Lina

ao3

Chapter 1: A Place to Set Your Boots

Fandom: The Last of Us

Pairing: Joel x Reader

Rating: M | Chapters: Ongoing

Words Count: 2,5K

After hours on the road, the sun sets on a quiet country retreat. With a creaky porch, lazy cats, and a house full of warm wood and quiet rooms, it’s the kind of place that settles in your chest before you notice. You unpack, change, laugh a little too hard at nothing, and try not to think too much about the way Joel watches you when he thinks you’re not looking.

Tags: #The Last of Us AU #Joel Miller x Reader #Country & Western #Summer Romance #Age Gap #Parent Joel #DBF!Joel #Dad’s Best Friend Joel #No Outbreak AU #Slow Burn #Eventual Smut #Fluff and Humor #Smut #Joel Lives

You’re sprawled in the backseat next to Sarah, listening to her talk the whole ride. Your dad’s in the passenger seat and Joel’s driving, the two of them chatting up front. It’s gonna be a long ride.

“Are you even listening to me?” Sarah whines, nudging your shoulder. She’s been pestering you since morning, going on nonstop about her college drama. You sigh and nod.

“Yeah, sorry,” you say, lifting your gaze to look at her. Lips pouting, eyes narrowed, brows furrowed. What a sight…

“So anyway–” her face relaxes back into a neutral expression and she picks up where she left off. You pretend to listen, tossing in the occasional nod or quiet “mhm” to make it more believable. But your mind’s already drifting.

It’s your first summer after college – so many new possibilities opening up. So many places to work. You’re finally ready to be independent, maybe move to a big city like New York or Los Angeles.

You fidget with the rings on your fingers, twisting one, taking it off, sliding it back on. The metal gleams in the sun. You turn your head toward the window, watching clouds and trees blur past. Texas…

Since you and Sarah came back home, your dads decided to take you to some kind of resort. They wouldn’t say where – called it a surprise. Fine. Let it be.

Your eyes catch something in the rearview mirror. You glance up and spot Joel watching you. Almost checking you out. Well, it has been a while since he last saw you. He’s probably just interested in how much you’ve changed, how you’ve grown up. You give him a little smile – and notice the tiny smirk tugging at his lips.

“You’re not listening again, are you?”

You snap out of your thoughts and turn back to Sarah. She looks genuinely frustrated now.

“Uh. Sorry. Just tired. I’ll take a nap, you mind?” You shift, getting more comfortable and leaning your head back against the seat.

“Actually, yes. I wanted to tell you about that one time when our professor–“

You cut her off, waving a hand.

“I’ll listen to all of them after I rest, promise.” You look at her sincerely. You mean it.

“Fine…” she mumbles, and you huff a laugh.

You slip on your headphones to drown out Joel’s country music, kick off your boots, and curl up in the backseat, taking up most of the space. Sarah doesn’t seem to mind –she pulls out her phone, probably sending snaps to her college friends.

You tilt your head up toward the window behind you. Clouds drift past – changing shape, swimming across the sky. Hypnotic. You turn your music up and close your eyes, letting yourself sink.

The soft hum of Joel’s truck, your dad and Joel chatting in the front seat… it all blends together. You feel at ease.

And then sleep takes you.

“Come on, wake up. Or else you’re not getting any snacks, you lazy ass.”

Sarah’s voice cuts through your sleep, teasing as she tugs at your hand. You peel your eyes open, blinking against the sun pouring through the windshield. She’s grinning like always.

“Ugh… yeah, yeah.” You rub your face and pull out your earbuds. Boots slip on clumsily as you scoot to the door and step out into the heat. The air hits you like a wall – thick, warm, sticky.

Joel’s refueling the truck, and your dad’s leaning against it, arms crossed, chatting with him.

“Come onnn,” Sarah groans, dragging you toward the gas station store like her life depends on gummy worms.

The moment you step inside, the AC kisses your skin, goosebumps rippling across your arms. The store is all humming lights and too-bright shelves packed with snacks. You head for the chips, grab a pack, two cold Cokes, and order a hot dog drowned in barbecue sauce.

You wander to the little table by the window to wait, sliding into the sticky plastic chair.

The bell above the door rings – Joel steps in.

“Full tank, fifth pump,” he says to the cashier, handing over a bill.

You glance at him – green checkered shirt, sleeves rolled up, old jeans clinging just right. That usual Joel look. You catch him already looking at you, and when your eyes meet, you can’t help but smile like a dork.

“So… how was the nap?” he asks, casual, hands in his pockets. The sunlight glints off his belt buckle.

“Good. But I had to sleep with my headphones in. Your country music isn’t exactly lullaby material.”

He snorts. “Could be worse. Be glad your dad didn’t start singing along.”

You both laugh. God, that would’ve been hell.

The cashier calls out your order and you shrug, stepping up to grab your food.

Outside again, you crack open a Coke and shake another toward your dad.

“Got you one.”

“Thanks, kid.” He pops the tab and takes a long sip, nodding like he just tasted heaven. “Just what I needed.”

You climb back into the truck. The gas smell lingers in the hot air. You steal Sarah’s travel pillow and lean back, earbuds in hand. She joins you a second later, plopping down with a bag full of snacks.

“What’d you get?” she asks.

“Chips, hot dog, Coke.” You bite into the hot dog and talk with your mouth half full. She snorts and pulls out a Toblerone.

“Toblerone? Ugh… I love those.” You sigh.

“Well… maybe I’ll share. Or maybe not.” She winks.

You look at her glowing in the golden light, blonde hair haloed by the setting sun. You nod and smile.

“Alright…”

It’s stifling in the truck. You press the cold can to your cheek as Joel and your dad get in and buckle up. You follow suit.

“Sarah, buckle,” Joel says, glancing back.

“Fine…” she huffs, clicking the seatbelt.

“Dad, AC, please, I’m melting,” she whines.

He hums, switches it on. You lean back, stretching your arms before putting your music back on.

The sun dips lower, casting everything in soft orange. In the rearview mirror, you see Joel’s face glowing in the light, eyes narrowed, relaxed. You smile to yourself and let your head fall back.

It’s quiet for a while. The kind of quiet that only comes on long drives, windows buzzing, music low, everyone half-lost in their own world.

Somewhere past the hills and winding roads, the truck finally turns off the highway.

Dust kicks up as you drive down a long gravel path, flanked by trees and tall grass swaying in the breeze. A wooden sign welcomes you:

“Summer Hill — Family Lodge Since ’76.”

You squint ahead – an old country house sits at the center of the property, porch lined with rocking chairs and potted flowers. A few cabins are tucked in the woods beyond, and far off, you spot a big red barn with a windmill beside it.

Joel slows the truck and grins like he’s home. “Looks the same as always.”

“Please tell me there’s WiFi.” Sarah groans dramatically.

“Doubt it,” your dad mutters. “You’ll live.”

You lean forward between the seats, eyes wide. “This is actually… kinda cute.”

Joel parks in front of the main house. The warm wood, the faded paint, the sun cutting through trees – it’s all perfect. Like a little piece of nowhere carved out just for you four.

You step out into the grass and stretch, the air sweet with something floral and earthy. Crickets sing in the distance. A dog barks somewhere near the barn.

Sarah’s already complaining about bugs. You do the same in your mind.

And yet… you’ve never felt so ready to unwind.

You all make your way into the main house, boots thudding against the shaded porch. The inside smells like old pine and cinnamon – something slow and homey. An elderly woman greets you from behind the counter. She’s got silver curls, a soft floral blouse, and the kind of voice that makes you feel safe even if you’re miles from home.

“Welcome, welcome,” she smiles.

Joel steps forward, leaning on the wooden counter like he’s been here a dozen times. “Yeah – booking for Joel. Five nights.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” she says, sliding a small notepad toward her. “House 4.”

He nods and accepts the keys from her, quiet thank you slipping past his lips. Then he turns to you, dangles the keys between two fingers.

“House 4. Alright, let’s go, legs.” He tosses a hand over Sarah’s shoulder and steers her toward the door.

You follow, your dad right behind, stretching a little as he walks like the road still clings to his spine.

The gravel path crunches under your boots. You look down – pebbles scuttling under the weight of your steps. Your white dress sways around your thighs, catching the light just so. Paired with the worn leather boots, you feel like some wandering cowgirl from a quiet Western. Just without a cowboy.

A few lazy cats sprawl out near the fences, blinking slowly in the dying sun. The houses lining the path are all sweet and soft – porches, curtains, flower boxes. Some small, some big, all like they were built to hold slow mornings and lemon tea.

“Here we are…” your dad says, hand settling lightly on your shoulder. You look up.

House 4 is perfect. A porch with two chairs and a little table between them. A “Welcome” mat faded from too much sun. It smells like grass and old paint. Homey.

You step inside.

A narrow staircase greets you first, curling to the left. Off to the right, a living room – an old armchair, a couch, bookshelf stuffed with paperbacks, and a coffee table. A TV sits mounted on the wall. You press the power button. Static. Then a channel flickers on.

“Sarah!” you yell, a laugh bubbling out of you. “The TV works! Forget about the WiFi!”

You hear her sigh from somewhere upstairs, and it makes you grin.

You drift down the hall. Another room. You push open the door – kitchen. Wooden counters, a window over the sink with lace curtains, a square dining table tucked under it.

You step to the window and lean on the frame. The sun is deep orange now, casting long shadows over the yard. You see dust floating through the air, catching light like glitter. The heat has started to break. The wind combs through the tall grass, stirring the fields gently. There’s a fence out there, and maybe beyond it – nothing at all.

You turn to leave and nearly jump out of your skin.

Joel leans on the doorframe, arms crossed. His smile curls lazy at the edge, and he chuckles low in his throat when he sees your startled face.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, one hand raised in mock surrender.

You exhale, pressing your hand to your chest. “Are you a spy or something? You walk like a ghost.”

“Maybe,” he smirks, stepping inside. He leans on the dining table now, casual, but his eyes don’t leave yours.

You step back just a little – not far, just enough. His presence fills the room.

“When you said we were going to a resort, I was imagining five-star hotels and poolside drinks,” you say, trying to sound light, not too nervous under his gaze. “But, I dunno… I kinda expected this too.”

“You disappointed?” His eyebrow raises slightly, just enough to tease.

You shake your head. “No. It’s actually… really nice. Quiet. Soft.”

You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. You don’t mean to look at his hands – but you do. He clears his throat, looks toward the hallway, then back at you.

“You wanna see your room?” he asks, voice gentler now. “Yours and Sarah’s.”

“We share?” You feign annoyance but it comes out a little breathless.

“Yep,” he says, nodding toward the stairs. “C’mon. I’ll show you.”

You follow him up the creaky L-shaped staircase. The air’s warmer up here, but it smells like cedar and soap. He walks slow, hand briefly settling on your waist as you reach the landing. You don’t even breathe. Just feel it. Warm and firm and gone too soon.

“This one’s yours,” he says, pushing open the second door on the right. “Bathroom across the hall. I’m right over there, your dad next to me.”

You nod. “Thanks.” Your voice feels small suddenly.

He nods back, then disappears into his room. You step into yours.

Sarah’s already unpacking, sitting on the bed in a nest of clothes. She’s humming to herself. You drop your bag to the floor with a thud and take in the room.

Two twin beds. Two little nightstands. A closet. Two windows letting in the softest bit of dusk.

Your stomach growls.

“I’m starving,” you mutter, flopping onto your mattress.

“Same,” Sarah says, still half-buried in shirts. “Dad said dinner’s at eight. Ten minutes.”

You sit up, eyeing your bag. Might as well change.

You pull out a tank top, soft and clinging, and a pair of low-rise jeans that hug just enough. You check yourself in the mirror. Not too much. Just… unusual, maybe. For here.

A little lip gloss. A brush through your hair. You press your fingers to your pulse and laugh softly. It’s nothing. You’re just hungry.

Sarah changes too – into a simple tee and khaki shorts. She’s already half-ready to knock out right after dinner.

You smooth your shirt once more, glance in the mirror again.

Dinner’s served just past eight grilled chicken, roasted veggies, cornbread that melts in your mouth. You sit across from Joel at the long wooden table, the room glowing with string lights and the scent of fresh thyme.

Sarah talks too loud, waving her fork around, and your dad tells some story from when they were younger. Joel keeps sneaking glances at you when he thinks you’re not looking. You don’t call him out. Not yet.

After dessert – peach cobbler and strong coffee – you all sit around for a bit longer, bellies full, content. Joel eventually leans back in his chair, stretching.

“Tomorrow,” he says, “thought we could head down to the farm early. Help with the morning chores if you’re up for it.”

Sarah groans. “Morning?”

“Yeah, like when the sun comes up,” Joel deadpans.

You laugh. “I’m in.”

Joel glances at you, pleased. “Figured you would be.”

Eventually, the night winds down. Dishes clatter in the sink, crickets hum outside, and the house seems to sigh along with you.

You and Sarah head upstairs, each yawning. She’s asleep in seconds, curled up in her quilt.

You lie awake a little longer, watching the ceiling fan spin lazily. Outside the window, the moon glows low over the trees. Somewhere below, you hear a screen door creak and close.

Probably Joel.