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kiritella-tlou · 11 months

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Touched Like Whiskey [Pt. 1 / 2]

Pairings: Joel Miller x F.Reader

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: Infected, Guns, Blood, Slow Moving? A bit ooc probably because it's my first time writing for Joel and he's a complex character. Don't worry, I am aware of it, lol.

Author's Note: This is part one of two. I might make this a continuing series if y'all are interested, but if not, I will leave it be. It is slow moving, but I hope you like it! I'm working through writer's block, so I'm a bit rusty and slow at writing.

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“You’re short.” Joel’s tone was clipped, meant to cut through the FEDRA soldier lounging back in his seat. Y.n’s smile twitched down as she leaned against the brick wall, thankful not to be on the receiving end of the dead-set stare he was drilling into the soldier’s head. The stench building in the city square threatened her gag reflex as she pulled out her own ration cards, recounting them as Joel argued. It wasn’t going well, apparently, if Joel’s tone was anything to go by. Her eyes scanned across the street, passing over the opened cans residing at Joel’s feet as he snatched back his already jipped pay the soldier was threatening to take more from. Anger sparked in her chest when the soldier smirked as Joel stormed away, her fingers crumpling around her cards. She stomped out the feeling until it died, shivering at the familiar sensation. She shoved herself off the wall, running after Joel.

It was a stupid idea, honestly. She couldn’t say Joel was nice, couldn’t even say he would remember her name, or even if he gave a care in the world about her. If he was smart, which she was confident he was, he wouldn’t do for her what she was about to do for him, even if he did care. But the man wasn’t outright rude. He was respectful. He kept his distance from her, but paid enough attention to know when she needed an extra hand during the job. His voice was gruff, curt, and sharp, not softening for a single moment, and he was a man of few words. All that, and yet he never once said anything out of line to her. Joel was not a nice person, but he was a decent one, and that was enough for her.

“Joel,” she called out, hands wrapping lightly around the curve of his elbow and tugging softly. His pace slowed.

“What?”

“I heard you got jipped.”

He grunted and so she jumped out in front of him, walking backwards. “Well, I got a bit extra—”

“No, thanks,” he interrupted, apparently already having an idea of where this conversation was going. She huffed.

“I pulled an extra shift—”

“No.”

“That’s too bad,” she said, grabbing his hand and refusing to let go when he tried to shake it loose. “You are a stubborn old man, you know?”

He scoffed. She looked over her shoulder at him and smiled.

“You're careless,” he grumbled.

“Mhmm,” she hummed, distracted as she bought a loaf of bread and a few cans, passing over a couple of her newly earned rations. How she managed to do all this with one hand was actually impressive. What she found more impressive though was that he was actually still letting her grip his hand like a vice to keep him there. There was no way she’d actually be able to keep him there if he really wanted to leave. She might be more built than some after so long outside the walls, but she wasn’t that strong. Was it dumb that her heart warmed at the fact he was allowing her to do this?

“What are you doing?” he asked, and she turned to him with a glare, holding out the loaf of bread.

“Take it.”

“No.”

“Joel.”

“I got my own damn food.”

“Joel.”

“Will you—mphft—” Joel had to take a few steps back at the shock of a facefull of bread being shoved into his mouth. “W-th-fu-” he started but as his brain was still catching up, she had released his hand, shoved something in it, and by the time he was able to look up with wide eyes, she was already running off. Literally, running away. Glancing at his hands, they held the bag of cans she just bought.

Y.n smiled as she peeked over her shoulder back at him as he walked away, as the colors of the crowd began to envelop him and wash him away. The cold ache returned to her chest as she began weaving her way back home, the nearly constant smile on her lips fading away as the sun began to set and the people around the market let their eyes linger a little too long. She swallowed thickly as the whisper of safety left with Joel and her skin became chilled like the wind during mid winter. Picking up her pace, she ran back toward her apartment, locking the door and barricading it with a dresser before allowing herself to rest.

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Panting heavily, she stumbled as she ran, the croaking and clicks, strangled screams coming from behind her spurring her to speed up as James reached out and grabbed her arm, tugging her forward with his own pace. Gunshots rang out behind her as William shouted at them to haul ass. The gun was heavy in her hands as she flinched, clickers jumping out from behind a tree not far ahead.

"On the right!" She shouted, her throat tight as she fired three shots, two bodies collapsing as she tried not to focus on the sight of their disrupted faces—the fungus breaking out of the skulls after it had feasted on their victims' minds, the blood pooling on the forest’s ground as they passed. Her breaths were painfully sharp in her burning lungs, enhanced by the frigid winter air. James jerked her left as the roar of the Humvee rumbled over the sound of the Runner’s screams behind them. A disturbing amount of squelching and cracking came only moments later. She didn’t dare look down when the truck pulled up beside them. Instead, she tucked her gun into her waistband and jumped, gripping onto the welded-on handlebars on the side of the truck’s frame, landing on the running board with practiced ease. James was quick to follow. Lexa’s head poked up from the other side of the truck and William’s shout of victory was enough to know they were still alive. It took too many bullets to ward off the leftover infected chasing after them, too many mangled fingers and crooked teeth coming all too close to their skin. She shook her head when the groans and clicks faded into the background as the distance grew between them.

Sighing heavily, her breath clouded as it passed her lips, the warmth of it strangled out even as it reached her fingers only an inch away. Wyoming winters were nothing to joke about, especially not in December. At least, she was pretty sure it was still December. To be honest, she had lost count a long time ago. How long had it been since she left the QZ? It had been Summer then, maybe July? It didn’t really matter now, though. What she did know was it was cold, and her fingers and toes were numb, and it wouldn’t be long until they wouldn’t even have the Humvee to keep them from a storm. Even though she knew it, it still hurt when a couple hours later, the truck began to stutter, chugging slowly to a stop before dying.

Hopping off the side with the others, Y.n pulled her gun, checking the ammo. Dana jumped out of the driver’s seat. “That’s all she’s gonna give us. Fuel’s gone and so are the fumes.”

James nodded as everyone began to grab their packs. “Take what you can, split it up.”

Y.n swallowed thickly as everyone passed around supplies, stuffing everything they reasonably could and should into their packs from the truck. There were seven of them now: Herself, James, Dana, Teon, Lexa, Damian, and William. They had started with fifteen…she swallowed thickly. The fabric of her bag caught on the dried, cracked skin of her knuckles as she shoved another canteen into her bag. The pain hardly registered against the numbness, but the warmth of the blood pooled and sank in, dribbling between the cracks of her fingers into the snow.

“How much further to Jackson do you think?” Y.n asked as Dana handed her a spare coat. She hesitated as she took it, the memory of the man it used to belong to flashing before her eyes before she shook herself out of it, pulling it over her arms to accept the warmth it would offer.

Dana huffed, shaking her head. “Another few days by my guess,” she said before shouting out above the wind. “Teon! How much farther?”

Teon grunted, swinging the leather strap attached to his halligan axe over his neck. “A week at most, a few days if we can keep the pace.”

“How’s the food?” James asked.

“Enough to get us there so long as we are careful.”

“Did we lose any packs back there?”

“No, they were in the truck.”

“Good.”

“Ammo?”

“Out,” Dana said.

“Got enough.”

“Enough.”

“Manageable.”

“Here, Dana, take these,” James said, dropping maybe half a clip worth of bullets into her palm.

“We’re runnin’ low, aren’t we,” Y.n said, frowning as the others searched their pockets for a few spare bullets to reload.

“A few more days,” Teon said as he began to lead them into the treeline. “We’ll be fine.”

“Besides, this far out of the city?” James added, “We shouldn’t find more than small packs of infected that wandered off.”

Y.n huffed a laugh. “Like the one earlier?”

James shrugged. “It was technically small.”

“What about Raiders?”

Teon grumbled under his breath. “There’s not much out here for them to hold their ground. Last I left, Jackson was nearly the only meaningful place out here for a few dozen miles. Middle of fuckin’ nowhere. But keep an eye out.”

Y.n smiled, huffing a small laugh. Middle of nowhere. Joel would have loved it. His isolated self with no one to bother him. No FEDRA, no chaos, no drugs….well, probably no drugs. At least he wouldn’t need to be selling them in order to make enough to survive. He would have been able to relax. Chuckling, she shook her head—it would probably take an entire year for him to simply learn how to relax. He was one of the most uptight men she had ever met, and it had taken way too long before he had let her peek through the windows of his bricked up heart. To think of him now, a cowboy hat sitting on his head, hands wrapped around a hot cup of coffee he would have found somewhere, seated in an old, creaky rocking chair on the front porch of—she stopped. The warmth spilling in her chest as she imagined his life was bitter, cruel even. Her teeth clenched against the ache following it and she turned her mind rather to the snow crunching beneath her feet as Teon led them through the woods.

It had been over a year since Joel left the QZ. A year and she still thought too much about him as if he was going to pop out somewhere and knock her on the side of the head, telling her she needed to be more mindful of her loud steps. Tease her about the smile she put on for everyone. Pull out a flask of whiskey and share it with her, groaning about his old stupid knees. She knew all too well that when he didn’t return to the QZ, his luck had probably run out. That he was more likely dead than prancing around the United States or settled down in some refuge city. But she still let the thought linger in her head. It was easier that way. After all, there was still Jackson. There was still Tommy. Joel had pondered over his brother’s silence enough to know he was worried. And she knew Joel well enough to know that if he was worried, he would find a way. It didn’t stop the cold ache in her chest or the sleepless nights when he had disappeared from the QZ without a word, never returning. The worry and wondering. It was growing to be two years, and she still cared too damn much. A lump jumped into her throat as his voice whispered through her memories.

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“You care too much. About people,” he said, thumbing around the last couple pieces of jerky in his hand. She smiled. “Your heart makes you blind to what people really are.”

“I think you overestimate my heart.”

“How so?”

“I know you aren’t a good person, Joel,” she said, and he started. His eyes narrowed at her as she continued, “I know what you do. I know you’ve killed people. I know that the man on my right with the hat has been watching us since I pulled out my lunch and he’s itching to steal it. I know that two people have been following me home for a week. I know that most people here wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet through my skull if it meant they could take some of my rations and scrape by for just a few more days. I’m nice, Joel…but that doesn’t make me stupid. And maybe I care too much, but usually it’s reserved for the people worth caring too much about.”

“...” he was quiet for a moment, but his face softened. “It’ll only get ya hurt, darlin’.”

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“Are you alright?” James asked, yanking her from her thoughts.

Y.n cleared her throat. “I’m fine!” she said cheerfully, smiling as she started to jog a little quicker to catch up with the others. Letting the snow settle on her cheeks, the chill sank into her skin and she hoped it would hollow out the anxiety swelling in her stomach—Freeze her until she was numb. She only had until Jackson to hope for the best, a week at most to believe in what was most likely a lie. She wasn’t ready to face the reality she feared was coming at the end of the line: Joel Miller was dead.

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Part 2

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