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luveline · 1 year

Note

if you’re taking joel requests here’s one :3

touch-starved!joel who isn’t aware he’s touch starved but then extremely affectionate reader comes along and just always! touches! him! loving & intentional touches, casual touches—all of it drives him wild and he loves it!!

thank you!! I hope this is okay! Touch-starved Joel who wants you but doesn't know how to want you w/ mutual pining ♥︎ fem!reader 2k

Joel wishes you wouldn't work the same shifts as him. Wishes you didn't have to work any shifts at all, wishes you didn't know this life, but you do. He wishes you wouldn't pick all the high-paying, devastating jobs that he does, wishes you didn't insist on keeping him company. And above all, he wishes you wouldn't touch him, because he can't handle the way that he feels when you do.

Sharing shifts turns to seeing one another outside of the old meat market by accident. In turn, that becomes purposeful. Before he really knows it, you're comfortable enough to come by his apartment and you'll wait there even when he isn't home just to see him. Precious hours of your life spent curled in on yourself at his door.

Joel nudges your sleeping body with his shoe and then feels like the world's biggest asshole. He sighs, kneeling down despite his aching back, and shakes your shoulder. He notices how soft your jaw looks when you sleep and has to look away, lest he think about it too much now, and remember it later. You have this habit of chasing him into bed when you're not there.

Your hand wakes before your eyes do, and you curl your fingers around his wrist, half on his sleeve and half on his skin. Where you connect hums with heat.

"Why are you out here?" He changes his prerogative, feeling as though chastisement is more important. "You have no sense of danger, even now. Get up."

He doesn't speak without fondness. You'd have to look hard to find it, but it's undoubtedly there.

His tone has you awake and alert quickly, your gaze on his face. "I do," you say croakily, letting him pull you into a standing position.

"Then what are you doing out here?"

"I can't call first… You look tired."

"I am. I'm not staying up." He pulls his wrist from your lingering grasp. "Should've called."

"You act like you don't like me," you say without inflection, following him in through the door and closing it softly behind you.

He drops his jacket over the back of the couch and scrubs his face with both hands. His back aches from standing and heaving all day, his arms tight with a cramping tension.

If he were younger he'd turn around and wrap you up in his arms. He'd tell you what he really thinks of you, your head hooked in the crook of his arm, his free hand roaming lazily over your back. His pinky finger would run along the line of your jeans playfully, and maybe you'd laugh. You don't laugh as much as you should.

"Are you hungry?" he asks.

"No, Joel."

You'd lie even if you were.

He moves into the kitchen, makes himself a small glass of water, and leans against the counter. He tries not to drink it like a total pig knowing you're watching, but he's dehydrated and cotton-mouthed.

The window paints you in a weak light, like iced tea. You pick over his things and arrange yourself on the couch like a tired house cat, pulling your legs up and rubbing your cheek against the backrest. Shoulders to the arm, you're almost lying down. He could superimpose you into his sheets, imagining how you might look in bed, not naked or waiting or anything so salacious, just how you’d look getting ready to sleep. He wonders if you wear pyjamas, figures you likely sleep dressed as you are now in your shirt and jeans. Maybe you swap denim for sweatpants, maybe you don’t. Maybe you peel your shirt off, maybe your bra. He entertains a life where he gets to see it and finds it painful as wrapping his hand around a hot poker, because that life is alarmingly close to this one, if he were to take one small leap.

“Where were you today?” he asks.

He sees a flicker of humour flit across your face. He knows it as one of your tells — you'd thought about bending the truth.

"You don’t have to worry, I’m just… rundown. Felt sicker than usual, so I stayed home."

It's automatic for him to give you a once over as he would with anybody who feels under the weather. You haven't been unlike yourself, you aren't sweating or irritable. You're fine. You’re more than fine.

You have a strange inability to look after yourself. He believes in positive (and negative) reinforcement.

"Good girl," he says.

You smile at your hands, picking at nails he knows are scrubbed raw and clean as he crosses the room to sit with you on the couch. You're quick to push your legs over his lap, your jeans riding up until the rarely-seen skin of your ankles peak out.

"I had an incredible headache," you continue. "And I felt like the blood was rushing in my ears when I stood up but I wasn’t dizzy.”

You touch him and it's like all his agitation starts to numb itself. The weight of your legs has him forgetting his aching back and his sore arms. He stares at his closed fist by your foot, willing himself to touch you; all he wants to do is grab your leg, feel the dough and softness of it under his palm. You sit up a touch to brush a longer piece of hair sticking out behind his neck.

He pretends you aren't moving at all.

"Do you feel better now?" he asks.

Your knuckle brushes under his jaw. He feels the short hairs of his beard catching.

"I feel fine," you say. "How are you feeling?"

He turns to face you head on. He’s not going to answer your question. You already know he won’t, but you've asked anyway. He isn’t sure what to do with that.

“You really do look tired,” you say softly, concern knitting your brows together. He thinks it’s your most devastating look yet. “I don’t wanna keep you up, Joel, I’ll go home. You can get some real rest.”

He almost says Hey, I don’t want you to leave yet, and you’re already standing up. You look more sorry than you should, believing that you're a burden on him when you aren’t — you're a lightness. You drain the levy, and he can’t see himself getting any rest at all if you leave.

You’re saving him the awkwardness, climbing off of his couch and out of his lap to track down your shoes. “And, you know, you could shower,” you say, trying to infuse some life back into the room, “I know the cold water bites but we all gotta do it.”

He stands up too fast and feels an absence of noise. No blood rushing in his ears, no beating heart. He’s too tired, in every sense of the word, to ask for what he wants. He can’t ask you to stay.

You lean down to hook your finger into the back of your sneaker and stop at his expression. You stand a little taller. Whatever vulnerability he sees in you now, your short black socks against the floor, your sweet-eyed, tentative smile, he suspects he’d find it doubled in the mirror.

“Joel, I…”

He can’t ask you.

But that doesn't mean you can't ask him.

"Do you think I could stay, after all? To sleep. Just to sleep," you say. Your voice is quiet, like you're trying to spare yourself some dignity if you need to take it back.

He thinks about it. You, in his bed. You, sleeping as you had been in his hallway, your lashes skimming the delicate skin under your eyes, your neck craned in. You, with your hands under your cheek, your sluggish breathing, your heart capering only a handful of inches from his.

A beat. "You kick in your sleep?" he asks, cotton-mouth returned.

"No," you say. You laugh through it, making the word so thick it's almost sticky. Honey in sound.

It solidifies what he's said yes to. He doesn't know how to sleep next to you. He barely knows how to talk to you, and doesn't try as he leads you into his bedroom. Thankfully, you spare him. He knows you aren't the most confident person on the planet, and that each bold move you make is for his benefit. He tries to be unflinching in return, kicking out of his shoes and throwing back the blankets to lie flat on the sheets. You settle in next to him with little ceremony.

You keep your legs hiked up at first, your heels digging into the mattress near his knees. You turn your face to his, and he turns his face to yours. He can see your every wrinkle and line this close. You must be seeing his.

"You got lucky with the neighbour lottery, huh?" you say, not quite whispering. "It's silent."

He doesn't want you to stop talking, but he can't help himself. "Almost," he says wryly.

You know him well enough to smile. "I guess you don't need the quiet," —you turn carefully onto your side, letting the weight of your knees rest on his thigh— "'cause you work all day every day."

The opposite. The shit he sees on shift is enough to give anybody insomnia.

"I'm the bad neighbour."

"Oh, right, your radio." The back of your hand touches his arm. The slightest of touches but enough to make him realise how much he wants it. He can't remember the last time somebody touched him who wasn't you, not for years now. It's an amicable casualness he can't explain away. He wants it worse than a hydro.

"I might, uh, might cling a little, in my sleep. You can push me away, swears. Even if you gotta really fight me on it." You close your eyes, burrowing your face into one of his flat pillows. Your knuckles jump up his arm as you get comfortable. "Jus' shove me."

He closes his eyes. The dark of his eyelids is usually a torment, but with you this close it lulls him quickly and without finesse. "I'm not gonna shove you," he says while he still can.

He's on the precipice of sleep when your hand slides up his bicep. You feel along the soft ridging of his muscles until your fingers slot between his arm and his chest, and your nose is kissing his shoulder. It's as if the moonlight has heat and it's bearing down on him through the dirty windows as every stressed ligament, every tensed tissue in his sore body finally gives in to rest.

When he wakes, he's missed his morning shift start. You're clinging to him like you said you would, harder than he'd think possible considering your unconsciousness, with your lips pressed to his shoulder. He thinks it might leave a bruise.

He dips his face toward yours until the tip of his nose nudges your forehead and goes back to sleep.

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vanillabourbon · 7 months

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the first of many. | chapter one | ongoing tlou series

story summary. joel arrives at Jackson twenty years after the outbreak with a young girl that cares for him just as much as he cares for her. little did he know, he would soon meet someone else that would urge his returning sense of humanity one step further.

chapter one warnings. i'm starting to realize this is going to be a slowburn, sorry friends.

story pairings. joel miller x reader, tommy miller x platonic!reader

words. 7873

Chapter One. The Prodigal Son.

Jackson, Wyoming. 2023.

It was a brutal winter. Jackson sat in a valley, leaving many, including you, to assume the brute of every storm would pass without much consequence. Of course, this once, you were wrong.

The nights were cold. Sometimes the following night was even colder. The indoors weren’t so bad, but you couldn’t help but to think of the bitter, chilly air while lying alone – awake for an unknown number of hours – in your bedroom. Every creak and groan of the house you took refuge in had long since gone silent whenever the wind died down at this hour. If solitude had a brink, you were sure this would be it.

The only noise you heard was the incessant ticking of the grandfather clock somewhere in the hallway. It was loud, repetitive to a fault, and the last thing you wanted to hear when another sleepless night led to the start of your patrol week. Every slow blink of your heavy eyelids only interrupted the path your eyes traced along the speckled ceiling above you. Every tick reminding you of all the times you forgot to ask Tommy to help you remove the clock from your house instead of spending your nights wondering who lived here before you.

Before the outbreak. Before the world fell to pieces.

The ticking was never the only noise. Not for long, of course. Jackson was stirring awake. Front doors were shutting and little children were already laughing. Despite the cold, despite the frostbitten fingers and cracked lips, despite the outside world staving off infected, every child-like sound and rumble of snow removal felt mind-numbingly similar to a world you’d almost forgotten.

Or maybe a world you wanted to forget. Even now you still couldn't decide.

Your thoughts were on repeat, just like the clock. And yet the clock was still louder. Much louder. Every second passed was excruciating. You willed yourself to be thoughtless. Every night you fought to quiet your mind … to no avail. Without the need or constant threat of surviving another day, there was nothing to displace a constant line of thinking that never failed to bring about a quiet discontent.

Eventually, you noticed the rhythm of the clock’s ticking coincided with every tap of your finger against your bed frame. Your back dug into the mattress, pressing yourself deeper and deeper into it as if your bed would swallow you whole. You ignored the sudden sounds of boots climbing up the stairs of your front porch as you forced yourself to stop tapping.

A well-timed, and fully expected, knock at your door did nothing to draw your gaze from the ceiling. Not at first. You knew who was on the other side of that door, and you also knew you didn’t want to hear a thing from Maria about being late to patrol. It was either bite the bullet now or later.

With a soft grunt, you chose now.

You hoisted yourself out of bed and ambled over to your opened closet. While you made quick work of changing your clothes, another round of sharp knocks – thump, thump, thump – echoed throughout your house. Insistent. Unrelenting. But still substantially polite.

Only Tommy, you thought. Only Tommy.

–

Before making your way to the front door, you slipped into the kitchen and grabbed a leftover apple you snagged from the dining hall. Strictly for appearances. You wanted to seem like you’d just awoken, that you’d started having a light breakfast before patrol. You weren’t unaware of Tommy’s ability to appear more oblivious than he actually was.

He’d notice. He always did.

You opened the door shortly after his fifth knock. The two of you made eye contact, already very much aware of the other’s intentions.

“I wasn’t going to miss check-in,” you stated, taking a pointed bite out of your apple. “I was just getting ready. Thinking about some new patrol routes to run by Colby before we leave.”

Colby, your patrol partner and ever the golden boy. No one thought twice of your word when you mentioned him, least of all Tommy.

You took a step back, acknowledging Tommy’s entrance, before grabbing your boots and walking toward the adjacent living room. Tommy closed your front door softly before following you. Slowly. Eyeing you as if he was trying to figure out how to broach an inevitable subject.

He shuffled forward, choosing to lean against the wall instead of sitting down next to you. It felt condescending. Wary. “I didn’t come here for that. You know that.”

You held your apple in your mouth as you shimmied a boot onto your foot. You raised your brow in question, trying to act as oblivious as you hoped you looked.

Tommy eyed you for a long moment before sighing. “You didn’t come by for breakfast again.”

You plucked the apple out of your mouth. “I overslept.”

“You never oversleep.”

“Maybe I’m just tired of eating breakfast with Maria.” Your defiant, tight-lipped smile immediately vanished at Tommy’s hurt expression. Your chest deflated. “ … And you.”

He frowned. “What?”

“With the baby coming, you two need to spend as much time together as possible, Tommy. I don’t want to get in the way of that.”

“You wouldn’t.” Tommy tried to give you a meaningful look, but you kept your eyes down. Your fingers worked to lace up your boot in the sudden silence. “Nothing’s going to change.”

“Everything’s going to change, Tommy. Everything has changed. And that’s alright. At least one of us had to relearn how to build some kind of a life.”

“You’re always welcome for breakfast. That’s never going to change.”

You let the silence drone on, using the need to put on your other boot as much needed time to think of what to say. Preferably how to change the subject. You took another bite of your apple before placing it on the coffee table in front of you.

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand before settling on a change in subject. “Yeah, well, I told myself that I’m going to start eating in the dining hall with Colby.”

“Thought you didn’t like Colby. You said he talked too much.”

“Yeah, so do you. I got used to that real quick. I’m sure I can give Colby the same benefit.”

Tommy let out a short laugh. “How is the new partner, anyway? First one who hasn’t switched on you since we were partners.”

“Are you saying I’m hard to be with?”

It was clear it was growing difficult to suppress a smile, but Tommy fought it well. “No,” he replied slowly. “I’m only saying. Seems nice enough. A good fit for ya.”

You finally caught on to his insinuation. The threat of something more – something intimate – made you recoil sharply. “Don’t, Tommy.”

“I’m just saying. He’s nice – a good man.”

“We patrol together, Tommy. And half the people in Jackson are ‘nice.’ Nice comes from losing so much.”

Almost instantly, you regretted making the conversation turn for the worse, but Tommy’s always been quick. He was leaning against the wall so openly, so casually, shoving his hands in his pockets with a familiar, disarming smile in less than a minute.

“You mentioned something about new patrol routes. Something happen?” You went quiet for a minute, standing to shoulder your jacket that’d been draped over the sofa. You ignored the few steps it took for him to cross the living room and stand in front of you. He helped you with your jacket without question. “You know if something happened, you and Colby have to report it.”

“I know, Tommy.” With a mutter, you added, “You sound like Maria.”

He paused, forcing you to look at him. “If something happened, you have to tell me.”

“Nothing happened, Tommy. Honest. Other than tripping and falling in the old warehouse, nothing’s happened.” You zipped your jacket and faced him fully, looking into his eyes with sudden sincerity. “Sometimes we all just need a change. In pace. In scenery. Just a change, Tommy. That’s all it is.”

Tommy’s response was slow … and then not at all. His mouth opened slightly before closing altogether.

You tilted your head, puckering your lips in annoyance. “You want me to run it by Maria.”

Nearly imperceptible, Tommy sucked in a breath, weighing his decision before shaking his head. “No. Not as long as you stick to the usual route most of the time. You know how they are around here. Real –”

“ – protective of this place. I know, I know. You remind me every day.” You gave him a small smile. A genuine one this time. “Deal.”

He shook his head, smiling like the over-tolerant man he tended to be with you. “C’mon, we’ve still got time to run by the dining hall.”

“We?”

“I’ve got time; I’m helping fix up some of the buildings today. You can eat a proper breakfast, and, if you’ve got new routes to share with Colby –,” he paused, ambling over to your front door and gesturing for you to follow close behind, “ — then I wanna hear ‘em.”

With that, the walk toward the door was already filled with Tommy’s habit for talking. It was clear his mind was elsewhere – on Maria, on the baby, on the state of Jackson. He had a habit like that, talking about the things that were clearly on his mind while trying to defect to other conversations to keep the solemnity of it all to a minimum.

You’d almost thank him for it. Almost.

It was always nice to hear regular conversation, as if the world wasn’t burning, and had burned, outside of everything that currently surrounded you. Tommy was good at that – a constant reminder that no matter how bad things were, there was always something, seemingly inconsequential, that could bring light to the seriousness of it all. Of everything, really. You liked that.

That’s why you let him talk and didn’t immediately wipe the growing smile that traced your lips.

“ – and I’ll probably work less, once the baby comes. Marie and I have already decided that,” he was saying. Your smile dropped, then.

It all felt strange – inane. Like everyone and everything was trying to rebuild something that wasn’t meant to be rebuilt. And children. Children were the last thing that should be brought into a world like this.

But he was Tommy, and you would be remiss not to share in his happiness.

You managed a tight-lipped smile, eyes barely leaving the ground, as you reached for the door knob. “Yeah, sounds great, Tommy. Happy for you.”

You eyed him for a moment, a smile threatening every inch of your countenance, but you shoved it down as soon as you opened the door. Your patrol partner, Colby, stood on your front porch, arm outstretched mid-knock, and wide eyes trained on the both of you. His tall, lanky figure stood awkwardly in your doorway.

Tommy stopped, mid stride, conversation dropping immediately and a wide grin spreading rapidly.

“Well, looks like we didn’t have to go lookin’ very far,” Tommy said, humorously bumping your shoulder as he shoved his hands in his pockets. He nodded in greeting, “Colby.”

“Tommy.” Colby nodded, looking between you and his raised fist before dropping his hand entirely. “I – um – I couldn’t find you at the dining hall. I thought I should swing by to check on you before our shift.”

Tommy’s eyes slid toward you with a smirk, muttering, “Well, ain’t that sweet.”

Colby’s hopeful expression was almost unbearable. For a moment, you tried for a smile, but you were sure it came across as more of a grimace. When you didn’t say anything, Tommy cleared his throat. The absence of subtlety was lost on Colby. His failure to notice your annoyance was almost as comical as his inability to tell your intention as you took a few pointed steps toward your pack hanging on a hook to your left.

You were going to leave your pack today, but you hoped it would send a message: Let’s get to the stables and start our shift. Nothing more; nothing less.

You nodded, hooking your pack across your shoulder. “Let’s go.”

Without another moment, you ushered the two of them out and away from your door. Even as you fished your house key out of your pocket, you could see the warm, encouraging smile Tommy gave Colby as they walked. You made no attempt to stop yourself from rolling your eyes at the sight.

The sound of your door locking tightly behind you sent you bounding down the stairs to join the two men on the street.

With a simple nod, you were going to walk right by Tommy and expect Colby to follow in your wake. But Tommy stopped you with a light hand tap to your arm.

“Careful on those new routes.”

“Always.”

He studied you for a long moment, eyes scrutinizing and stance weary. You just let him. Something in your gaze – determination, lack of fear, self-preservation – made him relax and, without warning, pull you into a side hug. You hit his side as he whispered, “Bring it in.”

You took a few measured breathes, letting yourself relax in his grasp, before you pushed yourself upright. You walked out of his embrace with another nod in his direction before heading to the stables.

You hardly noticed the way Colby looked when he fell in stride with you.

"I didn't take you for the affectionate type."

With a shrug, your clipped response was a grunted, "I'm not."

Despite yourself, Tommy's hugs were familiar, reminiscent of a time you couldn't quite place with people you couldn't quite remember. But the next time you saw Tommy, hours later, pulling another into that same kind of hug, it was suddenly different. Foreign.

Hours later, he was hugging his brother.

–

All of the air had been sucked out of the room the moment Joel Miller spoke.

Maybe we could have a moment alone, just for family, he had said.

Your immediate thought was how rude the insinuation must’ve seemed to Maria … until Joel’s gaze met yours first.

He had been in Jackson all of five minutes, and your eyes hadn’t left him since. Even now, when he and a young girl – Ellie, he had explained – sat across from you, Tommy, and Maria in the dining hall.

He looked exactly as you thought he might. You weren’t sure what it was you had been expecting from the older Miller, but the person sitting in front of you was pretty much it. Broad. Brooding. Similar to Tommy in looks and in stature, but still not quite the same. They were family, though, that was for sure.

And now he was making it very apparent that you were not.

The cold, icy feeling of isolation and neglect crept along the back of your neck at his words, bristling and tensing as his gaze fell over you for the first time. Briefly. He set his stare on Tommy after that, working his fork over what was left of his food.

He hadn’t bothered to look at you much, but you also made no effort to make your presence known. You hadn’t spoken since you'd returned from patrol and the two brothers had reunited. You hadn’t left Tommy’s side, either. The latter wasn’t unusual, of course, so there was no hesitation when you remained at his side, same as Maria. Hesitation only came when Tommy, with a slight pause, turned toward you.

In shock, you snapped your gaze from Joel to Tommy. Without the heat of your gaze, Joel’s eyes could appraise you without much risk. His eyes flitted between you and Tommy, trying but failing to understand the silent conversation that warred between the two of you. His eyes trailed from your hair to the way your fist furled and unfurled on the edge of the table. He was assessing. Gauging. His eyes were back on his plate within seconds.

Conversely, Tommy’s gaze pleaded with you, with every ounce of subtle vulnerability he could muster, with the warm, apologetic look he gave. He wanted you to do as Joel said. A sickening feeling peeled at your gut and constricted your throat at the thought.

But he and Joel were right; you weren’t family.

With an indignant sniff, you rose from your seat and left the dining hall without a single look back.

In your wake, Ellie watched your retreating figure with newfound interest. “Who’s that?”

After a moment, and a brief glance in Maria’s direction, Tommy answered with a cool smile, “A friend. We came to Jackson together. We survived together,” he paused, using his index finger to motion between Joel and Ellie, “Same as you.”

At that, Joel’s eyes momentarily slid over to the door you’d just exited from.

–

The latter half of the evening began to settle in when you heard a familiar gait approach you at the stables. You didn’t bother turning around, not initially. The sun had slipped below the hills surrounding Jackson, and you were sure you could safely spend the rest of the night alone before having to face Tommy again, or anyone really. You wanted to sift through your thoughts properly without the threat of having to speak to anyone else.

That's why you came to the stables. They're quiet. Unassuming. A good place to be alone.

You should’ve known Tommy wouldn’t let you stay that way.

It was no surprise that he knew to find you at the stables, checking the locks for the millionth time in the way you did when you could find nothing else to do with your hands. Or time.

It was cathartic, you used to always say. Made you feel like you were worth something.

“I didn’t think we rotated stable duty anymore. Not this quickly, anyway,” he called out. “Besides, I’d think you should still be sleepin’ off your patrol shift from this morning.”

You merely glanced at him over your shoulder, offering something between a scoff and a humorless laugh. “I’m just double checking. The new guys always forget something.”

“Suit yourself.” You could hear him shuffling around, trying but failing to avoid the obvious tension between the two of you. “You find anything interesting on your new route today? Was it the scenery you hoped for?”

Your back remained toward him as you mumbled something, nearly incoherent, in response. Nothing new. Different scenery, same feelings. Nothing worth over explaining … or explaining at all. Your voice faded and the silence continued until he let out a sigh.

“I wanted to apologize about earlier. I shouldn’t have made you leave. Everything was so tense –”

“Doesn’t matter. You don’t have to apologize. I get it.”

He paused before trying again. “Everything was so tense. I thought it best to do whatever Joel said to ease it up a bit. Make ‘em feel more comfortable.”

You only nodded, and Tommy sighed again. He moved to lean against a wooden post, crossing his arms and looking at his feet. You wanted to finish checking the locks before you turned around. You thought of him, and the girl, and Joel. His brother came back, and Tommy chose to cater to him. That should be fine. That is fine. You’d probably do the same, if you could.

Joel. Something about him clung to your mind, and perhaps that was why your skin crawled and you hadn’t felt right since seeing him. You never quite thought of what to expect when you met him. If you met him. The way Tommy had dropped little pieces of information about him – here and there, in spurts and bouts – you were sure you knew the man already. But the man that had sat across from you was unforthcoming, aloof, restrained, hard to read, … stiff.

You nearly wanted to double over at the memory of Tommy once telling you that you reminded him of his brother.

Finally, you stopped idling poking around with the locks and dropped your shoulders, turning to face him. At least he could be read like a book.

“I know there’s more, Tommy. What is it? Did he tell you the real reason why he came?”

Tommy shook his head quickly. Almost too quickly. “I really do think he came to check up on me, that's all. I haven’t radioed him in a while.”

“I told you to.”

“I know. Can’t pass up an opportunity to say, ‘I told you so,’ can you?” A moment of silence. His smile died on his lips as he was forced to acknowledge the seriousness. “He wants me to take the girl.”

“What do you mean? Take her where?”

“South. The fireflies have a base in Colorado.”

“Did he tell you why?”

He looked at you – communicative yet reluctant. Like he wanted to tell you but couldn’t, and the guilt made him apologetic. You swallowed a lump forming in your throat.

“Alright,” you said slowly. “Did he tell you anything else?”

“Nope. Just that I need to take her … and I agreed.”

You nodded, weighing your options in your head. “Well, then, when do we leave?”

“Woah, ‘we’?” Tommy pushed himself off the post and walked a step closer. “There’s no we on this. It’s just me and the girl.”

“Tommy, if you think I’m letting you leave Jackson without me, you’re wrong. And you know it.”

“It’s just a week’s ride. You and me, we’ve gone further than that – separately, too. I’ll be fine. I’ll take the girl, and be back before your next stable duty. I need someone here to watch Maria. To watch Joel. Someone I can trust.”

“Yeah? And who will watch you?”

He let out a short laugh. “I don't need anyone to watch me.”

“You know it’s more than that, Tommy. I have a bad feeling about this.”

You both shared a look – a knowing look. Tommy was well aware of how much it meant to you when you had a bad feeling. And it was true. You practically couldn’t stand still at the thought of it all.

He nodded in understanding before looking away. “I get it, but I’m going alone on this. It’ll be easier. Faster. But I needed to tell you so you don’t go worryin’ tomorrow morning.”

He looked like he wanted to say more, to step closer and end the conversation with a light, familiar hand to the shoulder, but he didn’t. He only gave you one last meaningful look before turning and walking away.

–

That night was the same as all others. The incessant ticking of the grandfather clock, the methodical tracing of every grove and indent in the ceiling above you, and the quiet natural sounds of the undisturbed town. The only difference was the added weight that dipped the mattress at the base of your bed – your bag.

Despite what Tommy said, you fully planned on joining him in the morning with a bag packed with two week’s worth of essentials.

Over and over, you imagined the conversation in the stables. You were searching for any giveaways on Tommy’s face that might lend any credibility to what Joel was getting him into. Why the fireflies? Why would the girl need to go to one of their bases? Why come all the way to Jackson? What made the girl so important?

Your stomach churned at every scenario and theory, eyes regularly forgetting the path they were tracing across the speckled ceiling. With a low huff, you turned on your side and stared at the curtains instead. The standard, white, thin curtains that came with the house, same as the clock. They weren’t your favorite, but they reminded you of the time before. They reminded you that there even was a time before.

For whatever reason, that brought as much comfort as it did pain.

Whether the thought brought a wave of fatigue that pushed you over the brink of sleep, you couldn’t tell, but you were pulling yourself up and out of bed the moment the first signs of daylight poked through your window. The early sunlight spilled lazily across your floorboards and sent your heart thumping wildly.

You knew if the two of them were leaving, they would do so early. You’d be damned if Tommy left you behind.

You were up and out of your house faster than you’d ever been before. A small part of you tried not to dwell on the fact that your heart was actually beating with excitement. The thought of leaving Jackson for some time was invigorating – freeing. You’d never admit it to Tommy – you’d barely admit it to yourself – but the town was far too overwhelming at times.

You’d traded Fedra's walls for Jackson’s walls, and the idea was none too pleasing next to the sight of all of the calm, relaxed faces.

It still seemed so trivial to have all of this in here – calm, reassurance, life – while the world rotted out there.

The suffocation of it all was also one of the reasons you jumped at the chance to join the patrol team only days after you and Tommy joined Jackson. You needed a regular out, to catch your breath and to remind yourself there still was a world out there. Broken, tattered, and empty. But it was there all the same.

And now here was another chance, an opportunity to go even for just a little while longer.

Even if the last thing you expected was to turn the corner at the entrance of the stable and see Joel.

The older Miller was fiddling with one of the padlocks, mumbling something under his breath before he chanced a look over his shoulder to find you watching him with partially parted lips. He froze that way for a second. It never occurred to you which one of you would speak first until the silence between you started to stretch on, second by second.

The two of you took a breath at the same time, seconds away from over-talking one another, just as Colby rounded the corner and came to a stop a few steps behind you. Your name left his lips, breathlessly and pleasantly surprised.

“What are you doing here?” He asked. You turned to face him just as his eyes flitted towards Joel before settling back on you. “Our name’s aren’t on the board for today.”

You nodded. Your bag suddenly seemed heavy on your shoulder, so you adjusted the straps to avoid eye contact for a few seconds. “I could ask you the same question.”

“Olivia and Myles need some things fixed around their house. Toby mentioned we had some spare tools lying around the stables if I wanted to help.” His voice trailed off at the sound of Joel yanking the padlock off one of the horse’s pens. Colby’s eyes shifted to your bag. “Are you heading out?”

You heard the faintest stutter in Joel’s movements. You wondered if he realized Tommy let you in on the matter.

When you didn’t immediately respond, Colby tried for a laugh. It sounded oddly strained. “Showing the new guy the ropes already, huh?”

An exaggerated grunt sounded behind you, and you rolled your eyes. Joel’s lack of response and familiarity with you should’ve been enough of an answer for Colby. Obviously not, of course.

“No,” you stated simply. You were quick on your feet. Dismissive. You felt partially bad for how smoothly a lie flew from your lips to placate his misplaced curiosity, but you wanted him gone more than anything else at the moment. “I’ve been helping Maria with something.”

Your response did exactly as you anticipated. There was little opposition whenever you said you were doing something for Maria; no one ever asked or pushed further. Thankfully, Colby was one of the many who never asked questions.

Colby nodded, excusing himself as he stepped by you and walked toward one of the work benches. His gaze flitted toward Joel several more times as he collected a few items and grabbed a nearby toolbox. You’d never seen him in such a rush to do anything. You wondered if he could feel the taut air, the strained edginess in the situation he just walked in on.

If he did, his smile didn’t show it.

He walked back toward you on his way out, brushing your shoulder with his own. He nodded his head in goodbye. “I’ll see you around.”

Your only response was a tight-lipped smile as you watched his retreating figure. Anything to avoid turning back to Joel for as long as possible. You weren’t sure what to say or how to say it. You were sure he suspected Tommy told you what the two of them had discussed, even if Tommy hadn’t told you much. Joel didn’t know that.

And, when you turned around, Joel’s expression gave away exactly what you figured. Partial annoyance littered every muscle in his face as his jaw feathered.

With eyes trained on you, he nodded in your direction. “Tommy tell you?”

You didn’t know whether to nod or vigorously disagree. You were aware of how rocky their relationship was, how turbulent their past must have been for the two of them to separate, and you wanted little to do with however they felt about one another.

Still, Joel took your silence as an answer and clucked his tongue in irritation.

“You shouldn’t blame him,” You spoke up, crossing your arms defiantly, “When I want information, I’m pretty good at grilling people for it.”

“I know Tommy. He doesn’t need much grillin’.”

Silence ensued once more until your curiosity won. You watched him strap his pack on the horse for a few moments before speaking up again. “If Tommy’s the one leaving, why are you here? Prepping a horse, no less.”

“I’m giving Ellie a choice – me or Tommy.”

“And why’s that?”

“It’s only fair.”

“No, I mean, why Tommy? Why not you? It’s been just you and Ellie so far. Why change that now?”

“Tommy’s younger. Stronger. Faster. Her best bet would be to leave with him.”

You considered that, eyes wandering Joel’s figure with sudden interest. It was partially self-indulgent, if you were to be completely honest with yourself. It was your first time really getting to look at him … and he looked alright. A slight tilt to his gait, from age or injury or both. His broad frame and build were controlled, guarded, muscular.

With a shrug and a brief look away, you tried for indifference. “You seem just fine.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not. Tommy’s the better choice.”

“Tommy has a kid on the way.”

“Yeah, well,” he paused, casting a short glance in your direction, “not that it’s your place, but it’s important that Ellie gets to where she needs to be.”

You chose not to say anything after that. You felt it best to wait for Tommy, to see how this would all play out. You were fine there, with your arms crossed and eyes now pinned on your shoes, until one side of the saddle slipped. Joel’s frustrated sigh made your head snap back up. He was holding one of the saddle clamps in one hand and raising his other hand to his mouth, biting the tip of his gloved finger to yank the glove off completely.

With a roll of your eyes, you dropped your bag and marched towards him without a second thought. He was too distracted, busying himself with the horse’s straps, to notice you until you were grabbing the loose straps from his cold hands and finishing them yourself.

He didn’t protest or take a step back – didn’t move an inch, in fact. All he did was take his glove from his mouth and stare down at you, sizing you up.

“Why’re you here? Were you going to leave with them – with Tommy and Ellie?” He paused. “Is that what your bag is for? Was that your plan?”

He made your idea sound ridiculous. Far-fetched. His tone was enough to make you shoot a glare over your shoulder, making brief but pointed eye contact before your attention fell back to the horse.

“Wherever Tommy goes, I go.”

“That so?”

You only hummed in response until you conceded. “Mostly.”

“Why’s that? Tommy said this trip shouldn’t be dangerous.”

“It’s not.”

“Then why leave?”

The last strap slipped easily in place, and you turned to look at him. “Because I want to.”

You’re not sure why you said it, however truthful it was. His brow furrowed in confusion, and a part of you wondered if you said too much. It was clear his persistence only meant his genuine concern for his and Ellie’s safety. You were sure he wasn’t expecting to pull a confession from you.

Thankfully, the sound of footsteps interrupted the silence once more as Tommy and Ellie rounded the corner of the stable’s entrance. You stepped away from Joel to meet Tommy halfway, and the movement caught Tommy’s attention immediately. His approach suddenly became cautious, weary. His brow furrowed, and you noticed how similar his confused expression was to Joel’s.

“What are you doing here?”

With a smirk, you responded, “Told you you wouldn’t leave here without me.”

He only shook his head, fighting a grin, as the two of you turned to watch Joel and Ellie. It came as a shock to you how quickly she chose Joel. Her decision was quick, without question, and made Joel fail miserably in hiding his elation. She was already swinging her leg to climb on top of the horse by the time Joel registered her clear devotion.

You should’ve been relieved – relieved that Tommy would be staying here and not taking some random teenager across the empty planes far from Jackson, alone. Maybe a part of you should’ve felt traces of bitterness for not having the opportunity to leave as you wanted to. But all you felt was a feeling of dread deep in your chest, like that day twenty years earlier. Outbreak Day. The day your brother never came back.

“I’m going with them.”

It was quiet. Small. Even without trying, Tommy still heard it.

His head whipped towards you. “What? Why?”

“Something still doesn’t feel right, Tommy.”

He studied you – the way your eyes never left Ellie, or Joel. Finally, he nodded. “Then, I’ll go.”

“What?” You turned to face him, shaking your head. “Tommy, you can’t just leave like you used to. Maria needs you here.”

“If something happens to my brother, I should be there.”

A lump formed in your throat at his sentiment, but you’ve had enough practice to push it down. You only nodded solemnly. “Maria needs you Tommy. I’ll go.”

Tommy took a moment. He looked between Joel and Ellie, then to you. He finally nodded and set his gaze on Joel. “You need an escort?”

–

A part of you was glad to find immediate solace in the way the sun crept along your neck and pulled apart your every tensed muscle. Even if your only thought was Tommy's parting words to you.

"Play nice," he had whispered, looking meaningfully towards you. He had nodded in Joel's direction. "Go easy on him."

The other part of you was too consumed by the consistent chatter coming from the two trotting close to your left. Joel’s responses, however short and sparse, were nothing compared to Ellie’s tendency to ramble. His speech still came – deep and soft – more often than you expected it to. Joel was a different man with Ellie; that much was clear.

“What about you?” Ellie's voice drifted towards you without caution.

“Ellie,” Joel grunted.

“What? It’s just a question. Doesn’t have to be answered … but I know it will be.”

Your eyebrow perked up as you chanced a side-long look in her direction. “Yeah? What makes you think that?”

“I can see you over there, practically dying to chime in on our conversation.”

“That’s an overstatement.”

“Maybe … but it’s true. Partial truth, I guess, but true all the same.”

“I actually didn’t think the two of you would be this talkative.”

“He didn’t use to be.”

You looked over at Joel this time. His eyes flitted away from you at first contact, feigning indifference. His elbow nudged Ellie from where she sat behind him, gripping his jacket. It was clearly his attempt to shut her up before she said something that might crack his facade. But you’d be lying if you weren’t curious. The older Miller brother was growing harder to read – nothing like how you’d thought or how Maria assumed him to be.

You decided to lean into Ellie’s good graces, to spurn her on. If and only if to protect Tommy, even if it meant from his own brother. “Alright. I’ll bite.”

“He used to be a grump. Always said,” she paused, inflating her chest as she put on, what you assumed to be, her best attempt at Joel’s accent, “‘no’ or ‘Ellie shut up.’”

“And what changed?”

The two of them went radio silent, and you shrugged it off with an annoying tug of disappoint. At worst, you’d already missed your chance to nudge at the real reason the two of them suddenly wound up in Jackson, or if Joel posed a risk to all that Tommy built away from him. At best, you gained the silence you were hoping for.

For two seconds.

“So, movies. Were they always like that – like back in Jackson. Just a bunch of people in front of a screen, watching some boring movie.”

You wanted to snort at that. A brief quirk of the corners of your lips probably betrayed the humor you’d found in her statement. For a brief moment, you remembered him – your brother. Jostling your shoulders in the snack line, ready and willing to watch some movie with you because none of your friends would. So carefree, so unaware of the hell that would lead to neither one of you seeing the inside of a theater ever again.

The hilarity of it all suddenly died.

“Pretty much,” Joel offered. “Overpriced junk food, long lines, and faded chairs with candy stuck between every cushion.”

You frowned at that, sending a glare in his direction that you didn’t entirely mean. Before the outbreak, movies were your favorite. It felt remiss to let Joel dull the experience for a kid – for someone who would never get to experience it the way you did. The way either of you did, if Joel were to be honest you were sure.

You scoffed, gaining both of their attention almost immediately. “Jackson is only half of what the world was like. A good half – or start, I guess – but half all the same. Everything’s different, including movies. Back then, movies were packed with people of all ages. Everyone was always excited to see whatever was playing. Or, sometimes, you’d go to these places – stores – and get the movies there to watch at home.”

“Movie stores,” she stated. Whimsical. Dream-like.

You nodded. “You’d rent them, take them home, and probably lose them the next day. You’d rack up enough late fees to make you never want to rent a movie again. Then you show up … and do it all over again.”

“Why?”

Thinking about the world in its current state and everything you did before the outbreak seemed silly, dramatic. The cares of that life seemed so far away, so distant and ridiculous, you were sure it had no meaning now and certainly had no meaning then. But it was nice … even if the information was being forced out of you, pried by someone – just a kid – who meant no harm, just an innocence worth protecting.

“I don’t know,” you answered truthfully.

You spared a glance in their direction and saw them both looking at you intently. You cleared your throat, mentioning something about being careful and needing to make it to your destination in a timely manner, before spurring your horse forward with a kick of your heel.

–

Their words became isolated, faraway, with the distance you put between yourself and them. You kept your head on a swivel, watching and waiting for anything out of the norm or out of place. It had been awhile since you made this trip, but you were still able to remember natural landmarks fairly easily. You were starting to think your worry was for nothing, that Joel might be wondering why you’d made such a commotion at the thought of them leaving alone.

At the thought, you turned around to check on the now silent duo. Your checks were periodical, militaristic, but necessary all the same. From here, it seemed like Ellie’s head had found rest against Joel’s shoulder, brown ponytail tossing in the wind and brushing against his bare skin. It stirred something in the pit of your stomach, so you faced forward.

You trotted onward, slightly shocked Joel made no mention of setting up camp as the sun dipped lower and lower. Your only thoughts were on the destination, pushing and testing the boundary on how far you could ride before camp was unavoidable.

Eventually, you decided to relent. The sun was low in the sky, and dusk was beginning to wane. You turned and sent a nod in Joel’s direction before pulling off the road to find camp. This was the one part you never particularly liked. Camping, even in a part shrouded by trees, felt too open, too vulnerable. But it was all you could manage between here and the firefly base.

To your slight surprise, Ellie and Joel worked in near perfect unison to take off their packs and find places to settle while you attended to the horses. It didn’t take long for Ellie to slip into her sleeping bag and let sleep wash over her. Even in the middle of a dense wooded area, on hardened ground and surrounded by unlocalized sounds, sleep came easily for her. You were slightly jealous and suddenly reminiscent of times when sleep came easily for you too.

When you were finished, you took refuge against a tree, back digging into the bark. Quietly, Joel sat adjacent to you, eyes also on Ellie but, every so often, on you.

“How do you know Tommy?”

You almost wanted to laugh at how quickly he jumped right into conversation. Without Ellie’s chatter, it didn’t seem like Joel could stand the quiet any more than he could stand having an added third party with them. Or maybe he was just genuinely curious about his brother. With all the time between them since the last time they’d seen each other, it was only right that he’d be interested in the life Tommy built away from him.

You wondered what it was like – for an older sibling to watch what the younger had built without them, without their help.

Tommy. Just the thought of him made you turn toward Joel. You caught his eye just as his gaze flitted toward you. The two of you eyed each other, wearily.

You wanted to ignore Joel completely if it meant sitting in comfortable silence, but Tommy meant something to you. And Joel meant something to Tommy.

Play nice, Tommy had whispered. You partially hated how he assumed you wouldn’t … even if he was right.

“We met a little while before we bumped into Maria and her crew.” You shrugged. “I guess you could say we’ve been something like partners ever since.”

“He never mentioned you on the radio.”

“Tell me, Joel, did you ever have conversations that would’ve led to him mentioning me?”

Joel seemed partially stunned by the biting remark. He gave a small shake of his head before retreating back into himself. A heavy feeling settled in your chest at the sight. With a sigh, you decide to give conversation another try.

“So, how do you know the kid?”

He huffed. “‘S complicated.”

You glanced at the horizon. “We’ve got six hours, cowboy.”

The nickname slipped from your tongue so easily you almost didn’t catch it. It was normal, typical, when talking to Tommy. You tried to ignore Joel’s raised brow when he looked at you for a long moment before responding.

“I’m just meant to protect her, that’s all.”

“I get that.”

A wry smile broke his neutral expression as he shook his head, picking up your insinuation. “Tommy’s a grown man. He doesn’t need protectin’.”

“And that’s why you traveled across the country to get to him?”

“He’s my brother. That’s different. ”

“Yeah.” You nodded, swallowing an impending lump in your throat. Your gaze dropped to your lap. “Yeah.”

A quiet fell between you two. The surrounding trees suddenly felt too close, too restrictive. You were certain they were starting to close in on you. You probably would've stood and tried to find a clearing had it not been for Joel clearing his throat.

“What about you — any family?”

“We all used to have somebody.”

“Colby seems to know you well enough. Seems to be the only person I’ve seen you talk to other than Tommy.”

“Well, in the two minutes you’ve been here, yes. Colby’s my patrol partner. It was always Tommy, but we’ve learned to accept things as they are in Jackson. Even if it means something as simple as trading shifts.”

“You or Tommy?”

You looked at him, brow quirked in confusion. “What?”

“You said ‘we’ve learned to accept.’ You certainly sound like ‘em. At least, the way he is now anyway. Just wonderin’ if you’ve taken to Jackson’s many … rules like he has.”

You suddenly remembered what you had told him back at the stables – about wanting to leave Jackson. You shook your head at the memory.

“Jackson really is a good place. They’ve treated us like their own from day one. I didn’t trust them at first, but we made friends … I still think I can thank Marie’s soft spot for Tommy for that.”

“So you were there? When they were … married.”

“Of course I was. Look, I know Tommy. He rushes into things, doesn’t always think them through …,” Your voice trailed off at Joel's sharp glance. You realized how you must’ve sounded, but it was clear his sudden attention wasn’t from a place of warning or hostility. He was agreeing, partially shocked at how observant and perceptive you were to who his brother was. You continued on, “ … but I really think he took his time with this. He cares about her, a lot.”

“And you?”

“What about me?”

“You and him just seem so close. I thought …”

He wasn't sure what he thought, but he didn't finish his thought. A part of you was glad for it, even if the conversation dwindled. Not because you weren’t used to people assuming some sort of romantic past existed between you and Tommy, which it didn’t, but because you were not in the least bit interested broaching that subject with his older brother.

You stood to your feet. “Tommy’s my friend. I protect his the way he would protect mine. Right now, that means you.” You look around, trying not to look at his expression. He seemed surprised – eyeing you as if he was trying to figure you out. You didn’t particularly like it. “We should probably check the perimeter again. It’s been awhile.” You nod in some vague direction. “I’ll head over there, make sure the area’s clear.”

“Yeah.” Joel was nodding finally, taking his time to stand to his feet. He seemed to tower over you, even while leaning. It was then you noticed he was slightly taller than Tommy. A few inches, but taller all the same. You were surprised he didn’t laugh at the notion of you protecting him the way Tommy always did. “If you see something … shout.”

“And wake the kid?” You nodded toward Ellie, sleeping in her sack like a pile of bricks. A ghost of a smile almost graced your lips. Almost. “I’d kill to sleep like that again. If I see something, I’ll take care of it.”

“She’s tougher than she looks. Even if you do wake her, she’ll be alright.”

The two of you shared a nod before parting ways. Joel was the one to glance over his shoulder at your retreating figure first. Then you at his.

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