✨

You were at the gurney in an instance, Robby joining the herd in the pushing of the bed. It took you less than a second to see through the bag in the neck and the blood and the uniform to recognise the one on the gurney. “Hiro? What happened?”

“Warehouse robbery gone wrong,” said Jack with almost absent of mind. He said the words and promptly seemed to realise who he was talking to and looked up- at you- again. “You're working today?”

“Oh no, I just hang around in hopes of seeing you in unfiorm.”

Next to you, Robby chuckled and beyond Jack you gave quick greeting to your laughing buddies, clad in SWAT uniform.

You were what could be called, a floater.

By all educational means you were a doctor and a damn good one too. You had every certificate you needed and all the flying colours you could get. You just didn't have a permanent job. You were a sub. You worked mainly at PTMC and on the field but had been known to go to the dark side, a.k.a, Presby.

“Okay, on my count,” you begin. “One, two, three-”

You helped lift him over to the bed.

“Did you intubate him?” you asked,

“Yeah, under active fire,” said Jack.

You looked at Jack. Sweat on his forehead, flecks of grey hair sticking to him and the shirt under his army vest hung lose. He was dishevelled in away romance characters presented on books covers. To lure you in. “You were shot?”

“Shot at.”

“You need to be looked at?”

“No. I'm fine.” His lips were pursed, focus on Hiro.

“Did you see the chords when you intubated?” asked Robby, floating around the two of you as Jack refused to leave Hiro's side and you stayed by Abbot. He'd seen it a dozen times before. A disaster where there was one, there was the other.

There was the occasions he'd hand over to Jack, go home, sleep and come back to find Jack had called in you. You who was always ready to go at the first buzz of your pager. Wherever it was, whatever you had to do. And Robby would look through the patients that night, check the board and understand they hadn't really needed your help all that much.

Jack had.

Now, Robby saw the way you looked at Jack and had seen the gap that existed between the two of you.

“Yeah, I did but it was hard to miss when I cleared them.”

Jack reached and you watched as he stretched, wincing at the pull in his shoulder.

“You should get that looked at,” you told him.

“I'm fine.”

“No, you're not.”

There was a small roll of the eyes as Jack's gaze rose to meet yours through his goggles. There was almost a tiny hint of a smirk- your favourite kind but it disappeared as soon as it appeared.

“Yeah, c'mon Abbot!” said Charlie, calling from the back of his room where he stood with Diaz, two of the SWAT officers you were most frequent with. “Let doc work you up.”

You chuckled low to yourself, trying to catch Jack's eyes to share the joke but he looked away, his jaw clenching.

So, he wasn't in the joking mood.

“Alright, fellas, out!” leaving the wounded's side you ushered them out in spite of their protests and their giddy, hopeful optimism that Officer Hiro would pull through. “We'll let you know any changes, out!”

You pulled on a gown and cleared a way over.

“Demanding,” said Robby.

“You should hear me in the bedroom,” you teased with a wink.

Over on the other side you caught a small click from Jack's tongue. A disapproval voiced loud enough for others to hear.

You grasped the ultrasound wand from the nurse, circling it around the wound at Hiro's neck while Jack pulled away the gauze he'd packed, carefully minding you. “Good lung sliding, no pneumo-”

The last gauze peeled away in a bloody mess and a rope of blood shot out directly at you for vengeance.

“Geez- woah!”

“Pumper!” you announced, clamping your hand over the wound.

The streak of red cut through the skin on your neck, your gown and the doctors coat you liked to wear just like they did in tv shows. You had a draw full of them at home for instances like that.

“Hey, hey,” Jack was at your side quick as you loomed over the body. “Move back, get yourself cleaned up.”

“I can handle a little blood, Abbot.”

“I know that but-”

“- this is a transected trachea now-”

There was little else time to worry about blood on your gown and coat when the intubation was pulled out, the hole in his throat open.

There was a lot people said about you, with words and looks alike but none of which passed you or bothered you. You knew some thought you abrash and loud, you were, you knew it true. On the field the teams you worked with always thought you as one of them, 'one of the guys' but damn it- you were a good doctor.

You ordered everything correctly, you took them and worked them without so much as a blink and Robby stood behind you approving of everything you did.

It was one of the reasons he always called you in.

“Well done, good breaths sounds, stats are up: in the nineties,” approved Robby.

Jack hummed, pulling off his gloves as you all backed away. “Not bad.”

Your carried your smirk with you and over to him. “Is that the great Jack Abbot stamp of approval?”

“You know I think you're good at you're job,” he said, plainly.

You did know that. You knew that Jack admired your skills. He was one of the only ones who'd seen your skills on the field when sometimes all you had left in your kit was the dregs from other procedures or in the hospital when everything was pristine. He'd worked closest to you, probably out of everyone in either one of your jobs.

But there was always something about Jack that kept him far away. He was always a man that was so calm, which in the the face of conflict wasn't a bad call. Yet, it was the quiet moments in between- the way his footfall would slow to match yours, or the glances he'd steal at you half way across the ward, or the extra snacks he'd pack that had you searching rooms for him, checking shifts to see if you'd be around him.

Then when you were, Jack pursed his lips, clenched his jaw, acted like he wanted to be anywhere else sometimes than at your side.

He was a complicated man. Annoyingly that's what added to your attraction- and everyone knew it.

Once the two of you told Officer Charlie and Diaz that Hiro was stable enough to be taken to surgery you followed after Jack.

“You sure you don't want me to look at that shoulder for you?”

“Hmm? Oh, no, it's fine,” he excused.

“Don't want the paperwork?”

“Something like that,” said Jack, still shifting around in pain as he tried to roll his shoulder out.

“Okay, okay, but get it looked at!” you called off, ready to shed your coat or at least try and rub off some of Hiro's blood.

There was a mutter from Jack before he went another way.

You looked back to him once, watching as he walked off with a small limp that probably wasn't detectable to anyone that didn't analyse him like you did. It was a brutal sort of thing, SWAT, and with Abbot's sleep schedule you knew it was only worse. Eight- maybe ten hour shifts for so little sleep to get thrown back into the fire- literally. You wondered how he did it.

And, why.

Jack flexed out his shoulder at the press of the q-tip to his back.

He meant it, the wound really wasn't that bad. It had grazed through his clothes and vest but still hit just enough to leave an angry welt and bruising. He was content to hide away and sort it himself if it weren't for the fact he couldn't reach.

Then Samira Mohan walked by and offered her help. He was already tired, annoyed that those punks had thought it a good idea to rob a warehouse in the middle of the day, already worried about Hiro and his recovery. Then- there was you, with your snarky comments while saving his life, not batting a lash at the blood that got splattered on you in the mean time and still having time to flirt with Robby.

And prancing around in this scrub pants that were surely just a bit too tight.

Jack was wound up, which was why he admitted surrender and allowed Mohan to clean out his wound.

“Why do you do this?” she'd asked.

Jack had folded his arms over his chest, suddenly very aware he was shirtless in front of her. “My therapist says I need a hobby. I suck at golf.”

She hummed. “Funny.”

“Thank you.”

He made conversation to be polite, asking about the fellowships he knew others were already applying for. Crus had been telling him about them and he knew Mohan was searching to.

They were chatting was all when Robby walked by, looking in to check.

He frowned when he saw Mohan and Abbot, pausing in his fly by with a hand in the door way.

Jack watched as Robby looked around again at the ward, undoubtedly searching for you.

“We're almost finished up here,” said Mohan.

Robby held up his hands. “I didn't say anything,” he said, leaning in the doorway. He passed Jack a nod. “You good?”

“Getting there, thanks to Doctor Mohan's capable hands.” Jack kept his eyes averted from Robby as if he'd done something wrong. He hadn't. He'd told you the wound didn't need looking at because he was going to handle it.

Robby looked at him the sort of way he looked at patients when he knew they were lying about their scale of pain. “Can you give us a second?”

Just as Jack was about to push himself up Samira moved behind him.

“Er, yeah, sure. No problem,” she said, pulling off her gloves and listing off post-care instructions from instinct. “Keep it clean and the dressing fresh.”

“Can do, Doctor Mohan. Thank you.”

Robby stepped out of the way for Mohan before walking in, staring at Jack with his hands in his pockets.

Jack found his shirt discarded on the floor and pulled it over him. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? Clearly,” said Jack.

“Are you avoiding her, now?”

Jack didn't need to ask who he was talking about and Robby didn't need to specify. “Course not.”

“Did she do something?”

“No.”

“So what was all that? Back in trauma?” asked Robby. His eyes were beady, waiting to pick up on any shift in Jack or anything that might betray him. But Robby wore his heart on his sleeve. He might think he doesn't or thinks he's good at hiding such emotions away but Jack and everyone else sees them anyhow.

Jack had his heart buried deep down. “I dunno, man,” he huffed, ignoring the burning sensation as he pulled his shirt back over him. “Maybe I just didn't feel like joking around when my buddy was bleeding out on the table.”

Robby shook his head, eyes creasing. “People bleed out all the time.”

Jacks lips pursed as he worked on tucking his shirt back into his pants. Anything to keep him occupied and averted from Robby’s knowing gaze.

“I haven’t seen you this worked up since you first met her,” he teased.

“Now I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” Abbot grumbled.

Robby chuckled low in his throat, leaning back on the wall comfortable like he was watching his favourite show. “When two consenting adults like each other very much-”

“I don’t,” said Jack, abrupt. “I don’t… like her.”

“Jack, c’mon-”

Jack turned to Robby. He considered his confusion. Sure, you were a great doctor and even better on the field. Something about the chaos seemed to focus you, bringing out your best self. You were funny, even at the worse times.

“She’s not it for me,” he said, trying to mean those words.

Your smile first thing in the morning didn’t warm him. The fact you knew his coffee order after only two days of working together didn’t make him feel special. You were incredibly intelligent. Beautiful.

Jack twisted and turned around his wedding band.

Robby watched, heaving a sigh. “Brother…”

Jack couldn’t keep you in his heart when his dead wife still held a place there. It wasn’t fair to you.

“She’s not it, Robby.”

“And why not?” He asked, pushing and prodding against his bag of lies like he knew he was carrying it.

“She’s different- we’re two different. You know with my- with my wife we worked. She wasn’t a doctor, she didn’t throw her life away on field missions. She wasn’t… she wasn’t ruthless, she was soft. Perfect for me.”

He pressed down against the metal band branding him.

“You’re not gonna give yourself a chance to be happy because she’s not like your wife?” Asked Robby.

Jack glanced back at him. “I know what works for me. I can’t be with someone as loud or… bash. She’s-she’s brutal, you know.”

Robby nodded but there was a furrow between his brows. “We all have our own ways of dealing with things.”

“Her way is drinking every weekend, out with the guys, there’s no healthy habits there,” argued Jack. Why he was arguing about you with Robby he didn’t know. Why he was defending himself with words that fell like led on his tongue he had no idea.

“Okay,” said Robby in a way that marked defeat.

But Jack didn’t believe what he was saying. He heard himself and frowned. “And I don’t even think she’s a person who could settle down. Hmm, I mean look at her job? She’s constantly in between them.”

“She’s a sub, that’s what she does-”

“- scared of commitment,” corrected Jack.

Robby scoffed out a laugh of disbelief. “Okay, you’re in a mood or something.” He pushed himself from the wall.

“No, I’m not,” he argued a little too quick and a little too harsh to be okay with what he was saying. “She’s a good person she’s just not my person. You know she-she doesn’t even like flowers, who doesn’t like flowers?”

“She’s more than a good person, Jack,” said Robby with an air of defeat about him. With one last look back to Jack he left, closing the door gently behind him.

In the seconds the door was open Jack sort a peek out. You were at the nurses desk, leaning over a tablet, the blue glow illuminating you. There was a troubled look to your face, scrunching your brows and marring your usual unflappable gaze. Jack almost wanted to see the chart himself and ask what was bothering you, but he knew you never told him, only ever let it be yourself that saw your problems.

Another thing he couldn’t stand. You’d never ask for help.

Even if, Jack couldn’t admit it out loud, he’d help without an invitation too.

You suppose you shouldn’t have been surprised, yet doctors ran on hope. Without hope trauma rooms became morgues and body’s became empty vessels. You’d built hope into your system, kept somewhere between your heart and stomach.

That’s why you felt it plummet.

She’s not it for me.

There was no intention to listen in on a conversation that clearly you weren’t supposed to know about. You'd just been passing by when you heard your name from Jacks mouth. That was enough to stop you in place. If your feet weren't frozen you would have moved, made yourself busy or call up to surgery to check on Hiro.

But as Jack went on your heart plummeted.

She's brutal.

It wasn't until you heard Robby defend you that you moved away, hiding with your back to the exam room and hunching over a tablet that held no chart.

You'd always assumed Jack was just harder to crack then some of the other SWAT guys. You could read most of them within days, know their moods from a glance. You'd never been able to read Jack and maybe it was because he didn't want to be known by you.

You thought seeing Hiro with a hole in his neck would be the worst thing of the day but you caught your reflection in the black screen of the tablet and resented the way things blurred around you.

She's not it for me.

“Hey-” Robby was behind you and you tucked your head into your chest. His hand squeezed your shoulder. “Central twelve when you have a chance.”

“You got it, boss.” Luckily your voice remained steady despite the waver in your throat.

Robby gave a nod and left you to it.

Had Jack had hatred for you since you knew him and just never said a word? Did you do something for him to harbour these feelings?

Besides from not being his wife.

The door closed again and on instinct you looked over your shoulder, catching Jack adjusting his belt. He looked up and found your gaze, offering you a pulled smile.

It was like every other smile he'd ever given you.

You'd been so blind with affection to not see it. What a fool.

You couldn't even pull your lips back up, you just walked away.

Weeks went by in flashes of sleepless nights and lonely days.

The sick and injured didn't wait for you to get over yourself, instead they helped.

You offered yourself like a lamb to the slaughter in Presby and even Westbridge. You pulled doubles, catching small naps in any empty exam room or on-call room you could find. You started to learn staff names when you'd never cared before.

A group of nurses at Westbridge even invited you out for drinks.

“Drinking every weekend, out with the guys, there's no healthy habits there” you remembered Jack's voice and declined their invitation.

When SWAT called you had an excuse. A plumber was coming around... you were re-modelling; suddenly your apartment was going through half a dozen makeovers and all your childhood friends were visiting.

“You know you're not a very good liar,” Diaz had said when he called you for a drink and you declined. That day you were taking your mom's dog to the vet (your mom was a cat person and in another state)

Your apartment became a cave and you became a shell of yourself, un-ironically listening to the high school musical soundtrack and crying.

And still you couldn't find it in yourself to be angry at Jack. Of course he wouldn't want you- he had a wife. And a memory of that wife to keep him walm. What could he do with you? If you weren't his type, you weren't his type. If it was just that maybe you could have moved on.

But he didn't like you as a person and that stung more.

You didn't know how long it had been since you were last at PTMC, only long enough that you started to scramble corridors in your mind and forget what some of the nurses sounded like.

“We have a mass casualty event,” said Robby on the phone one Sunday morning. His voice sounded different, but you supposed time played tricks on your memory. “School bus incident. You in?”

You were in pyjamas at home, some crappy tv on low. “I'll have to check, Presby might need me.”

Robby scoffed down the line. “Have they called yet?”

“Well, no-”

“Then get your ass over here.”

“Robby-”

“Please, please get your ass over here,” he said down the line, sighing heavily. “I.... I could really use another set of hands.”

Robby didn't say please. Ever. So how could you say no.

Within the hour you were dressed an,d thrown into the anarchy.

You got through the ambulance doors, was thrown a gown and got to work. You didn't even see Robby to let him know you were there, you just found Langdon and worked beside him.

“I need some help over here!” yelled out a paramedic.

At once you and Langdon were at her side, pushing along the gurney.

“Kid, fracted tib-fib, pupils mid range and sluggish- couldn't get a line we had to intubate.”

“Dana what's open?” called out Langdon.

“Room in trauma one!”

Mass casualty meant trauma rooms doubled up, pushed up against either wall. Mass casualty meant extra hands called in- like you. Still, when you pushed through the door and found Jack's eyes look up you spared half a second in apprehension.

“You're here,” was all he said.

You didn't know what to say. There was some snarky comment on the tip of your tongue as you settled the boy in the corner but you remembered you weren't supposed to be that person.

Jack didn't like that person.

“Yeah, in the flesh,” replied Frank instead.

“Chest trauma on the right!” you assessed. “We need an X-ray in here.”

“X-ray's backed up,” Jack called from where he hovered over another patient.

“Then get me an ultrasound!” you called out. “Push five migs of epi down the tube and hang a unit of O-neg on the rapid infuser.”

“BP'S eighty over fifty, pulse is at one-twelve!” called out Princess.

You felt someone bump in your shoulder and knew by inhale it was Jack. He was close at your side, pulling off and on another pair of gloves.

“What have you got?” he asked.

It wasn't instinct to move away from him. It was practised control that had you swapping sides with Frank, practically pushing him into Jack.

“Chest trauma to the right, he's tacky,” he explained quickly.

You pulled out your stethoscope, listening closely. “His breathing's stridor, I need a thoracotomy tray!”

“A thoracotomy?” asked Jack, voice oddly quiet in the trauma as if it was whispered just next to you. “You sure you can handle that?”

“I'm a good doctor, if I'm nothing else,” you bit out, swinging your stethoscope back around your neck. You weren't going to allow yourself to fall back into old habits, of questioning what Jack didn't like so much about you. You focused on the un-conscious boy under the mercy of your hands. You ordered the right tools, made the cut neat and precise, pushing more pain relief.

“Any tamponade?” asked Jack.

You checked the boys blood pressure. “No, pericardium's dry.”

“Okay, start an-”

“- start an internal massage-”

You and Jack said at the same time.

Frank seemed stuck in headlights before he reached through the incision in the boys chest and slowly started to work the heart.

“Pulse?”

“Barely.”

Jack frowned, looking over at your work. “Cross clamp the aorta, and push another mig of antropine.”

“I need suction!”

“Got anything for surgery?” asked a new voice, Doctor Walsh checking between the patients in the room.

“Oh no, we've brought the OR down to us,” said Jack.

Doctor Walsh rounded, catching the suction and the message of the heart. “Are you doing a thoracotomy right now?”

“Don't look at me,” said Jack, surrendering.

Before anyone could argue with you, question your capability you snapped out. “I know what I'm doing!”

Jack was silent, Frank smirked and Walsh rose a brow.

“Clamped,” said Princess.

“Someone push in another of antropine and get another unit of blood in,” you ordered.

There was a sudden buzzing as all eyes averted to the monitor.

“He's going into V-fib!”

You wiped your bloody and gloved hands down your gown. “Okay, I need internal panels!”

They were handed to you and Jack rushed to your side.

“You want me to-” he started but you already had the panels in hand and were ordering their charge.

“Charge to thirty! Clear!”

Like you were cupping the heart with your own hands you nudged the panels on either side and shocked. There were little miracles sometimes in the ED and with a bus full of school children you needed miracles.

“There! He's stable!” said Princess.

“We've got a girl coming in, needs stabalising and an ortho consult!” said Lena, throwing the door open. It seemed everyone had been called in.

“I'll take this guy, don't want you getting all the credit,” smirked Walsh as she and the team wheeled out the boy. She looked back at you, almost waiting for you to say more- some funny joke or flirtatious tease.

You only waved past her to get the young girl into the room.

Everyone in the room looked at you as you honed in on the next casualty, ignoring the pang in your heart at Jack's gaze.

When the girl for ortho came in you could only work on stabilising her before Park the Shark descended and took her up, assuring the bag was on ice. He gave you a less ten friendly look. Seemingly Jack wasn't the only one who couldn't stand you.

The hours ticked by in bodies of different kids, in shades of blood and traumas. By the time you got outside for some fresh air it was night and one lonely ambulance sat with you.

You were catching your breath when you heard the doors slide open and shut again. You imagined it was someone else wanting some peace and air, or a paramedic heading back out on the road.

“You were impressive in there,” said Jack, coming to stand next to you. There was a large enough gap that another body could have fit there.

“Thank you.”

He gave one short nod. “Robby call you in?”

“Yeah.”

“Same here,” he said, not that you'd asked. “You know, Hiro's doing well.”

You paled in the night. Lost in your own self-loathing you hadn't even asked about Hiro, or gone to see him. You'd heard he was okay when he dropped a message from the ICU but that was as far as it got. “Oh yeah, I know, I heard.”

“What, from the guys?”

You nodded, lips pursing as you crossed your arms over your chest in the light chill.

“You know they told me you haven't been around much,” said Abbot. “I've noticed it too. We all went to Larry's the other night, your invitation get lost?”

Was it a test? Was it a joke to him?

“No, I just didn't want to drink. Trying to cut down, it's not so healthy,” you said, kicking one foot in front of the other.

“One or two's not bad,” he said. “Couple of us are gonna grab a beer once this is all over. You joining us? Usual spot.”

She's brutal, you know.

You looked to him first. He was already looking at you, eyes creased like he was trying to see through you. It was real and earnest and making his words from weeks ago hurt even more.

“No thanks, Jack.” You almost reached to his shoulder but thought better of it.

Heading back in seemed the safer option.

Jack turned when you did. “Noody's seen you for weeks-”

“- I've been busy-”

“- except those nurses in Presby, they see you all the time apparently-”

“- they've been busy, they've called me in-”

“- I called you three times last week, you didn't answer-”

“- I didn't think you'd want me.” It was about the only honest thing you'd said in weeks. Your trainers squeaked on the ground just before the hospital, the automatic doors ready to welcome you back.

Jack was at your side, close enough you could see the lines of confusion in his face. “Why would you think that?”

You tried to think of a quick excuse but every word died prematurely in your throat. You chocked on them.

“Hey-hey-” Jacks hand fell to your back, soothing it in calming rubs.

You allowed yourself to bask in one circular motion of his hand and your back before you stepped away, backing up from the doors that slid shut again on instant.

“What’s going on?” Asked Jack, following in your steps.

“Nothing, nothing.”

Jack made a disgruntled noise. “C’mon, talk to me.”

He let you think about what to say, stewing in silence where your mind became alive with everything he’d said, with every terrible thing you’d already thought about yourself. You imagined every time you’d cracked a joke that was maybe too perverse. You tried to picture Jacks face but came out blank. Was it loathing? Contempt?

Your voice betrayed you with a shake as you spoke again. “I do like flowers.”

“Huh?”

You wiped at your eyes and turned to him. “I like flowers,” you said, stronger. “Nobody’s ever brought me flowers but I- I like them.”

For anyone else it would’ve took time to click. They’d have stood there, looking at you like you’d gone mad, spewing out words that out of context meant nothing.

But Jack was not just any other clueless guy. He was the guy who always packed left overs and left them in the fridge, he always cooked enough to make sure he’d have left overs. He was the sort that always checked in on pedes patients and made sure they had enough colourful bandages for them.

Jack knew what you were saying immediately. His jaw tensed. “I- I shouldn't have said that.”

“You said a lot of things,” you said, holding yourself tighter. “Sounded like you meant them.”

He gulped. “I didn't mean-”

“-what, for me to hear it?”

“No, I didn't mean for what I said to come out as- as bad,” he said.

“Well it didn't come out as shining praise either.” You turned from him, looking out to the building and lights. Somewhere n the distance a siren wailed.

“Robby- Robby was saying things, teasing, I just waned to shut him up.”

You chuckled with loathing. “No you didn't. It's okay, Jack, you don't have to like me, I just wish you didn't make it seem like you did.”

“Hey!” he said, coming to stand in front of you. He was without a scrub top and his t-shirt clad to his biceps, his muscles flexing as his jaw worked. “I do like you.”

You rolled your eyes. “No you don't.”

“I do-I do-” Jack grabbed the top of your arms, stopping you from walking away. His grip was tight, not enough to bruise but enough to beg you not to leave. “I do like you.”

“It doesn't matter.”

“It does, it does.” Jack crouched enough in his knees to get a look at your face that you kept trying to turn away from him.

“You know the worst thing is? It's that I know,” you uttered, voice quiet. You didn't trust yourself to shout- even if you really wanted to- in fear your voice cracked, humiliatingly.

Jack's eyes softened, his thumb drawing up and down in comfort. “Know what?”

“I know that I can be a lot. I go out with the guys, I drink, I make jokes when things get bad because what else am I supposed to do? Cry? Let the grief of the job swallow me up?”

“No. No, of course not,” he said, lips pulled down.

You hated that you still wanted to make him smile. “I could keep a job if I wanted to but I like meeting the people-”

“- I know, I know you do-”

“- and now I'm here defending myself to a guy who probably doesn't even want to hear it!” Trying to turn in Jack's hold was feeble, his grip was strong and he moved with you.

“You don't have to defend yourself, you have nothing to defend!”

“You know what the worst part is?”

Jack shook his head, waiting.

“It's the guy you liked and admired the most seeing everything you hate about yourself and hating you for it too.”

Jack flinched as of you'd slapped him. The chill in the air grew colder around you and all the light from the dim glow of the lamps shrunk away, leaving you and Jack in a self-made darkness. You felt his grip weaken and savoured the feel of him a moment longer.

It was only when you couldn't stomach it anymore that you retreated back into work.

Jack had fucked up.

There was no easy way of putting it. There was no clinical way of looking at it, no diagnosis to give other than he had fucked up.

He'd never heard himself speak and hated the sound of his own voice. Never caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror with tired eyes and a pale expression and loath to see the sight. When he looked at himself, all he saw was your own face heart-broken. When he heard himself talking he remembered everything he'd said.

He could have blamed it on the pain in his shoulder, the worry over Hiro, the lack of sleep he'd been struggling with for days but he had a therapist for all that. You didn't deserve that burden.

He was un-focused the following week in work. Patient satisfaction was at an all time low with him. He'd opened up to his SWAT buddies over a self-pitying pint and had been shunned.

“What's your problem?” Charlie had said, two beers deep and a haze over his eyes. “She's a fucking saint. She'd lay down her life for any one of us- what the fuck man?”

“She won't return my calls,” Jack told them. “Can you just... just call her?”

They'd refused, with good reason.

He'd tried texting his apology. He'd tried calling you in but he found from a contact at Westbridge you'd been covering nights while their attending was on holiday.

It was a brash decision to call in to PTMC and tell them he'd be late, he was running an errand. Nobody questioned him.

Westbridge was darker than the hospital he was used t, built up on top of each other but they were no less busy than himself. Patients were lined up in corridors and there was hardly a seat left in chairs when he walked through.

“Can I help you?” asked the nurse at reception, eyeing Jack and the bouquet of flowers he held.

He said he was looking for you.

“She's in a trauma right now, can I take a message?”

“Can you tell her Ja-Jack's here.” For a moment he debated lying, saying it was Robby wanting to see you, or maybe you didn't want to see Robby either. Deceit wasn't going to be his friend.

Jack waited and tried not to look around, tried not to let himself get caught in the heavy bustle of another hospital as he waited for you. He ignored the coughing from the waiting room that definitely sounded like it would require a chest CT.

There was a crash of doors and he caught sight of you rushing out, protective goggles over your eyes and bloodied gown clad to you.

“Jack, what is it? Are you okay?” your eyes were frantic, searching him.

Ah. Of course you'd think something had happened. When you hear someone's in the hospital it's very rarely to just say hi. “I realise I should've specified,” said Jack, rubbing the back of his knuckle against his brow. “I just- I wanted to see you. And give you these.”

Sensing this was a conversation she definitely wanted to be around for yet probably wouldn't be allowed to, the nurse at reception left the two of you to it and Jack sat the flowers down on the counter in-between you.

You eyed the shades of red roses, of yellow tulips, the violet of the iris and the pink of the peony.

“I didn't know what you liked so, I kind of got one of everything,” he said, sighing to himself. He should have got two of every flower the florist had on hand. “I didn't get Lilies, the lady at the shop said it's a show of death and sunflowers aren't in season, apparently.”

“They're very nice, thank you,” you said.

“They come with an I'm sorry:” said Jack. “I'm sorry.”

You wet your lips and pursed them, nodding slowly. “Okay.”

Jack looked down to his boots. “It's not, I know it's not, nothing I said is okay and I didn't mean it.”

You didn't say anything at that, only taking in a quivering breath.

He ignored the irritation in his prosthetic as he crouched to catch your gaze. Jack wasn't used to having to search for your gaze, usually he always found it already on him. He only realised how much he valued finding you in the middle of the storm when you wouldn't look at him.

“I didn't mean it,” he enunciated every word, begging you to hear them.

Your gaze studied around Westbridge, hoping for a distraction.

“I messed up, it's on me. It's not you.”

“The classic it's not you, it's me?” you dismissed.

Jack winced. It was cliché, damn him. “Yeah, I guess so.”

He watched as your fingers brushed over a flower petal, picking it off like plucking a string on a guitar. He felt his heart pound in his chest.

“Can I get back to work now?” you asked, gently.

What was he thinking? Turning up to where you were tying to do some good. Where you were doing good- it was what you did. Did he expect the flowers to fix everything? No. Only he could. But he'd grovel, he'd beg, he'd crawl after you for the rest of his miserable life and do it all while building you a rose garden.

He'd do all of that for one minute of your eyes on his.

“Just promise you'll come back. To the Pitt. Whole place is going to crap without you.” He tried to joke but it was a pathetic thing.

“Okay. Yeah.” Your shoulders lifted in in-difference.

“And don't ignore the guys. They're going out for drinks tomorrow night. I won't be there. They all pretty much think I'm a dick anyway.”

There was a glimpse of a smile.

Jack played on. “I'm a total, total dick, a jerk!”

An elderly lady being escorted by with a nurse and an IV trailing her paused and glanced his way.

“Sorry,” he uttered.

You hid your chuckled behind your mouth but he caught a second of it.

It was enough for now.

Your name was called down the corridor.

“He's in V-tach!” a nurse announced before disappearing again.

“Go,” said Jack, taking himself out of the equation. “Just, please. Don't be a stranger.”

Jack wasn't lying when he said the place was going to crap without you. How they managed on shifts without your charm to work fretting family and friends down, or your terrible singing in between exams he didn't know.

Walking through the ambulance doors for his shift there was already paramedics pushing an empty and slightly blood stained gurney back into their rig. There was a crowd of elderly patients in beds and gowns left at the side and phones were ringing, drilling into his eardrums.

“Where the hell is she?” barked Robby, spotting Jack and no you.

Jack dumped his bag at the counter. “What happened here?”

“Nursing home caught fire, now where is she? We're swamped her, I thought you were going to get her and bring her back?”

Jack grumbled, frowning at the counter. “She's busy at West.”

“West? God-” Robby groaned, looking around the place and cursing. “Listen, I don't care what you have to do to make it up to her, buy her a florist, give her a ring, get down on your knees, I don't fucking care- I need her here.”

“You think I don't?” Jack snapped.

Robby eyed him, hand clenched on the counter. “Tell her the truth-”

“-Robby-”

“-no, you tell her you didn't mean a damn thing you said. That you were scared loving someone that isn't your wife.”

Glass. Jack was made of glass. If Robby could see through him so clearly why couldn't you? Why couldn't you see the truth? That Jack liked you, liked you more than he'd liked anyone. That loving you meant leaving the life he lived with his wife behind, yet carrying a part of her with him always. He didn't want to do that to you. He didn't want to make you live with a ghost or carry his grief. There were days where it was too hard for him to handle.

Robby sighed. “You think she'd want you to be happy?”

A muscle in Jack's neck tensed as he went to nod but was held back by himself.

“Talk to her,” said Robby clamping him on the shoulder quickly before disappearing.

Hiding away wasn't going to solve anything. That's what Robby said to you in a desperate plea to get you back to helping him out with shifts.

Truth was you weren't hiding away... as much.

Drinks with the guys had been hours of them telling you Jack was wrong, after Jack had exposed himself to them, laying the situation on the table. As promised, he wasn't there but every conversation revolved around him so much so it felt like he was at your side. You defended Jack when they argued against him. You told them you knew you were loud at times, maybe you shouldn't joke around as much as you did.

They'd laughed, thinking it was a joke itself.

They told you not to change.

It was hard not to. Every time you heard yourself get loud or get a look from people at the other table your instinct was to shrink. When Diaz tripped on the curb out the bar you laughed instead of helping him and was left with your own guilt when you got home.

Un-learning habits was hard. Learning to live with them was harder.

You started with baby steps. A day shift here, a day shift there, by hand-offs you were always gone. Yet, in the staff lounge there sat a fresh bouquet of flowers every morning. As soon as they started to wilt another fresh bunch was placed over night.

Nothing was said. Nothing ever had to be.

“Shen's out, food poisoning,” said Robby over the phone another day. “You know I wouldn't ask if there was no otherway.”

Which was how you ended up working a night shift. The first in months.

Jack's eyes lit up as you walked in, it was impossible not to notice. The only eyes to rival his sparkle was Lena's when she saw you.

It was the sort of night that held your attention. That roped you in and demanded you listened. Not overly busy but not quiet enough to cause you and Jack to be held captive in the same room. Only seconds passed in hallways when he looked like he was going to say something before being called away, taunt in the neck and gripping his stethoscope for the life of him.

“Am I going to need surgery?” asked the young boy in five who you were examining. A nasty accident in his dad's garage ended up with a laceration to the foot.

“Not surgery but a couple stitches to bring the skin back together, and you're gonna have to stay off your feet for a while,” you said.

The boys eyes grew wide in joy. “So, no school?”

You chuckled as his mom pinched his shoulder playfully. “Well, I can't be the deciding factor on that, I'm afraid.”

You put in the orders for stitches.

“Is it gonna hurt?” asked the boy, shrinking back in his bed.

“We're gonna numb you up so you don't feel anything,” you assured. “Tell you what, I have a secret stash of candy that I only share with my favourite patients, how's that sound, you want something?”

The boy tried not to be too eager in his nodding but it took less than two second for him to grin.

You didn't expect anyone in the lounge when you went in search for candy usually lying around.

Jack was hunched over the table, pulling out the dying flowers and arranging fresh ones. He stopped when you walked in, the door closing gently behind you. “Hi.”

“Hey.”

“I was just... maintenance,” he mumbled.

You nodded along, a thick awkwardness engulfing the two of you. “Maintenance... yeah... sure...”

You moved around him, keeping a good distance around the space of him like he was a poisonous snake. The cabinet was high up, the tin an old sewing one where you hid your most precious protein bars and sugar packed candy.

“Here, I can-”

His body was sturdy against the back of you as he reached up for the tin. Few select people were allowed to know about its contents and Jack was on of the first ones you trusted. He raised his arm and you watched the freckles along his arm move and ripple. Upon inhale you took a deep breath of lingering cologne, mixed with the hearty sterile hand wash of the ED.

Jack's own head tilted down and your heard him inhale, deeply.

The tin fell into your hand.

Jack stared down. “Oh- er, there.”

“Thanks.”

It was about all the conversation you got with Jack your shift was over. The morning was just breaking through the clouds at six, bringing with it a down pour. You'd already punched out, handed off your patients to McKay and was left standing under the small awning of the ambulance bay, trying to out wait the rain.

It took ten minutes for Jack to follow you out.

“You heading out?” he asked, hands shoved in his pockets.

“Yeah. I'm just waiting for my uber.”

Jack frowned. “What happened to your car?”

“It's in the garage.”

“Well... I can give you a lift,” he suggested.

The rain hammered down harder above you, steady streams falling from the awning to at your feet. As discreet as possible you checked the location on you uber. Just around the corner. In the rain it had taken longer.

“No, it's okay, you don't have to.”

“I'd like to,” said Jack, stepping closer. “I'd like a chance to talk to you. To tell you everything that I meant by my words.”

You'd almost hoped you could carry on as you were: extremely avoidant.

“You don't have to, Jack.”

“I do- I do!” he insisted, hands out in front of him as if desperate to grasp you. He held himself back. “Please let me.”

Stomaching more of his words, whether it be excuses as to what he meant to say or just doubling down and insisting what he said was true. You didn't think you were strong enough for either.

Your phone buzzed in hand as a slick back black car pulled up, window rolling down and calling your name.

“No, wait-wait!” said Jack, holding a hand up to you with all the authority of an attending still on duty.

“Jack, what are you-” You were struck in place, watching him lean through the window, rain dampening his shirt as he un-folded a few bills and handed them to the driver.

“We don't need you know, sorry man,” Jack mumbled.

Your jaw hung open as you stepped out into the rain, bottom of your scrub pants dampening at once. “What?”

The driver tutted. “I still want me five star review!” He drove off quickly, splashing the two of you as he went.

“Oh- serious?” Jack gritted. “Now I wish I hadn't given him such a tip.”

The puddles of rain were seeping into your trainers as you walked off, out of the way of ambulances and cars, pulling your jacket tighter around you.

“Wait! Wait!” Jack called after you, boots slapping in the water. He all but jumped in front of you, stumbling lightly at the shift in his bad leg. “Wait.”

“I don't know what else you want to say to me, Jack?”

“Nothing I say can excuse what I said-”

“-so why try?”

“Because it's killing me being like this!” he snapped. The rain was pouring down, falling down his cheeks and nose. “It's killing me to look for your smile and not see it. It's killing me to hear a joke and you not laugh. Everything I said, it-it re-plays in my head and I'm sorry.”

“I know you are, Jack, I just need time!”

“I'll give you time,” he said. “I'll give you anything you need. But just let me say one thing. You owe me nothing, I'm begging you.”

To prove a point Jack crouched, starting to get down on his knees, hands already clenched together. To spare you the embarrassment and him the ache in his leg you tugged him back up.

He stared at you, breathless. He was as drenched as you, the both of your scrubs stuck to you.

“I haven't loved anyone since my wife,” said Jack. “I haven't tried, I didn't want to try. I was... not happy, but content to just carry on with her here-” he curled a fist at his chest. “And then you... and I couldn't not feel anything for you. I tried- I really tried.”

“Okay. You tried. I get it,” you mumbled.

“But I started to love you and I hated myself for it. It felt like I was betraying her by wanting someone else. By wanting you. And I did- I do want you. Every terrible joke you made, Jesus, I couldn't laugh in front of patients and their families. When you go out drinking with us and the guys in our team and you sing karaoke badly-”

“Excuse me?”

Jack winced. “I mean great, great karaoke.”

You chuckled.

“I can't take back the fact you're different from my wife, you are, but I don't think that's a bad thing- it's not. Because I still love you. I love that you're loud, I love that you draw attention to yourself as soon as you walk into a room, my attention is always on you anyway,” he smiled, sadly. It was the kind of smile a lover would give as they watched the love of their life leave them. “I shouldn't have made my grief your problem. I shouldn't have hated myself for feeling love again and I shouldn't have tried to convince myself hating you. I mean, that was just- just impossible.”

You looked down to your trainers, seeing the darkening colour where the water soaked in. “I've loved you for so long now, Jack.”

He waited, catching his breath, for more.

You looked up at him. “I'm sorry. About your wife. I can't imagine how hard it is for you. But I don't want to fall in love with a man who constantly advertises me next to his wife.”

Jack nodded, looking down.

The rain was probably helpful, hiding any tears you'd give away.

“I love you, separate to how I love my wife. And I loved her, I did. But I don't want to spend the rest of my life dead inside. Be on my death bed when I'm eighty looking back at all the times I should've kissed you.”

His words pulled at your heart, your feelings that you'd been burying deep inside clashing together inside of you.

“By the time you're eighty, I'll be like, in my sixties?” you said.

“Yeah, something like that.”

“And looking to settle down.”

Jack laughed, and you laughed and for a second that was almost enough. The rain had made the grey in his hair darker, almost making him look younger. “I'm not saying I won't fuck up, I probably will, I have a therapist for a reason.”

“Therapy is good,” you said.

Jack's eyes were lighting up slowly with every teasing comment you made. Something akin to hope flickered between the two of you. “But I will never draw comparison to you and my wife. I'll never make you feel like second choice. I'll never dump my grief onto you. If you just give me one chance, just one chance at making this right.”

As sorry's went... as love confessions went.

“I'm scared what it means to love you, Jack,” you said, slowly, feeling the words around your mouth.

“I know, I know,” Jack reached over, clumsily brushing back your damp hair from your cheeks. In spite of the rain, his skin was still soft and hot on you. “I am too.”

You searched his eyes before whispering. “Can I kiss you?”

He smirked a little. “No.”

Your heart dropped.

Jack's hands tilted your head back before you could tuck yourself away. “Can I kiss you?”

His lips were slick and wet from rain but no less sort after from you. He didn't push or prod for more, he just laid his lips against yours with enough pressure for you to know he was there. For you to always remember he was there.

You could have stayed like that for hours, practically standing on each others toes as your own hands came up to clutch his biceps, fingertips digging into his freckles.

You pulled away only when you needed to catch your breath.

Jack's lips chased yours, body tumbling into you slightly as his eyes took seconds to open like coming out from a dream.

You ran your hands up his shoulders. “I love you.”

He closed his eyes and soaked in the words.

“Will you let me?” you asked.

“Always,” he promised.

You nod and pull up your Notes app, scrolling through the messy bullet points you’ve been keeping since that night.

“Okay. Um.” You clear your throat. “I was able to talk through with a patient. He’s in outpatient therapy now. He actually thanked me last week.”

Neil smiles. “That’s big.”

“Yeah.” You scroll. “Robby found out about my birthday.”

You can’t help the small smile that creeps in.

“And?”

“It wasn’t the worst thing in the world.”

Neil tilts his head knowingly.

“He sang to me on the rooftop and then walked me home.”

You don’t add how you cried. How he walked you home. How you replayed it in your head more times than you’d admit.

“Losses?” Neil prompts gently.

You swallow.

“Leah.” The name still stings. “Jake still won’t talk to Robby.”

You inhale slowly.

“The MCI.” You don’t elaborate. You don’t have to.

“And one of our Senior Residents is on leave,” you add. “Substance use. It… hit the department harder than we expected.”

Neil lets the silence sit respectfully.

“Do you still think of him?” he asks softly.

You don’t pretend to misunderstand.

“Every day.”

Maybe grief and love have started sharing the same hallway in your chest.

“What do you think would happen,” Neil asks carefully, “if you did ask Robby out?”

You lean back in your chair, staring at the ceiling.

“I don’t know if I can risk ruining one of the most important relationships I have, Neil.”

You say it simply. Just truth.

The ED is chaos.

Your life is chaos.

He is one of the best things to happen to you.

You don’t know who you’d be without that.

“What are you doing after work?” Neil asks. “How’s the hobby situation?”

You huff softly.

“I still read. Take long walks by the park. Journal every now and then.”

“You seeing friends?”

“Sometimes. Dana forces me out.”

He smiles.

“And him?” Neil asks.

You look away from the camera.

“We’re… good.”

Not closer. Not further.

Just orbiting.

6 MONTHS LATER…

PTMC, EMERGENCY DEPARTMENT — NIGHT

The board is finally manageable.

Not empty. It never is. But manageable.

Day shift gathers at Central for sign-out, coffee cups half-finished, gloves snapped off and stuffed into pockets. Night shift filters in, trading tired looks and quick updates.

“Room 12’s abdominal pain is actually a gallbladder,” Shen says.

“Called it,” Dana mutters.

“You did not,” Robby shoots back.

“I absolutely did.”

The banter is back. Sharp, playful, and occasionally irritating.

But it’s back.

You lean against the counter, listening, chart open but forgotten. Six months ago, the room felt fragile—like one loud word could crack it open again. Now the sarcasm has teeth again. The teasing has rhythm.

It feels… normal.

Robby bumps your shoulder lightly as he reaches for the coffee pot. “You’re on nights tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ll survive without me?”

“Barely.”

He smirks.

It’s in the small things now.

He hands you coffee without asking how you take it.

You slide his reading glasses across the desk before he realizes he’s misplaced them.

He notices when you tug at your sleeve—the tell that means your heart rate is climbing.

You notice when he presses two fingers to the bridge of his nose—the tell that means he hasn’t slept.

It’s never spoken.

But it’s there.

A quiet catalog of details that says I see you.

Later that week, you’re on the rooftop again.

The city hums below like it’s breathing—low engines, distant sirens, the metallic sigh of buses turning corners. The hospital’s exhaust fans whirr behind you. The air smells faintly like rain and asphalt.

Robby leans against the railing, sleeves pushed up, tie long abandoned somewhere downstairs. The skyline glows against the dark like a pulse you can see.

“You’re smiling,” you accuse, nudging his shoe lightly with yours.

“I am not,” he says immediately.

“You absolutely are. I made you smile.”

“No, you didn’t.”

You squint at him. “You can’t gaslight me on this. I will never forget.”

He exhales through his nose, shaking his head, but there’s a laugh trapped behind his teeth, fighting to get out.

“You’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” you reply softly.

And yet you’re here.

And yet you keep coming up to this rooftop like it’s neutral territory—no attendings, no nurses, no titles. Just Michael and you, and the city that doesn’t care what either of you are carrying.

He crosses his arms. “What exactly did you say that was so funny?”

“Oh, so you admit you laughed.”

“I did not admit anything.”

“You did that nose thing.”

“What nose thing?”

“That thing.” You mimic him, scrunching your face slightly. “Like you’re trying not to smile because you think it makes you look unprofessional.”

“I do not—”

“You do. It’s the same face you make when Dana wins an argument.” You say as you squint your eyes at him.

He stares at you.

You hold the look.

Your heart is doing something reckless in your chest—like it’s trying to outrun you.

“Okay,” he says finally, conceding a little. “Maybe I smiled.”

“Ha.” You point at him like you’ve won something. “Knew it.”

“You’re impossible.”

“You still came up here.”

That one lands softer than you meant it to. Not teasing or triumphant. Just… true.

He doesn’t answer right away.

A helicopter passes overhead, blades thudding heavily against the night. The vibration hums through the concrete beneath your shoes, rattling something loose in your ribs. You both look up instinctively, following it as it disappears toward the river.

The wind picks up. The city keeps breathing.

When he finally speaks, his voice is different—quieter, like he’s stepping around something fragile.

“Teach me something in Tagalog.”

You blink at him.

“What?”

“Tag-a-log,” he says carefully, over-enunciating each syllable like he’s defusing a bomb.

You burst out laughing. “Oh my God.”

“What? That’s how you say it.”

“It’s Ta-ga-log,” you correct, trying—and failing—not to grin.

He groans. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not!” You wipe at your eyes. “It’s just endearing.”

He narrows his eyes. “Endearing.”

“Yes.”

“That’s a loaded word.”

“Relax,” you tease. “You’re the one asking for language lessons.”

He leans his elbows on the railing, closer now. “Then teach me something.”

There’s something about the way he says it.

Not flippant. Not joking.

Like he wants in.

Like he’s asking for a door to open.

“What do you want to say?” you ask.

He thinks about it seriously, which makes your heart do something reckless again.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “Something useful.”

“Useful like ‘where is the bathroom’ useful? Or useful like ‘I would like extra rice’ useful?”

“Definitely the rice one.”

You laugh softly.

“Okay. You can say, ‘Gusto ko ng kanin.’”

He repeats it slowly. “Goo-sto co nang… ka-neen.”

You shake your head, stepping closer without thinking. “No, no. Not ka-neen. Kanin.”

You reach up instinctively, touching his jaw lightly, angling it.

Your fingers brush the beard along his cheek.

You freeze.

So does he.

Your hand is still there.

His skin is warm, real, and solid.

Your pulse slams in your ears.

“Kanin,” you say again, softer.

He swallows.

“Kanin,” he tries.

“That’s better.”

Neither of you move.

You drop your hand first.

“What does it mean?” he asks, voice lower now.

“I want rice.”

He snorts. “Romantic.”

“You asked for useful.”

He watches you for a second longer than necessary.

“What’s something less… culinary?” he asks.

You hesitate as your brain offers up a hundred safe options.

Magandang gabi. Good evening.

Ingat ka. Take care.

Instead, your heart betrays you.

“Pwede ba kitang samahan?” you say quietly.

He frowns slightly. “Pweday bah kee-tang…?”

You smile. “Pwede ba kitang samahan.”

He tries again, careful. Concentrated.

“Puwede ba kitang… samahan.”

Your chest tightens.

“That’s good,” you say.

“What does it mean?”

You hesitate just long enough that he notices.

“What?” he presses.

“It means… ‘Can I walk with you?’ or ‘Can I go with you?’”

He doesn’t laugh this time.

He just looks at you.

The city noise feels distant now. The rooftop smaller. The air is thinner.

“Can I walk with you,” he repeats quietly, testing the shape of it in English.

You nod.

He leans a little closer. Not touching. But close enough that you feel the heat of him.

“You already do,” he says.

It’s simple.

Casual.

But it lands like a meteor.

You look away first, staring at the skyline like it holds instructions for what to do next.

“Okay,” you say, pretending your voice isn’t shaking slightly.

“Teach me how to say… something else,” he adds.

“Like what?”

He thinks about it while his fingers drum lightly against the railing, restless energy wrapped in restraint.

“How do you say… ‘I’m glad you’re here’?”

Your heart stumbles.

You swallow. “Masaya ako na nandito ka.”

He repeats it carefully.

“Ma-sa-ya ako na nan-di-to ka.”

You nod. “That’s really good.”

“What does it literally mean?” he asks.

“It means… I’m happy that you’re here.”

Silence.

The kind that isn’t empty.

The kind that feels like standing at the edge of a cliff and realizing the ground beneath you is very, very high.

He looks at you then. Really looks at you.

“Masaya ako na nandito ka,” he says again.

You can’t breathe for a second.

You force a smile to keep it light. “You’re just showing off now.”

“Am I saying it right?”

“Yeah.”

He nods once, satisfied.

The wind pushes your shoulder against his slightly.

Neither of you step away.

Your heart is racing so loud you’re convinced he can hear it.

It feels like spoken word poetry written in muscle memory. Like two magnets held just apart. Like the moment before rain when the air turns electric and everyone pretends they don’t smell it coming.

He clears his throat lightly.

“So,” he says, tone shifting back toward safe ground. “Next lesson next week?”

You nod.

“Sure.”

Because if you keep teaching him the language of where you come from—

Maybe one day he’ll understand the language of how you feel.

And maybe—you won’t have to translate it at all.

“You still reread that same book when you’re stressed?” He asks.

“It’s predictable. No surprises.”

“You’re an ER nurse. Your entire life is surprises.”

“Exactly.”

He nods like that makes sense.

“And you still need white noise to sleep,” he adds.

“You sent me that stupid rain app.”

“You said it helped.”

“It did.”

You don’t say that you think about him every time it rains now. He doesn’t say he downloaded it, too, to try to stop sleeping with the TV on.

The wind lifts a strand of your hair and pushes it into your face. He reaches out automatically, tucks it behind your ear without thinking.

His fingers brush your skin.

It’s barely anything, but your pulse spikes like someone just called a code.

He seems to realize what he’s done a half second later. His hand lingers just a breath too long before dropping.

“You tug your sleeve when you’re nervous,” he says quietly.

You freeze.

“I do not.”

“You are right now.”

You glance down.

Your fingers are twisted in the cuff of your scrub jacket.

You release it like it burned you.

Silence settles—not awkward. Just charged.

It feels like standing too close to an open electrical panel. Like one wrong movement and something will spark.

“You know,” you say carefully, eyes on the skyline instead of him, “if we ever went on some weird game show where you had to answer questions about each other to win money, we’d crush it.”

He smirks. “What, like Newlyweds but with trauma?”

“Exactly.”

He huffs a laugh. “We would.”

The word hangs there.

Would.

The city keeps humming. The rooftop lights flicker on automatically, and it feels dangerously close to something.

Like a sentence that wants to finish itself.

Like a bridge neither of you are brave enough to step onto.

He clears his throat. “It’s late.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you move as your shoulder brushes his again when you both adjust your weight. This time, neither of you steps away.

You can feel the warmth of him through cotton and worn fabric. Solid. Steady. Familiar in a way that feels dangerous.

Before you can overthink it, you lean your head against his shoulder.

It’s tentative at first. Like you’re testing gravity.

He goes still.

Not stiff.

Just aware.

The space between you feels smaller than it used to. Or maybe you’re just finally noticing how small it’s become.

The city stretches out in front of you—bridges lit gold, headlights threading through streets like veins. Somewhere below, an ambulance siren rises and falls. The world keeps happening.

“You made me smile,” he admits quietly, not looking at you.

The words vibrate through his chest before they reach your ear.

Your heart trips over itself. Stumbles. Recovers.

“I know,” you say.

You can hear your own pulse, loud and traitorous.

He glances down at you then—just a quick look—but it lingers long enough to make the air feel thinner. His jaw softens. His mouth almost curves again.

You wonder if he can feel how fast your heart is beating where your temple rests against him.

It would be so easy.

So easy to lift your head and say it.

To tell him that you think about him when it rains. That you’ve memorized the cadence of his footsteps in the hallway. That you can tell which version of his sigh means exhaustion and which one means guilt. That your chest feels like a house with the lights left on whenever he’s near.

It would be so easy to say, I think this is more.

Instead, you stay quiet.

He shifts slightly, and his arm brushes yours. Not an embrace. Not quite.

But he doesn’t move away.

“You’re cold,” he says after a moment.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. Your hands are freezing.”

He says it like a fact. Like something he’s observed and cataloged.

He slides his jacket off one shoulder and drapes it over you without ceremony.

You inhale automatically.

It smells like him. Laundry detergent and coffee and something faintly metallic from the hospital.

“Thanks,” you murmur.

He shrugs. “You’d do the same.”

You would.

You already have, in a hundred different ways.

A helicopter passes again, farther this time. The thudding blades echo through the sky like a second heartbeat.

“You ever think about leaving?” he asks suddenly.

The question lands between you.

“Leaving the hospital?” you ask.

“Leaving… here.”

You know he doesn’t just mean the building.

You lift your head slightly to look at him.

“No,” you say honestly. “Not anymore, anyways. Do you?”

He doesn’t answer right away.

“Sometimes,” he admits. “On bad days.”

“Today wasn’t bad.”

“No.”

You both know what a bad day looks like.

You settle back against him as if his shoulder fits under his like it was measured. Two people standing shoulder to shoulder, cataloging the details of each other like they’re collecting evidence.

It feels like building something out of glances and shared coffee and rooftop air. Like laying bricks without calling it a house.

He clears his throat softly.

“You’re heavy,” he mutters.

You gasp. “Excuse me?”

He smiles without looking at you. “Emotionally.”

You swat his arm lightly. He laughs—low and warm and close enough that you feel it in your bones.

You stay like that longer than you should. Not naming it or defining it. Just two people pretending this isn’t already something that matters.

9 MONTHS LATER…

PTMC, EMERGENCY DEPARTMENT — DAY

“What do you think of Noelle?” Robby asks casually, like he’s asking about the weather.

Like it doesn’t matter. Like your answer won’t land anywhere important. You don’t miss the way he doesn’t quite look at you when he says it.

He’s staring at the board. At a potassium of 6.2. At anything but your face.

Your heart misfires once. Then keeps beating like nothing happened.

You paste on the most convincing smile you’ve ever manufactured. If the Academy Awards committee were hiding in Trauma Two, you’d have a statue by now.

“Noelle Hastings?” you say lightly. “She’s great.”

She is.

She’s pretty. Effortlessly so. The kind of pretty that doesn’t need angles or lighting. Confident. Smart. The kind of woman who doesn’t hesitate before she laughs.

The kind who laughs with her whole mouth open. The kind who doesn’t overthink whether someone is looking back.

You noticed them early.

The way she lingered by his workstation longer than necessary. The way she leaned in just a little too close. The way his voice changed half a pitch when he said her name.

The way they both pretended it wasn’t happening.

“She’s sharp,” he says, finally glancing at you. “Good instincts.”

“Mhm,” you hum, charting something you don’t actually read.

You keep your tone even.

“She keeps pushing for more trauma exposure,” he adds.

“That’s good,” you reply. “She should.”

Your mouth is moving. You’re saying the right things. Inside, something sour blooms, and you hate that part of you.

You count how many times he says her name in a shift. You notice when she touches his arm, and he doesn’t pull away. You want to be better than this.

“She asked about that pelvic case from last week,” he says. “The one we packed.”

You nod. “That was a good call.”

“We,” he corrects automatically.

You look at him.

He doesn’t realize what he just did.

We.

Your heart lurches traitorously.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “We.”

You watch from the corners of rooms now.

In Central. In the ambulance bay. Outside Trauma One.

You watch him laugh with her and it feels like your heart is stretching toward sunlight it will never reach.

Like a plant pressed against glass.

Close enough to see warmth.

Too far to feel it.

She says something you can’t hear. He throws his head back and laughs.

You memorize the shape of it anyway.

“Hey,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I can’t make movie night.”

“Oh?” You keep your eyes on the med cart.

“Something came up.”

You don’t ask what.

“Yeah, of course it’s okay if you reschedule,” you say lightly. “I hope you two have fun.”

You make it sound generous.

You are not generous.

You are bleeding quietly behind your sternum.

“Thanks,” he says. “We’ll catch it next week.”

We.

You nod, “Yeah. Sure.”

It starts slowly as it always does. A drink after shift. Then two becomes a habit. He stays later again. Finds reasons to linger, to debrief cases that don’t need debriefing. He buys a motorcycle and refuses to wear a helmet.

You hear about it secondhand.

“They closed the bar,” Dana mutters one morning.

“Who?”

“Robby and Noelle. Apparently, they’re unstoppable.”

You laugh like it’s funny.

It isn’t.

He misses a department wellness meeting he swore he’d attend.

“I just forgot,” he says, shrugging.

You remember the night in Peds when he said he’d do better. You remember the way he meant it.

“I’m fine,” he says when Abbot corners him in the supply room.

You’re restocking suture kits. You hear it all.

“I’m fine.”

The lie is so clean it could pass as sterile.

Abbot doesn’t look convinced, and neither are you.

He throws himself into trauma cases like penance. Volunteers for the worst ones. The messy ones. The ones that leave blood under your nails even after you scrub.

You watch him choose vices over growth.

Over rest, over himself, and it shouldn’t matter to you. Technically, it doesn’t concern you. You are not his partner. You are not his girlfriend. You are not even—

Whatever that rooftop thing was.

But every time he picks apathy over progress, it feels like he’s choosing a world that doesn’t have room for you.

Because the version of him that wants to get better? That version looked at you like you were worth trying for. This one looks through you.

“Hey,” he says one afternoon, catching you in the hallway. “You good?”

You nod automatically. “Always.”

He studies your face like he almost believes you.

“You’ve been quiet.”

“You’ve been busy.”

He smiles faintly. “Yeah.”

With her.

You don’t say it.

Instead, you say, “Trauma Two’s ready.”

Professional and polite.

Dying a little.

The shifts continue, and the board fills. Codes get called.

People live. People don’t.

You move through it all like muscle memory, handing him instruments without looking.

He says “thanks” without thinking.

You know the exact moment he’s about to snap at a resident.

He knows the exact moment you need a break.

None of it changes.

And yet everything does.

At night, in your apartment, you stare at the ceiling and replay the rooftop.

The Tagalog lessons. The jacket. The way he said, You already do.

You hate that you still want him. You hate that jealousy crawls up your throat like bile or that you measure yourself against her in mirrors you didn’t know existed.

You hate that you’re waiting for something that might never come.

In the ED the next morning, he laughs again at something Noelle says.

You look away before your face gives you away.

You adjust your sleeves, check your patient’s vitals, and swallow the ache like it’s just another symptom to manage.

Because none of it ends, and you are very, very good at functioning through pain.

PTMC, ROOFTOP — NIGHT

This time, you come up alone.

The city is quieter tonight, or maybe you are louder inside your own head.

You stand on the ledge in front of the railing. Not close enough to fall. Not stupid. Just… closer than you should be. Close enough to feel the pull of gravity and imagine what it would be like to let go of something for once instead of holding everything together.

You only thought it for a minute.

But it was a loud minute.

The kind of feeling where you’ve got something to cry about and all the talking in your head turns to screaming. Where every memory sharpens at the edges. Where you can’t tell if you’re heartbroken or just exhausted or both.

You’d finished vomiting in the bathroom downstairs first. Locked the stall. Flushed twice so no one would hear the dry heaving. The nausea clawed up your throat so violently you thought you were going to faint on the tile.

You told yourself it was something you ate.

You know it wasn’t.

Now the cold air burns your lungs clean. You scratch at the inside of your forearm absentmindedly, nails dragging over skin until it stings.

The door opens behind you.

You don’t turn.

You don’t really care right now.

Abbot’s voice cuts through the wind. “You’re not subtle, you know.”

You stare straight ahead at the skyline. “Didn’t realize I was performing.”

“You are. It’s just not a good show.”

Silence.

He steps closer but keeps his distance. Always careful with you when you look like this. Like you’re made of glass instead of bone.

“I joined the SWAT team as their physician,” he says casually.

You groan, dragging a hand down your face. “Of course you did.”

“My therapist said I needed a hobby.”

“You couldn’t knit?” you snap, the words coming out sharper than you mean. “Or garden? Or collect stamps like a normal traumatized adult?”

He snorts softly. “You think I’d look good knitting?”

“I think you’d look less likely to get shot.”

“That’s fair.”

The wind lifts your hair. You keep scratching.

“Your allergies acting up again?” he asks, watching the movement.

You don’t answer.

“If you roll up your sleeves right now,” he says carefully, voice lowering, “what am I gonna find, Ducky?”

Your hand freezes.

You don’t know when the tears started. They just slip down quietly, cold against your skin.

You still haven’t turned around.

You let out a shaky breath. “It’s getting bad again.”

The confession feels like breaking glass in your mouth.

He doesn’t rush you. He doesn’t fill the silence with bullshit reassurance.

“For who?” he asks finally. “You or for him?”

Your laugh cracks. “God. That’s so humiliating.”

“That wasn’t judgment.”

“I know.” You swipe at your cheeks angrily. “I know.”

You finally turn halfway, enough that he can see your face. Your eyes are red. Your mouth is trembling and you hate that he can see that too.

“This is so embarrassing, Jack,” you whisper. “And pathetic. I know it is. I hate feeling this way. I feel like I’m going insane again.”

“You’re not insane.”

“I am.” Your voice rises, then falls again. “I’m a grown woman. I should not be spiraling because a man is dating someone else.”

He tilts his head. “It’s not just that.”

You shake your head hard. “It is. I mean— it isn’t. It’s everything. It’s watching him laugh with her and feeling like my chest is being peeled open. It’s knowing I have no right to feel that way. I’m hating myself for feeling that way.”

You press your palm to your sternum like you can physically hold your heart still.

“It feels like I’m fourteen,” you say hoarsely. “Like I’m some stupid teenager with a crush. Except I’m not fourteen. I work in a trauma bay. I’ve held people’s hearts in my hands. I should be bigger than this.”

“Love doesn’t care how competent you are,” he says quietly.

You swallow hard.

“It’s not even love,” you snap. “It’s just— longing. It’s wanting something that was almost there and never got named. It’s standing next to someone for months thinking maybe, maybe, and then watching them choose someone else like it was easy.”

You laugh again, but there’s no humor in it.

“I keep thinking maybe if I were prettier. Or less complicated. Or less sad. Maybe if I didn’t need therapy. Maybe if I didn’t spiral. Maybe if I didn’t feel everything so loudly.”

He stiffens at that.

“Don’t,” he says.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t shrink yourself into something more convenient.”

Your eyes burn again.

“It feels like a part of me is broken,” you whisper. “Like there’s a crack somewhere and everything I see just… drains through it. I go home and it’s quiet and I think about him and I hate it. I hate that I still want him. I hate that I’m jealous. I hate that I’m not enough for him and I don’t even know if that’s true or if I made it up.”

Abbot steps closer now, still behind the railing, elbows resting on it beside you.

“You don’t get to decide you’re not enough for someone,” he says. “That’s their call. And if they don’t choose you, it doesn’t automatically mean you’re lacking.”

“It feels like it.”

“I know.”

You sniff, wiping your face with the heel of your palm. “He said he’d do better. He said he’d try. And now he’s— he’s staying out late again, riding his stupid motorcycle without a fucking helmet. It’s like watching someone walk back into a burning building and I can’t even pull him out because I’m not… I’m not anything to him.”

“That’s the part that hurts,” Abbot says softly.

“Yes.” The word comes out small. “Yes.”

The wind howls between the buildings.

“I keep thinking if I had just said something,” you murmur. “On the rooftop. That night. If I had just told him. Maybe it would be different.”

“Or maybe it wouldn’t.”

“That’s worse,” you say. “Not knowing is worse.”

He studies you carefully. “Are you in front of the railing because you’re thinking about jumping?”

You shake your head immediately. “No. I just— I wanted to feel the edge. Not cross it.”

He nods once. Accepts that.

“I don’t want to die,” you say. “I just don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

There it is, the truth.

He exhales slowly. “That I understand.”

“I’m so tired, Jack,” you whisper. “Of being the strong one. Of being the understanding one. Of smiling and saying ‘I hope you two have fun.’ I feel like I’m swallowing glass and calling it maturity.”

He lets out a low breath that almost sounds like a laugh, but it’s not.

“You’re allowed to be heartbroken,” he says. “Even if he never technically belonged to you.”

You close your eyes.

“I don’t know how to stop wanting him.”

“Maybe you don’t,” he says gently. “Maybe you just… withstand it.”

You look at him finally.

“Does it ever get easier?”

He considers that.

“Sometimes,” he says. “Sometimes it just gets quieter.”

The city hums below you. Life goes on, indifferent while you wipe your cheeks again, embarrassed by how wrecked you look.

“You’re not pathetic,” he adds. “You’re human. And you loved someone quietly. That’s not weak.”

You laugh wetly. “It feels weak.”

“It’s not.”

The wind dies down for a moment.

You step back from the ledge, just an inch.

Not enough to fix anything.

But enough, and for now, that has to be something.

You don’t look at him when you ask it.

“You ever think about leaving?”

It comes out quieter than you intended.

Jack glances at you, then back at the board. “Sometimes.”

You nod, like you expected that.

“Robby asked me that a few months ago,” you say. “Back when everything felt… different. I told him no. Not anymore.” You swallow. “But now…”

You trail off.

Now you wake up tired in a way sleep doesn’t fix. Now you measure your emotional stability in milligrams. Now you count exits in crowded rooms without thinking about it.

Jack shifts his weight beside you. “You’re allowed to change your mind, Ducky.”

There’s no judgment in it. Just a fact.

You laugh softly, but it sounds brittle. “I love working here. I do. The Pitt gave me everything. Training. Friends. A life. Everyone’s been kind to me.”

You press your thumb into the heel of your palm like you’re grounding yourself.

“But I don’t know if I can keep doing this version of me,” you admit. “The version that keeps shrinking to fit inside a place. The version that survives everything and calls it strength.” Your voice tightens. “I didn’t know I was capable of bending this far without breaking. And I don’t know if that’s something to be proud of.”

Jack studies you now.

You look exhausted. Honest.

“I look in the mirror some days,” you continue, softer, “and I don’t recognize who I had to become just to function here.”

Jack nudges your shoulder lightly. “You didn’t turn into something ugly,” he says. “You turned into someone who survived.”

You exhale slowly.

“Yeah,” you murmur. “But surviving isn’t the same thing as living.”

And for the first time, you don’t feel guilty for thinking that.

End Notes:

By some miracle, I was able to watch S2 of the Pitt without any spoilers while I was still writing S1.

fUCK IT WE BALL YALL

Call it fate or whatever, I really, swear to God, did not know S2 was a Fourth of July shift.

I had talked about the Fourth of July in previous chapters because of all the stupid people doing stupid things, from ER nurses and doctors.

Ya’ll Americans be wildin’ during that holiday LOL

Ah, Noelle, your character pmo so bad bruh :///

Get ready for The Secret of Us, Good Riddance, Tortured Poets Department vibes in S2 LOL

Taglist: @orodaeh @karleyyjaee @allenajade-ite @glitterspark @bumbl3-b33z @sarahhxx03 @mirandarockin @sourmooonlight @sunflower911 @tedmustache @wastingspaces @princessesareforsuckers @anykent-grayson @brucewaynegfreal @katethedilfhunter @barnes70stark @kneelforloki @imonmykneessir

You’ve always loved Frankie’s hands. Admired them even. Strong and competent. Skilled and determined. Capable of fixing any problem. The way they flex with each of his moves. Calloused and rough. Gentle when they need to be.

Only enhanced by the golden band you put on his finger on your wedding day.

It’s forever grabbing your attention, the ties that bind you. Little loops that your heart makes at the thought, little flips in your stomach.

When rays of sunshine catch on the gold, if he’s playing with Cassie in the backyard. Or assembling the swing set. Or figuring out where to dig to plant the new tree you’ve bought together.

When artificial light glints on the band inside. Soothing hand on Mateo has Frankie gently rubs his little back after you’ve fed him. Hand so large it encompasses almost all of the baby’s frame.

You like the feel of the band on his finger whenever you hold hands.

Thumbing the outline, almost absentmindedly, Frankie’s sure of it.

When you’re sitting on the couch watching TV. Just the two of you, kids in bed and he’s got your head on his shoulder, his arm around yours. Fingers dangling that you have to reach up to thread yours with.

When you’re walking down the street or by the water, those evenings you make a point to clear so you can go on dates. Or lunch, when Frankie’s parents drove down for a few days and said they’d watch the kids. Sugar rush but that’s a problem for later.

Nothing beats the strong, secure feel of the warming gold pressed tight into your palm.

Maybe the way it feels against your lips, deep into the night, when it’s all quiet in the house except for Frankie’s grunts in your ear and your muffled moans as he thrusts deep into you. Filling you impossibly well. The perfect fit that you are together.

One sweaty hand gripping your stomach to push you back tighter into him, his chest heavy against you and the golden band that was rubbing your breast now clinking against your teeth when you gasp. The tip of your tongue that still tastes like your husband darting out to taste the metal.

There are times Frankie doesn’t wear his wedding band, for fear of damaging it. If he has to work on engines. He leaves it on the nightstand then.

That’s where you find it, going about your own chores while he’s got his elbows deep under the hood of your car to figure out why it made that funny noise the day before.

It’s not a plain, smooth golden band. It’s got a bit of texture to it, like yours, nestled by your engagement ring.

As you play with it, listening to the sounds of children in their own imaginary world, you find more texture to it. The additions to the inside of the band you’re positive weren’t there when you slipped it on Frankie’s finger that December morning.

This exact date and your name.

The warm wave of appreciation you’ve been experiencing every time you you see Frankie, of simply think about him, surges more completely, floods your entire body.

When Frankie finally emerges from the garage, having fixed whatever the problem was, he’s drying his hands with a dirty rag. It wraps around your neck and draws you for a kiss, that left hand, after you’ve held out your palm out for him to claim the wedding band back.

“I didn’t know you had it engraved,” you whisper in his mouth, Mateo’s running commentary of Papá and Mama are kissing! in the background. Frankie smiles against your lips, brown pool of his eyes so close to yours, all his adoration is stored in them.

“That way I always have you close to me.”

You’re in his heart every second of his life but sometimes, when he’s alone, or his brain tries to play tricks on him, Frankie will take his band off, twirl it between his fingers, look at your name. Focus on it and that settles his mind. Comforts him and grounds him. All that you are and all that you do for him.

“I love you, muffin.”

Another kiss and then a third and a fourth one, fussing from upstairs that Suzy is awake from her nap, Cassie telling her brother to quit pestering her when she’s on her phone. One steady rub of Frankie’s thumb on the nape of your neck, some quiet only for the two of you before responsibilities.

“I love you, too, hermosa.”

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Twenty-odd years ago, he was a relatively young man, and a rather fit one at that. As a contractor, his body had developed and hardened from the amounts of physical labour that he was constantly performing, and while he was still physically active after the outbreak, his age made it more difficult to prevent his belly from softening and his joints from weakening. He was less willing to admit that he was insecure about his physical appearance, though he did very little to hide it. In fact, he had batted her away during their first few times having sex when she had tried to unbutton his shirt, instead choosing to stay mostly clothed while she was nearly bare. She did her best to assure him that she was very attracted to him, though it still took quite a bit of coaxing before he was willing to shed his clothes in her presence. 

Her attraction was not phased by his age, in fact, it may have been accelerated by it, though she could not deny the fact that it definitely frightened her. When she first met Joel, she was a bright-eyed twenty-year old who was morbidly turned on by the sexy fifty-year old man next door, and was wildly ignorant to the looming danger when she had started a relationship with him a few years later; the world was not built for long lifespans anymore, and there would come a day when Joel would no longer be there with her. During their early relationship, Joel warned her of exactly that, but she waved him off and promised him that it didn’t scare her.

And it hadn’t, until fairly recently. She was grateful that she, Ellie, and Joel had come across Jackson; she was able to let her guard down, socialise, and thrive in the new community. She and Joel were able to settle into their new home while Ellie set up camp in the garage out back, and they could look forward to actually living rather than basic survival. The lessened worry in her life allowed her to see what was right before her for the first time.

She had comforted Joel before when he complained about the pain in his knees and hands, though she was truly seeing the effects that it was having on him since their arrival in Jackson. Just last week, the man had nearly thrown his back out from laughing a bit too hard at something that Ellie said, and his salt-and-pepper hair seemed to have lightened considerably more. 

She had even noted his lowered libido, having gone from wanting her at least once a day to once or twice a week–though she was certain it wasn’t for a lack of physical attraction on his end, as he had been eager when she began to kiss him, only his body seemed to be working against his wants. That was his greatest insecurity yet, especially since it had begun happening on a more regular basis. He was always quick to apologise, offering to help her out in other ways, though she always assured him that everything was fine, and it was.

Everything was fine, but her fear of that changing was growing exponentially with every physical sign of his ageing. She did her best to hide her concerns, knowing that they would only be proof of his insecurities, and instead made an effort to keep him healthy in a more subtle manner, such as suggesting that he eats less red meat, inviting him on long evening strolls through the town, and forcing him to join her for long bubble baths to soothe his aches and pains. If he had picked up on this, he hadn’t mentioned it, and she could always tell when he did, because he would wave it off or do something ridiculous that would only end up proving her point.

Then came the final straw.

She was working in the gardens with Maria that day, chatting back and forth happily and they worked to tidy up the growing crops. They had become good friends in Y/n’s time in Jackson, bonding over their shared love for the Miller boys. Maria had been rambling, going on about something that Tommy had done to piss her off earlier that week, finishing her story with a shake of her head before she changed the subject.

“Oh, I meant to ask you,” the woman turned her head, “How’s Joel feeling today? Tommy told me about what happened, that’s an awful scare. At his age, chest pain is not something to be taken lightly–not to say that he’s old or unhealthy, but you know how it is.”

Y/n froze, tilting her head at the woman, “Tommy told you…chest pain?”

“He never told you.” Maria’s expression tightened, realising that the younger woman had no idea what she was talking about. She sighed, dropping her tools and turning to face Y/n as she placed her hands on her hips, “Look, I don’t mean to be the one causing issues between you two, but this isn’t something to mess around with. The other day, while Joel and Tommy were out on patrol, Tommy said that Joel suddenly got dizzy, weak, and was complaining about some pain in his chest. Now, in saying that, I know that he’s been to the doctor, and he’s probably got his reasons for not telling you.”

Y/n pursed her lips, face hardening at the sudden burn of tears at her waterline, “Yeah, I’m sure he did. When did you say this was?”

“Earlier this week. Tuesday, I think.”

She shook her head. It was Saturday, meaning that it had been almost an entire week since this happened and Joel had neglected to tell her. Y/n chose not to respond, quickly finishing up her work before bidding Maria goodnight, heading back to her shared house with Joel.

When she arrived, there was no response to her call, but Joel’s coat thrown on the back of the couch betrayed that he was home, and the soft sounds of his guitar coming from the back porch revealed his location. The strumming came to a stop as the backdoor creaked open, his eyes turning to face her with a soft smile.

“Hey, darlin’-” His peaceful expression shifted to one of worry when he took her in own sombre face, “What’s the matter–did something happen?”

She shook her head, shrugging as she leaned against the railing, “I don’t know, did something happen? Because today, when I was with Maria, she seemed awfully concerned about how you were feeling.”

Realisation dawned on his features, his brows furrowing as he moved the guitar out his lap and ran a hand over his face, “Baby, it’s nothin–”

“Don’t do that,” she scowled at him, “don’t tell me it’s nothing when it’s so clearly not nothing. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you worrying about me.”

She scoffed, “Fuck, you did a great job of doing that, didn’t you? What am I supposed to do when I hear from someone else that you had to go to the infirmary almost a week ago because you had chest pain? I mean, really, that’s not something to fuck around with, especially–”

“Especially what?” He challenged, already knowing what she was thinking.

Y/n stopped, debating whether or not she wanted to say it, “Especially at your age.”

He stood up and marched to the other side of the patio and rested his hands on the railing, looking out across the small backyard. Y/n could practically feel the emotions that radiated from him; a mixture of anger, annoyance, embarrassment, and shame. 

She sighed, moving to rest a hand on his back, “Joel, you know I don’t care about your age. I love you, but I need you to start taking care of yourself. This needs to be a wakeup call, I mean, it definitely is for me.”

“Why,” he huffed, “you finally coming to your senses? Finally realising that sooner or later I’m gonna–”

“Please don’t say it,” she whispered, sniffling softly as she rested her forehead in the middle of his back, “Please, please, please.”

Joel scowled, sliding away from her grasp, “About time you start to face reality, darlin’. I’m old, I’ve accepted it. Maybe you should wisen up and go find someone who’s not gonna leave you sooner or later, huh?”

Joel escaped into the house and out the front door, slamming it shut behind him. Y/n let out a shaky breath, moving to sit on the bench where Joel had been when she had gotten home, curling into herself and letting silent tears streak down her cheeks. It was only moments later when she heard her own name being called, Ellie creeping out onto the patio nervously.

Y/n wiped her cheeks, smiling weakly at the girl as she sat next to her, “Hey Jellybean.”

Ellie smiled at the name, having not heard it for a while now. She felt somewhat bad about that, having been a result of her requesting to be treated more like an adult, “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but I was just over there, so…”

Y/n smiled at the teen, curling her arm around her shoulder affectionately, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just…concerned, I guess.”

She nodded, leaning against the older female, “Are you guys gonna be okay?”

Y/n smiled at the child-like question, as if she were asking her parents if they were getting a divorce–which, to be fair, she sort of was, “Yeah, baby. We’ll be okay.”

“Are you sure?”

The uncertainty in Ellie’s voice caused her breath to catch in her throat, finally thinking over the fight. Were they okay? Maybe you should wisen up and go find someone who’s not gonna be leaving you sooner or later. Those words in themselves felt like a knife driving into her gut–was that him ending things? She had dealt with Joel’s insecurities before, but he had never blatantly told her to leave him behind, nor has he ever explicitly pointed out that he would probably die long before her. Before she could even finish her thought, her head fell forward and a loud sob escaped from her throat. 

Ellie was quick to pull her into a hug, awkwardly trying to soothe her as she wept into her shoulder. She listened to her ramble on, struggling to understand everything that she was saying, frowning to herself as she made a mental note to go after Joel the moment that she felt comfortable enough to leave Y/n to herself.

– – –

Y/n’s eyes fluttered open as she felt the mattress shift beneath her. Her foggy vision took in her side of the room, dimly lit by the lamp on her bedside table before she glanced over her shoulder, finding Joel’s back as he leaned down to untie his boots. His back cracked as he straightened up, reminding her of their fight, though she was feeling more confident that he hadn’t broken up with her considering that he had come to bed with her. 

She reached out tiredly, fingers brushing over his back as she murmured his name. He turned his head slightly to acknowledge her, but he didn’t entirely face her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, voice hoarse from crying, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know,” he sighed, finally twisting his body to sit sideways on the mattress. His own face showed signs of stress, and his eyes were rimmed with red, “I know, baby. I’m sorry too.”

Joel apologising was no small feat, that much she knew. Normally when they fought, he would give a simple you were right and do something nice for her, but it was very rare for him to actually apologise.

“It’s just…” she pushed herself to sit up, “I know you don’t like to think about this, but it’s really scary for me. I’m not stupid, I know you’re older than me and I know that there’s no stopping the inevitable–” she choked, “but I won’t apologise for trying to prolong it as much as possible.”

He dropped his head, “I know, I’m scared too. Just the thought of leaving you here all on your own…”

She crawled across the bed, smoothly working her way onto his lap and engulfing him in a tight hug. The weight of his arms around her pulled yet another sob out of her throat. His large hands found purchase on her back, sliding up and down her spine as his chest shook with his own tears. 

She pulled her head out of his neck, staring up at him with large, teary eyes. Her hand came up to cup his cheek, forcing him to meet her eyes, “Please let me help you. I’m not ashamed of you or your age, but I don’t know how I’m gonna live without you, so please tell me next time.”

He nodded, “I’m sorry. For not tellin’ you, and for being so fuckin’ old.”

Sarah smiled, just like she always did whenever she got to talk to you. The relationship the two of you had built up over the past one and a half years she had known you, was something very special. Not only did she love the connection you, from one woman to another, but she truly felt like you had a close friendship she wouldn't want to give up. Ever.

"I'm good, thanks, how are you?"

You sighed, "Good… now that I'm home."

"Adult work isn't getting any more exciting?" She joked, making you chuckle.

"Exactly." A second of silence passed before you noticed nothing coming from her side. "Are you okay?"

Sarah made herself more comfortable on the couch, "Yeah yeah, sorry for calling you so suddenly-"

"Don't worry, sweetie, trust me, hearing you right now has been the best part of the entire day."

Your comment made her grin even wider, "Well I'm happy to make your day better," to which you both giggled. "I was just wondering if you've heard anything from dad. Did he say he has to work late today?"

You let her question register in your brain before you went through the conversation you had with Joel last night since you haven't heard from today yet. "Ehm… no, I don't think he said anything about that. Isn't he home yet?"

Sarah shook her head before realising, you can't see her, "No, so I kinda thought, maybe he's still at work, but… now I don't know."

"Maybe something came up-"

"He isn't picking up." That made you go quiet. "I tried calling him, and it just went straight to his voicemail."

You bit your lip. Oh, God. You knew the stress of a parent not being at home at the usual time just all too well, remembering all the times it had happened to you as a kid and you immediately thought of the worst-case scenario.

"What about Tommy?" You suggested.

The girl was just about to open her mouth and answer when the front door opened. Her head snapped to her left, eyes immediately on the familiar figure of her father entering the room.

"Wow…" she breathed out.

"What? What is it?" You hastily wondered.

"Speaking of the devil," you could hear the slight annoyance in her voice, "Guess who just walked through the door?" Joel sent her a questioning look as he walked further into the living room, throwing himself onto the couch, right next to his daughter.

You couldn't help but chuckle, "Hm… maybe your father, who once again decided to work longer and not tell us about it?"

"Bingo," she grinned before turning to the man and shaking her head with a frown on her face.

A breath of relief fell from your lips as you got up from your position on one of the armchairs in your living room, "Well then, mystery solved. You better interrogate the heck out of him."

"Without you?" She gasped.

"Oh, trust me, he'll get a good talking-to from me tomorrow." Your answer received a grin from the girl, followed by a subtle devilish giggle.

"Good. Thank you for actually picking up your phone, unlike some other people here." Her comment was clearly directed to her father, earning her a soft shove to her upper arm, making her grin.

You smiled, "Anytime, sweetie. I guess I have to go back to my boring life now. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yep!" The happiness and excitement radiated off that little girl, lightning up the sparkle in her eyes at the mention of the following day. "See ya! Good night, Y/N."

"Good night, Sarah."

The youngest Miller placed the phone back on the side table, before turning to the oldest one, crossing her arms in front of her chest. She cleared her throat, "What do you have to say in your defence, Sir?" Her eyes followed his movements as he leaned back into the sofa with a groan, running a hand over his face.

"I forgot to tell you-"

"Oh, you don't say!" She quickly exclaimed, interrupting Joel, receiving a warning glance from him, making her sulk back into the cushions.

"So as I was saying," he glanced at her, "I'm sorry that I forgot to tell you that I'd be in town after work. And I forgot to charge my phone."

Sarah scrunched her eyebrows, "What were you doing in town?"

Joel groaned, getting up to look for some food in the kitchen, "I wanted to get something for Y/N for tomorrow."

His answer made the girl laugh out loud as she got up to join him in the other room, sitting down at the dining table, "Are you serious?"

He looked up at her from his crouched position as he was trying to find something to eat in the fridge. "What?"

His daughter shook her head, "You're looking for an anniversary gift one day before your anniversary?"

Joel took out the container holding dinner from two days ago, grinning when it reminded him of you. Always making sure there was food in the house he lived in. You cared for him. And his daughter. "I've been thinking about what to get her for a few days, alright? But I haven't had the time to actually go and look for it," he defended himself, but it didn't get the look off the girl's face.

"And what did you find?"

He sighed, "Nothing. That's the problem."

"What are you gonna do now?"

"I have no idea…" Sarah could tell how exhausted he must be with the heavy breath leaving his lips. But the fact that he truly cared about getting you something special made her ecstatic. "You hungry?" Her father wondered, getting a shake of her head in response,

"I ate earlier." She shot up from her seat and skipped over into the kitchen, "So?! What are you gonna do?" Leaning on the counter, eyeing her dad suspiciously as he took a bite of the cold food with a fork. That also earned him a weird look from her, but he just wanted to get something into his stomach, not caring about the temperature - your cooking was gourmet to him in any way.

"I don't know," he answered, shrugging, "I can't believe I'm so fucking bad at giving gifts." Sarah ignored the swear word, blaming his fatigue, and didn't remind him of the swear jar you and her had brought into the house two months earlier.

"What did you gift her last year?" Tomorrow would be your second anniversary together. Two full years of being an official couple. While Joel was a romantic gentleman in every way possible, buying you flowers 'just 'cause', calling you sometimes multiple times a day 'just to hear your voice', keeping you in the house over the weekends and sometimes overnight during the week 'because he could never spend too much time with you', he still was a horrible gift giver - a fact no one could deny. But more of a problem was your inability of receiving gifts. Because you hated it. You loved giving, hated receiving - not in all parts of life though. Especially not with Joel.

Though, whenever he had asked you what you wanted for your anniversary, birthday, or even International Woman's Day, he got the same answer each time: "I don't want anything." The truth was, you truly didn't. You've never been a big fan of material things, rather finding the thought behind something and a small gesture much more meaningful and loving. All the 'little' things your partner would do for you were enough - opening doors, carrying you whenever your feet hurt and taking you out for dinner on random days, were just a few of them. Yes, it may be the bare minimum, but still a rare minimum.

A rare minimum you had never been blessed with, with any of your past boyfriends. All until you met Joel and found out what it was like to have a true man by your side.

"That necklace you told me she'd like," he reminded her, brushing a hand over the wild curls he adored so much.

Sarah nodded with an open mouth, "Aaah, right right, I remember. She really did like that." They both nodded in sync. "But do you know what she loved even more?" Making the oldest Miller's head perk up,

"What?"

His daughter grinned at him, "The poster I made for you guys."

"True," he couldn't help but copy her facial expression, "She did like that a lot."

"She LOVED it!" Sarah shouted out, hitting her palms on the top of the counter, "She almost cried when she saw it," followed by giving her father a side-eye look, "She only said thanks to your gift, but was brought to tears because of mine."

Joel glanced at her, one eyebrow raised, "What are you tryna tell me?"

"Y/N loves me more than you," she flipped an invisible strand of hair to underline her comment.

The older man smiled, "Sure."

"Buuut," she dragged out the word, leaning over to steal a piece of broccoli from the container Joel was eating out of, "I also think that she would just appreciate self-made stuff more than things you can buy."

He stopped for a second to think before nodding his head, "So you're suggesting that I what? Build something?" Sarah nodded. "And what exactly?"

"Man, what do I know… You're the contractor here, think of something." But all he could do was sigh. He was in fact the contractor, but what the hell had that something to do with anything. The man put the food to the side to make some space and place his elbows on the counter, shoving his face into his two palms, groaning out loud.

The daughter of the family stood by his side, staring at him in amusement, finding this situation much funnier than her dad. With a chuckle, she passed him placing a somewhat comforting hand on his back.

"You're a lousy gift giver." Her comment though was anything but comforting.

He straightened his back to glare down at the girl, "Thanks." But it just got a giggle out of her.

After a quick glance around the room, the idea she had been holding in, as it was supposed to stay a secret present from her to the couple, came back up into her brain. "We could bake something for her."

That caught his attention. Joel didn't hate the idea. He definitely didn't. Your sweet tooth was known to the family, added to your appreciation and love for self-made gifts turned it into the perfect present.

"We?"

Sarah scoffed, "You really think I'd trust you with baking a cake?"

"Hey," he took her statement as an offence, "I'm doing very well in the kitchen." He didn't even believe that himself.

"Pff," she patted his back once again, "Sure, dad. Sure."

"I'm a great cook, alright?" he took it one step further, but his daughter was having none of it, giggling at him while shaking her head,

"You're an okay cook and a terrible baker."

He took the last bite of what was left in the plastic box before moving to put it into the dishwasher. "You can't be serious right now…"

Moments like these were Sarah's favourite. Watching her dad get all rilled up just never failed to make her chuckle. Joel enjoyed it just as much. The happiness radiating off her, with a beautiful and bright smile decorating her face, was a sight he never wanted to lose. "Uncle Tommy's a better baker than you," she quickly added before sliding past him to find the fitting cookbook on the shelf in the living room.

Joel's head shot into her direction, a finger pointing at her before she disappeared, "You take that back!" Her high-pitched giggles filled his ears with love and joy.

-

Sarah's feet were dangling off the counter while she was snacking on some of the sprinkles she wanted to put on the cake, along with taste-testing the pink sugar writing. Her father was preparing the frosting, every now and then checking on the cake in the oven, making sure it wouldn't burn because that was the last thing he needed.

They were sharing a few moments of comfortable silence in the room, whereas the girl's mind was filled with questions, daring to slip out any second as she didn't want to hold them back for much longer.

"So, Y/N's coming over tomorrow?"

Joel nodded with a whisk in the bowl, covered in blue-greenish frosting Sarah had coloured, "Yeah, I'm picking her up from work, and I'd bring her here," he looked up, "If that's okay with you."

"Of course," his daughter chuckled, putting the sprinkles down, freeing her hands so she could place them on the counter. She puckered her lips, thinking carefully about her next question. As much as she thought of a way to introduce the subject, she couldn't think of one, so she just jumped into the cold water.

"Do you wanna marry Y/N?" The words made Joel stop in his tracks, his eyes shot up to meet hers.

He sent her a questioning glance, "W-Where's that coming from?"

She shrugged, "I was just thinking. You know… you've been together for two years… and you seem quite happy-"

"We are," he assured her.

"And isn't that when adults start thinking about getting married?"

He stood up straighter to lean onto the counter, crossing his arms, leaving the work on the frosting on the side for a bit. "Aren't you a little too young to be thinking about marriage?"

"For me? Yeah," she scoffed, "Because boys? Disgusting," getting a proud smirk for father as a response, "But I mean for you two… I don't know… I was just wondering."

Joel sighed, getting back to work, "Well… I mean, you ain't wrong, sweetheart. But there's a lot of things you need to do before you get married or even think about proposing."

"Like moving in?"

"Sure," he nodded, "Some couples move in before they get married. It's not the traditional way, but we as know, traditional is boring." She copied his head movements with a grin plastered on her face.

"Then why not ask her?" Sarah tilted her head and raised her eyebrows as soon as she locked eyes with the oldest Miller again.

"What do you mean?"

"Ask her to move in."

Joel chuckled in surprise, the spit in his throat almost making him joke, "You sure have some interesting suggestions today, kiddo. You alright? Do I have to be worried?" His facial expression made her laugh out loud as she nudged him with her foot, making him squirm away jokingly.

"Nooo, dad! I'm just saying," she motioned around with her hands,

"You've been together for a while… and… she's already spending every weekend here and sometimes comes over during the week. She makes sure we eat," Joel nodded along with all of the things his daughter was listing, "She takes care of me and you, she already has some of her stuff in your drawer-"

"How do you know about that?" She grinned sheepishly at him, "I saw it when I went through your stuff…"

The father took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second, "Alright… how about we don't do that anymore?" Eyeing the little girl sitting on the counter to his left, but she just shrugged,

"You said we shouldn't keep any secrets from each other."

He sighed. Fuck. She wasn't wrong. "You're right… I did say that." Goddamn, always smarter than any other adult in the room. That was his little Sarah.

"So, are you gonna ask her?"

After tasting the frosting and checking its consistency, he gave the girl the whisk, just like he saw you doing it multiple times before. She accepted it with a bright smile.

Joel enjoyed having conversations like these. Obviously, he understood that she was still a kid, and he would never deny her of her innocent mind and easy-going-with-the-wind mindset, but he also appreciated the slightly more adult talks they could share. That's why he was more than happy to explain it to her.

"It's not as easy as you think it is, kiddo. Y/N still has an apartment, we'd have to put that on the market. Then there's a lot of document stuff we'd have to get-"

"I asked her," she caught his attention when he came back up to stand up straight from looking at the cake through the oven window.

"What?"

"I asked her if she would like to move in with us. Not like actually, but just, you know, the idea of it."

Now Joel became interested. Of course, the two of you had had the conversation about a shared home before, but every couple had that at some point in their relationship. Hearing what you'd think about the idea now would have maybe changed. Now it was more relevant than ever, apparently.

"And," he looked down at his fingers, "What did she say?"

Sarah smirked, "She said the same thing as you just did. So really a match made in heaven," and rolled her eyes jokingly, "But she also said that she'd really like the idea… if I was okay with it."

"And? Are you- I-I mean, would you?"

"Of course! Are you kidding me?! I love that woman so much, probably even more than you-"

"I doubt that."

"I don't," she stated straightforwardly, "And you're happy when you're with her, and you make her happy. What more you could want? AND thanks to her, the weekends aren't so boring anymore."

"What was wrong with the weekends before?" He was slightly taken aback by her comment, unsure if it was meant ironically or not. But then again, he was probably overthinking a lot at that moment.

Sarah smiled, "Don't get me wrong, dad. I loved the weekends with you and uncle Tommy, but having another woman in the house is just…" She shrugged, unsure of how to explain just how comfortable you made her feel. Joel and her were open about a lot of things, but Joel was… well, he was your typical single Texanian-dad, that didn't know what to do in certain female-focused situations - let's just put it like that.

Having conversations from woman to woman was something the father appreciated very much when it came to what you brought along when getting to know his kid. And the girl was happier than ever, being finally able to talk to an older person about certain struggles she might encounter that were still slightly too embarrassing to discuss with her dad.

"It's different, I know. I understand," he smiled at her.

"It's good different though," she nodded, "I really like her."

"And you'd be okay with her living here?" He finally asked. Sarah was the reason for his still-intact heartbeat. The only thing having kept him alive so far. Now you had also joined to share that position, but he was still his blood, and you'd never even try to get in between that.

"More than okay," she exclaimed, "I'd be SO happy to have her here constantly. I'd finally have my joined force against you."

Joel squinted his eyes at her, "Because Tommy isn't enough already?" Receiving a smug smile in return.

He shook his head with a chuckle when the timer went off, indicating that the cake was finally done. Sarah hopped off the counter to stand back on her two feet when her father leaned down to get the cake out of the oven and placed it on the stove.

"You know," he threw the dishtowel he used to not burn his hand to the side before turning to face the girl, "You might be a bit too smart for a kid your age."

The youngest Miller crossed her arms proudly, holding her chin up high, "Thanks, I got it from my uncle." That just made Joel look at her in surprise, almost making her laugh out loud.

He put on his low dad voice, "You got that from your father, thank you very much."

She dropped her hands, "Whatever," and moved a bit closer to stand right next to him, "So can I trust you to ask her tomorrow?"

"Yes," he promised her, "I will ask her tomorrow." To which she started bouncing up and down, her body full of excitement, making Joel chuckle and pull her in for a side hug and gift her a kiss on the top of her head.

She clapped her hands, "Now, let's start decorating."

-

You were running -scratch that - Sprinting through the hospital corridors, desperately trying to find the info point a nurse had told you to go to.

You had never crossed town at the speed you just did. Once the message from the other side of the call registered in your brain, you dropped everything at work, ignored the calls from your boss, just shouted a quick, "Family emergency," and raced to catch the next possible bus.

With a big breath shooting out of your lungs, you came to a halt once you came to sight with the hotspot you were looking for. You braced yourself up with your palm, trying to catch your breath before you spoke up, "Hi, sorry, I'm looking for Joel Miller. He's supposed to be in a check-up room."

The nurse looked up at you, surprised by the sound of urgency in your voice. She was quick to type the name into her system, but it felt like hours for you. Your legs were nervously shaking, barely able to hold you up anymore.

She opened her mouth, making you stare at her, eyes widened, "Room 293, down the hall on the right." You were just about to thank her and continue your race but she continued, "He's just got done with the medical exam, but I'd ask you to please wait outside until a doctor comes and approves of him accepting visitors."

Fuck that. You muttered a quick thanks before your legs took you where she explained the room would be.

If they really thought you'd wait for a fucking doctor to allow you to see your boyfriend you expected to be in the worst possible condition, they were wrong. Very wrong.

Hectically, your eyes scanned each number plate on the side of the doors as you tried to find the right one.

290… 291… 292… 293! A sigh of relief washed over you. You got closer to the door, glancing to the left and right, just to make sure there was no one that could see you walk in before you knocked three times. A quiet, "Yeah?" rang through your ears and you didn't wait for another second to open the door.

Your eyes immediately fell to the man sitting on the examining bed. He was alive. At least he looked like it.

"Y/N?"

Out of breath, you tried to speak, "Joel… w-what the fuck?!" He couldn't even open his mouth. "Are you out of your goddamn mind?What the- what the hell happened to you?!" You got closer to him, your fingers coming up to gently touch his chin, turning his head to look at the small scraps next to his eyes. You noticed the bandage on his forehead, guessing he must've gotten stitches there, only making you sigh again.

Joel got a hold of your hands, holding them close to his chest as he tried to calm you down, "Sweetheart… I'm okay," he brushed some wild hairs that were covering your face, to the side, "I'm alright."

"No," you shook your head, already feeling your throat close up, "Look at you."

"This is nothing, I promise."

While his right hand held onto yours tightly, the palm of his left one ran up and down your lower arm. You shrugged out of his grasp to hide your face behind your hands as soon as you could feel the first tears rolling down your cheeks. Your fingers pressed into your eyes.

"You scared the shit of out me," your voice was not much more than a whisper, but the room was quiet, so Joel was able to hear you clearly. He pushed himself off the bed, standing up in front of you to engulf you in a warm hug when he noticed your brittle voice and your whole body shaking.

His low voice tried to calm down your soft cries as he pressed your head into his chest, ignoring the slight pain in his ribs, remembering the big bruise that was forming there. "I'm sorry, darlin'," he whispered, "I'm sorry. But I'm okay. I promise." He moved his hands from brushing over your back to cupping your cheeks, his thumbs caressing your skin, wiping away the wet stains your tears left. "I'm alive," he grinned at you, but you just shook your head.

"You're a fucking idiot, Miller," pushing a finger into his chest, getting a subtle groan out of him, making you flinch back immediately, "What?" Your eyes hastily ran over his body, "You're hurt there too."

You tried to push his shirt up, but he stopped you, placing his hands on top of yours, "No no, don't worry. Just hurts a little."

You couldn't help but to sigh again. That man was going to be the death of you. With a few steps back, you distanced yourself from him, sitting down in one of the chairs by the desk across from the bed. Carefully, Joel sat back on top of the bed. Your eyes scanned his form as you noticed the hiss he was trying to hold back, his lips pressed together tightly.

You shook your head and closed your eyes, lowering your head.

"Did Tommy call you?"

You scoffed, "Obviously."

"Did you call Sarah?" To which you motioned a 'no' to him.

"You don't need two women in your life to have a heart attack," you explained, "And I didn't know what to tell her. Tommy just said there was an accident on the construction site, and you're in the hospital. I didn't even let him finish, I sprinted out of the office." Your story made him chuckle, but he noticed your still anxious and tense body.

"He brought me here just to make sure everything was alright. I wasn't hurt badly. No one was."

You looked up to meet his eye, "Joel, you got stitches!"

He shrugged, "Not the first time, not the last time."

"Why would you say that?!" You stared at him unamused, your mouth open. Taking a deep breath in, your hand brushed through your hair while you let your eyes travel around the room. You hated hospitals. You had yet to have a positive experience in one of these buildings. The silence that overcame the room was choking. But you weren't in the mood to say anything else, nor did you know what to even say, and Joel could read you like the back of his hand. He knew he scared you. He hated it, so he was the first to break the stillness.

"Happy Anniversary."

You raised your head, finding him grinning at you shyly, making you shake your head, "Don't. This isn't funny." He nodded, understanding what was going on in your head. Another moment of silence filled the room.

"I'm sorry. I know this isn't the way you expected to spend our anniver-"

"I couldn't care less about the anniversary, Joel!" You exclaimed in frustration, "I- I thought you were-," you stopped before you could get choked up again, not even wanting to dare to say out loud what was going on in your head when you answered Tommy's phone call. "God knows what could've happened to you!"

"Come 'ere," he nodded you over, but you shook your head,

"Joel-" you were stopped by the motion of his hand for you to come closer. The man was already hurt, you didn't have to add to that. With a sigh, you stood up, leaving your bag on the chair next to you, before walking up to him again. The oldest Miller leaned forward to grasp your hand and pulled you closer, even getting a soft smile out of you.

His hand rested on your hips as you stood between his legs while you intertwined your fingers behind his neck.

"I'm sorry for scaring you, darlin'. I promise I'll be more careful."

"You better," your finger slid through his hair as you noticed the look in his eyes while he was staring at you. His right hand found its way to the back of your neck, pulling you down to finally do what he had been wanting to do all day. His lips moved against yours as you could feel him smirking before he pulled back slightly.

"I'll make it up to you tonight." You looked into his eyes in confusion, but only for a second before you moved your head back with a gasp.

"Joel!" You smacked his shoulders gently, "You're sitting on fucking a hospital bed, how could you think about sex right now?" He just continued grinning, his hands moving all over your body, keeping his eyes on yours, "How could I not with you in front of me."

A chuckle escaped from your lips followed by a shake of your head, "You're unbelievable." You got pulled closer again, his lips smashing against yours.

"Unbelievably in love with you." Earning himself a giggle and a quick peck from you.

Your fingers softly grazed the skin of his cheek, careful not to touch any of his injuries as you smiled, "Happy Anniversary, Joel." He couldn't help but to copy your facial expression, keeping you as close to him as he possibly could.

-

You drove the two of you home after the oldest Miller had gotten released from the hospital, and Tommy had already made his way back to his place. Joel was definitely moving slightly more carefully, but he assured you he was a-okay - you didn't fully believe it, but it wasn't worth a discussion.

After parking the car in the garage, you made your way into the house through the backdoor. Joel opened it for you to walk in first, just like he always did. You gave him a quick, "thank you," and stepped in before you stopped in your tracks, a high-pitched voice surprising you with a loud,

"HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!"

"Oh, Jesus!" Your hand flew up to your chest, your breathing quickening as you took in the scene in front of you. Sarah was beaming at you with her bright smile, a pink poster with big letters staring directly at you.

You started laughing, "God, you scared me, kid."

Joel stopped behind you, laughing at the sight. She ignored your exclaim, running up to wrap her arms around your torso, making you do the same around her shoulders. You pulled her in, placing a kiss on the top of her head. "You really are just the cutest," pulling back to look at her, petting her cheek, "Thank you, sweetie."

She gave you another quick grin before moving on to her father, doing the same to congratulate him, when she noticed the cuts on his face.

"What the heck happened to you?"

Joel shrugged, a hand brushing over her hair, "Just a little accident at work. Nothing to worry about."

You moved further into the house, placing your bag on one of the dining chairs. Your eyes took in the room, holding their gaze once again on the poster Sarah had clearly self-made. She had placed it on top of the table before she had rushed over to the two of you, so you were able to run your fingers over the little stones and glitter patches she had glued on. You remembered the sign you had gotten from her last year.

"You outdid yourself this year, Sarah," you turned to her when you noticed she had come to stand next to you, "It's so cute."

"Thanks," she radiated her happiness on you. "And look!" She skipped into the kitchen, making your gaze follow her when she pointed to the counter when you saw what got her so excited.

You started giggling. On the countertop sat a turquoise-coloured cake, with white frosting details on the side on pink hearts decorating the top of it.

"Oh my god!" you exclaimed, "Awww, did you do that yourself?"

She shrugged with a smile, "Dad helped me." To which Joel got closer to you two, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion,

"I thought you helped me." His arm snaked around your waist.

"Well," she answered him, "You thought wrong," sending him a sheepish grin that made you chuckle.

You opened your arms to get her into another hug, tightening your arms around her just a little tighter than before, "Well, I appreciate it a lot. Thank you, sweetie. I love it." Your eyes may have gotten a little glassy, but you were able to hold it back, not wanting to surprise them with a gush of happiness.

Joel next to you cleared his throat, gaining all the attention of the room. You released Sarah from your grasped and wrapped your arms around your partner's waist. "And thank you to you too, of course," smiling up at him as he looked down. You puckered your lips, making him smirk and lower his head to meet your mouth, giving you a quick peck.

Sarah interrupted your small moment of love when she called out, "Okay, let's eat!"

All three of you followed her orders and sat down around the dining table after grabbing plates, forks, and a knife to cut the cake. While your eyes were on Joel, who was giving each one of you a good slice, you also noticed the little girl next in the middle of the two of you, happily clapping drumming her hands on the surface, that smile of hers never leaving her face.

It was in moments like these when you truly thought to yourself what you could have possibly done in your past life to deserve people like them in your life. A boyfriend that would carry you to the ends of the world, in whose arms you felt safer than anywhere else, along with a wonderful daughter that looked at you as if you were the reason for the stars lighting up the sky.

You enjoyed the sweet dinner, easily falling into a comfortable conversation like you usually would. Sarah told you about her good day of school, bragging about the grade she had gotten on her chemistry exam, earning her a round of applause from you and a kiss on her cheek from her father. Joel and you talked about your workdays, leaving out the time you had spent in the hospital. He was fine, that's all you cared about.

After the meal, you brought all the dirty dishes into the kitchen, loading up the dishwasher, Joel placed the cake back into the fridge, and Sarah was put in charge of choosing a movie to let the evening come to an end.

Her choice fell on Jurassic Park, knowing how much the oldest in the house loved the movie, and after getting a nod of approval from you, she put it into the DVD player, telling you to hurry up and join her on the couch.

Joel and you sat down on either side of her before the girl made herself comfortable and laid her head on your lap while resting her legs on her father's. Automatically, your hands found their way to her head, brushing through her unruly hair you always complimented.

This position allowed Joel to come just a little bit closer, lifting his daughter's legs to slide over to you, pulling your head to lean on his shoulder and copying your actions to start patting your head as well. Not even forty minutes later, the soft snores and even breaths from the little girl accompanied the sounds coming from the TV. You looked down with a chuckle.

"What?" Joel wondered, "Did she fall asleep?"

"Yeah," you smiled, eyeing him suspiciously once he stood up with a groan,

"Finally." He crouched down slightly, moving one arm underneath Sarah's knees, while his other one steadied her neck. He straightened his back and pointed a finger at you, "You stay here. I still have something to make up to you."

Getting a giggle out of you, "Joel!"

"I mean it!" He shout-whispered at you before disappearing upstairs.

You brought your knees up, hugging them to your body when you remembered the little gift that was still hidden in your bag. With a soft huff, you pushed yourself off the sofa and walked over to the dining room the snatch your bag off the chair.

"Darlin', where- oh, there you are," Joel found you with your back turned towards him, rummaging through your back when he crept up on you and placed his hands on your hips once he got close enough. His lips immediately latched onto your neck, peppering it with kisses, making you giggle.

"Stooop," you laughed, leaning back into his chest.

"What are you doing?" He wondered as you turned around, your hands hidden behind your back.

You grinned up at him, "I've got something for you."

"You do?" His eyebrows shot up, "Why? Having you here is already enough," he didn't even wait for a response from you, just saw you rolling your eyes, making him chuckle as he pulled you in for a quick kiss.

You were first to retrieve back, receiving a low whine from him in return, to which you shook your head with a smile. "May I give you your gift now?"

Joel stood up straighter and put his hands out, palm up, in front of you, closing his eyes along the process. Without wasting another second, you placed the little box into his grasp. He opened his eyes again, looking suspiciously at the packaging, shaking it slightly,

"What is it?"

"You really expect me to tell you instead of just opening it?"

He smiled, "Alright, alright."

You could hardly contain your excitement as he ripped the paper off the box, throwing it onto the table behind you. As soon as Joel opened it, his eyes shot up to find you grinning right at him.

"Darlin'…"

"Sarah told me you've been looking for one," you explained, "But she also said that you never take the time to go downtown and look for one. So, I thought, I'd just save you the stress."

His fingers ran across the rounded edges of the watch in the box. It looked expensive, that's for sure.

"You didn't have to do that, sweetheart," he spoke quietly, still in awe of the present worth so much more than just money in his hands.

You shrugged, "I know, but I wanted to."

Joel took it out of its packaging, putting that to the side as well before wrapping it around his wrist. Your fingers came to help, closing the little buckle so it fit him perfectly.

He couldn't take his eyes off the watch, "Thank you, darlin'," but you were a much better sight to him, "I love it," so he pulled you in again, "I ain't never taking that off ever again."

Your hands found their usual place on the back of his neck again as you kissed him back, whispering against his lips, "I'm glad you like it. Happy anniversary."

"Happy anniversary," he mumbled back, giving you a peck before sliding out of your embrace, "Well, I guess it's time for me to give you your present now?"

"Joel," you whined, "I told you, I don't-"

His hand stopped you before he exited the kitchen and came back only seconds later, his hand in a tight fist. You waited patiently for him to open his mouth again, even though you were anything but that.

He stopped in front of you, raised his arm and let what he was holding drop down while holding onto what looked like a key ring.

"What is it?" You reached out to grab it, laying it flat against your palm to analyse it. A key. Attached to a pendant representing three figures, a figure that was supposed to be a man, next to a woman, who then again stood next to the same figure just in small.

"They key to my heart?" He jokingly answered, making it sound more like a question, making you look up.

"Ha ha," you rolled your eyes. Always the romantic…

Joel took a deep breath before clearing his throat, "I mean… I guess it kinda is, but ehm… it's a housekey." You had to tear your eyes away from the object in your hands once again once your brain registered what he had just said.

"What?"

"So," he started explaining, his hands immediately on your hips again, "I was racking my brain over what I could give you today. But I just couldn't think of anything. Because honestly… I didn't think there was anything in this world that I could buy you, that would show you just how much you mean to me."

"Don't make me cry," you quickly intervened, making him chuckle as he placed a soft kiss on your cheek,

"I'll try," and put a strand of hair behind your ear. "Yesterday Sarah, the way too smart for her own good kid, that she is," the description made you smile, "got the idea of baking something for you because she said you value that a lot more than bought stuff." He had to take another deep breath before continuing, "And then while we were preparing the cake… you know her, she started asking all those questions until we landed on the whole moving-in thing." Throughout the whole speech, you listened attentively to your partner, keeping your eyes on him the entire time even while his drifted around the room. "Since you already spent the weekends with us and are here every now and then during the week, she asked me why you're not living with us yet."

"And your answer was?" A smug smile made its way onto your lips.

"Do you want the truth or what I told her?"

"The truth, please."

Joel's eyes followed his hands as they ran up and down your sides, "That her dad hasn't had the balls yet to ask his girlfriend." You shyly looked down back to your hands. At the little charm.

He noticed where your attention was and pointed at it, "Sarah picked that up today after school." Of course, she did… You could feel the tears coming back up. God, that girl was just too pure for the world…

"So?" His voice made you meet his eyes again, "What do you say? Can you handle three Millers under one roof?"

You pretended to think, playing with the lips he so desperately wanted to feel on his again, "It won't be easy."

He grinned, "That's not a no." You dropped the key onto the table behind you before your hands went back around his neck, pulling him in close enough for your lips to almost touch. You could feel his grip on your hips tighten.

The corners of your lips curled up, "That's because it's a yes," pecking his lips, "I'll take good care of you."

His left hand travelled to your lower back, "And we'll take good care of you too," he repeated giving you multiple little kisses, making you laugh. Oh, God how much he loved that sound. And now he would be able to hear that every single day. "Now, how about I stick true to that promise I made earlier?"

You nodded, breathing against each other's mouths, "Yeah, please do." And he didn't need to be told twice.

With one swift move, you were put onto the table, before he situated himself between your legs. His hands cupped your cheeks, pulling you as close as possible. You moved yourself slightly forward, letting a moan escape from your lips when you felt his tongue glide across your bottom lip.

Opening your mouth wider, gave him the opportunity to slip in, earning a deep groan from the man in front of you. Your fingers started playing with the hem of his shirt, signalling for him to pull back and pull it up as you helped him along with it, dragging him onto you the moment it came off - eyes immediately on the dark bruise forming on his ribs.

"Joel…," you gasped, reaching out to touch the dark spot, but he got a hold of your hand, bringing your knuckles up to his lips,

"It's nothin', darlin', don't worry about it." You could worry about the truth in his statement tomorrow, for now, you wanted to get him back on you, so you smashed your lips back onto his.

He chuckled, "Someone's eager," he started trailing kisses down your neck.

"Well, someone made me think about this for hours," you grabbed his face to bring him back up to you. You could never get enough of the touch of his lips. You would drown in it if you could. You wouldn't even care if you couldn't breathe anymore, it would be a happy death.

"And that someone is gonna make sure you won't be able to think at all for the next few hours," he whispered as his right hand slipped underneath your shirt, his thumb tracing over your bra.

You couldn't help the shake in your voice, "Hours? I think you're getting a little ahead of yourself, Miller." Knowing damn well that he wasn't. You had the privilege of getting the house to yourself every now and then or having had some alone time in your apartment. If he wanted to, he could go on for hours and hours. But you'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy rilling him up just a little bit.

He scoffed, pulling your shirt over your head easily, "Sure, keep saying that. Keep talking while can." He knew what he was doing to you with those words.

His hands roamed your almost naked torso, cupping your still-covered breasts into his big hands, making you moan into his mouth.

You could feel that gentle touch of his on your body before it stopped on your ass, pulling you closer to him as he mumbled, "Come 'ere. Let's go upstairs."

You were held up tightly against him as he carried you up into the first floor, taking a sharp left to get you both into his, well now your, bedroom. Your bedroom. From now on, this was the room you'd be sharing with your partner. God, what a good time to be alive…

Once you had reached the bed, Joel slouched over, making sure to place you onto the mattress gently.

There were two sides to Joel Miller when it came to sex. You were very familiar with both. There was the soft side you adored so much. When he took his time with you, kissing every inch of your body, working you up just right, adoring your body and covering it with pure passion. His thrust would be slow and deep, gentle, yet just filled with the same amount of lust as his other side. The alter ego, as you'd like to think of it was fast-paced, hard, yet never too short, sex. Still very passionate, but loud and messy. Bruises weren't a rarety after a night like that. And while that was what you understood when thinking of sex, you adored love-making just a little bit more when the time was right. Just like at that moment.

His kisses moved from your neck, down between your breasts, along the middle of your torso, holding onto it tightly, until he reached the rim of your jeans. His fingers got to work on your button, opening it along with the zipper, before getting up slightly to free your legs from them, sliding them down as he started kneeling on the floor. Down at your ankles, he pulled them off completely, getting rid of your socks as well before starting his journey of kisses back up again.

You squirmed more and more the higher he came up, making him have to move his hands to your hips to hold you down and pull you closer to the end of the bed to reach your inner thighs.

"Ah, fuck baby…," he moaned in between kisses, "So. Fucking. Beautiful."

You were brushing some hair out of your face, heavy breaths leaving your lips. You didn't even dare to look down, knowing you'd probably only get closer to coming right then and there with the sight. "Joel, please…" you whined.

"I know, I know, darlin'," he continued admiring your thighs with his lips before hooking his fingers into the side pieces of your underwear. He noticed which ones you were wearing.

"You know," he gave them a kiss too, right onto your pelvic bone,

"These are my favourite."

You chuckled, "Of course, I know. Why do you think I put them on?"

"Well, but then it wouldn't be right of me to just take them off right away, now would it?" He smirked letting go of the fabric and prepping your legs up on the mattress. His lips moved down to the centre of your pussy, placing a gentle kiss right where you wanted him, sending a shiver through your entire body along with a shaky breath tumbling from your lips.

Once again, his finger hooked underneath the fabric of your underwear, only this time, pulling the centre piece to the side, giving him a clear view of your sex, clearly glistening even in the dim light coming from the moon outside.

He didn't let another moment pass before he covered your slit in little kisses, his hands having a tighter grip on you once you started moving again. You were still enjoying the soft feather touches of his lips on yours when you suddenly felt the tip of his tongue running over your clit, getting a low moan out of you. You had to remember there was still a little girl in the room across from you - too much noise would eventually wake her up and you were not ready to have that kind of confrontation with her yet.

"Ah… Joel…" you breathed out, your fingers tangling around his hair, pulling slightly once you felt his tongue movements quicken and deepen.

He slipped around your clit, running it down to your hole before drawing circles around there as well. As soon as he was up again, gently sucking on your clit, you could already feel the arousal dripping out of you, making you shudder and hold onto his hair just a little tighter. He switched between focusing on your bundle of nerves and gathering every drip coming out of you with his tongue.

"Fuck," you couldn't help the whine erupting from you. You had to be quiet, not silent. Especially not when you knew what your sounds could do to Joel. You were confirmed of your thoughts when you heard the buckle of the belt on his jeans opening, followed by his zipper. Joel had to free his hands from holding onto you to get his jeans off his legs, dragging his boxers along with them to free his erect dick. But his tongue never left your heat - he was a God of multitasking and had proved that many times before.

Once you felt his right hand being placed on top of your abdomen and heard a deep groan coming from him, you knew he had started grasping his cock in his free hand. The thought of your partner jerking off to eating you out and the little breaths coming from you only added to the sensation that had been building up between your legs.

"Joel," you whimpered, "Don't-fuck, don't stop," begging him to keep going. His answer was another strong suck on your clit, and a lick of his tongue as he slid into you. The hand that had been holding you down was moving lower, still keeping you from moving too much, while his thumb had found its way to your clit, making sure to stimulate it, while his tongue was working inside of you.

"Oh, God, yeah…" you breathed out, uncontrollably starting to move your hips as well to get closer to the edge. Your moans came out higher-pitched as you pressed your lips together tighter, trying to keep as quiet as possible, while your partner was doing the Lord's work on you.

"Fuck- Joel, I'm gonna cum," you whined out, "I-"

"You can do it, baby," he encouraged you, letting go of his erection, to replace his tongue with two of his fingers, and going back to kissing your clit passionately while his right hand interlaced with yours.

"Come for me," he breathed against you.

You nodded, moaning slightly louder as the grip on his hand tightened, your hips moving around more. The tension kept building up, encouraging you to keep going as he moved his fingers in and out of you, the wet sounds echoing through the room.

"Come on, darlin'." His whisper made your body shake.

And after the last small whiny, "yeah…" slipped from your lips, you fell apart beneath him, tightening around his fingers, humming uncontrollably, and trying to hold in the moans and groans you could've let out.

Joel didn't stop though. He never does. He only removed his fingers to start cleaning you up with his tongue, not letting you recover from the orgasm that had washed over you.

You tried catching your breath, releasing his hand from your tight grasp, as you moved both your hands back to his hair, begging him to come up and hover over you, "Joel," you whispered, chest still heaving heavily.

With a smile, he came back up to face you after finally taking your underwear off completely, his arms resting on either side of you, peppering your face with kisses before stopping at your mouth. You could taste the remains of yourself on his tongue as he pushed it past your lips to slide over yours.

"I love you," he spoke quietly against your mouth, moving down to your jaw, making you smile as you pulled him to look you straight in the eyes, "I love you too," kissing him with just as much passion as before.

His right arm moved underneath your arched back, towing you into him as he sat you up on your knees. His fingers quickly opened the back of your bra, sliding it down your arms, following its trail to mark it with kisses. Once were boobs were free in front of you, he leaned down, getting to work on them as he decorated them with his lips. You threw your head back in relief, giving him easier access, sighing his name out loud.

When he wanted to feel your mouth on his again, he positioned his hand on your tits, engulfing them in the warmth of his palms.

"You're always so good to me." Now it was your time to move your lips down his throat, getting a soft moan out of him, while his fingers came to play with your nipples.

"How could I not," he got a hold of your chin, moving it gently so you'd be facing him again, "You deserve it," going back to stealing your breath and devouring your lips.

Joel sat down properly on the bed, giving you the opportunity, to take a seat on his lap. You let your hand travel down your body, between your legs to smear some of your wetness onto your palm before you moved onto him, covering his fully erect cock. He held himself up with his hands on the mattress, tilting his head back, letting the pleasure wash over him as a groan fell from his lips.

You pumped your hand up and down four times before you were ready to lower your head, but a soft grip on the back of your hair stopped you, gently pulling you back up, "No no, darlin', come on," Joel patted his lap, "Sit down." He had always been more of a giver than a receiver. Not that the hated blowjobs, how could he with your mouth, but he enjoyed giving a lot more than receiving.

You listened to his demand and scootched up onto his lap, not letting go of his erection in your hand as you lined it up with your sex before slowly sinking down on it, your hands coming to rest on his shoulders as soon as he grabbed you by your hips.

A soft but long whine vibrated in your throat as he started to fill you up, stretching you with his size. Your fingers started digging into his shoulders, making him hiss with a chuckle. His strong arms kept you as close as possible to him, waiting for you to set the pace and start moving.

You let your forehead fall against his once he was fully inside, and you started rotating your hip right away. Moving them back and forth to create some friction as both of you shared a round of low moans, kissing to prevent them from getting too loud. He moved his hips along with yours after getting to know the speed you were working with, making you sigh out loud. "Oh… fuck…"

Joel's hand came up to brush some of the hairs that stuck to your forehead, away, giving your cheeks a few pecks.

"You know, you get more beautiful each day," directing them down to your throat and the side of your neck.

You chuckled, "You're one to talk, dilf hot-shot." Your comment made the two of you giggle in chorus as you remembered him of the nickname he had earned himself at the last parent-teacher conference, which you found out, thanks to his daughter, who wondered what it meant.

He rolled his eyes,

"Oh please," he jerked his hips up to tease you, almost making you screech if it wasn't for you hiding your face in his neck. "I'll always find you beautiful, sweetheart, no matter the age."

His hand on your hair pulled you back gently to look at him again,

"Likewise, handsome," you smiled at him, gifting him with a kiss before your hands on his chest pushed him down, while you kept yourself up on your knees. As Joel lowered his body, following your directions, you felt his erection tipping with him, nudging the rough spot inside of you, getting a shaky moan from you in return.

Once he was comfortable, you braced yourself with your arms on the sides of his head to hover above him, continuing your make-out session. You felt his hands going down your body, finding their new place on your ass as he held on to it, keeping you still, while started to move his upwards. Having to pull back from the kiss, you released a soft sigh before starting to move against him, meeting his thrusts in the middle.

His grip tightened with his lips on you again, "Fuck, baby," he hissed, slightly picking up the pace. "Ya' gonna' be fuckin' death of me." You loved whenever his deep Texanian accent made an appearance during sex. It just told you, you were doing everything right.

With one last kiss, you pushed yourself up to fully sit on his cock again. He pushed his knees up slightly to give you a makeshift backrest once you started moving your hips faster. His fingers quickly interlaced with yours, giving you something to hold onto as you yanked them closer to you.

"Joel…" you dragged out his name in a hush, getting a groan from him in response.

"You're doing so good sweetheart, keep doing," he encouraged you.

You sat up straight, "Put your legs down," giving him the directions you needed for your next position, sounding almost out of breath. He did as you asked, giving you the room to lean back and hold onto his thighs, opening up your body as a sight to him.

"So good, baby," he moaned out loud as he put his hand to your pussy, after wetting his fingers with his spit, circling them around your clit, making you shake.

"Fuck," you cursed out, sighing along with it as you started moving your hips faster, now with the encouragement of Joel's touch on your sex.

His groans felt your ear, letting you know he wasn't far from his release, just as much as you. You kept moving, bouncing up and down on his erection that kept brushing your walls, letting you feel every vein on his cock.

"Joel, I'm so close," you moaned, which was all he needed to know before he freed his hands from yours, only to bring them back to your ass, lifting you up to change his position. You kept yourself up, taking a few deep breaths, trying to steady your breathing with the small rest you got.

He sat up on his knees, wrapping his arms around you again to lower you back onto the mattress, this time with your head against the comfort of your pillows.

Joel stayed in this position, making sure to keep you as still as possible in the tight hug, as he started snapping his hips against yours. His cock slid easily in and out of you, the wet sounds ringing through your ears as you felt his balls slapping against your ass.

You lifted your arms, your fingers desperately trying to find the headboard to hold onto as you tried to contain yourself from the noise you wanted to make. All you could let out were high-pitched whimpers and gentle moans when you could've easily screamed into his ears with the pleasure that was rushing through your body.

You could feel Joel's fingers digging into your skin, his groans only getting deeper as he attacked your neck, hoping to keep it as quietly as possible. The second orgasm was approaching you rapidly and you wanted to open your mouth to let him know, but all you could make out was,

"I- Jo-" as he kept on hitting just the sight spots inside of you.

He nodded, "I know, baby," breathing heavily against you, "Ya gonna come with me?" Making you nod hastily, "Yeah?" To which you nodded again, a whimper tumbling from your lips.

Your feet started digging into the mattress as the pressure leading you to your release was getting intensely more.

"I-I'm gonna c- fuck, I'm gonna cum," you managed to get out. Joel kept his lips on your neck, gifting you more encouraging words.

"Yeah baby, come with me," was the last thing you needed to hear before he smashed his lips onto yours just at the right time before you could scream your orgasm out into the world. Your fingers tightened around the wood of the headboard as you felt him shoot his cum into you. His groan against your mouth sent vibrations through your body, which was already shaking from the aftermath of your release.

As soon as he pulled back, the two of you shared your heavy breaths, sweaty foreheads pressed against each other, a smile of pleasure decorating both of your faces.

Joel started peppering your face with kisses again, making you chuckle as you still tried to catch your breath, just as well as he still was doing.

"I love you, darlin'," he whispered against your skin as you brought your fingers back to his hair, brushing them to make him look at you.

After placing a loving kiss against his lips, you breathed out, "I love you, babe. I love you a lot."

"A lot?" He chuckled, raising his eyebrows.

You nodded with a smile, "A lot."

With a deep kiss that let you know just what you needed to know, he was back gazing into your eyes, freeing your face from all the small hairs that had made their way to your sweaty forehead, "Well then, I love you a lot too." But you couldn't let him go yet, yanking him towards you for one last, passion-filled kiss, moaning into his mouth as he smirked.

Joel pushed himself back up, slowly sliding his erection out of you, making you shiver, and him chuckle before he walked over to the basket of clean clothes he had yet to put away.

He searched for the clean cloth he remembered throwing in, and once he had found it, he brought it back to bed with him. He was back to hovering above you, continuing your innocent make-out session while he started cleaning up the mix of his and your cum that was dripping out of you. With every swipe, you buckled your hips up uncontrollably, just enjoying the pleasure washing over your body.

After he got done with that, he threw the cloth into the basket for dirty clothing before starting to look for his boxers, standing up on his two feet to pull them up his legs. You crawled over to the edge of the bed, bending down to gather your underwear before looking up at Joel who was standing closer to the clean clothing than you were.

"Can you give me a shirt, please?" Already knowing that you were asking for one of his, he snatched a dark green one and passed it over to you, who had gotten up from the bed, legs still shaky, but you could make it work.

Once you had thrown that over your body, you felt the familiar strong arms wrap around you again, and Joel lowered his head to get another few kisses from you.

"Happy anniversary," he whispered once again.

You smiled against his lips, "Oh, it is a very happy anniversary, babe." When there didn't seem to be a stop to the make-out session he had initiated, you tried to push him away, but he wasn't budging.

"J-Joel," you giggled, "I need to go."

"Where?" He immediately pulled his head back, gazing at you in surprise, but you quickly calmed him with a soft hand on his chest,

"Downstairs to get our clothes. I don't need to traumatise your daughter on the first day of moving in," you freed yourself from his hug, "And then I have to take a shower."

As you passed him, he couldn't let go of the opportunity to get a hold of your ass, squeezing it, getting a screech from you in response. You were quick to turn around and hit him on the upper arm, making him flinch away with a smirk.

"Joel!" You hissed at him, motioning for him to be quiet.

He raised his arms, "You're the one being so loud," earning himself a death glare from you, but it only made his grin wider.

His eyes followed your form as you left the room before he let himself drop down onto the bed. He ran a hand over his face, not even caring to hide the smile that just didn't seem to go away.

You were officially moved in. From today on, he'd wake up next to you every single day. Sarah and he would have you by their side every afternoon after work. He'd be able to pick you up and bring you both home. Together. He knew now the pressure of the next step in your relationship would be approaching quicker, but he decided to put that thought aside and focus on the present - and on your footsteps that were coming back up.

Joel laughed to himself as he got back up, on his way to join you in the bathroom for round two - after all, he had promised you hours.

joel taglist: @corvusmorte

“You know what I mean,” You sigh, mind lagging when his teeth find the notch in your collarbone that would be painted with marks by the time he was finished. 

Joel tightens his grip on you. “I think it’s a cute little nickname for a pretty lady such as yourself,” His accent seemed to grow thicker when he was tired, and after the time you two spent rolling around in the sheets – that was the inevitable outcome. 

“So I can call you daddy?” You jokingly say with a quirk of your eyebrows.

“Now hold on a minute–” You’re already turning over so you can straddle his waist. Taking his wrists and pinning them above his head, the man beamed at you with a smile. “I’ll think about it.” He sighs and leans up, collecting you in a heap. His lips find yours and together, you two are making a wreck of the sheets once more, once again avoiding the burning question of who was into who, or who was in love with who. 

However, you wouldn’t realize that night was the last time you were wrapped up in Joel Miller’s arms until the outbreak day. A harsh and bitter day of September 26th, 2003 would ultimately turn your world inside out in every dimension imaginable. The cordyceps infection had spread and it was wreaking havoc on a town you grew up in, turning the most vulnerable into sickening monsters with no control. 

You ran, and ran, and ran… until running was all that you knew. Years passed by, but you would never forget the face of Joel Miller, a man who held you in the darkness and made you realize that you could actually love in a world so violently cold. 

And when you had no way to contact him, no way to see if he was safe, no way to… To see if he had been dealt the card of death – you fell into a depression. Between running to try and save yourself from the horrifying nightmare that the world was currently facing, you drowned your sorrows with amber-colored despair and white pills that you popped like candy. 

But all that would change when you would find him. In Wyoming of all places. Not a day went by that Joel didn’t come across your mind. He was a distant memory, but a vivid mark on your skin. If you stayed eerily still at night as you lay in your sleeping bag or in one of the safehouses you’d come across, you could feel his hands on your body, his rough fingertips kneading their way into your flesh. You could feel his heart thumping against yours, and you could feel the scruff of his face scratch and burn your thighs. You realized that you loved him after the fact. When it was too late. When he was no longer a permanent mark in your life. 

Joel thought of you too. Ellie had already tried to pry into his past life with wonder if any woman had the nerve to love someone as grumpy as him. Joel thought he made it clear that their backstories were off the table of discussion, but Ellie being a persistent teenager with a need to know everything, pestered him over, and over, and over until Joel finally caved. 

“There’s a woman,” Ellie squints.

“A woman? Geez.” Joel huffs as he sits at the top of the safe house with his back pressed to the brick wall. Ellie grinned at the stark realization she was slowly combing through the hallowed pieces of Joel Miller, filling in the cracks of a man who suffered far more than she had yet to realize. 

“What was her name?” Ellie asks. 

Joel could see your face, his own memory serving up a crystalline visual of you that was the definition of perfect. If he thought long and hard, he could feel the warmth of your body underneath his. He always wondered if you made it out alive. He regretted not telling you he loved you. 

He smiled as he registered Ellie’s question a little more. 

“I had this stupid nickname for her… She uh– she always told me I’d regret calling her that one day,” He bites down on his lip. 

Ellie raises a questioning eyebrow. “Annnnd? Come on, Joel. Tell the class.” She points to the empty space around her. “Jimmy Cricket is dying to know.” She teases. 

Joel chuckles. “I called her ‘mama’.”

“Mama?” Ellie repeats. “Oh no… Does that mean she called you da–”

“No.” Joel cuts her off. “No.” He lies through his teeth, but he wasn’t about to scar Ellie’s mind. Even though it probably had its fair share already. 

Ellie smirks. “What’d she look like?” She could see the brightness come over Joel’s face. She could read expressions, and that was one of a man who cared about someone other than himself. 

“She was beautiful… She had the softest hair. She always said she had her little imperfections, but I told her she was perfect to me. She had a soft tone about her, but if you pissed her off – even she worried me. She could blow a gasket on short notice… You never touched those that she loved. I told her she was a butterfly, but a rattlesnake when pushed.” Joel found himself gushing, the memory of you now causing his heart to sear with a deep ache. 

Ellie crosses her legs and looks at him. Joel pinpoints his focus on his roughened hands, cuts and bruises covering his skin. “You loved her,” Ellie sighs.

“No,” Joel shakes his head. “I-I didn’t love her,” He chuckles. “Those words never came out.” 

Ellie scoffs. “Because you were too much of a grumpy man to tell her, duh.” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Joel argues. 

Ellie shrugs. “Puppy dog love. You sound like a puppy.” She then draws in a deep breath, somewhat afraid to ask. “Let me guess… You never saw her again after outbreak day?”

Joel slowly shakes his head, wishing he didn’t have to admit the truth. Oftentimes he wondered what would have happened had you stayed. He was so close to telling you how he felt. Sarah told him he was stupid if he went another day without you staying there. 

“Do you think she… Survived?” Ellie throws darkness into the pool of memories, and it causes Joel’s heart to ache. 

“I hope so,” Joel mumbles. He wondered if you had moved on. Did you find your person? Did you finally get married? Did you have a baby? You had so many things you wanted to do, all of which you gushed to Joel about with the secret pinning that it would be him to give you those things. 

Soon, Ellie and Joel find themselves falling asleep. 

But when they would get up the next morning, Joel would be met with the surprise of a lifetime. When the light cracked through the window and Ellie stirred, she gasped when she saw a figure coming around the corner with a gun trained on anything that could potentially hurt her.

That person was you. 

“JOEL!” Ellie screams, catching the older man by surprise. Joel immediately finds himself springing to his feet as quickly as he could, and you yelp when you see the little girl standing there with her arms raised. 

Your eyes weren’t deceiving you. You knew that face. His face. 

“Oh my God, – Joel?” You whisper. 

Fate sure did have a way of sneaking up on you… 

Joel blinked rapidly, never once lifting his gun to aim at you. You immediatley dropped yours to your side. “W-who are you?”

“Ellie,” Ellie responds. She looks over at Joel, and her eyes widen between the two of you. “Whoa… Are you–”

Joel hisses, earning Ellie to shut up. 

“What are you doing here?” Joel asks. 

You cock an eyebrow. “Apparently I’m here for the same thing as you two. Shelter. Plus, I need to find some ammo.” You respond. “I…I thought you were dead.” 

Joel nods his head. “I thought you were too.” 

Ellie bites into her lip. “You know what? I’m going to give you two some space.” 

“Ellie!” Joel calls her name, but she turns around to face him and pulls out her gun. 

“I’ll shoot anything that runs at me. I won’t leave the building. I swear.” She holds up a hand. “Scout’s Honor.” She winks before walking out of the room. 

Your eyes ghost over Joel. He looked the same, but much older. His hair which was dark brown when you last saw him was now the color of salt and pepper. His bear had grey flecks all throughout it, and wrinkles were present on his forehead. Joel was always older than you by 12 years. 

“This is… I wans’t expecting to see you.” You bite your lip. Joel looks down and notices your worn hands, knuckles split open, and old and new blood covering your white bandages. “Is she your–”

“No,” Joel cuts you off. “I’m taking her to–” At first he doesn’t want to tell you. He had gone his whole life not trusting many people, but then he saw the look come across your face, the same look that would make him tell you his entire life story. “A hospital in Utah. She’s immune to this whole thing,” Joel still can’t believe it’s you. 

“Immune?” You whisper. “T-they think they can muster a cure with her?” 

Joel nods his head. “Supposedly. But I think you know how far-fetched that sounds.” 

You tighten your grip on your backpack. 

“I like the salt and pepper look…” You chuckle nervously. 

Joel falters with the faintest of smiles. “Useless to try and dye it. Might as well embrace it.” He shrugs his shoulders.

Silence brews between the two of you. Joel clears his throat.

“You… What about you? Family? Husband?” He ponders.

Scoffing, you shake your head. “No, and hell no.” You laugh. 

Joel lifts an eyebrow. “I thought that was the dream.” 

“That was my dream with you.” You blurt out, not expecting to feel those fuzzy feelings upon seeing him. It was still shocking to know that Joel Miller came out of the outbreak unscathed and not one of those horrific monsters, but then again, he was Joel Miller. His survival instincts were much greater than those around him.

Joel stares you down, eyes softening. 

“I–” You inhale sharply, but find yourself coming up short of words to say. There was nothing you could say that could explain this moment, and what exactly you were feeling on the inside. Joel notices you, he always did. He noticed every little thing you did when you two were “together” but tiptoeing around the idea. That nervous habit when you twiddled your thumbs when you came up short on an explanation. It was the missing piece. You were the missing piece. 

“Ellie?” Joel calls her name.

“I’m fine!” Ellie screams in return.

Joel nods his head with his hands on his hips. The overwhelming sensation takes over, and it pushes him forward. Your eyes widen as Joel slowly closes the distance. 

“Come here, mama,” It slips out just before he reaches you, and suddenly, it’s as if you’re transported to that evening in bed with him. 

It knocks the wind out of you when he wraps his rough hands around your cheeks. He drags you forward like it no time had passed between you two. His lips find yours, crashing down instantly for a kiss that sealed the hole you had felt for the longest time.

The gasp floods from your mouth as you instantly intertwine your fingers around his neck and pull him even closer. Your tongues find the others, and you can’t help the tears that well in your eyes. The kiss was longing, it had desperation laced through it, and based on the trembling both you and Joel shook from, you were in need of each other. 

Slowly, Joel pulls his lips away from yours, but he allows his forehead to rest on yours. Your hands drop casually on his hips, your teeth sinking into your lip.

“You know… You never even asked if I was infected,” You giggle quietly, causing Joel to roll his eyes at you. 

“You wouldn’t have kissed me if you were. You’re a survivalist, mama. Not an idiot.” He kisses your forehead, allowing his lips to lay there. The scruff of his facial reminds you of years past, and you entrap Joel in a tight embrace that has tears staining his shirt. 

“Joel, I missed you so much. I didn’t tell you then, but I loved you. I loved you so much.” You lace your fingers through his hair, the blubbering line showing weakness, but your heart was fragile when it came to him. It always would be. 

Joel tightens his grip on you. 

“I loved you too, baby. I loved you so much, and I still do.” Joel whispers. “You’re not leaving this time, do you hear me? You’re coming with Ellie and me. I won’t let you go again.” 

Smothering your face into the crook of his neck, that’s where your journey picked up.

“Please don’t,” You blubber. “...Daddy.” You add with a soft giggle.

You met through Megan who was dating his younger brother Tommy, a Gulf War vet that was more serious about holding his liquor than he ever was fighting in the war. One night when he’d had too much to drink, Joel, the responsible one, picked him up. A sleeping baby girl in the backseat. 

He barged through your front door. “Tommy, what the hell are you doin’ bothering these–” 

He stopped as soon as he looked at you. From that moment it was like the two of you had this instant communication. He didn’t have to say anything, all you needed to do was look into his eyes. 

“HI there.” He smile at you, that warm smile with that dimple on the side of his cheek. “I–uh–hope you’re not the girl my little brother’s been botherin’ “

“That would be my roommate.” You smile back at him. His smile grows even wider and you can’t remember the last time you had such electric eye contact with someone. 

Tommy bursts through the door, coming out of the bathroom with Megan hoisting his large frame.

“Please get him in bed and away from vodka.” She hoists Tommy onto Joel. 

“Tell me a bedtime story.” He slurs. Joel looks at you apologetically as he turns to bring him to the car. You and Megan exchanged a silent look as she could pick up on what was going on and she nudged you to go after him. 

“Hey wait!” You call out, you try not to focus on his broad back muscles. “I think it’s clear Tommy needs some chaperoning whenever he comes over here.”

He furrows his brow in confusion at first. “Y’know, his big brother to come over and make sure he’s doing right?” ‘You smile. 

“Just say when and I’ll tag along.” Joel winks at you. 

He was always a man of his word. 

The next weekend, Megan invited Tommy over and suggested he bring Joel along as well. Tommy came barreling in like a freight train and Joel laid back to greet you at the door. He held up a six pack of beer. 

“I didn’t wanna come over empty handed. It’s all we had in the fridge.” Joel said. 

“Yeah, Joel wanted to come right over after workin’ tonight. Even let Sarah stay at a friends house, ain’t that sweet?”

“Alright, Tommy. I still clearly gotta babysit you.” Joel rolls his eyes. 

“We’ll, thank you for the beer, Joel but we’re more wine drinkers here. Do you like red blend?”

“I’ll drink whatever you give me.”

————————

A few hours later, Megan and Tommy have gone off on their own adventure. You and Joel split the bottle of wine between the two of you and despite him stating he could handle his liquor, his large body was sprawled out across your living room floor with his empty glass tipped over. 

“Miller, I thought you said you could handle your liquor.” You grin at him from the couch. 

“I usually can. I don’t know what was in your roommate’s cheapass screwtop–” 

“Hey–don’t blame the alcohol for why you’re currently on our living room floor right now. And while she can’t defend herself.” 

“You saying I’m a sloppy drunk?” He leans closer towards you and you observe the patches in his beard. 

“I’m saying I don’t wanna hold your hair back above the toilet.” You grin at him. He looks at you, hard. You feel your heart rate rising and the moment is almost too much to handle. You need to ground yourself with something, anything. You turn to your vinyls. 

“You like records?” You ask him, moving towards the shelf. 

“Didn’t know people your age still listened to them.” He called out. You scoffed. 

“I’m not that much younger than you. Besides, this is timeless. CDs might come and go like 8 track players, but these? These are gonna last through everything.” You hold up a record and he nods in approval, Fleetwood Mac’s self titled album. You flip to side two and the sounds of “Say You Love Me” flood the living room. 

You join him on the living room rug and close your eyes, listening to Christine McVie’s voice. 

Have mercy, baby, on a poor girl like me

You know I'm falling, falling, falling at your feet

I'm tingling right from my head to my toes

So help me, help me, help me make the feeling go

“God, her voice is just so ageless. I know everyone always looks at Rumours as their best but this one is just cla–” Your breath hitches when you feel his hand brush your cheek. You feel the warmth of his face coming closer and closer as you finally open your eyes to see Joel ready to kiss you. 

But he forgot his wine glass in his hand as it spilled onto you with the remainder of his alcohol. 

“Shit, shit.” Joel stumbles up and looks around. “I am so sorry, I can clean that up.” 

You get up to him walking around your kitchen, looking for paper towels. When he turns around, you put your hand at his chest and look up at his beautiful brown eyes. 

“Why don’t you help me find a new shirt?” You ask him in a low voice. His jaw is slacked as he slowly nods. 

“Yes ma’am.” He follows behind you, taking your hand as you lead him into your bedroom. 

One thing about Joel Miller? He takes his time. He takes his time giving you soft, syrupy kisses and drawing the anticipation by pulling at your lip. 

He builds you up by meticulously touching every part of your body while peeling off your clothes, grabbing at the swell of your ass, the dips of your hips and pulling at the back of your neck. He wants to make you feel amazing.

Once you’re naked, he lays you on top of your bed and peers up at you as he pulls your knees apart. 

He drags the tip of his tongue over your clit, savoring your taste as he moans in relief. You tremble against him, dragging your hand through his dark curls as he begins to put his full mouth into you, his tongue entering you as his nose brushes your clit. You can’t help but squirm on top of him, rocking onto him as he moans below you. 

“You taste so fucking good.” Joel gets up for air briefly and dives back in. Kissing at your inner thighs, he takes one of his thick fingers and pushes one into you, your body instantly tightening around it. 

“So wet for me too.” Joel moans. He moves in earnest, putting his mouth back onto your clit and the pleasure is all you can concentrate on. He adds another finger, getting up to watch you squirm at his fingers as your wetness fills the room from his methodical thrusts. 

You feel yourself tense, your muscles tightening around him as your pleasure intensifies and your breaths go shallow. When he curves his fingers and moves his mouth back to your clit, you short circuit completely. 

You writhe on top of him as you cum, moaning louder than you’d expected and hoping Tommy and Megan don’t hear anything. Your shallow breaths fill the room and your eyes are shut. Pleasure still pulsates through your body as Joel is now on top of you, kissing at your throat as you feel his heavy, still clothed cock on top of you. 

When you release it, it springs from his boxers, thick and dripping at the top with precum. You rub the tip of his head as he lets out a hiss of air at your throat. You bring the liquid to your mouth and savor the taste. 

“I hope this ain’t too forward,” His hands cup and knead at your breasts. “But I’m desperate to feel you.” 

“Please” You beg. “I have condoms but I’m also on the pill. Whatever you need, just please don’t stop.” 

Joel lines himself up against you, rubbing his thick cock against your soaked walls. His eyes don’t leave yours as he gently enters you. It’s soft at first, him trying to fit in every single inch while also not cumming immediately while he was inside of you. You gripped him, wet and tight. 

During the pause when he’s finally deep inside of you, you both are riddled with heavy breathing. Your kisses are slow but hungry. You start to move below him and that’s what drives him wild. 

He begins to pump faster inside of you, rubbing himself against your swollen clit. You don’t think you’ve ever had something so intimate before. You’d had sex, but this just felt like something out of another dimension. Joel was entirely focused on your pleasure, hungrily pawing at your body as he rocked on top of you. 

When circled his fingers on your clit, you knew you were going to cum a second time. You grabbed at the bedsheets, another climax of pleasure making you arch. 

After you came twice, Joel was needier. He raised your leg so he could get into a deeper position and you had felt so incredibly full. He fucks you at a rapid speed and feeling you convulse around him for another orgasm wasn’t helping and the room filled with the noise of his balls slapping onto your skin. 

You loved that his broad body surrounded you, that all you could feel was him and all you could hear were his grunts into your ear. His hips began to stutter as he filled himself into you, emptying himself as much as he could into your tight walls. 

You don’t realize how badly you were gripping him until you rub his back, his head on your chest and you feel the claw marks. His breathing is labored, still feeling the impact of your sex as you bury your fingers into his curls. 

“This should go without being said,” Joel looked up at you. “But I would really like to take you out sometime.” 

You weren’t going to say no to that. 

—---------------------------------

You wake up, the motion of the car rattling you. 

“Morning, sunshine.” Megan smiles behind the steering wheel. Before everything, Megan was terrified of driving and now you’d catch her dead before she’d stop and pick someone up, choosing to run them over instead because they were likely a hunter. 

And wouldn’t you rather kill than be killed? 

It all happened so fast but so painfully, hauntingly slow at the same time. In one night, civilization as you knew it had ceased to exist. Megan came home, shaking, covered in blood telling you you had to leave tonight. 

You drove until you ran out of gas. You walked until you were able to rob some idiots that tried to give you a ride and take advantage of you. And that’s how you ended up at the Philadelphia quarantine zone. Somewhere far away from Texas and the sticky heat and long carefree nights.

There were a lot of men like that in this world, who thought they could take things from vulnerable women. Little did they realize, the vulnerable women didn’t make it. Not all of them were like that, though. Bill and Frank weren’t. 

You’d met Frank over the radio, talking over some music his partner BIll was playing as some sort of signal. Frank was incredibly kind, warm and worldly in a world with almost nothing left. He’d offered to trade things between you and Megan’s QZ and the Lincoln town he lived in with Bill. 

And Bill? He was…Bill. He wasn’t exactly kind and open to strangers, but he knew the both of you and trusted you after all of these years. Whoever Frank loved, he loved. So when you’d heard the 80’s distress signal coming from the radio, you’d decided to risk the trip and make sure everything was okay. 

When you had gotten to the gate, usually coded, it was wide open and the two of you exchanged looks in surprise. Without having to say a word, you grabbed your handgun out of the glove compartment. Megan pulled up to Bill and Frank’s, seeing their door open. 

The two of you had tried to get out of the car as quietly as possible. Crouching behind the car as you heard the crunch of footsteps. 

“It could be Bill and Frank.” Megan whispered. 

“When is it like Bill to ever keep the gate open?” You asked her. You heard the crunches coming closer. 

The two of you signal to step out at the same time, adrenaline pumping through your veins. After all of this time, it never gets easier doing this. 

Before you could pull the trigger, you hear a HYAH and see a small figure jump out towards you. 

Jesus, it’s a child. Before she could try to stab either of you, Megan pins her down to the ground, knocking the knife out of the way and the kid squirms under her. 

You see another figure jump into frame to defend the kid. A man with grey hair, a broad frame and a handgun. The two of you are in a standoff but something feels off. You know you’ve been to Lincoln so many times before but something about this feels entirely too familiar. 

“Do not hurt the kid.” The man drawls, looking down at her and then back at you. “She didn’t—“

And then his eyes meet yours. Still as piercing as you remember. And you realize that you’re standing in front of Joel Miller for the first time in twenty years. 

“…Joel?” Megan says something first. 

“Hi Megan.” He looks at her briefly to acknowledge her, but he looks back at you. The gun still in his hand, gripped tightly. 

“We’re not looking for any trouble.” Joel says. “We’re here to check on our friends.”

“Bill and Frank.” You finally say to him. “Our friends.” The look of confusion on his face is apparent. 

“You two knew Bill and Frank?” He asks. 

“How about ‘it’s good to see you two alive after all this time’, Joel?” You ask him, exasperated. You were tired of holding this gun, your hands were getting clammy and you had no intentions of shooting him. Even after all this time, you knew he wouldn’t shoot both of you either. 

Megan lets the girl up and she runs to Joel. She puts her gun down and you motion for him to follow suit. He looks at you for a long hard moment, his eyes scanning your body as you feel yourself redden with embarrassment, feeling fully exposed in front of him and looking like apocalyptic shit. He sets his gun down as you follow suit. 

“I think y’all should come inside, then.” Joel said. “Some things you need to see.” 

You follow Joel and the young girl-you find out her name is Ellie- into Bill and Frank’s house. You go to the same place that Bill and Frank would keep supplies, notes or any clothing that Frank had to spare - the second cabinet to the right. That’s where you see their note. 

Frank’s condition had worsened over the past few years. A degenerative disease you weren’t sure exactly what it was, but when he asked for a wheelchair from the Philadelphia QZ you were both more than happy to bring it to them. You knew it was only a matter of time before he went. When Bill decided to go with him, you weren’t surprised. Despite his exterior, everything Bill did was for Frank, the man he loved. 

You couldn’t remember the last time you had felt that kind of devotion to someone until today. 

The four of you sit at the table. An awkward silence between the four of you, the only sound being Ellie rocking her chair. One of the legs must’ve been broken and Bill hadn’t gotten to it ye–

Oh. Right. 

“I didn’t know Bill and Frank knew anyone else besides us.” Megan said. 

“Likewise. I guess that makes sense.” Joel said, his eyes still on you.

You agreed. “Frank, I’m sure, would’ve loved the extra company. More people to host garden parties and socialize for but if Bill had anything to do with it–” 

“He would’ve threatened to kill us.” You say in unison. 

“Trust me, he made sure to make us aware if we tried anything he had his gun right on the table the first time we met.” You said. 

“His reputation precedes himself.” Joel said. 

The two of you are silent for a moment. Megan and Ellie looking between the both of you. 

“Am I missing something?” Ellie asked, pointing at the two of you back and forth. 

“And I think that’s my queue to look around for some food. Maybe we can have some dinner, figure out what the fuck we’re doing and then call it a night before we go our separate ways, huh?” Megan quickly said. 

You sit at the table with Joel and Ellie, completely silent as Joel is now looking away from you and Ellie keeps looking at the both of you. 

“You can cut the tension with a knife, huh?” Ellie whistles. 

“Ellie, go take a shower. They’ve got hot water.” Joel says. She quickly gets up and runs down the hall. 

“You don’t have to tell me twice. But after I take one, you’re going in because man. And if we’re gonna be around company…” 

“Ellie.” He raises his voice into a stern inflection you haven’t heard since…

Where the hell is Sarah? 

—-------------------------------------------------

Later that night, you’ve hunkered down with Megan, Joel and Ellie. The four of you have rabbit along with some vegetables and rice from Frank’s garden. The tension has subsided as you’ve gotten into the wine cabinet. That’s when the memories flow back. The three of you share stories from Texas, your old lives that seem so long ago. Reminiscing on how things used to be as Ellie interjects with a question about the old world every now and then while reading a comic she snagged from Bill’s basement. 

Megan eventually stretches her arms up. “Well, I’ve been drivin’ all day and I’m exhausted. I’m about to hit the hay.” 

“Well I am gonna finish reading this in peace and quiet so I can read about this alien’s guts spilling out without interruptions. Goodnight! You kids have fun!” Ellie grins. 

Megan gives you a look etched in worry before she heads to the stairs. You roll your eyes at her because you can take care of your goddamn self. You have been for ages. 

You hear the footsteps go upstairs as you and Joel sit across from each other at the table. It’s like a lockbox with feelings you hadn’t had in years starts rattling in your chest, a monster of them waiting to come out and erupt.  

You look over at him, his hair slicked back from his shower, grays prominent in his hair and his beard. The swell of his lips was still prominent and had the ability to drive you crazy. 

“Bill and Frank.” You say to him, hoping to silence the voices in your own head.  

“Bill and Frank.” He repeats, his hands fidgeting on the table. 

“So, uh, I guess while we’re here–I’m gonna raid the liquor cabinet.” You head to the liquor cabinet to see if there’s anything strong enough to hold the awkward air between the two of you. You see a dusty bottle in the back of the cabinet, a red blend that looked entirely too familiar to pass up. 

You bring it to the table, setting it down in front of Joel. He looks up at you and shakes his head in disbelief, a small smile etched across his face. 

“After all this time, you still drink the same shitty red blend.” Joel says. 

“Can you handle your liquor any better, Miller?” You slide it towards him, he catches the bottle with one large hand. 

“I guess we’ll have to see.” He grumbles, slicing the wine bottle open with his knife. 

It didn’t take long for you to feel the heaviness of the wine, sloshing in your stomach as you and Joel took turns taking long drinks from the bottle. 

He tells you of Tess, his smuggling partner that had recently gotten infected while smuggling Ellie out of the city. While you admired her bravery and her sacrifice, you can’t help but feel a sting of jealousy. You’d had your partners every now and then, but none of them ever stuck around long enough. None of them ever mattered like he did. 

“She was like family.”  He stated. 

You knew you couldn’t just say sorry. “I’m sorry for your loss” almost seems insulting these days with teh weight of how much it happens. 

“Did–uh–you have any smuggling partners?” Joel asks, sipping on the bottle and looking away as if to play nonchalant. Twenty years and you can still tell when it’s all bullshit. 

“I did. None of them were exactly like family but they were enough to help Megan and I get by. I never trusted them enough to introduce them to Bill and Frank.” You said. 

“Oh.” Was all he could say. 

“I–I couldn’t. I just couldn’t let myself get too far with anyone after–” You can’t even bare to say it. But he looks at you as if you have, like you’ve just cut part of his soul open. 

“What the fuck happened?” You muttered, swigging from the bottle.

“You want the version they’re teaching kids in FEDRA school or the version we remember?” Joel asked. 

“Joel…” You give him a long look. He looks at you, briefly, breaking eye contact to look anywhere else and scowl. He chooses to grab the bottle from you, taking a large gulp. 

“It doesn’t matter now, does it?” He says. 

“Maybe it doesn’t.” You say. “But I still wanna know. I just…we could’ve had this life.” 

His brow arches. 

“You and me. Tommy and Megan. Bill and Frank. We could’ve been a team. It would’ve been something.” 

“Tommy decided to fuck off and join the Fireflies. Pretend like he was makin’ a difference. And then when that fell through last I heard he was in Wyoming. Megan was better off.” He stated. 

“You were…” He silently mutters. 

“We don’t have to talk about any of it. I’ve done some shit I regret but I did it to survive. Because that’s what we have to do in this new world. I get it. But those first few years…I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” 

He takes a large drink of wine. “Or Tommy.” 

“Or Sarah.” 

“Well, there’s no damn use in thinkin’, is there?” Joel snaps back. You know you’ve clearly hit a nerve talking about Sarah. With whatever happened to her. Was she with the Fireflies? Was she with her Uncle Tommy? You’d hate to think it could be any worse. That brilliant, beautiful girl in any sort of trouble or not existing in this world. 

By the pain in Joel’s eyes, the exterior he’d tried to mask by furrowed brows and a hardened expression, you knew. Suddenly the air felt thick. 

“I’m sorry…I’m gonna step outside.” You rush to the porch as you feel the tears flood through your eyes. Sarah’s gone. You didn’t know that after all of the pain, after all of the violence, after everything this world has taken from you, that you could still feel this searing pain of loss. 

You suddenly hated yourself for not being there. For not calling. For running away from things when they had gotten too serious, as if some bullshit relationship problems would matter in a week’s time in that moment. You had no idea what was about to happen. 

If you’d known you would’ve lost everything and everyone in your life you had loved, you would’ve tried to hold on to the man you loved and his family for as long as you could. 

But then again…maybe it was better this way that you weren’t there. You didn’t hold him back, you didn’t hold him back either. This world isn’t for the weak. Love makes you fucking weak. Joel makes you so fucking weak, 20 years later. It’s infuriating, intoxicating and confusing. 

You hear the door open and footsteps come through. You wipe your tears away as you see Joel sit next to you on the bench. 

“I’m sorry.” He says, solemnly. “You didn’t know. It was that night of the…” 

“I know it’s so god damn insignificant now…but I’m so sorry I didn’t call.” You choke. Joel remains silent, his lips wavering. 

“You didn’t know.” He repeats himself. 

“So what happens now?” You ask him. 

“We do what we came here to do. Get our supplies, celebrate Bill and Frank and we drink.”  

“We drink.” You nod. 

And drink you did. 

You drank and remembered the good times, the times when he’d come over every Friday night that Sarah had a sleepover and you’d talk and touch each other until the sun came up. You drank and remember how even though Megan and Tommy had fizzled out, he had still come over to be with you. You drank and remembered the bad times, when you couldn’t handle the intimacy, you both couldn’t decide what this was. 

You can’t bear the way he looks at you. You need an escape. You head to Frank’s record collection. 

You dust off the record collection and see the familiar cover of Fleetwood Mac’s self titled album. You look up at Joel and his cheeks look like they sting with glee. He lets out a small giggle. 

“What was it I used to tell you?” You try to remember. 

“Records are timeless.” Joel says as you flip the vinyl to side B. “You were always right.” 

The room floods with the faint sounds of “Say You Love Me”. It had been years since you’d heard this song but you still remembered every word. Joel extended his hand out to you and you took it, fingers stroking his palm. 

You pressed yourself lightly against him, turning and looping over the hardwood floor as the music continued. Somehow, someway, you could still smell his subtle sandalwood scent. 

'Cause when the lovin' starts and the lights go down

And there's not another living soul around

You woo me until the sun comes up

And you say that you love me

The two of you giggled like children as you looped around Bill and Frank’s living room. The light of the moon shone on Joel’s face and the hardened exterior of the older man was gone for a moment, and you were taken back to 2003 where that gorgeous carpenter was leaning against your doorway for the first time. 

Your hand crept up his neck, feeling his peppered curls as he shivered. In response, he pressed his body closer to yours until you were cheek to cheek. 

He turns to face you. His eyebrows scrunched in worry and confusion of the feelings that were rising. He never thought he would see you again, and these damn emotions kept flooding through his body. 

“I showed up to your house that morning.” He whispered. “Right after we dropped Sarah off at school. My birthday.” 

“So do you still think it doesn’t matter?” You asked him. 

“It wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“But it would’ve given us one more good day. Before it all went to shit. And if that’s all we had, then I’m okay with that. Better than the alternative.” 

You pressed your lips onto his, slow and calculated at first. You gave him one small peck to test his willingness to kiss you. You looked back at Joel and his eyes were shut tightly. 

“I’m sorry–I shouldn’t have–” You try to break away but he tightens his grip around you. 

“I’m just trying to savor this moment.” Joel whispers. You meet his lips again, hungrier, needier. Both of your hands exploring each other as if to make sure this was real and you weren’t dreaming it. 

“Joel.” You break away as he strokes your cheek. “Let’s go to bed.” 

“Yes ma’am.” He says. 

It’s no shock that after all this time, you and Joel still fit together like a glove. Your body melts into his with a comfort that you haven’t felt in years. You didn’t know your body could ever feel that good again. 

You didn’t think your hair, greasy and damaged when you looked at it in the mirror, could be stroked like that again. As if Joel had gotten a spool of gold and he didn’t want to ruin it, Joel petted you with delicacy as he undressed you. 

Your stomach, somehow softened throughout the years with age even though you hadn’t had proper nourishment in years, being planted with soft kisses as Joel moved south, desperate to taste your pussy again. 

You climb onto his lap and grip him with one hand, still as thick and as long as ever. You take a moment to look at him through the moonlight, after all these years he’s still incredibly handsome but this world took the sparkle in his eye away. 

“Please, sweetheart.” Joel begs. “Let me feel you again. I’m desperate.” 

That word is what makes you sink down onto him, inch by inch until he’s all the way inside. It was probably a bad idea to attempt to do this without any prep work but you didn’t care, you needed him and it filled a part of you that hadn’t been taken care of in years. 

“Fuck. Fuck.” Joel rasps. “You’re still so goddamn tight.” You can feel your inner muscles clenching at his thickness and the desperate groan that he releases makes you weak. 

You start to move, slowly, as his fingers dig into your hips. The pressure between the two of you is unbearable, you feel him and his full length but you’re desperate for more release. Joel’s ragged breaths concern you, though. 

“Are you gonna be okay if I go faster?” You ask him. 

“I ain’t that old, sweetheart.” Joel rasps under you, that damn smile back in action. 

And with that, you lifted yourself up and slammed yourself into him, grinding your clit against his cock at a fast and desperate pace. 

He moves forward, putting a mouthful of your breast into his mouth as his other hand rests on your lower back. You can feel the intense pleasure so blindly that you don’t know how long it’ll be until it boils over. When you contract around him and cum, Joel lets out an animalistic groan. 

“Fuck, that’s it.” He moans. “Milk my cock, baby.” 

You ride out your orgasm and just when you think you have time to recover, Joel begins to thrust upward deep and hard. His hips snapping up and bouncing you on top of him. He tangles his fingers into your hair, pulling you down to thrust his tongue into your mouth. 

You suck his tongue and desperately cling to him, unsure how much longer you’ll be able to go without cumming again. 

“I can feel it, sweetheart.” Joel groans. “Cum around my cock one more time, just give me one more. Please.” 

He breaks free from your tight embrace to rub your swollen clit as you grind on top of him again, trying to remain as silent as possible so you don’t wake anyone else in the house. 

You convulse and cum around him again, dizzy with pleasure as he takes one leg for leverage and begins to fuck into you harder than before. At this point, you can’t control the sounds coming out of you as he hits a spot inside of you that feels so good. His hips begin to stutter and Joel fills himself into you. He cums so hard that you feel it leaking out of you while he’s still inside. 

The two of you stayed just like that for a few moments, clung to each other as you heard his heartbeat hammering inside of his chest. You peppered soft kisses onto his body as you got from on top of him. The contrast of being full and then leaving him made you wince. 

Joel got up from the bed and you hesitated for a moment. Did he regret this decision? Was he going to sleep in his own bed? When he came back, he had a warm washcloth and he used it to wipe between your legs. Hot water will never be taken for granted in this world. 

The two of you then snuggled up together, the situation being better left unsaid. You knew that you both had to start preparing for the morning, so instead of talking, you just shut your eyes and tried to enjoy his strong arms around you. 

—-----------------

You heard a faint knock at the door and almost forgot where you were for a moment. When you felt Joel’s arms around you, his lips pressing against your cheek, you woke up with the biggest smile you’d had in a very long time. 

“Good morning, you two.” Ellie shouts throughout the door. “Knock knock. Megan’s making breakfast, wake your asses up, lovebirds!” 

“Don’t–don’t come in here Ellie.” Joel tries to exclaim, sleep in his voice. 

“I’m fucking good, man. I’m gonna help Megan with breakfast.” You hear her footsteps as she leaves the hallway and you turn to him. 

He was still there. And suddenly you were reminded of each and every time he’d stayed over, Megan making everyone breakfast as you’d talk and laugh through the previous night. 

This morning was no different. It felt oddly comfortable, the four of you enjoying each other’s company even though you knew it had to end. You’d spent the rest of the morning gathering supplies but then it was time to grab your backpack out of the bedroom. 

Joel was sitting on the edge of the bed. It reminded you of how things were the previous day, where he couldn’t look you in the eye. He was riddled with discomfort. In this world, you’re so used to not even having to say goodbye. That’s honestly not as painful as having to do it. 

You walk up to him, giving him a long hug. 

“Joel, if it’s true what you told me – if she’s immune – this is huge. It might give the world another chance. It might give us another chance.” You say to him. 

“You still have so much hope for the world. That's why I will always love you.” Joel whispers. You feel your heart crack. You feel the toolbox in your chest start to rattle. 

You know you shouldn’t say it. You know you’d be an idiot to say something so vulnerable and stupid in this world. But if you don’t say it, what else do you have? 

“I love you too, Joel. Take care of yourself, okay? Take care of Ellie. If you ever find yourself at the Philadelphia QZ you know where to find me.” You say to him. 

He presses his lips against you softly. As if to savor every moment, every feeling. Every curve and swell of your lip. He grabs at the back of your neck and you mimic him, grabbing the back of his. As if pushing further into the kiss could bring you back to those hot Austin nights. 

Because you knew this was the last time you’d get a good taste of home. 

You walk him out towards the car, Ellie already next to the passenger seat bouncing up and down because she had never ridden in a car before. You and Megan send them both off, his reflection in the rearview mirror never leaving your sight until the truck becomes a small blur. 

“You gonna be okay?” Megan asks you, with that same look of worry she had given you the night before. 

You’re not sure if you will be, but you have to forge ahead as you always do. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.” You state. And the two of you get ready to go, heading into the car back to the QZ. 

“Talk about a blast from the fuckin’ past.” Megan says, starting the car. “It’s funny…I had actually heard about Nick – y'know the one that was in the Fireflies– talking about somewhere in Jackson. Small fuckin’ world.” 

You lean your head up against the car window. Your thoughts immediately go back to last night. 

You had to sleep. You should’ve been tired. You and Joel had taken turns driving, although since you didn’t have much driving experience Joel became concerned when you began to struggle with the gear shift and mixed up the pedals (it only happened once but he couldn’t let it go). Joel had grown exhausted and didn’t want to stress you out by making you drive without him as backup/support, so you all stopped for the night. He was thoughtful like that; even if he was a bit grouchy sometimes.

You turned from your back to your other side, eyes landing on Joel. He was facing you, eyes closed, breathing steadily. The older man actually seemed to be at peace. He only looked like that when he was asleep. The moment he woke up, you knew he’d have that slight pout and furrow of his brows that you’d become accustomed to.

If Joel caught you staring, you wondered what he’d say. You could never pinpoint the way he viewed you. Friend? Daughter? Burden? You’d be way more okay with the previous two as long as it wasn’t the third. Although if you were being honest with yourself, you hoped it was none of the above.

Despite his age and his tough nature, you had a thing for Joel. Like, a thing. Feelings, attraction, affection—whatever you wanted to call it. Definitely a crush. Love? Maybe. It was a little bit confusing, but nothing in this life was simple.

Joel had taken you under his wing a while back and looked after you. He was incredibly protective and even if he wasn’t the best with expressing himself, Joel cared for you. He made you feel safe. He was there for you when you had no one else.

You rolled to your other side. Then back. Simply put, tossing and turning. The thought that you were being loud don’t even cross your mind until—

“What are you doing?” Joel’s voice caught your attention.

You let out a sigh, feeling bad that you’d woken the man up. You turned back to face him. “I can’t sleep,” you confessed.

“I can tell,” he murmured. “Do you plan on rolling around all night?”

You frowned to yourself. “I'm sorry.”

Joel exhaled softly and even in the dark, you could see the sympathy in those deep brown eyes of his. You hadn’t realized that subconsciously, you’d moved closer to him.

“It’s okay.” He had a soft spot for you, even though he’d probably deny it.

“I’ll try and be… still, I guess.” You knew you weren’t going to be able to sleep. “Just go back to sleep, I’ll be fine.” That was a lie.

“No,” he decided after a moment. You furrowed your brows. “You need sleep too.”

“I can’t get comfortable,” you replied. You let a few seconds pass before adding, “…and I’m too anxious.”

“I’m not gonna let anything happen to you,” Joel promised like if there was one thing he was sure about, it was that.

It meant a lot, it really did. But you huffed out a humorless laugh and went to a worse case scenario. “You’re all the way over there. If an infected wanted to get me, it could. Before you could stop it.”

Joel was quiet for a few beats. You hadn’t meant to insult him, but it was true. It didn’t matter how safe you felt with him there. They were faster than him. Faster than anyone.

“So then come over here,” Joel offered, voice still thick with sleep. It sounded incredibly enticing.

The image of you crawling into his sleeping bag crossed your mind faster than you could stop it. You had to do a double take. “Like… scoot over there?” you tried to clarify inconspicuously.

“If you’re against sharing with me.”

So, he had meant what you’d hoped for. Your heart skipped a little beat and you swallowed.

“I’m not.”

All Joel did was hum. You unzipped your sleeping bag and left the warmth. Joel was ready and waiting when you moved over to him, enveloping you into the safety of his sleeping bag and heavy arms. You wiggled around a little bit until you got comfortable. For the first time since you’d left the QZ, it didn’t take long.

“Thank you,” you mumbled softly, trying to keep your breathing calm. Being so close to Joel was causing you to become less focused on sleep and more focused on the way his breath sounded so close to your ear.

“Mmhhmm,” he hummed from deep in his throat with closed lips. You thought it was going to be left at that, but then you heard his gruff voice. “I know it’s been hard on you.” You opened your mouth to deny it, but he continued. “Even if you’re too stubborn to admit it beyond makin’ snarky comments.”

You took in a breath. He got you on that one, and you both knew it. “Since when do you know me this well?”

“Since always,” Joel pointed out. “You’re easy to read.”

“For you maybe.”

“Yeah, for me,” he agreed, sounding pleased with himself. Joel was silent for a long moment, listening to the soft rustle of your body as you gazed around your surroundings. The grass, the trees, the darkness… “I’m sorry for being so selfish.”

The sudden apology confused you. “What?”

“You’ve never been outside of the QZ before, and for good reason,” Joel started. “It’s a scary world out here and I shouldn’t have subjected you to it. I shouldn’t have brought you along.”

His voice was full of guilt that seemed to come out of nowhere, but given all he had to say you suspected he’d been carrying it since you left.

“I wanted to come with you,” you assured him. You never second guessed that decision despite everything that had happened so far. “Where is this coming from?”

“You’re scared and it’s my fault.” You could hear the deep frown in his voice.

“You’re the reason I feel safe right now,” you said without a second thought. It was true. You wanted him to know that. There was something you wanted to know too, now, and you couldn’t help but ask. “Do you not want me here?”

“I do,” Joel confessed. “That’s why I’m selfish.” There was a pause but you didn’t dare speak. “I didn’t want to be away from you.”

A wave of realization crashed over you.

You wiggled around, turning until you were facing him. You offered him a soft, delicate smile that you hoped he could see despite the dark.

“It almost sounds like you care about me. A lot,” you couldn’t help but tease.

“You know I care about you,” Joel stated, like it was the most obvious thing. Maybe he’d tried to cover it up in the past, but someone would have to be blind to not see that you meant something to Joel.

“I care about you too,” you admitted with much more ease. He knew, though.

Joel, in an uncharacteristically soft gesture, pressed a kiss to your forehead. You could hardly believe it. But it felt nice. You liked the affection. And coming from someone like Joel who never let their guard down, it was significant enough to leave you speechless.

“It’s gonna be daylight soon,” he muttered. You should try and get some sleep.”

“Yeah, okay,” you agreed with a slight nod. “Just… one more thing.” It took everything you had to be brave enough to say that, and to do what you were going to do next.

There was basically no space between the two of you, but you managed to bring your hand up to Joel’s face and cup his jaw. You leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

Joel didn’t hesitate to kiss you back. He took charge, but it wasn’t surprising. He had a dominating presence and was rough around the edges, you didn’t think he’d be delicate with you.

Not that you minded.

His lips moved against yours, almost in a frenzy. Like he was scared you’d slip away from him. It was so needy, so passionate. You wished you would’ve done this much, much sooner

Joel found the willpower to break away from the kiss before you. You would’ve happily lost consciousness in order to kiss him for just a few more moments. But then you’d worry him, and you hated to see Joel worry.

But you didn’t see worry when you looked into his eyes. You saw a hint of wonder. You were both staring into a new beginning as you gazed upon one another. He was panting a little, both of your soft breaths intertwining.

“You need sleep,” he reminded you.

Of course he still couldn’t drop the protector role. He wasn’t wrong about that, either. You smiled to yourself, the feel of his lips still ghosting yours despite the distance. You twisted in the sleeping bag without a word, knowing that you’d never be able to sleep facing Joel. You’d probably be too busy staring at him…

So yeah, you laid with your back to his chest and closed your eyes. His arms held you tight against his firm body. Not only providing warmth, but security as well.

“Goodnight,” Joel mumbled to you, already dozing back off. You could hear the soft smile in his voice despite the tiredness. It seemed easier for him to sleep wherever, although you liked to think you were bringing him some kind of comfort as well. With the way he held you against him it wouldn’t be an unrealistic thought.

The lot of you traveled inside the dingy building, it reminded you of some of those horror movies you and Joel would watch on rainy days, curled up together on the couch. But then again, what wasn’t like a horror movie anymore?

You denied yourself the luxury of gagging at the smell and scenery of the room. Rotted, fungus infested bodies were molded to the floors and walls.

You tread carefully, not daring to misstep.

“Yeah. Cooked.” Joel sighed, sounding relieved

“Finally some fuckin luck” Tess huffed lowly.

“I guess we shoulda gone this way in the first place…” you muttered lowly as your light scanned the rotted room.

“Oh shit…!” You heard Ellie exclaim, and turned to face her, seeing a fresh corpse, scratches set into the skin. He’d been brutalized. “What the fuck did that??” She asked, staring at the gashed up body.

“Maybe…” Tess trailed, breathless as she suddenly began whispering. She was trying to come up with the explanation that would scare the girl the least “maybe he was attacked outside, and he crawled through the doors. Door was open, could’ve been him…” she whispered

“I don’t hear anything” you tried to soothe Tess, you knew if she panicked she’d get sloppy. Get sloppy, get killed.

“Who would you hear?” Ellie asked, her tone louder than yours or Tess’ causing the three of you to quickly look at her

All three adults made a panicked gesture for her to be quiet, Joel holding a hand up for her to shut up, Tess mouthing a ‘shhh!’ And yourself pressing a finger to your lips

“…who would you hear…?” She tried again, whispering “are you saying an infected did that??” She asked, eyes wide

A pause as she looked between the adults “because I’ve been attacked by one and it didn’t look like that…”

“Okay, from this point we are silent…” Joel said slowly “not quiet, silent.” He stressed

“What—“

“No. No questions. Just. Do it.” Joel urged, whispering lowly.

——————————————

Silence.

The group stalked through the building, up the stairs, the only sound heard was the protesting squealing of the floor boards of the stairs. The room get like it was gonna collapse.

Joel — who was leading— stood at the fourth stair from the landing when a low rumble shook the decrepit museum, causing all to freeze.

You could feel your pulse behind your eyes as you looked to Joel, wide-eyed, and he gave you a silent, but comforting look in return.

Soon he continued up the stairs, examining the fungus that tree in plates over the walls and floor. All adults carefully avoided the fungus but a cringe responded as Ellie accidentally stepped on some.

Joel whipped around to rage her; silently pleading with her to be more careful before continuing up and into a room labeled ‘INDEPENDENCE HALL’

———————————————

Once in the room, Ellie and Tess crashed to the floor as the previous part of the building collapsed.

Silence after the loud, angry grumbling of the building. You all stared at eachother.

Then…. A clicking, coming from the next room over.

You looked to Joel, then to Tess, then to Ellie. You gestured to Ellie for her to get behind you at the group continued to stalk through the room, accompanied by the percussion of the clicker in the next room. None of your had just time to worry about it though as the sound of a second clicker rang out, causing all to turn to whet it came from. The clickers emerged from their rooms, and wandered, looking for the source of the noise.

You all pressed tight to a glass display and Joel turned to Ellie, mouthing to her ‘they can’t see, but they can hear’ a pause as the clicker convulsed behind the display case. Joel pressed a finger to his lips, and the message to Ellie was clear. Be quiet. She slowly nodded, showing she understood.

The clicker, wandering, stumbled around the case and when Ellie saw it, her breath picked up, causing the clicker to quickly turn to them and screech, running at them. Quickly, Joel shot at the creature and pushed it with the side of his rifle only for it to pull him with it. “Run!!” He yelled at Tess and Ellie as you covered him as the second clicker came running for the sound.

Soon the two of you took off running as well, Joel distracting the clicker by breaking a case and quickly hiding around the corner with you, tucking you under his arm, close to his chest as he quickly reloaded.

Silence.

And then, a creak as the man slowly took his flashlight in hand and turned to shine it around the corner. The clicker was right there. But suddenly, it turned, stumbling away.

You and Joel stalked off quickly and found Ellie soon after. She was frozen with fear. Joel caught her attention, gesturing for her to follow him as the clicker stalked slowly towards them.

Joel suddenly paused as something crackled under his feet, glass.

A pause of hesitation before the three of you tried to run but were swiftly tackled by the clicker

Ellie whimpered as it tried to get at her, you pulled it off of you, and then Joel pulled it from you and shot it four times in the stomach and rolled it off of him.

He stood, shooting it in the head a few times before he was out of ammo. The second clicker came running towards the noise only for Tess to get it in the ear with an axe.

You spotted Joel’s rifle and swiftly shot the clicker in the head.

Once ……

Twice……..

Dead.

——————————————

Panting filled the room.

“You okay?” Tess asked, quickly going over to Joel, holding his face in her hands, until she found you shoving between them, pushing her off of him

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Tess snapped

“I could ask you the same fuckin thing!” you hissed furious as you pulled your knife from your hip and pressed it to her throat

“where the fuck do you get off makin’ eyes at my husband?” You hissed

“Oh please I wasn’t ‘makin’ eyes’ at anyone, he was just making sure I was alright!” She argued, scoffing

“Yeah, that why you were in our bed yesterday? Why I was on the fuckin’ couch?” You scoffed

“I was in his bed cuz you weren’t home! You weren’t there for him!” She screeched indignantly.

“That bullshit! I was working! I don’t see you working extra hours to make sure he’s fed! I didn’t see you there for him for the past 20 years! What’s his favorite food? Huh?”

She was silent, staring at you

“What football team did he always cheer for?”

Silence

“How does he take his fuckin’ coffee?” You spat

She was silent

“We’re you the one who’s daughter fuckin died?”

Silence.

“No. Right. Because I’m his fuckin wife bitch. 25 years and counting. It’d do you good to fuckin remember it” you growled lowly to her, before pushing off of her.

You turned to Joel, who you couldn’t tell if he was angry or turned on “let’s go, and get this kid where she needs to be and go get Tommy. I can’t look at her anymore” you said lowly. You looked to Ellie and your features softened “you okay…?” You asked her lowly.

“I think so yeah…” she said, she looked at her arm and sighed, showing you the scratch “well I mean if it was gonna happen to anyone, it was better me” she tried to joke.

You chuckled quietly at this.

Joel came up next to you, offered Ellie a bandage “put this on yer arm…” he said simply.

Ellie nodded “thanks…” she said quietly.

Ellie wandered over to a plank that went from one roof to another “over there?” She asked softly

“Yeah I know it looks scary…” Joel trailed

“That was scary…” Ellie trailed as she began to walk across “this is wood.”

As she got across, under the watchful eye of Joel, he spoke up again “just wait over there! Give us a minute” he urged

Tess was left to bandage her own ankle as you and Joel went off to the side “there’s probably more ahead…” he grumbled lowly

“So we’ll deal with them then…” you finished for him, giving him a look that said ‘stop worrying so much about this’

“What about this kid?” He asked, glancing over to Ellie “the first bite didn’t take but maybe the second—“

“Joel just take the good news—“ you cut him off, getting frustrated

The man stepped towards you, taking your face in his big hand “I need to look out for us… for you…” he said quietly, gently caressing your cheek “angel, you are the most important thing… this kid, she can’t get in the way of this…” he said sternly

“Joel.” You said, tone low and warning “we’re nearly there, so let’s just take it in stride… roll with the punches” you said simply

A long pregnant pause

“I didn’t mean to let her be in bed with me- I was drunk- had taken some pills to fall asleep I couldn’t—“ Joel tried to explain

“Joel, I’m not mad at you, she shoulda known better…” you hissed lowly “but that’s not important right now. We have precious cargo. Lets get it delivered”

You walked ahead, across the planks, and the man followed soon after you. The both of you decided to ignore tess’ lingering gaze on you as you took your spot next to Ellie, Joel stood a bit off to the side, watching the both of you carefully.

“So, what do you think?” You asked Ellie, looking ahead at the state building “is it everything you ever wanted?” You asked teasingly

“Well, the court is still out but… you can’t deny that view” she sighed breathlessly, curing a chuckle from you.

Joel looked at the two of you oddly, smiling ever so slightly but it quickly fell as Tess came back

“Come on, let’s just get there before it gets dark” the woman shouldered past you, obviously in a hurry

She worked down the latter, groaning as she went along. Joel looked to Ellie and nodded for her to follow, then you, then he followed, but not after a pause, thinking over how you acted with Ellie.

—————————————

The lot of you soon found your way to the state building… and it was horribly quiet.

“Where the fuck are they?” Tess whispered from her spot behind a car with the rest of you

Joel shook his head, turning to look at her with a reluctant look on his face before looking back forward and stalking towards a truck, keeping silent as possible as he approached it, opening the door, armed, only to find it abandoned, the door spattered with blood. He gestured for you to stay put as he made his way around.

He found corpses, swarmed with flies, and when he opened the back of the truck, it was empty.

Tess and Ellie followed and you sighed at their inability to follow orders before you did the same

“Joe?? What the fuck is going on?” Tess demanded, sounding frantic

Ellie examined the droplets of blood leading up the stairs “they went inside…” she observed, eyebrows furrowed

The lot of you followed her gaze before Tess quickly grabbed her arm and dragged her up the stairs “come on-“ she hissed under her breath

“Tess-“ you tried to call

“Come on!” She snapped in desperation as she went up

“Tess!” Joel bellowed after her before quickly going after her with you.

She slammed into the state building, armed. You and Joel followed. Corpses everywhere. “Holy shit…” Ellie whispered

Joel grabbed Ellie’s arm, turning her to face him, whispering a ‘hey…’ as if telling her to look at him, not the death around her

Tess looked around, seeming frantic “I mean there’s gotta be a radio or… or somethin, right??” She asked, digging through

“Who killed them…? FEDRA…?” Ellie asked Joel quietly, causing Tess to turn and face them

“No… one of ‘em got bit. The healthy ones fought the sick ones. Everyone lost” he said, toeing at a corpse, turning it over, revealing it’s infected appearance

“Tess…” Joel called “what are you doin??” He scoffed, seeming more peeved that worried

“Where did Marlene say that she was taking you? Ellie.” She approached Ellie, seeming just as peeved, if not more so

“Uhh I don’t know.… just… just west.” Came the rushed response

“Just west. Fuck- okay.” She turned, looking at all the corpses “well, I mean one of thems gotta have a map or something” she scoffed, looking over one of the bodies “Joel can you help me?!” She snapped

“No!” Joel responded simply “Tess. It’s over. We are going home—“ he said simply, approaching

She turned, enraged “that’s not my fuckin home!” She snapped

A pregnant pause

She laughed under her breath, before standing, turning to face Joel and you, as you stood next to him.

“I’m stayin….” Tess whispered lowly. “I mean… our luck had to run out sooner or later…” she said lowly

“Fuck…” Ellie whispered, breathless, causing you and Joel to turn and look at her “she’s infected…” Ellie explained lowly.

Joel looked to Tess “show me.” Was all he said.

“Joel—” she made a step for him but he stepped back, pushing you back and behind him, protecting you from her.

The woman scoffed and pulled her jacket to the side, revealing the bite in it from the clicker, where red spots were festering as the infection spread

“Oops, right?” Tess scoffed “take your bandage off…” she ordered Ellie, who obeyed, showing them her arm

“Look- Joel. This is real” she showed him her arm, hope and emotion strung tight in her voice “she’s fuckin’ real!”

“I need you to take her to bill and Franks-“

“No-“

“They’ll handle it from here.” She tried to convince him , but Joel kept on muttering no.

“No no no, I can’t. They won’t take her, they’re not gonna take her.” His voice was husky and low, brown eyes intense as he looked at her

“They will, cuz you’ll convince them…” she muttered pleadingly as she stared at him “yes you will- because I never ask you to do anything not to feel the way I felt-“

“No…” he muttered, shaking his head, his grip tightening in you “because I had a wife!” He scoffed

“Will you shut the fuck up because I don’t have time!!” She uttered, tears falling down her face

He stared at her

“Please say yes Joel, please…” she begged

“OH FUCK-“ Ellie squeaked, quickly running to you as one of the infected roared to life.

Joel walked to it, and simply shot it. Silent.

But the damage was done, infected were coming, you could see the fungus spreading onto the fingers of the infected, you could hear them running towards you. Joel tan for the door, peeking out, only to see the hoard barreling towards the building

“How many?” You asked lowly

“All of them, maybe a minute” was his answer. He was all but ignoring Tess now.

Tess began knocking things over, including a barrel of gasoline

“What are you doing??” Ellie asked quickly

“Making sure they don’t follow you…” was Tess’ simple answer as she dumped over the fuel, sending grenades rolling.

She went to Joel, looking at him, in the eye “Joel…” she whispered “…save who you can save….” The two stared at eachother for a long time before Joel suddenly grabbed you close along with Ellie who protested

“No!! We’re not leaving her!!” She protested “get off me, you fucker!!” She screeched. The three of you slammed out of the building, leaving Tess alone. Alone with her fate.

The three of you ran and there was no sound, just the wind for a long time, before you got to the feild and there was a sudden explosion. Screams of Tess and the infected rang out.

The three of you stared. You were the first to turn away and walk. No one mourns the wicked.

Joel followed soon after

Ellie stayed there a bit, watching the fire, before she went to you, grabbing your hand, knowing it’d be the only thing to give her comfort.

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