered, shaking your head.

“Well, you better suit up, honey. I found Paranormal Activity too, ’n I’m thinkin’ we should watch it next.”

You groaned, turning your head into his chest. “Joelllllll.”

He chuckled, smile telling you he welcomed the teasing. It was nice to lay here like this with Joel, when you could just be you.

For years, your only identifiers had been what you were to the raiders and the mom you were to Kat. You didn’t regret her for a single instant, but Jackson had been nice for you to regain your sense of self — to feel like you once again.

You had been picking up these little pieces of yourself every night as you read a book with Joel or watched a DVD, but to be able to do that in the middle of an evening while Kat was gone was a rare treat.

You sat up on the couch and tapped his chest so he did the same. “We can watch another one, but I gotta eat something besides snacks.”

“Fine by me,” he chuckled, crossing the living room to change out movies.

You took the plates of food and wine glasses back into the kitchen, cleaning up the mess. You poured another glass of wine — it was nearing midnight, if Kat was going to come home, she probably would have already, so another glass was fine.

You took a sip, enjoying the sweetness. You hoped that wherever Joel had gotten the wine from, it was a place here in town that could make more. And that it wasn’t so expensive you couldn’t get it again.

The sock-footed steps were quiet as they came into the kitchen, but not so quiet that he snuck up on you. You grinned, tipping your glass to him as you turned and took another drink.

He studied you, eyes dark and intense, making his way toward you until his body stood against yours.

“What is it?”

He raised his hands, tentatively, his eyes drinking you in as he traced the skin of your shoulder and the back of your neck. He stopped when he touched the ribbon you’d tied into the low ponytail. He rubbed the end of it between his fingers and you could hear your breath hitch in your chest.

His eyes surveyed your own and you saw that softness — the soft version of Joel Miller that few people in the world ever got a glimpse of but you got to see all the time.

“You started wearin’ it again,” he rasped, clearing his throat.

“Yeah.”

“I like that you wear it,” he admitted, a little sheepish.

His fingers worked at it for a few more seconds before dropping his wrist to your shoulder, fingertips still ghosting against the back of your neck. He moved them slowly, just enough to trigger the little baby hairs and goosebumps there.

You shivered, eyes fluttering shut. “I — I do too.”

His body froze as you said it, and you froze too, cringing as you realized how breathless and wanton you’d sounded. But when you met his gaze, his eyes were glazed over, zeroed in on your mouth.

Did he — did he like the way you’d said that? After two hours of being so close to him on the couch, you had been just shy of aching for him anyway, but touching you this way, his eyes roving over you. You couldn’t help it, your tongue darted out to wet them as you looked at his lips too.

“G—Gonna have a problem if you keep on lookin’ at me that way,” his voice a husky plea.

Sitting the wine glass down on the counter, you held his gaze.

“What kind of problem?”

He licked his lips.

You whined at the appearance of his tongue, soft and pink and wet, and Joel’s fingertips that had been just lightly grazing your neck gripped — hard.

A gasp left your lips without your permission. “Joel,” you murmured, gaze lifting to his eyes.

He murmured your name, just as soft, a little of that glazed look leaving as he came back to himself. He took a deep breath in, chest brushing yours as it expanded with a deep breath.

The deep, pit of your stomach felt hollow, like the butterflies that you had always been told about in every romance novel you’d ever read. He seemed transfixed by your lips and you watched the movement of his eyes, dilation of his pupils. When he pressed his body firmly against yours, almost pushing you back into the island, you could feel the waves of tension rolling off of him, as if he were holding himself back with all of the restraint left in his body.

You felt one hand rest against the small of your back for a moment. When you didn’t bolt, the touch turned into a suggestion, his palm pushing you ever closer to him. His other hand at the back of your neck was soft as it reclaimed your jaw, his thumb tilting your face up to meet his.

He paused just a breath away from a kiss. You could feel the heat of his breath against your face, you could smell the cloying scent of whiskey still there on his breath.

“Tell me to stop,” he rasped, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against yours.

“No,” you panted, entire body one tight, live, explosive wire that openly begged for his touch.

Your lashes fluttered closed and you tilted your head to meet his, close enough that the movement brushed your lips against his.

He jolted, the movement making him pull back just enough to break the contact.

Your eyes were still closed, lashes still fluttering and mouth still parted as you silently begged kiss me kiss me kiss me kiss me.

He obliged; his lips pressed to yours in a light touch, butterfly feet kissing the soft skin. And even though you had made the first move and he had just asked for your consent, you knew that’s what this was too — a question asked.

You exhaled, leaning forward to capture his against you again. A question answered, for good this time.

The air was thick, arousal flooding hot through your veins in a way you hadn’t felt in years. Joel’s breath hitched as his fingertips tightened on your back and your jaw, pulling you closer and closer. His teasing tongue flicked at your lips, and when you opened your mouth to gasp, he slid it inside, tangling with yours.

Your own hands were touching, sliding, squeezing across his chest and into his soft hair.

His hand trailed from your face to your side, a light grip on your t-shirt and his arm that had been pressed on your back fell to a hip, gentle pressure to lift you up.

It was a choice, you knew. All of these gentle, pressing touches were check ins to make sure you were still comfortable with his touch, his kiss, his presence, asking permission with his body in addition to his words. Permission you were happy to grant with the way his touch sent hot, burning want through your body.

And you did want.

It had been a long ass time since you’d wanted a man’s hands on you, but christ, you wanted Joel’s to cover every inch of your skin. You wanted to re-write your DNA to include the feel of his fingertips on you.

Once he recognized you were eager to move wherever he wanted you, his hands tightened and he picked you up easily, depositing you softly on the counter with a light grunt.

He captured your lips in a breathtaking kiss before trailing his lips down to your jaw, your neck. His hands worked as passionately as his lips, pulling you to him by your hips, the countertop evening the height difference between you two, so that his hips settled easily between your legs.

And surely — surely he felt how fast your heart was hammering as he swiped his tongue across your pulse point.

Hands still hot and heavy on your skin, Joel broke the kiss and groaned as he pulled you into him. His grip was tight enough that you wouldn’t be surprised to find marks in the morning, but Jesus Christ it felt divine.

His own hips bucked up to you, only the thin material of your sleep shorts and panties separating you from the hard length of him in his jeans.

You met him, pushing yourself to him, the friction sending sparks from your aching clit straight up your spine.

“Fuck,” he ground out through gritted teeth, bringing his mouth back to your neck. He sucked the sensitive skin there and you threw back your head, almost hitting the top cabinets, pushing your chest against his. Joel growled, one hand racing up your spine to tangle in your hair, gathering a handful as he gently pulled at it.

Joel didn’t kiss you like it was the first time, the second, or even the third. He kissed you like it was oxygen and his lungs were hurting from not breathing.

“Joel.” It was a whisper, a plea, a mewl, a begging desperate noise that had him bucking his hips even harder. His arm around your waist tightened, the fingers digging into the skin of your ribs as he pulled you down to meet him, animalistic and rough.

You answered him, pulling at the salt and pepper strands of his hair and rolling your hips.

Reckless, messy, desperate.

Your hands were everywhere, no where, begging him to touch you.

His hands were steady and rough, the calluses of them biting into your skin, promising marks and reminders tomorrow.

Your skin was flushed and pounding whenever Joel stilled, pressing his forehead against yours. His chest heaved as he fought to catch his breath, but his hips moved against your center once and he had to fight for his control again.

You sighed as you breathed in his own hot breath, keeping your eyes closed, lest you see the blown out pupils and disheveled look.

Seeing Joel that way would unravel you, you knew. You’d throw all caution to the wind and beg you to take you there, on his countertop, quickly while the girls were gone.

It took more than a few seconds for both of you to regain that sliver of composure that would allow you to walk away without begging Joel to fuck your brains out. Once you had it within your grasp, you felt Joel tapping on your hip.

“We — uh, maybe we shouldn’t do that again,” he mouthed, still rough and wrecked.

“Probably not,” you breathed.

Because once we start, I’ll never want to stop, you thought.

Joel Miller in your bed was dangerous, because you knew, without a doubt, that a man like that could ruin you for any other. And if he weren’t willing to want you that same way, then you would rather never get started than to want something so desperately for the rest of your life.

Because Joel Miller was the type of man that got snatched up for life.

So you just nodded, awkward and laughing, as you settled back on the countertop. He held out his hands to you, still seeking permission, and when you nodded he took you easily in his hands before sitting you down to the kitchen tiles.

His cheeks were a deep red as he reached into his jeans and adjusted himself — the thick length that you had felt against your own heat — giving you an apologetic smile. He reached for your wine glass and gave it back to you, filling his own before reaching out for your hand.

It was a hot, searing touch against your hand as he laced his fingers with yours, a comforting movement but almost different in light of what had just happened in the kitchen, but you didn’t move away.

When he plopped back down on the couch, he reached out for your hand, jerking you back to his chest. “C’mere,” he urged you, voice still a little flirty.

And you allowed yourself to half-lie on top of him, still trying to calm your racing heart at what had just happened, and that Joel Miller hadn’t pulled away from you yet.

He’d said we shouldn’t do it again, but he was still here. He hadn’t ran from you.

Just like he’d promised.

Tags: @pedrofan, @nothinglefttogive, @goonersquad101, @ren08642, @needz1nk, @catarsis75

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel x reader #joel x you #reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #no use of y/n #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #tlou #tlou fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #jackson!joel #old man alert #joel has a crush pass it on #little brother tommy comin in clutch with zero advice #honestly it's maria with all the advice #hehehe #you've been waiting for the big kiss #now lets get to smoochin'

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