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Tags: old Joel x young reader

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Work Count: 13.4k

I do not tag fully, please read at your own risk. Uncomfortable, sensitive, and triggering elements included in this chapter

“Yes-yes, please!” He took in how soft your voice was from surprise, or confusion, and watched you take a slight step back, like that would help you process his words and your reply better. 

Please, so soft. So polite, and so you. He wanted to hear it again, and again and again. He wanted to listen to it when he had you under him, body flush, a sheen of sweat on your forehead, eyes big and begging. “Please, Joel...please, I need you,”he could hear it, so clearly. He wanted to listen to it when you wanted to pick one of your movies for movie night instead of his. “Pleaseeeee, Joel, pretty double please with a pretty pink bow. Your movies are so boring sometimes.” A whiny, spoiled, stubborn, and utterly loved little thing he’d turn you into. He wanted to hear it even when you argued, though he’d do his damnedest best to never let that happen. “Oh, please, Joel, I saw how she was looking at you!” You’d probably look so cute when you were jealous, all angry and huffy, only because you loved him so much—

“You’re serious, right?” Your voice pulled him out of his stupor, and he grunted back his reply, acting like he wasn’t just daydreaming about you like some 12-year-old girl.

“I seem like I’d joke ‘bout this?” and to that you gave a small smile. You did that a lot. Smiled. Good. 

“No, no, I just don't know anything about carpentry though, or hardware stuff-” the words were tacked on quickly, like you were worried he’d change his mind any minute, but could not not be honest about your abilities even if it meant you’d lose the offer. 

He almost laughed. You thought he was gonna make you build tables or quiz you on drills? The idea of you in his workshop, hair dusted with sawdust and still in his jacket, like an angel in leather, with it falling off one of your shoulders, was a tempting one. Still, he didn’t let himself delve into it. “You don’t need to know carpentry. Ain’t what I need help with anyway.” he ducked his head slightly, wanting you to come to the side to talk away from the stadium lights that were blaring down. He tried to hide a smile as you followed after him without a thought. Damn obedient girl. “Just need ya managing the front. Ringing people up, some sweepin’, organizing. Gives me more time to build and Jesse to do deliveries.” He was glad and surprised at how legit it sounded. His current system worked fine enough. When he had projects to build, Jesse managed the front; when Jesse went to deliver, Joel took care of the front. Neither of them was dying to build or deliver more, but the last thing he wanted was for you to think this was some pity offer, and he was willing to hear Jesse bitch a little more if it meant making you comfortable. He watched your face change, from worry to surprise and then hope. And Jesus, if you didn’t look like something out of the romance books his mama loved back when he was a little boy.

“And I can only do part time, I have classes from three to seven, Monday to Thursday.” You almost physically winced, word vomiting, and he could see it in your eyes that you felt like you were demanding too much. He huffed softly, chuckled, and shook his head. “Friday and the weekends I’m working for the team—”

“It’s all fine. You can work mornings, before ya classes, Monday to Thursday.” He said, hands itching to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear that was fluttering around in the night's wind, but you beat him to it when it got in your eye slightly. 

“Thank you!” You were trying not to smile all big and excited, biting your bottom lip to hold it in. Your lips looked so soft, flushed from the cold and glossy from licking them at some point. Your hands were in the pockets of his jacket you were wearing, engulfed in it, and looking up at him like he was some kinda hero. 

“takin’ it just like that?” He questioned with an almost amused gleam in his eyes. “Don’t wanna hear the pay?”

“Oh!" You let out a little gasp, as if suddenly remembering that was a thing, and quickly shake your head. "Yeah, I do, I mean, of course I do.” You took a quick but big inhale. “I'm sorry. How much?"

The corners of Joel’s mouth tugged up into a little smile. Too damn cute, trying to be polite and only getting embarrassed. He took a small step closer, hands aching to warm your soft cheeks before he spoke. “Twenty an hour.”

You left out another gasp at that and hurriedly shook your head with wide eyes, “That’s too much. I make sixteen at—” The words caught in your throat, like they almost burned you when you accidentally said the right name. A moment passed, and the word swallowed away “the call center job,” the sex hotline job. You’d almost said it. The place where you became Daisy, another voice on the phone, whispering things into the ears of men that no girl should ever have to do for a job, all because this god damn town couldn’t accept an ‘outsider’. Having to hear him and Gardner and god knows how many others become dormant to their lust, having to bear witness to it and all their fantasies just to get through college. “And the coach pays me twelve an hour, twenty is too much. Sixteen twenty-five would be more than plenty.”

He didn’t move at all; he almost didn’t even blink. Were you serious? He couldn't believe you were doing this, and he made his disbelief clear. “No.” The words were sure and sharp enough to cut steel as he saw your big eyes all uncertain. “You’re gettin’ twenty.”

You cast your eyes down and lightly fidget with the sleeve of the jacket, eyebrows furrowed. He knew, and you knew it was a good deal, 4 more dollars per hour would be more than enough work part-time, to quit the hotline job and still make more while working less and better hours. But the guilt was there and apparent, the feeling that you were somehow taking advantage of him and he was too kind. All he could think was, if only you knew he’d give you forty a damn hour if that’s what it took to make you happy. “Are you sure? Really, sixteen fifty would also be more than enough. Most shops around town pay twelve seventy-five.”

Were you still trying to do this? He let out a rough breath, something between exasperation and affection. He spoke your name, slow and deliberate to make you really hear him. “You’re gonna be workin’ for me. Which means you don't get paid what other people think you should be makin’, alright?” his voice dropped slightly lower, gravelly and certain. “You get paid what I say is fair.”

Still, because you were stubborn and so damn good at twisting his heart around, you asked one last time, unsure. “Are you sure?”

He wanted to be annoyed, but he couldn’t, never at you, and not when he could see the genuine worry in your face. The guilt, even though you did nothing wrong. "I wouldn't offer somethin’ I can't pay," he told you bluntly. "And I'd never cheat ya out your money."

You nodded slowly, nervous but smiling now, and breathlessly spoke, “Then…thank you.”

“Good,” he murmured, watching you carefully as you finally accepted the offer. You looked lighter, no, more like a sneaky kid. Like a kid who did something for herself, who let herself want and hope for more, in a very long time. “You start Monday. Eight am. That good?”

“I’ll be there. Thank you. Really.”

“Alright then,” He nodded, shuffling back almost awkwardly before he spoke. “Be careful gettin’ home after your...uh party. Ain’t no safe time for girls.” Coughing and with a dip of his chin, he turned around and walked away before he could spend a moment too long staring at you, still bundled in his jacket, buzzed from everything that’d happened tonight.

He didn’t look back as he walked through the crowd to his truck. The door slammed behind him, and he sat there with his hands in his lap. He’d come tonight to just see you, to escape the gaping, silent hole that was his house, and he’d left with the promise of seeing you in his second home again and again. I’m so screwed. 

Sunday came and went easily. He got up just a twinge later than normal, spent more time making himself his perfect cup of coffee, and had breakfast. The day was slow and weepy, and he went out for some groceries and errands. He spent the day busier than most, wanting to do something, anything, to not let himself dwell and anticipate Monday morning. 

When Monday morning rustled through, and into his room from the window he left open and his curtains waving, he grunted as he felt his back stiffen just the slightest bit from sleeping at an awkward angle on a cold night. He saw it was earlier, much earlier, than when he'd usually get up and head down to the shop, but sleep hadn’t come to him easily, too many thoughts of you, so he decided the more time he got to ready himself to see you, the better. Before leaving, he changed Elvis’ food and water bowl outside after the downpour last night and set out to his shop through the misty, foggy morning. Usually, he might’ve had the radio going, but he was too deep in his thoughts to notice he'd forgotten to turn it on. By the time he arrived at his shop and was parking in the front on the gravelly parking spot, he was so lost in his thoughts of being around you, smelling you and seeing you smile, that worried but grateful smile, or the giggly one when you’d joked about Logan while standing next to Joel, that he didn’t see you already standing in front of the shop under the wooden roof. 

The morning skies had decided in the past few weeks to be grayer every time, and this morning, despite it being almost 7:20, it looked like it could still be 5 in the morning. The green, redwood trees that surrounded and isolated the shop were still wet from the rain last night and rustled in the early morning, distant birds and breaking twigs a constant. Underneath, when Joel finally stepped out of his truck and looked up, he saw you there, 40 minutes earlier than you should be, standing out in the cold and waiting. 

You were standing there with wired headphones, hands in the pockets of the jacket he’d given you Saturday night at the game. Under it was a bleached red rustic long sleeve, a pair of darker jeans than the light colored ones he’s noticed you tend to favor, and comfy sneakers with a little platform rather than the brown shoes he remembered. Your hair was in a pretty, neat braid that was a little stringy from the drizzle that had probably fallen from the trees.

For a moment, he stood there and took in the sight in front of him. You looked like a vision in the fog, damp, curled baby hair, even slightly tangled, and cheeks flushed from the morning cold. 

“Morning,” You called out as you looked away from the trees you’d been busy admiring, the ones still dripping about. You took off the wired headphones before putting your hands in the jacket pockets and swaying from side to side to keep yourself warm. 

He locked his truck, using the moment to look away and realize he’d been caught staring at you. He walked across the crunchy rocks before he grunted back. “Morning,” Joel looked you over a moment, trying his damn hardest not linger. “You been here long?” he asked with a hint of furrow to his brows, not liking the thought of you standing around in the cold for him.

You shook your head, checking your phone quickly before replying, “about fifteen minutes.”

You’d been standing out here in the cold for fifteen minutes? He exhaled, rough and fighting down the urge to scold you. He was about to, really he was. He was going to scowl and tell you to be more careful, and it wasn’t safe, and to not be here so early, but then he saw your nose all red from the cold and chin slightly tucked into the jacket collar almost instinctively, seeking warmth in his jacket and scent, and he wilted.

“Didn’t know how long it would take to bike here, kinda overestimated how early I had to leave the house,” you admitted a little sheepishly, in that embarrassed look he was getting used to while you wrapped the headphones around your phone and put them both away in the jacket pocket. So damn cute. He watched you stand there a little awkward and a little nervous with damp baby hairs curling around your face, lips slightly trembling from the cold, for a moment before speaking.

“Too damn early for you to be out here like this, girl.” His voice was gruff as he realized he was letting his age show with the nickname.

“Sorry,” Joel watched you say with an embarrassed smile and a scratch to the back of your soft, delicate neck, “thought maybe it’d be a good first impression on the job at least.” God, how were you so sweet? Didn't you know that you could show up an hour late and drunk off your ass, and it’d still be a good impression. 

“C’mon, I'll show ya inside,” he grunted and nodded to the door to hide his urge to kiss your stupid, pretty face.

The keys rattled coming out of his pocket and working into the door, which opened with a little bell chime from the bells above.  You followed in behind Joel, into the shop that smelt like old wood, sawdust, and the tiniest bit of dampness from being closed over the weekend and the rain of the days. Though today, there was something else too. You were there. He tried to hide the way he attempted to get a deep inhale of the air around you as you walked in, something soft and sweet mixing in with worn leather. “Watch your step,” He muttered as he led the way towards the back, far corner where the heater stood. You were bundled up a little tighter into your jacket, as if scared to touch anything without his permission, and he tried not to think about how polite you were, always were. So careful not offend or burden him, even though you should be worrying about how much you were shivering instead. 

“C’mere, come by the heater. You’re shivierin’” His heavy work boots thumped slightly on the deep, grainy wooden floors, and the heater flipped on with a cranky hum as the heat started to fill the air. He turned back to look at you, watching as your steps were light, with a little skip, even though he could see in your movement that you felt a little awkward and unsure moving across the place to him. You stood across from him, hands wiggling out of your pockets first, then out of the oversized sleeve, and then you started rubbing them in front of the heater. “Good, you’re wearin the jacket.” He spoke, his own hands hanging slightly in front of him, eyebrows furrowing as he watched you move, stammer, then quickly try to pull the jacket off in embarrassment. "Hey, hey— easy. what’re you doing?”

“Giving it back—” Did you think he brought it up to chastise you?

“Relax,” he said, your name slowly, though he was quick to cut you off, huffing in disbelief. “I don’t need it back, that wasn’t what I was saying. Keep the jacket, I mean it. Consider it a signing bonus,” maybe that would help the refusal Joel felt coming.

“No I’m fine—” He cut you off again.

“So am I. Keep the damn jacket, indefinitely”

“But—”

“Ya say no one more time, I’m firin’ you.”

“….yes boss.” He knew he wasn’t serious, and so did you, so you smiled gratefully and tucked yourself back into the jacket tighter, trying to fight off the freeze.

“Christ, you always freeze this easily?” He tried to sound bewildered to hide the worry that was hollowing out around his aching chest. 

“I run cold.” Ya, because of course you did. Of course, you were one of the girls who were always freezing their little ass off in the winter, but still were filled with enough recklessness that college kids always had to not fully prepare themselves. Probably the kind of girl who’d cling to him and try to steal all his damn warmth, stuck on like some koala. Probably curl right into him and bury your face into his chest to warm up, joke about how he’s a damn furnace, and he’d wrap you up in one blanket after another. Oh, how he’d love that. Meanwhile, He watched you switch between rubbing your hands in front of the heater and pressing them to your cheeks to warm them instead. 

He tried not to think of how weird his words might come out as he spoke, acting like you were some baby bird in danger of freezing. “lemme see your hands.” He found your eyes looking at him, confused, before stammering your hands forward, pressed together for him so obediently. He grasped them, sure to be as gentle as he could. He felt the coldness, the way in which chill enveloped your hands. Jesus, if your hands were this cold, how cold was the rest of you? And to think you’d been stupid enough to get here almost an hour early and wait around outside in the morning cold gray? Stupid girl. Your hands had gone pale now, and he felt how slender your hands were compared to his beefy ones, dainty and so much better than what he’d imagined when he’d let himself cum to your voice that night from the hotline. He rubbed and squeezed them all while still holding them in front of the heater to warm them up. Your nails were done, and he recalled you talking about what design you wanted to get with Layla the last time you’d been at the shop. So you hadn’t gotten school colors, he thought. Instead, they were a burgundy red that seeped so beautifully with his brown jacket, which you adorned. 

He felt your eyes on him, no doubt surprised and probably just as nervous and a little awkward, but he kept his eyes down, just wanting to admire your hands in his, trying to keep his expression as blank as he could. “…Thank you.” Your voice was soft, and from the corner of his eyes, he caught you looking down and away, with an embarrassed but grateful warm pink blush that moved from the apples of your cheek to the tip of your ears. How would you blush when he’d kiss every inch of your body, starting with those sinfully enticing lips and gently sloped neck?

“They’re like ice, you know that?” is what he said instead as he finally tilted his head up some to watch you mutter a soft agreement and nod like a chided child, almost like you were used to being scolded. He sighed, rough like half of everything he did, with just a hint of exasperation, “You should’ve worn gloves.”

“Don't have any,” you said with a sheepish cough, like hoping he could find some kind of humor in the fact that would ease him. It didn't. “I’ll get them, just keep forgetting to.” He sighed again, rougher this time. He’d probably ended up buying you gloves himself before the week was out. “I usually have these like, little hand warmers. They work nice, but I forgot em in my backpack this morning.” You added as damage control. 

Hand warmers? He couldn’t smile at the hint of self-preservation because the hand warmers were probably the one-use kind, the kind you get from the gas station that get too hot for 20 minutes, almost burning you, and then dying down like the world's most disappointing fireworks in the next 40 minutes. He worked hard to keep his expression neutral at the thought of your little hands being cold as ice so often. “Those ain’t gonna do anythin’ if you keep forgettin’ em”

“Ya, I know…” You looked so damn guilty, like you were worried he’d get angry with you, and his face softened instantly. He was a tall man, his soft, slightly tired hunch didn't hide that, and scolding you while still having your weak little hands and wrists in his grasp probably was a little intimidating, but he couldn't help it. The fact that you’d probably been freezing all fall and winter, because you kept forgetting to get gloves, and that no one out of that stupid, beef-brained football team you cared for or the friends you probably had a truckload of had gone and gotten you a damn scarf or something pissed him off. He would have. No, he would. He couldn’t wrap his arms around you and tuck you away into his collarbones and feel you lean into his warmth and shiver and press your nose into his neck, tickling him and your nose while warming your lips by leaving little trails of kisses, and letting you give all your chills to him. SO he’d do the next thing he could. He’d go out and get some gloves, a scarf, mufflers, and whatever the store owner could sell him into to keep you warm, and he wouldn’t let the wandering but persistent thought that he had no business as a middle-aged bastard thinking about you like this. If you were sick so often, then how frail was your health?

“You get sick a lot in the winter?” He asked, kneading every little knuckle as he did, and by now you’d gotten just a tinge more relaxed with the shared warming touch.

“Oh ya. Just the yearly cold though,” You said as he watched the pink of your palms slowly but steadily coming back under his labor. “It happens every year so I kinda just stopped fighting it at this point.” You were trying to send him into an early grave, weren’t ya? His fingers tightened as he thought of you, defeated and yearly shivering, sniffling, coughing, and miserable, and by the fact that nobody had gotten you something you could keep you warm, no one to take care of you. No one to rely on but yourself. 

“You can’t just let yourself keep gettin’ sick like that,” He said, hoping to get his words through her stubborn, scared to burden anyone ways.

“It’s not too bad, really,” you said with a soft sniffle, finally warming up overall now as the heater picked up too, catching a steady rhythm, “nothing some warm milk and Advil can’t fix.”

Ridiculous sweet girl. It was clear you were trying to be tough, but had a half ass plan to nurse yourself better. Probably coughed yourself to tears through the night and hoped some warm milk would rejuvenate you. He turned his eyes down to where he was still holding your hands, slender, soft things that he squeezed to get the blood flowing. “You have a favorite soup, for when you’re sick?” 

At the question, to his endeared exasperation, you made a little disgusted face, “don't like soup,” because of course you didn’t. Of course, you were picky and had to turn your cute little nose up at things. 

“You don’t like soup? At all?”

You laughed softly at that, picking up on his hint of bewilderment. “ya, I don't really know why. Never have really, just always thought it was sour and chunky.”

“You just ain’t ever had good soup then, ya don't know what you're talkin’ about.” He wasn't the greatest cook, but hell, he’d lived this long, he knew a thing or two about cooking.

“Maybe,” you said with a tiny shrug, the jacket rustling against your hair as you did, along with your hands curling slightly in the cusp of his hands that had warmed up your hands now. “But I’m not dying to start loving soup either, so I’ll pass.”

He finally got to see some defiance in you, a little picky brattiness between all the sweetness, and of course, it was over something ridiculous like soup. “Alright, soup ain’t for everyone apparently. You like hot chocolate?” was this supposed to be your first day on the job, where he gave you a tour and let you learn up on how to do your job? Yes. Is he more than happy to keep it as just time to get to learn every nook and cranny of your mind? Yes again. Because if he knew you, if he knew what grossed you and what comforted you, and he knew you, he might feel justified to feel the flutter in his heart that was making it hard for him to be. 

“Are you gonna fire me if I say no?” you chuckled sheepishly, and if your hands were free from his, you’d probably be scratching the back of your neck. So no hot chocolate either.

He let himself play into the moment for a moment, giving a not-serious, unimpressed look. “I oughta. It’s winter, who doesn’t like hot chocolate?” 

He breathed a sigh of relief when you giggled at him, humoring the moment, a little twinkle in your eyes as you replied slightly teasingly, doubling down, “Hot vanilla is better.” 

So now you were teasing him, and trying to send him into cardiac arrest with how god damn cute you were. “You’re an odd cookie,” he chuckled lowly, hands lightly caressing your knuckles. 

“I’ll bring some for you tomorrow, you’ll see it’s way better than hot chocolate,” You said proudly, so engrossed in the, honestly, silly conversation that you didn't notice the very tip of his ears warm at the thought of you bringing and making stuff for him.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” He’d try it because no matter how ridiculous it sounded, he’d eat anything by your hands. He was supposed to be your boss, and here he stood letting you talk about hot vanilla just to get an extra lick of your laughter, “And ya still owe me them cookies,” he added with the smallest teasing smirk. 

“I won't forget,” you said, curling your fingers into yourself a little more. The shop was warmed up now, the weather outside still the same gray, trees rustling outside, sounding like waves crashing on rocks, and a slightly open window somewhere rustling a blind. Your hands were fully warmed up now, too, same with your whole body, and you slightly pulled them back, as if asking for permission to pull them away.

He could see they’d gotten their color back, and you weren’t shivering anymore, but that didn't stop the temptation to keep your hands there. To hold your hand, grasp your hand and interlock your fingers, and then eventually pull you into his body to make sure not even an inch of you stays cold. But you were pulling away, and he was old enough to be sensible, so he let your hands go and watched you try to preserve the warmth, his warmth, his touch when shoving them into the jacket pocket quickly. “Your hands all right now?”

“mhm. Thank you.” Your hands moved to wrap the jacket around yourself from inside the pockets as you spoke. “I won't forget the hand warmers tomorrow. Promise.”

“Good. Better not,” the words came out particularly southern because he couldn't name the feeling that made him want to press a kiss right to your forehead over the word ‘promise’.

An almost brief moment of awkward silence fell with both of you standing in there, not looking at each other, while he tried not to think about him warming you every day and night you were cold. Dorm rooms probably didn't have great insulation, did they?

“C’mere,” He blurted out, grateful for the suddenness, so he wouldn't dwell on the delivery too much. He motioned for you to follow after him as he started moving around the shop to get you acquainted. “Gotta show you how things work.” He tried to ignore how you straightened up, and his eyes opened slightly bigger to make sure he saw you were being proactive, an innocent focus that made him want to ruin you so god damn bad. So damn eager. He walked you around the familiar shop, showing you which aisles held which general products, what needed cleaning how often, how to work the old as hell register, and the door to the back side that led to his workshop. He reached for a clipboard that hung a little past the counter. “These are all the projects we got lined up this month.”

You took the clipboard slowly, with eyes big in awe, while flipping through the different kinds of stuff he had to build, realizing he did more than just own the shop. “I didn’t know you did carpentry too.”

His chest tightened slightly in pride at how interested and impressed you sounded, flipping through the pages. “I build plenty of kinds of things. Furniture, signs, guitars,” He said, gesturing to the project's list, two of them already done. “Been gettin’ mostly guitars though recently.”

“Can I assume you play?” you asked, looking up from the clipboard, the awed look a constant.

A little sound escaped from the back of his throat as he nodded, “Ya can. Been playin’ for years.” fuck, was he actually trying to brag to impress a college kid?

“That’s so cool,” you whispered, taking the image in, and he forgot his recent shame in an instant. You flipped through the pages, actually trying to familiarize yourself with the different projects, prices, and deadlines. “I have a guitar, actually, back home. I begged my parents for one when I was in middle school. Never could learn it though.”

He fought a fond smile at the picture of her begging her parents for a guitar, probably not an expensive one, considering everything he knew about you, with the way you denied yourself something good, like the high salary, simply cause of your conscience. “Probably just need a better teacher.”

“Definitely,” you replied with a hearty soft giggle, looking up and finishing with the look over the clipboard. “especially considering I was my own teacher.”

Wow. Awesome flirting skills, Miller, he thought to himself, insult the girl's ability to learn. You’d probably spent hours sitting there, flipping through stupid videos and giving up halfway while trying to learn cause you hadn’t had someone with the patience to sit with you and teach you. He thought of pulling out one of his guitars right now, to show you himself, just to see if and how your fingers would hold a chord properly. “You want me ‘tshow ya?” The words were out of his lips before he could stop them, but he didn't regret the invitation.

“Will you?” you asked with a soft gasp before adding with an embarrassed peek through your lashes, “I mean, you know, someday.” 

“Yeah, I could show ya,” Joel said with a nod, one that was perfectly nonchalant and definitely not showing how he was just as or even more eager than you. 

“Thank you,” He watched you bite your bottom lip again to hide the big smile, as he knew by now you had a habit of doing. Just so damn cute. 

“Don't mention it.” This wasn't the kind of thing he did; he’s not the kind of man who offered to show pretty girls how to play the guitar, because he didn't show anyone. No, he’d keep it his thing for so long, something he did alone to forget about his shitty life for a few god damn minutes. He wasn't this kind of man. But for you? He might've become one. He had to force his eyes away from you, to nod you over to the counter before pulling out some papers from a stack of even older papers to get you started with work because he couldn’t spend all day standing there thinking about you next to him, fingers working over strings as he guided you. "Right," Joel grunted after a pause too long. “Better get t'work."

“you know how to work a register?”

“I do”

“Alright then, read through those first, then I’ll tell ya what's important after. I’ll teach ya how to place orders next time we have to, alright?” It was just the smidge bit easier for him to not be smitten to the point of becoming incompetent when he wasn’t staring directly at your eyes, or your hair, or you in the jacket, or you in general. 

You were quick to get to reading, but it still took some time. He found himself hanging around the corner just enough that you could ask him any question you wanted, but also far enough that from your peripheral it would look like he was working. He noticed you moving from foot to foot slightly, maybe cold again, or maybe just preferring to sit down, regardless, he made a mental note to get a stool for behind the counter. No point in making you stand around tiring your pretty legs when you didn’t have to. He was proud of his thoughts too, that he’d managed to think clearly enough past the desire to pull you into his lap, to give your legs a break whenever and wherever.

“Alright, I’m done, boss,” you said with a relieved breath, quiet enough for him to realize the volume control was deliberate, and tiptoed almost subconsciously to stretch your legs while looking up to find Joel across the store, suddenly very engrossed with papers of his own. Papers. Yup. Exactly what he was thinking of. Not how damn cute you looked stretching and speaking in that breathy voice, the one where if he closed his eyes and focused hard enough, he could almost hear Daisy. 

“That fast?” He asked, staying rooted in his spot for a moment before crossing his arms and nodding as you nodded back, eyes big and smile self pleased at being able to impress your new boss. It was too damn tempting to just walk across the shop and chin you little chin between his fingers, to praise you like the good girl you were, but by now he'd learned he was a man of greater restraint than he’d ever imagined.

“Alright then, c’mere.” Alright, Miller, keep your head on straight. “It’s good you read all that, but now I'm gonna tell you what matters.” he paused just long enough to catch the look that you expected him to drop some kind of wisdom bomb, and he chuckled at that. “Inventory ain’t all that damn important.”

“Oh,” the word was short and quipped, eyes turning down like you felt slightly ridiculous for your earlier pride, and this time, the humor won over the mushy mess you made of him.

“Don't worry ‘bout it too much, hmkay? What matters is you learn where things are and who y’ask if ya don't know,” he said, looking almost pointed to see your reaction.

“I’ll learn,” you nodded, hands shoved back into the jacket pocket before you pulled your shoulders tight, bringing them closer and gave a slightly cheeky smile, like trying to make him smile, “and I’ll ask you?”

There was a naivety and innocence to the nuzzle into the jacket. But Joel wasn’t a fool. He could see the hint of cheekiness in that innocent little smile, and his gruff act melted for a moaning, rough laugh flowing out as he missed with a conceding chuckle, “Yeah. You ask me.” Because that’s what he wanted, he wanted you to turn to him in every moment you needed help. It was wrong, he knew that, he shouldn’t be wanting a college age girl to come needing his help with something or anything. Shouldn’t want to be the one you went to for advice, or question, or even company, but it was what he wanted, and he was getting real tired of denying it to himself. “The stuff we got is pretty organized already, shouldn’t be too hard to hard t’figure out.”

You had just been about to reply when the shop door opened with the classic chime, and in walked Jesse, hair still slightly damp from a recent shower, and face stuffed with a bagel before he looked up and around to try and find Joel. Between the tornado that had been this morning for Joel, and the too early arrival of yours, it had gotten away from the both of you that the shop was opening soon. 

Jesse was a good natured dude, Joel knew that. He also knew that the guy could see right through him, that he already had that very first day when Joel had offered to fix your wall, and now, on top of the limbo that was working around you, he had to deal with Jesse’s comments and tomfoolery. 

“Mornin', Joel,” asshole. He spoke, choking down the bagel bite he had in his mouth like he couldn’t wait to speak fast enough as he spotted you and Joel, standing behind you, body tense and internally groaning. 

“Mornin’,” Don’t say anything stupid. That’s all the words he could get out to Jesse before he disregarded Joel and turned his stupid grin towards you.

“Mornin' Pretty Lady,” of fucking course.

“Good morning,” your voice was slightly flattered, smile that same one that he saw you give to the guys on the football field that night. Joel was definitely losing his mind between the thoughts of you and the shitty sleep he’d gotten because he thought for a moment that the smile you gave him was different. Different how? Well, he didn’t know, but he could hope. You said your name, tacking on, “I don’t know if you remember me, I was in here a few days ago.”

“Of course I remember,” Jesse said with his stupidly smug smile, “we don't get many pretty girls in.” Joel felt his jaw clench, partly from Jesse’s smooth words and partly because of the flattered, shy smile you gave him, apples of your cheeks shining and so delicious looking he wanted to map every inch of them with his lips. “Whatcha doin’ here?” 

“I’m…” you trailed off before turning to look him right in the eyes, excited and urging him to introduce you and your new role.

You were so excited and expectant, like this was something that mattered so much to evoke those feelings. “She’s workin’ here now."

“She is?” Jesse’s tone was less surprised than it should have been, but he also knew better than to tease him too long or too hard.

“She is.” Joel wasn’t about to explain himself to Jesse, especially not when Jesse had that sly look in his eyes like he'd already figured out what was going on.

“Cool,” It bugged Joel almost a little, how easily casual he could be around you. “I’m Jesse, best damn worker in this place.”

“Only damn worker in this place,” Joel added with the tiniest scowl that inadvertently made you laugh.

“Until now, that is. You might have some competition now,” You said, crossing your arms in his jacket, which you wore with a kind of ease that Joel hadn’t seen with him. Maybe it was because Jesse was closer to your age than he was. Or maybe, Joel shouldn’t be thinking about you in this way at all anymore, because it was one thing for you to be a wish out of reach, and another really think he had a shot.

“Oh yeah? We’ll see about that,” Jesse dished back with ease that made all three people in the store think he was already friends with you.

“We will,” You conceded, laughing too along with Jesse as he gave you an approving nod. He moved past and put his stuff away and finished his bagel, and Joel felt you move slightly closer to him and spoke in a ‘generous tone’ “You're welcome.”

“for?” 

“Just egged him into working extra hard.” The apples of your cheeks were pink, and he was sure hurting at least a little from smiling. “I’ll get to work too,” you added, turning back to the counter to just learn the ins and outs of the shop while he stood there, eyes running over again the way you looked in the jacket.

“You’re screwed, boss man,” Jesse whispered into his ear, fast enough that he could skip away before eating a punch. Joel focused his energy on glaring at Jesse, trying to not even look in the vicinity of your shadow if he wanted to go and get some work done. 

The day was a light one, the weather the way it was, and it being a Monday, the customers were few. The radio switched on and off through the day while Joel stayed in his workshop working on the table he’d been building for the past few weeks, Jesse did some light cleaning around, and you stayed at the counter and walking down the aisles. The shop closed closer to 6, but you’d already told him you had classes from 3, so he expected the knock on his workshop door a little past two while he was in between cleaning his tools. “Boss?”

He walked over, rag wiping off some wood stain from his hands as he opened the door just enough to show his frame and not in, rather you not see the mess he had working up. “Yeah?” He asked, arms crossed now over his chest, before running a hand over his graying stubble. “You leavin’?” 

“mhm”

He didn’t want to recognize the little something inside him that sank at the thought of you leaving. It was stupid to get upset, you were a damn college student that had classes to go to and friends to be with and a life to live, but the thought of not having you around, even if he wasn’t right next to you, was still an upsetting one. “Be careful gettin’ back to campus.”

“I will, thank you,” you said with a smile and a wave, giving Jesse one as well. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you called out before adding to Joel, especially, “and I’ll remember my hand warmers tomorrow.”

Joel watched with a clenched fist and tight eyebrows. You wave and leave, the sight of your back now etched in. It was good that he’d talked some sense into you that you’d remember the hand warmers, but the gloves still seemed iffy. gotta remember to stop by the store to get some wool gloves. The moment you disappeared past the tree on your bike, the shop suddenly felt too damn still and quiet, despite the music on the radio that was still going. 

“It’s good right?”

“…It is.”

Joel felt reluctant to admit that the hot vanilla milk you brought in your little thermos the next morning was good. He came to the shop early today, too, just in case you showed up too early, he didn’t want you standing out there in the cold. But you had come at a closer time to opening, a backpack slung over your shoulder with a smile and a wave that made him think that maybe you were a morning person. He pretended to be reluctant when you’d poured him a glass, like he wanted anything but taste whatever was your favorite, even though it was the opposite, like the thought you’d remembered and made it for him, as you thought of him just as he thought of you, didn’t make something deep in his stomach pool with warmth.

You squealed happily in victory over the rim of your own cup that you nursed, eyes an isolated vision just as was his, the moment strangely intimate.

“You’re that excited over milk?

Pulling away from the couple slightly, you shrugged, playfully nonchalant as you spoke. “It’s good to celebrate the little victories in life.”

Too damn pure. Your words were sweet. easy. They were sincere, and he couldn’t believe he had this adorable thing in his shop, standing there happy over something like milk. “Strange sense of victory,” he mumbled into the rim of his cup. He watched you sip away happily, eyes closing now and then to soak in the warmth of the milk in the center of your chest in the same way he felt, thought Joel’s pretty sure his warmth was there from watching you and not the drink. 

You pulled the mug down slightly, a trickle of milk coming out of the side of your mouth. Your pink tongue was quick to dart out and lick the drop away like some damn kitten, though it dribbled down a little faster than you expected. Joel moved in slightly closer, smelling himself on you since you’d worn his jacket once again. His hands were rough, aged. His knuckles had baby hairs that were turning slightly white in row with the rest of his hair, callouses ever constant on his palm from all the woodwork and nails cut down to an amount that would make you tinge, especially in comparison to your longer down nails. Those very hands moved, curled slightly, and all the fingers under your chin with a thumb darted out to wipe your chin. He realized after his body was already in the act that that was the first time he’d touched your face. Somehow, it was softer than all his dreams.

Your eyes went wide, breath hitching as he stilled, the moment pausing despite the morning birds echoing outside. The store was still, the heater was the only real sound buzzing somewhere distant, and Joel tried so very hard to focus on that and not his own pounding heartbeat.

“Careful.” The word was soft, almost silent, quiet enough not break the spell. It was obviously meant for the milk that had strayed, but in that moment, neither of you was sure if that was the only reason. 

But, of course, Jesse was darling Jesse, he burst the door open, bell chiming and breaking the soundproof barrier between the two of you. “Morning Folks,” he said, mouth halfway stuffed with a bagel once again and a shit eating grin, once again.

Joel leaned back, straightening up and pulling his hand back into himself, and you followed after him, turning back to nod at Jesse, who also didn’t miss the warmth that peeked out from between your hair that shown through your reddening ears. 

“Don’t go spillin’ it on yourself, don’t need you burnin’ yourself,” He muttered before finishing the drink and getting ready to head back to his workshop.

“Yes boss,” you said, giving him a little playful salute, like trying to move away from the quiet moment that had passed between you two. And it almost worked the way the action had sent a jolt straight south, and he had to give the curtest of nods before moving into his workshop and shutting the door behind him with the tiniest bit of rattle that Jesse picked up on, making his awareness of the matter abundantly clear with the way he burst out in laughter. 

Work was moving smoothly, with you becoming easy friends with Jesse and settling into a routine. Joel was on the phone by the counter, talking about a shipment when you had decided to empty the trash, slugging the black bag out the door and to the back.

He looked down at the paper he was mindlessly doodling out with a stray pen, trying not to scoff at the bullshit excuse the man on the other line was coming up with for the shipment coming in late, when he heard a scream from towards the back of the shop, eyes alarmed as he recognized your voice. 

The phone was dropped instantly, and he was running out back in seconds, Jesse not too far behind. What had happened? Were you okay?? Did you trip? His mind and body went into autopilot as he rounded the corner, eyes darting around quickly, trying to figure out what was wrong. 

There was someone there. Multiple someones in fact. 

Multiple raccoons.

He might've almost been angry if it weren’t for the instant relief that washed over him, followed by worry as he spotted you standing pressed against the wall in fear, waving a wimpy stick around for protection that you probably grabbed on instinct.

“Boss!” you almost whined, and this time he let himself willingly think of the lewd images of you begging in with the same wide eyes and whinny voice, whimpers and mewls and squeals all mumbled together, looking so damn pretty.

“Jesus, girl,” He huffed out, almost laughing in amusement and fondness as he stepped forward and in front of you, shoulder brushing past. “Those are just raccoons, sweetheart.” Just like that day at the game, you’d hugged him with emotions running high, and an endearment had slipped out that you both had ignored, this time was all the same. 

“And they surprised me.” You tried to petition your point, staying firmly planted behind him.

“They’re just going through the trash like every morning they do. They’re more scared of you than you are of them.” He tried to suppress his chuckle, he really did, but you were just so damn adorable.

“Highly doubt that,” you muttered, terrified and eying down the animals like you were trying to make sure they didn’t pull a past one on you, and he laughed at the scene once again, hearty and genuine like he hadn’t in years.

“they ain’t gonna do nothin’. Swear it.” He was trying his hardest to fight the urge to wrap you up in his arms, to tuck you away and fondly tease you over your vigilance at the potential ‘danger’. 

“You swear, they don’t” you said shaking you head insistent and scared “you already pay me more than I deserve and you’re the nicest boss I’ve ever had, so please be nice again and put Jesse on trash duty from now on?” if complimenting him and looking at him like he was your knight in shinning armor was your strategy to make him fold over himself for you…you didn’t even need it. First word out of your mouth, and he was already gone.

The protective part of him never once stopped aching as he nodded and gruffly sighed. “Jesse’ll take care of the trash then.”

“The hell I’d do?” He said dramatically sighing as he picked up the dropped trash bag and slightly danced around the raccoons and shooed them away while you poked Joel’s shoulder slightly, silently giving him a double thumbs up with a small giggle, like the two of you were in on some kind of inside joke and Joel tried not grab you face and kiss the absolute god loving sense out of you. He was an old man, there was no denying that, and yet here he was, giving in to some girl with the sweetest goddam smile in the world. 

A love sick fool, truly.

Time passed easily after. More than a month had gone by now, and Joel had learned you quite a lot by now. The little smile you always tried to hide when you’d baked him the cookies you promised, or the little way you felt the raw edges of all the pieces of wood around, especially feeling the underside of the counter when you talked to a customer you didn’t like. He’d also learned the way your eyes drooped in a fight with your smile when you were exhausted. And right now? This wasn’t even that because neither your lips nor your eyes could stay up enough to try to lie that you were fine. 

You’d walked in, no real greeting as opposed to the wave he loves to see every morning. Your shoulders were slumped, and the way you carried yourself was entirely different. “You alright?” He walked closer to you, that feeling of who the hell was he to ask was still there, albeit smaller, but still there. Because really, did you need him worrying over you? No, no, you didn’t. He still remembered the day Layla and her puppy dog boyfriend had come to pick you up from work as a surprise. Or the other time when Joel had nearly burst into flames from jealousy when one of the football players brought you lunch as a thank you for taking care of him the day before. You had friends, good friends, so did you really need him? Maybe not, but he hoped that you wanted him. 

“Hm?” You said, surprised as if not even registering he had walked closer, “Oh, morning, boss. That bad?” You said with a little awkward rub to the back of your neck, surprised he'd notched your state. Did you seriously not see the way he watched every moment of yours to learn like the back of his hand? 

The yawn was telling, and he fought and lost to the urge to scold you. “You look like you haven’t slept at all. What’re you gonna do if you get sick? careless girl”

He expected your signature sheepish smile, but you were too tired for even that. “Pulled an all nighter for midterms.”

So you wanted to die by working yourself to death and kill him in worry? You looked like you were running on coffee and anxiety, eyebrows furrowed deep, and his wrinkles set into harsher lines. “Midterms are that bad?”

“less about being bad, more just” you paused, trying to find the right word, “a lot? There’s just soooo much to do. And then, I didn’t notice the time this morning, so I forgot breakfast too.” Your confession had some deep part of the 48 year old he was twisting uncomfortably. His scowl was deep now, and he grabbed a protein bar from the counter drawer. “Eat. Don’t need you passing out on me.” Too tired to do your usual ordeal of saying you were fine and refusing his help, you grabbed the bar from his hands. If tired, you were so pliant, he could only imagine how you’d look cock drunken. Focus Joel. Despite it, though, you didn’t eat it before asking if he’d eaten breakfast, in case he had been holding it out for himself. “Christ, girl. I’m fine, you look like you’re about to pass out.” Still so sweet despite everything. 

You were halfway through opening the protein bar when Jesse walked in, this time by your luck, not having opened his usual Bagel. And because Jesse had become the sacrificial lamb recently, and an over-eager and not formally initiated wing man, he was going to lose his breakfast. Jesse could take his car and go get breakfast, but you needed fuel and rest now. 

“Jesse, you get a half day if you give me that bagel.” Half day really was too much for a bagel, but he didn’t wanna deal with Jesse’s bartering for a better deal right now.

“Sold to Joel Miller for a half day,” he said cheerfully, slightly tossing the wrapped sandwich before spotting you. “Whoa, hey, you, you look not okay.”

“Thanks,” you muttered with the tiniest laughing huff at Jesse’s comment.

“Eat this and take 20 in my office, the dark will help that headache you got coming on,” Joel muttered as he handed you the bagel, your eyes widening in return, probably over the fact that he could tell you had a headache coming on.

You rubbed your eye slightly, only backing up both what you said and what Joel was commanding, “If I go into a dark room right now, I’m falling asleep one hundred percent.”

That’s the point.

“Good, go fall asleep,” He nudged you with rough hands but soft movements to his office.  “Now.”

Seriously, all he could think about was how pretty you’d look cock drunken because of the way you smiled all googly and loopy at the idea of sleep? You could only look like sin perfectly incarnated for him.

“You’re the best boss ever.” Your feet dragged slightly in your wake, bagel wrapper rustling too as you opened it and said a small thanks to Jesse, to which he happily shrugged and muttered something Joel could make out as ‘hell, take my breakfast every day if I get paid time off’.

Joel didn’t reply to your compliment, but rather added a “and you can bring your school stuff here, do it when ever ya have 

“You have gone softttttt boss man.” Jesse whistled low under his breath, throwing a smirk to him when he saw Joel’s grouchy glare and moved easily to the door. “Welp, I’ll be back at 12. Gonna enjoy my half day!”

With Jesse gone and you in his office, Joel paced around the quiet store and decided, after it had been about ten minutes, to grab an extra blanket from the storage closet and peeped open the door. He was greeted by the sight of you sleeping, the little pout to your chin and bottom lip had eased, your eyebrows perfectly relaxed, and the apples of your cheeks soft. You were curled up as a ball, knees brought up to your chest, and his, now your, leather jacket draped over yourself as a make-shift blanket, and your head lulled to the side and almost buried into it. You had him all wrapped up in knots, looking like an adorable kitten that finally let its clamoring ease, and you didn’t even know it. 

The doorway stayed cracked open for a few solid minutes, both to get your sleeping form used to his presence unconsciously and to just admire you. He only really moved when you shivered. He’d learned your ticks and mannerisms, but also habits. One of which was forgetting the gloves he’d gotten you on your second day of work, perfectly your size and as cute as a man of his age could try to get. He really outta keep an extra pair at the store by this point, hand warmers be damned.

The blanket smelled like Joel, like Joel on the nights where his house was too quiet for him to sleep in, eat in, or even breathe in, so he’d drive to his workshop, carve away until he crashed in the shop and pulled on one of the blankets. His movements were ginger, slow, and careful as he set the extra blanket on top of you, muscles flexed as he watched for your reaction, hopefully, any.

You stirred the slightest bit at the weight on top of you being shifted, but the office was still dark enough for you to only squint your eyes open the barest bit before not seeing him and going back to sleep, tucking your chin under the blanket and head lulling over to the other side like a rag doll. But of course, with how lucky Joel had been recently, to have found you, he tested his luck. His touch was feather light, moving a piece of hair away from your cheek, the air shifting slightly for your sleepy mind to register something. Not enough to speak, but enough to groan in what sounded to him like annoyance. Were you a grouchy sleeper? 

To think that in all the mornings he imagined you next to him, your presence would be as well as the crease above your eyebrows, offended at being awakened by him or the sun. “Mr.Miller?” you said after an inhale, like you were speaking into some sort of abyss and only expected back your own echo.

“go back to sleep” He whispered just as quiet while taking a step back, somehow that annoying you even further as you let out an almost bratty whimper before turning your head in the opposite direction and curling back into the blanket. adorable.  Like a baby animal just begging to be teased.

“Stubborn girl,” he whispered fondly before flicking your forehead, which felt more like a fluttering hair in half punishment and half encouragement, before leaving you be. 

You slept almost your whole shift, and he let you.

Ghosts were everywhere.

Ghosts, witches, sexy nurses, monsters, and anything else the college mind could come up with for Halloween costumes.

The shop was decorated for the first time in…well, for the first time ever! Joel never had the patience or audience to decorate the shop, but recently he’d noticed the influx of college kids that dropped through for poster boards or paint to cover the dent double sided tape left on dorm walls, and it didn’t take a genius to realize it was because of you. So, Jesse the instigator, and you the enthusiast, had convinced him to let you both decorate the shop. There were fake pumpkins outside, orange festive leaves, and fake little cobwebs with spiders around the place.

The day off, “little miss bear,” Joel chuckled to himself as he called you over to the side from the counter, halfway through helping a customer, and sending Jesse over. “can I talk with ya a second?”

“Yes, boss?” You said, hair bouncing under the little furry ears you decided to wear for your bear costume and festive shop, because, surprisingly, hardware stores were a hot spot the day of and around Halloween for all the odd bits for costumes and decorations.

“You’re doin’ overtime today? No Friday football meetin’ today?” You too stood to the side, far from the front door, but easily in sight.

“Ya, I can work till closing today, no meeting cause of Halloween. Afterward, Layla’s gonna pick me up because we're gonna get ready for the party.” 

Party. Right, of course. Of course, you would go to a party on a day like this. You were a young girl, a girl that a person would have to be both blind and stupid not to enjoy being around. 

“All right, just makin’ sure,” he said, eyes trained on you, unable to suppress his chuckling at just how silly yet proud you were of your outfit.

“You’ve been doing that all day,” You pointed out finally, probably thinking he was half demented for the way he broke out into a smile randomly throughout the day.

“Doin’ what?”

“That! laughing at me, not cool, boss.”

“not laughin’ at ya. I just…I like the look.” his words might've sounded sincere if it weren't for that playful, sarcastic gleam that you’d brought out enough times before to recognize. 

“I’ll give you something to laugh at. Okay say, why didn’t the teddy bear eat dessert?”

“Bear dad jokes, really?” Oh, how was it possible to want to kiss you anymore than he already did?

“c’mon, don’t ruin it, you’re supposed to ask why!”

“right, sorry. Why?”

“Because he was already stuffed!” he snorted, sure, a few customers looked up from their shopping, the way you laughed harder at your own stupid joke than him or anyone around. You pretended, but he wasn’t sure if you were pretending, to wipe a tear out of the corner of your eye.

“was that too corny? Beary sorry” 

Let me kiss you. please.

While Joel was to the side with you, trying to make sure you couldn’t tell how badly he wanted to stuff you, the door had jingled open. The bells were background noise between the specially chatty and filled store, so neither Joel nor you saw the man who had entered. The mad who gaped as he saw you. The one who kept his eyes trained on you while he watched the way Joel watched you. He remembered Joel clearly, some dumb bastard that had bumped into him in the football stadium tunnel, had the gall to threaten an esteemed professor, and now so clearly make eyes at you, the girl he had a right to. He’d come for a hammer, only a hammer. But when he got to the counter, Jesse rang up the hammer, duct tape, rope, and zip ties.

“Some hardcore decor you’re doing?” Jesse, the ignorant boy, asked in a well humored way.

“Ah.. yes,” Professor Gardner said, bloated fingers coming up to push up his glasses. “Excuse me…” he trailed off as he watched you full on. “Is she an employee?”

“Her?” Jesse asked as he watched you and Joel ‘talk’. It was talking to you two, but for Jesse the happy wing-man, it was more like a stupid dancing around the edge of you both, making goggly eyes at each other. “Ya, she is, why?”

“Oh, nothing. Old student of mine.” 

“Ohhh, professor, huh? nice.” It was all small, easy small talk. At least that's what Jesse thought. “You’re all set, have a good day, and happy Halloween,” He said, handing over the bag of supplies to Gardner. Just as Gardner turned around, back to where you would be looking, Jesse called out since the counter was free for the moment, calling your name.

“off at 6 right?”

“yup!” you called back, loud enough for the words to unfortunately reach the wrong ears as they left the shop.

Customers came and went, and the day continued darkening until it was about 30 minutes before the shop closed. The day was busy enough that he’d spent most of it out of his workshop, so right now he was just checking some account books next to you at the counter. 

He wasn’t trying to peek, but he couldn’t help it when your phone started dinging away with messages, half concentrated and half preparing to be jealous. “Who’s textin’ you?” He asked as casually as he could.

"It’s Layla," you said with a little furrowed eyebrow, "says her boyfriend took her car earlier, and he's gonna be really late, so she can't pick me up. Asked if it's okay if I just bike back like usual."

“It’s gonna be dark by then.” It was one thing to bike back on a normal day at 2 pm and to bike at 6 pm on Halloween.“Don’t like the thought of you biking that far alone.” The disappointment he was feeling wasn’t hidden at all.

“I’m okay, I’ll take the inside roads. " It’s safe, lots of parents and kids trick or treating in the area,” You said before turning to reply to Layla on the phone. The town, for all its faults, was a pretty safe one, but things were always a little more fragile on Halloween.

“You sure? I’ll drive you back.” 

“All good, really.” Your smile was comforting, and it did put a little balm on his worries.

“I have pepper spray, my friends always have my location, and I’ll be careful.”

“I have a perfectly good truck,” Joel tried to argue, but not before you shook your head.

“You said you wanted to finish that big project today, boss.” You reminded him with a raised eyebrow, like he could imagine you doing every day if you were his. He also did wanna finsih the project, it was a particularly expensive one, and if he finished it over the weekend, he could even give you a bonus. “I’ll be fine. I’ll call you when I get home, hm?”

“Fine,” he muttered grimly, “you better. Also, head out right now, no point in going closer to the sunset.” He wanted to insist more, but you were a stubborn thing, one that had him feeling paranoiacally worried.

By the time you’d gathered your things, it was much darker than when you usually left, the sky almost completely dark compared to the washed navy of the normal days. The bike was cold, having sat out all day, and the metal slightly wet from mist but you wiped it down with the edge of your shirt, the angle pulling it up slightly to show the white waistband peeking the tiniest bit out of your jeans, something so minuscule no one besides Joel miller the creep, as he’d labeled himself, would notice. You slung the skinny backpack over one shoulder and pulled out the bike into the gravelly and not very official parking lot of the shop, looking in through the windows one last time with a small smile and wave to both Jesse, who was still on the landline with the supplier, and Joel, who was leaning against the door of his workshop, waiting for you to leave first before going back into work. Joel’s eyebrows were still knit tight together, much more visibly upset than he’d usually let on by you biking back in the almost dark but he couldn’t fight against you and he sure as hell couldn't follow his heart, which told him to scoop you the hell up in his arms, sit your pretty as in his truck, give your a nice few spanks and then drive you back him very self. 

By now, he’d watched you leave plenty of times, the sight of your back walking away wasn’t forgettable, but right now in this moment? Something in his stomach didn’t want to sit, unwarranted anxiety bubbling into his heart. His eyes stayed trained on you until you disappeared from his sight, and when you did, he pulled his phone out and put it right in front of him, checking it promptly. Worry was building, and the sky outside was pretty much dark now besides technicalities.

Joel’s worry wasn’t unnecessary, not when you had been biking down the roads under the street lights, oblivious to the following car with no lights on. Leading out of where the isolated shop was, the path leading in and out was a tree lined road that curved around here and there, a quiet path. You reached into your pocket, trying to feel around for your headphones, but didn't find them. The memory of them under the counter where you had put them after taking them off abruptly to help a customer came into mind, and with a self exasperated smile, pulled out your phone to call Joel.

He’d wanted to work on the project, but he couldn’t, so long as he didn’t know if you’d made it back home safe. He was already checking his phone when your call came in, and he picked up instantly, albeit fumbling with the device like most people his age, chest loosening the slightest bit, though the strongest of anxiety didn’t budge. “You okay?” 

A soft giggle came through into his ear, and he felt an instant rush of relief at hearing your voice. “I’m fine, I'm still cycling, just called to let you know I forgot my headphones under the counter. Can you hold onto them till Monday?”

“Sure,” His voice was nonchalant, but the fondness was so strong neither of you could miss it. “I’ll put 'em in my office.”

“Thanks, boss.” Your voice was the same as that cheery tone you always pulled when you were being both genuine and cheeky just for the sake of it. You biked around a little curve, from the corner of your eye catching movement. Looking back over your shoulder for just a second, you realized it was a car, and the oddest pit formed in your stomach. “Um, boss.. there's this car behind me, well, like not behind me directly, but it’s going really slow, and its lights are off…” Your voice wavered slightly, and you unintentionally peddled a little faster. “I think someone's following me.”

Panic jolted through him both at your words and the fear seeping into your voice, protectiveness flaring up instantly as the worst-case scenario rang through his head. “Where are you?” he was already reaching into his pocket to fish out his keys, the idea of you alone out there with some creep behind you fueling his desperation.

“I’m coming up on the bridge.” That was at least a twenty minute bike ride for you, a four minute drive at most for him. You looked over your shoulder again, one of the lamp post lights hitting directly on the driver's seat and showing the face of the person there.

Professor Gardner.

With how you’d sped up and watched over your shoulder, you knew that he knew that you knew, leaving him no reason to be subtle or patient.

“Joel, Joel, the car's speeding up. It’s Professor Gardner.” That bastard. Your voice cracked, breath heaving for a second. This was the first time you’d ever said his name, not Mr.Miller or Boss, but Joel, and it broke his heart that it was in a situation like this. “Joel, what do I do?”

“stay on the damn phone okay? keep talking to me.” He was already starting his car and backing out, flooring the gas pedal without even putting his seat belt on. “I’m on my way okay? just hold tight and don’t slow down. Get your pepper spray ready,” He kept his voice as calm as he could, solely for your sake. The tires were being pushed into overdrive hard enough that the smell of burnt tire blew into the street where Joel drove, knuckles set white. 

“Keep talking to me, sweetheart,” he urged you, heart pumping out his chest every second he didn’t hear your voice. The road was tree lined, the early fall sunset through now as it was all black. 

“I’m here, he’s speedin—” Before you could finish, though, he heard the engine rev and tires scream, the noise becoming fumbled after.

“What happened? You okay? Talk to me, goddamn it!” He hit his fist on the steering wheel, and he pulled open his glove box, getting the black loaded metal out and tucking it into the waistband of his work jeans, tucked in the back.

“Joel— Joel, I’m scared,” the voice came through after some shuffling. " Have you fallen off the bike?

“I’m almost there, okay, sweetheart? Is the spray ready?” The window was blowing past his ear like a drum at the speed he was going. 

“Ya I—” His blood ran cold when another voice came through between the sound of your shuffling, phone and bike falling, and the call door opening.

“Don't be scared,” Gardner's voice rang out, voice drawing out nothing but disgust and anxiety. “I’m not going to hurt you.” His fists slammed on his wheel harder, his mind filled with images of you being cornered by that son of a bitch. 

“Back up! Back the fuck up!” You sounded terrified, and yet you kept your ground. A mixture of worry and pride oozed out of him. It was good that you were standing your ground, that you were trying to fight back, but he also knew the odds were not in your favor. 

“Don’t be like that. I didn’t mean to scare you.” His voice was nothing but slimy and filled with faux goodness. He got closer, and you must’ve pulled out and sprayed the pepper spray the way he hissed. “My eyes!” He groaned in pain, but he was stronger and almost as desperate. “Bitch!” He yelled, taking you by the arm and pushing you onto the road, head hitting the cold concrete with a loud whimper, the sound of your skull hitting the ground echoing into the phone. Joel was sure he was in hell because he could hear you crying out in pain, pleading, and he couldn’t do anything about it. You were squirming and crying and screaming and struggling, and yet he could hear it getting worse as the sound of fabric ripping rippled through. 

He was up to the bridge now, and as he turned over the twisted road, the scene was all laid out for him.

Gardner was there, illuminated by the street light, pinning you down as he worked to tear off your clothes while you struggled and sobbed. His vision blanked for a second, a second long enough that he pulled out the gun tucked back, took off the safety, and shot it. 

The shot didn’t miss.

The shot didn’t miss as it grazed right past him and hit the car, both the sound of the shot and the metal jarring enough to finally stop the motherfucker. 

He grabbed Gardner, pulling him off of you even harder as he saw the blood on your face and your sweater torn open.“You touch her again, and I will kill you.” Gardner moved like a rag doll the way Joel overpowered him, but Gardner was a stupid man, and stupid men wanted to be hit. The professor growled and ran headfirst into Joel to tackle him, but Joel did not even flinch. “Fuckin’ idiot,” Joel muttered right before Gardner collided into him full force. The moment they both touched the ground, Joel’s senses left him. His mercy was gone, hell, it had never even been there, but his sense? His sense to keep him alive? That was gone now. 

Joel slammed the shorter man’s head into the pavement, hard enough that there was a cracking sound, like a goddamn baseball bat hitting a home run.

And again, and again. again. again.

Joel didn’t even care or notice, all that he could see was the image of you and what Gardner had done to you, and not the unconscious man below him. Joel’s black shirt was covered in blood, yet unnoticeable. He kept going and going and going until his own knuckles were bruised and bleeding, only stopping when your soft little whimper reached his ear. He finally came to himself, seeing the bloodied, passed-out man under him, then scrambling to his feet and rushing to you.

You’d crawled away, sat leaning against the tire of his truck with knees tucked to your chest, eyes glossy, hair matted, sweater ripped and falling off of you with blood trickling down the slope of your neck from somewhere between your hair, hands, arms, and knees scraped. You were sobbing. 

He stumbled, scrapping his foot slightly as Joel dropped down onto his knees in front of you, hands automatically reaching out but stopping when he realized it would only scare you more, that the last thing you probably wanted was someone touching you. “Are you okay? sweet girl, please look at me—” but you only flinched both at his presence and faltered touch, sobbing harder and wrapping your arms around your knees tighter while gasping for air “Hey, hey it's me” He whispered now, sitting down fully a scotch further. “It’s me, sweetheart. It’s just me, Joel,” voice softer than it had ever been, probably in his whole life. “You’re safe now, all safe.” He tried to catch your eye, ducking his head to make you realize him and where you were, but you only tucked your head further into yourself, hyperventilating and shutting down.

“Honey, you gotta breathe for me.” His voice was urgent, one hand coming to rest on his chest, and the other only poking the toes of your shoes, hoping the touch was innocent yet random enough to make you look up. “Slow breaths, in and out, copy me, see? C’mon, breathe with me. breathe for me.” He pleaded with you when you did look up at the poke.

“He—” you tried to speak, but you choked on your own spit, spluttering and coughing and shaking as you turned to look at the still unconscious and bleeding Gardner. “It’s not my fault..it’s not…” You sounded so desperate, trying so hard to rid yourself of the self-disgust foaming out of you.

“Of course it ain't, honey. It’s not your fault. Listen to me, it is not your fault.” his hand was trembling, desperation clawing at him too as he wished you would just breathe for a second, mind in shambles.

“it wasn’t my— it’s not my fault I had no other work and— I’m not—” you were rambling and spiraling, talking more to yourself than him, hiccups only getting stronger. 

“You’re you. You’re not Daisy.”

“…How do you know that name?”

Notes: thank you so much for reading 🤍 I’m sorry that it’s been taking longer between each chapter, and that this one took months. Between school, family issues and time, I fell into a writing slump. I will try my best to be more diligent, hope you enjoyed 😭🫶 (also, hot vanilla > hot chocolate)

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Once again, thank you for reading and likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated. Even the tiniest message from you is super motivating and I appreciate it all, they were what kept me motivated to work myself out of my writers slump 🤍

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