all i do is try try try

When you come to, you can feel the solid warmth of something against your weak frame. Your entire body is shaking from the cold and you can feel the chill right down to your bones. It's only then that you realize that you're being carried and even in your weakened state, you try put up a fight. You let out a weak groan and try elbow whoever it is that's carrying you. You don't want to be taken by someone who is clearly strong enough to lift you. You've spent long enough surviving on your own and you know how people have become, now that there's nothing good left in this world. Feebly, you kick your leg but you can't remember the last time you had something to eat that wasn't frozen snow and the meager crumbs of crackers you had found in an abandoned backpack a few days, or maybe weeks, ago. You can't tell how much time has passed.

"Shh," a low voice says. "It's alright, I've got you."

You try protest, you want to say no. You want to scream at whoever it is, tell them to let you go. You don't want to go with them. You don't want to be taken. But your throat feels dry, and your voice is lost to you. You try move but whoever it is that has you, tucks you closer to them. You can smell the faint trace of sawdust and something clean, almost like the detergent your parents used to buy, before the world had ended. But luxuries like that no longer exist. You try move your arm again but every part of your body feels as heavy as lead.

"You're safe," the voice says again, a soothing murmur. It's the last thing you hear before you lose consciousness.

It takes you sometime to adjust to life in Jackson. You haven't been around so many people in years — since you left your QZ really. You struggle at first, to make small talk with curious neighbours and to come across as well adjusted and forthcoming. You aren't used to the hustle of a town, of people laughing loudly at social gatherings. But slowly, you grow to enjoy it. You begin volunteering in the kitchens once you've regained most of your strength, around four weeks after you were first found. You like helping with peeling carrots and cutting up vegetables for hearty stews. It gives you a purpose and you've never been good at sitting still. But you had spent years on your own, and with that, you've become good at scouting and combat. So you give it some more time, make certain that your legs feel strong and that you can run without feeling a tug in your lungs and you broach the topic of joining patrols to Maria.

"I think we could arrange something," Maria says, smiling at you. "I'll talk to Tommy since he usually works on the schedules, see where we can fit you. We always need the extra manpower."

"Thanks Maria," you say, beaming. As scary as the outside world can be, you miss it. You miss seeing the smudge of green trees in the horizon and the melting snow sliding off icy branches.

"Tommy'll come by later today with an update," she says and you nod in thanks, before bidding her farewell. You take the long way back to your house, meandering through the streets and avoiding the piles of snow which are slowly beginning to melt as the spring sun begins to break through the cloud of frozen cold that has settled over Jackson. You're too busy avoiding the puddles of muddied water and slush, looking down at your ragged winter boots which is why you end up walking into what feels like a wall of muscle.

"Shit," you say, reaching up and holding onto whoever it is you've just rammed into. The other person grunts, more in surprise than anything. You look up and are met with Joel Miller's dark eyes. His cheeks are red from the cold, as is the tip of his strong nose.

"Alright?" Joel asks, steadying you. Even through the layers of clothes, you can feel the heat of his large hand against your bicep.

"Sorry, Joel," you say, standing up straight. You let go of his arm, taking a small step back so that you're no longer toe to toe. "Wasn't watching where I was going."

"I can tell," Joel says, but his voice isn't sharp. There's a teasing lilt to it. You give him a sheepish smile, shrugging. You've interacted with Joel quite a few times, mostly when Maria would invite you over for supper to her and Tommy's house. He had been quiet at first, almost aloof. But slowly, the two of you had built some sort of friendship, making small talk whenever you ran into each other in town or in the dining hall. Joel was surprisingly easy to talk to once he let his guard down, quick to tease you and crack jokes, which had surprised you at first but was now something that you looked forward to whenever you saw him. If you're being honest with yourself, you're nursing a small crush on him. But can anyone blame you? He's all gentle smiles and little jokes and the flannels and long sleeves he wears are always so tight around his biceps and you're only human.

"What's got you so distracted then?" he follows up and you grin, unable to hide your excitement.

"I'm going to start on patrols," you say. "Maria gave me the all clear and she said she'd talk to Tommy about fitting me into the schedule."

You expect Joel to smile and nod, maybe make some comment about how you're going to have to start waking up at the crack of dawn. Instead, his mouth pulls into a small pout, and his brows furrow. You watch as his jaw clenches and he looks past you for a moment before settling on you again. His gaze always feel weighted when it's on you but now, it feels even heavier.

"Right," he says. "You sure you wanna go on patrols?"

There's something in his voice — stern and serious. You haven't seen this side of Joel ever. It makes you bristle. Sure, you might not be as seasoned as him but you're still capable. You've been able to handle your own since you were thirteen and you won't have anyone doubt you. Not even someone as experienced as Joel.

"I'll be fine," you say, voice more serious now. "I can take care of myself plenty well."

Joel nods, but his eyes are focused and his jaw is still clenched, beneath the greyish brown of his beard.

"I gotta go," he says, sidestepping you. "I'll see you around."

It's abrupt and something is most definitely off but you're still annoyed by his insinuation. So you nod. You can feel his heavy footfalls become fainter and only when you're sure he won't see you do you turn around to catch him turn onto the main street and out of your sight.

A sharp knock on your door interrupts your cooking, if you can call it that. You've been making what you hope is stew for the last hour but there's an almost burnt smell to whats bubbling on your stove and you're fairly sure you've over salted the broth. You turn the stove off, not wanting to burn it any further before you wipe your hands on a terry cloth and head towards your front door. When you swing it open, Tommy Miller stands on the other side. His hair is tied away from his face and he looks flushed from the cold air. You usher him inside, not wanting the frigid weather to seep into your warm home.

"Hey there," Tommy greets. "Maria told me about your interest in startin' on patrols."

"Yeah," you say, voice pitching higher with excitement. "I think I'm good to go back out there. Been itching for it really. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love Jackson but I miss seeing the outdoors."

"Don't much like feelin' cooped up, huh?" Tommy asks and you shake your head.

"Not the biggest fan, no," you agree and he nods. You watch him shift on his feet, something nervous filling the air.

"Listen," Tommy begins. "It's been a bit tricky sortin' out schedules for patrols 'cause we've got so many new people now so I was thinkin' you could help out with construction for a bit. Just until I figure out how to organize the newcomers."

You can feel your brows furrowing. Maria's been talking about how badly they need more people on patrols, especially since a whole unit came back injured a few weeks ago. A couple of people had died at the hands of Clickers, a bloody ambush that had left tensions running high in Jackson.

"Construction?" you ask, sounding incredulous. You haven't built anything, ever, really. "I'm not sure I'd be much help with building things, Tommy."

Tommy chuckles, but he's avoiding your gaze. His shoulders are tense.

"I'm sure Joel will find somethin' for you," Tommy says and you pause. Joel? You think of earlier today and how Joel had reacted when you had told him about being put on patrols. And now, you're magically being reassigned to his team. You can feel your patience wearing thin, irritation slowly building up inside of you.

"Did he put you up to this?" you ask and Tommy rubs the back of his neck, meeting your gaze. He looks as if he'd rather be anywhere but here.

"My brother's a complicated man," Tommy says. "I think it'd be best if you spoke to him."

You scoff, rolling your eyes.

"That's not fair," you say. "How come what he says goes? He's not in charge of me. I'm perfectly capable of going on patrol, Tommy. And you know that. I don't really give a damn if Joel thinks I'm too young or weak or whatever."

Tommy shakes his head, a curl falling loose against his jaw. "It's nothin' like that —"

"Then what is it?" you interrupt. You had spent most of your life being second guessed by people in your QZ and those you had traveled with — people who thought you were too weak because you were a girl. People who viewed your empathy as a flaw, rather than a strength. People who second guessed your decisions, who had been arrogant men who thought they knew it all. And you had let them, because that's what survival meant. But now, you were safe in Jackson and you weren't going to allow Joel Miller of all people, to bully you into submission again.

"I think it's best if you speak with him," Tommy says. "I know you're tough and can handle patrols. So does Maria. Hell, so does Joel, alright? It's just complicated, I suppose. Talk to him."

You sigh, shoulders slumping.

"I just don't get why he has a say in this," you say and Tommy nods.

"He doesn't," Tommy says. "He just…asked me to keep you on construction for a bit and my brother can be damn frustratin' if he doesn't get his way and I don't have the time to argue with him today. M'sorry, this isn't a reflection of your abilities. I know you'd do great on patrol and so does Joel. He's just a fuckin' idiot sometimes. Plus, his crew really are short a couple. We had to put most people on patrol so other things have taken a backseat."

You still don't fully believe him but Tommy sounds desperately tired and you know he has a toddler to get home to so you acquiesce.

"Alright," you say. "But I'm gonna give him hell during my shift."

"I'd expect nothin' less from you," Tommy says, giving you a smile. "You're actually on duty tomorrow mornin'. Bright and early at seven a.m near the west gates. They need reinforcin'."

"I have no idea what that means," you say and Tommy chuckles, shaking his head.

"Get some rest tonight," Tommy says and you nod, waving in farewell.

Once you lock up, you make your way back to the kitchen and spoon some stew into a chipped bowl. It isn't terrible but you're definitely sticking not winning any awards for your culinary skills. You had traded for some fresh cheese earlier in the week so you cut a generous slab into your stew, hoping the creamy saltiness of the dairy might add some level of flavour. While you eat, you think of how you might confront Joel. You don't want to do it in front of the rest of the crew, knowing how quickly gossip spreads in a town as small as Jackson. So maybe you'll pull him aside at the end of the shift. And you'll be firm. You have to be. It doesn't matter if you sometimes think he has dreamy eyes or nice arms. He's making you feel less than, weak, and you won't allow it. Not from anyone.

"Right," Joel says, in a dark green flannel that you would admire on him if you weren't already annoyed with him sabotaging your patrols. He's looking at the crew which consists of you, a man named Landon who you've seen around but never really spoken to and Ellie, who looks like she'd rather be anywhere but here. At least Tommy hadn't been lying when he said they had been understaffed. Still, it doesn't explain why Joel's being such a dick about you going on patrols. Before you can work yourself up, he continues speaking.

"Today's goin' to be fairly simple. We need to move those logs of wood," he gestures to an almost perfect pyramid of wood with a gloved hand, "and place them on the marked areas. If we have time, we'll start reinforcin' with metal wirin' but let's focus on making sure the wood is exactly where it should be."

"Sounds riveting," Ellie says and you snort before you can stop yourself. Joel gives her a stern look but there's softness in his eyes, something fond even though his mouth is pulled into an unamused frown. His eyes then land on you, and now there's something else in his gaze. You don't back down, still frustrated that he had thwarted your opportunity to go on patrol. He's the first to look away, clearing his throat before he speaks once more.

"M'glad you think so," Joel answers and Ellie rolls her eyes. "Ellie, you and I can work together." He then looks to you and Landon. "You two pair up. Grab a pair o' gloves and start with shiftin' those logs and placin' them on the right end of the gap. Ellie and I'll work on the left. That way no one's gettin' confused."

You give Joel a short nod, before you slip on the thick pruning gloves. Landon follows and soon enough, you're slowly moving logs of wood that are deceptively heavy. You already know that your back's going to hate you tomorrow and you make a mental note to pick up some salve from the apothecary.

"You familiar with construction?" Landon asks as the two of you shift a log so that it aligns with the markings. It's maybe been twenty minutes since you started but somehow it feels like two hours.

"No," you sigh. "Can't say I am."

That's about all the small talk that he makes, and you don't make an effort either. You're still stewing in your annoyance. You're not one to stay angry but there's something about this. You had thought Joel was different. He treated you like an equal, never condescending the way most men were. And the truth is, you feel foolish for thinking so. You had developed a fondness for him, for his low drawl and poor attempts at humour. You had considered him a friend, albeit a one you were attracted to, but still. And now, he had questioned your capability just like most other men did.

You're unsure how long it's been when you move the last log in your pile but the position it needs to be laid in is awkward. The angle makes it so you have to hold it on one side, rather than at it's end, while Landon tries to push it into place.

"A bit to the left," you tell Landon and he moves to the right instead. "Your left Landon," you say, and it's at that exact moment that he sneezes. You watch his grip falter and suddenly, the entire log is being supported only by you. It's too sudden and too heavy and you buckle under the weight. You move your feet, trying to widen your stance but your left foot catches on something and your ankle twists. You yelp in pain, and the log falls right onto your newly injured foot.

"What happened?" Joel asks, voice loud and angry. He's looking at Landon who looks, frankly, sort of terrified. Joel's jaw tics and he glares at the log of wood, leaning down to push it off of you. Ellie helps you stand, and when you put pressure on your left foot, you wince. The pain is sharp and unpleasant. You don't think it's anything more than a light sprain, but you'll need to rest it for a few days, at least. Great.

"Here," Joel says, reaching towards you. "Let me."

You feel a flush of embarrassment. All that big talk about being ready for patrols and you've been taken down by a piece of wood. You shake your head, trying to stand up straighter.

"I'm fine," you say, but it's only as convincing as the tears of pain that cloud your vision.

"Your ankle bent in a pretty gnarly way, dude," Ellie says, nose crinkling. "It looked bad."

"Just a light sprain," you say, aiming for nonchalant. "Really. I'll be fine."

"You can't walk on that foot," Joel says, brows furrowed and mouth pulled into a frown. His grey brown hair falls against his forehead, messy from the morning of labour. "I'm goin' to take you home. We're done for the day."

"I'm so sorry," Landon says, eyes apologetic. He sounds genuinely upset.

"S'alright," you say. "It was an accident."

"The next time you feel a sneeze comin'," Joel says, still glaring at Landon. "Let your partner know. This was an easily avoidable injury."

Landon looks like he might cry and it grates on you — Joel acting like you're going to die from a sprained ankle.

"I'm fine," you snap at Joel. "It's a sprained ankle, and I've had much worse. It was an honest mistake, Joel. Let it go."

Joel's sharp gaze falls on you and he looks surprised at your reprimand. He opens his mouth as if to say something and then closes it. You watch his jaw tic and he looks away, his shoulders stiff. An uncomfortable tension settles in the air.

"Okaaaay," Ellie says. "Joel, you should take her back to her house. Me and Landon can wrap up and give Maria and update."

Finally, Joel nods. Ellie and Landon begin moving the fallen log of wood and Joel comes to stand next to you.

"Can you walk?" he asks, and you look up at him. You clear your throat, gently placing pressure on your left foot. It throbs with pain and you suck in a breath, shaking your head.

"Okay," Joel says. "I'm going to have to carry you back to yours. Shouldn't take long. S'that alright?"

You don't have any other options really, and on another day, you'd be glad to be carried by Joel in his strong arms, if you're being honest. So you nod. You feel him wrap an arm around your back, and one under your thighs and he lifts you up slowly. You startle and the sudden shift, wrapping your arms around his neck. You focus on his Adam's apple, not wanting to meet his gaze. All of this feels like too much. You can't remember the last time you've been this close to anyone else. You shift and Joel pulls you closer, adjusting his grip.

"It's alright, I've got you," he says, voice surprisingly gentle. Suddenly, you have the weirdest sense of deja vu. Maybe you dreamed about this or something.

Joel makes his way through the side streets, avoiding any of the main roads, which you're grateful for. You don't like seeming weak and being carried across town by one of the strongest men in Jackson would make you seem exactly that. The only drawback to Joel not using the main streets, is that it makes the journey longer. Long enough that you begin to think of what Tommy had said, how Joel had made it so you wouldn't be put on patrol. How Joel had reacted when you had told him about wanting to go on patrol. And so before you know it, you looking up at Joel and asking him what's been nagging you since yesterday evening.

"Why'd you tell Tommy to take me off of patrols?" you say. "And don't deny it, Joel. He told me himself. Not that he needed to with the way you reacted yesterday."

His dark gaze falls on you and you resist breaking the eye contact, holding your ground.

"I —" he starts before he stops. "I was worried for your safety."

"I can handle myself," you say immediately. "I survived out there, you know. I know I'm not you but I'm strong and capable, you know."

"I know," Joel says quickly. "I know you're tough as nails."

"Yet you still forced Tommy to take me off patrols," you say and Joel sighs.

"It's not like that," he says. His voice is gentler now, a low drawl that you can feel against the side of your head. You shift in his arms and he holds you tighter.

"Then explain it to me," you say, and your voice is softer now too. "Because right now it seems like you think I'm incapable of taking care of myself and others and I don't want to be undermined, Joel. Especially not by you. I thought we were friends."

"Alright," Joel says. "When we get to yours. I'll tell you then."

"Fine," you agree, leaning against his broad chest a bit more. The two of you manage to avoid any passers-by, and when Joel settles you on your old, worn couch, you sigh in relief. Gently, he begins undoing the laces of your boots. He pulls off your right boot and you flex your toes.

"This might hurt a little," he says, holding onto your left boot. You nod and he slowly begins to wiggle it off. You wince and he immediately stills.

"It's fine," you say. "Keep going."

Joel tugs your boot off fully, holding the heel of your foot in his large palm. Slowly, he rolls your sock down, revealing your injured ankle. It looks swollen and he presses his thumb gently into it, gauging your pain.

"How's that feel?" he asks, voice low. He looks up at you and it feels painfully tender. You can't remember the last time you experienced gentleness like this in your adult life.

"Hurts a bit," you say, doing your best to keep your voice even. He nods, standing up. His knees creak and something fond settles in you as you watch him walk towards your fridge. He brings back a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a tea towel, gently placing it on your ankle.

"I worry about you far too much," he says, as he adjusts the makeshift ice pack. "Been worryin' about you since I found you all those months ago."

It's an honest confession and you know it takes something out of him, to be so vulnerable. It's also news to you. You didn't know that Joel had been a part of the patrol team that had found you, had always assumed it had been Tommy that had taken you to safety because he had mentioned that he had been the one to come across you, hidden and dying under a frozen oak tree.

"You were the one that carried me back to Jackson," you say. "It's why you carrying me back home just now felt like deja vu."

Joel nods, mouth still pulled into a small frown.

"Never meant to be condescendin' or anythin' like that," he says. "I know I seem old school but I ain't like those men that think women are weak or incapable. Just wanted to keep you safe is all. Didn't go about it in the best way, I can admit that."

You can feel your heart begin to hammer against your chest and you feel warm all over. Joel is still kneeling between your legs, his large palm still holding your throbbing ankle. His eyes are intense as they stay focused on your face. You don't know what this is, where he's coming from, but you have some inclination. And god, you hope you're right.

"How come?" you ask. Joel's mouth twists in a wry smile.

"I like you," he says, voice steady. "I've liked you as long as I've known you. Didn't mean for it to happen and wasn't goin' to tell you at all but I reckon you deserve the truth. Don't want you thinkin' I think any less of your abilities. I know you're a strong woman."

"Oh," you say, shifting. Joel sits up straighter on his knees, so that he's almost eye to eye with you.

"This doesn't have to change anythin'," he says. "I'll talk to Tommy, make sure you get put on patrols once your ankle heals up and I'll stay out of you way. M'sorry about all this."

He goes to stand up but you reach out, settling a hand on his broad shoulders. Joel's eyebrows raise in surprise. It's quiet enough now that surely he can hear the thump thump thump of your pulse.

"Can I kiss you?" you ask, and watch in delight as the apples of his cheeks flush pink.

"Do you want to?" Joel asks, voice low. Up close, you can see the gentle lines of age around his eyes. You nod, moving closer. A hand comes up to cup your face, his calloused palm warm against the line of your jaw. When his mouth presses against yours, you feel hot all over. A flush of warmth consumes you as he gently nudges his nose against your own. You gasp when you feel his tongue against your mouth and open up to him. His tongue presses against your own, and you press yourself closer to him, your chest against his. You're ravenous for more, wanting to feel every point of his body pressed against your own. He presses a thumb at the hinge of your jaw, coaxing it to open more and tilts your head so he can kiss you with more fervour. You lean closer, your legs bracketing his waist, and his other hand is still holding your injured foot. You moan and tug at his grey-brown curls, and you feel him shudder against you. He pulls back, panting.

"Sweetheart," he says, leaning back as you lean forward to kiss him once more. He sounds so damn fond that you can't even bring yourself to be embarrassed at his rejection. "You should get some rest."

"M'fine," you say, voice breathy. "Really."

Joel gives you a gentle smile, rubbing a thumb across your cheekbone. You lean into the touch.

"I'd like to take you out," he says.

"Like a date?" you ask. You didn't think that happened anymore, not in this world. You've never actually been on a date, really.

Joel nods. "Only if you want."

"I just kissed you," you remind him. "Of course I want."

Joel grins now, his crows feet prominent. You smile too.

"Good," he says. "Get some rest. I'll talk to Tommy about puttin' you back on patrols. And I'll come by again, if that's okay. Just to check in."

You nod. You watch him lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to your mouth. He pulls back far too soon for your liking.

"I'll see you soon," you say and Joel nods. His knees creak as he stands up and affection blooms in your chest.

"Are you sure this is fine?" you ask Joel for what's probably the fifth time. You're in your nicest pair of jeans and a fitted long sleeve. Underneath, you're wearing the nicest bra and underwear you own, both black and with lace trimmings although they're not a set. It's been almost ten days since you hurt your ankle, and it's almost fully healed now.

"S'more than fine, you look beautiful," Joel says and you smile.

"You know, if you just tell me where we're going, I'll stop bothering you," you say and Joel shakes his head.

"I told you where we're goin': out," Joel says and you groan.

"Like out to The Tipsy Bison? Or to Lola's cafe? Or to the barn?" you ask and Joel shakes his head.

"Out as in put your boots on and let's go," Joel says but his voice is gentle. You do slip into your boots and grab a coat. Although it's spring in Jackson, the air still has a light chill to it. Joel opens the door, gesturing for you to go first. When you're outside, he steps up beside you. There's a backpack leaning against your porch which Joel slips on, the straps tight against his broad shoulders. He looks so handsome. His hair is combed and pushed back from his face, and he's wearing a dark green flannel and dark wash jeans. He smells like laundry detergent and something smoky.

"When was the last time you went on a date?" you ask Joel as he leads the way to your mystery location. You watch him think for a while before he speaks.

"I think it was the summer of 2003," Joel says. "Went to a bar with someone Tommy tried to set me up with."

"Was it nice?" you ask, genuinely curious. You know it isn't proper etiquette to ask your date about their other dates but it was twenty-two years ago now so you doubt it matters much.

"It was alright," Joel says. "She didn't like it much that I was a single father so we both knew it wouldn't go anywhere."

"Oh," you say. "Well lucky me, then."

You watch Joel's mouth tug in a smile.

"How about you?" he asks and you laugh.

"This would be my first," you say. "Was pretty young when the world went to shit and dating wasn't really a priority after that."

"Well I'd better make it good then," Joel says and you hum.

"Lotta pressure on you," you say, voice teasing.

"Reckon I can handle it," Joel says, eyes dark as they trace over your face. Your stomach flips and you can feel your ears growing warmer. You hadn't even realized until now that Joel's led you to a clearing, near the far edge of the walled part of Jackson. It's beautiful. There isn't anything around except the shade of trees and fresh grass. Wildflowers are beginning to bloom everywhere, along with bunches of lavender and daisies. The sun in warm and the sky is the bluest you've ever seen it. It's a perfect day, really.

"Is this what you meant by out?" you ask and Joel hums.

"You've been cooped up at home because of your foot and I know Tommy's put you on schedule for patrols soon but I thought you might like bein' outdoors for a while. Thought we might have a picnic here," Joel says, rubbing the back of his neck. He seems almost shy, now.

"It's lovely," you say, meaning it. "This is perfect Joel."

He seems pleased, giving you a small smile. You both set up a picnic blanket and Joel insists you take a seat so you do, and watch him lay out the spread. There's a basket of fresh blackberries and sandwiches made with fresh bread and thick slices of cheese. He even has a tumbler of freshly squeezed lemonade. And then he brings out generous slices of chocolate cake, the frosting thick and shiny. You can't remember the last time you had chocolate. Actually, you can. It had been in your QZ, almost a decade ago now. You had traded a pack of cigarettes for a dry bar of chocolate and cried as you ate in your cramped, makeshift bed.

"Joel," you say. "You should have told me. I could have helped, brought something too."

Joel shakes his head. "No need for all that," he says. He hands you a sandwich and then takes one for himself. In between bites of buttered bread and soft cheese, you ask each other questions. It feels like the two of you have been doing this for a long while. There's nothing uncomfortable or awkward about it.

"You're tellin' me your favourite movie was The Princess Bride?" Joel asks and you nod.

"It has everything! Action, romance, drama, humour. It's perfect," you argue and Joel shakes his head, a smile tugging at his mouth.

"That ain't no action movie, sweetheart," he says and the term of endearment settles warmly in your chest. "Now Curtis and Viper, on the other hand."

You laugh, shaking your head. "Absolutely not, Joel. I've never even heard of it."

"Well then I'll just have to show you some time," he says and the prospect of another date, of multiple of them, makes your heart flutter.

"Fine," you say. "Only if you rewatch The Princess Bride with me. You gotta give it another chance."

Joel sighs, but you know he's not being serious.

"Deal," he agrees, passing you the lemonade. You take a swig of it, handing it over to him. You watch him place is mouth right where yours was, taking a drink. You track the movement of his Adams apple, suddenly feeling hot. The two of you haven't kissed since that first time, and if you're being honest, you've been desperate for him ever since. Joel tracks your movement, and you can tell there's a shift in the air. Something tangible between the two of you that you want to reach out and feel.

"I got this cake from Lola's cafe," Joel says, putting a slice in front of you. "So you were sorta right."

You smile, taking a bite. The chocolate is rich and melts on your tongue, the sponge of the cake soft and moist. You can't help but make a noise of pleasure, and when you look up at Joel, his dark eyes are trained on you.

"You should try some," you say and Joel nods. Before he can reach out for his own fork, you spear a piece onto yours and bring it to his mouth. Your gaze stays on him as he takes the bite from your fork, as he chews and swallows, all the while still watching you. It feels shockingly intimate, even more so than your kiss.

"S'good," Joel agrees, nodding. You spend the next few minutes swapping bites of the cake and talking some more. Joel tells you about how he wanted to be a singer, how his favourite colour is dark grey, about how he likes the movie nights in Jackson because the popcorn reminds him of the overpriced kind at AMC. In turn, you tell him about how you tried to dye your hair on your own when you were younger and how you had to end up chopping a good portion of it off, how you don't know how to swim even though it's a necessary survival skill and he offers to teach you. By the time you're done with the slice, you know so much more about Joel and it still doesn't feel like enough. You want to know everything about him, really.

The two of you pack up quietly, something buzzing in the air. You help put the used utensils in his wicker basket, and take turns finishing up the lemonade. When there's no other reason to dawdle, you clear your throat.

"I had such a lovely time, Joel," you say. "You set a high bar for any future dates I go on."

He cracks a smile, taking a step closer to you. You look up, to maintain meeting his gaze.

"Hopefully it's a bar that only I have to meet," Joel says, eyes tender.

"I think that's a fair assumption," you say, voice quieter.

"Can I kiss you?" Joel asks and you're barely done nodding before his mouth is on yours. This kiss feels just as feverish as the first, but there's something else there. Something more tender. He grips the back of your neck, tilting your head upwards, and you grant him access to your mouth. You whimper when his tongue touches your own and he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. You slot your legs between his, the seam of your pants and his strong thigh providing a delightful pressure against your core. You can't resist moving your hips, needing more. Joel lets you, his hand going down to grip your hip and guide the movement. He pulls back, looking down to where you're rutting against him and swears.

"Fuck," he says. "I'm trying to be a gentleman."

"I know," you say, leaning your forehead against his chin. "I wish you weren't."

"You deserve a bed, sweetheart. Not me takin' you hear like some sort of animal."

"I don't mind," you say. "Really. Maybe we can do it again, on a bed. Multiple times even."

You feel more than hear him laugh, his chest shaking against your own. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead before he maneuvers the two of you. You let him. He lays you down on the thick picnic blanket, hovering over you.

"I won't have you like this," Joel says, voice gruff. "You deserve more than that." You're about to protest, tell him you really don't care but before you can, he begins unbuttoning your jeans.

"But I'll give you somethin' to tide us over, hm?" he says, and you lift your hips so he can pull them down to your thighs. You watch his gaze darken when he sees your underwear. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your clothed mound, pressing his nose right to your clit and you shudder.

"Joel," you sigh and he presses another kiss to you. You can feel yourself throb, feel the wetness grow even more. Slowly, he pulls the gusset of your underwear to the side, running a finger against where you're desperate for him. He then presses a kiss to your cunt before he runs his tongue over your sopping folds. You moan, arching your back. His large arm comes to rest against your hips and he settles himself on his front.

"Okay, sweetheart?" he asks, looking up at you. His hair, which was previously pushed back and neat, is messy now with strands falling against his tan forehead. You nod, tilting your hips subconsciously against his arm and he grins before he goes back down. He eats you out like a man that's starving, his tongue moving against you in a rhythm so pleasurable that you think this might be one of the best moments of your life. He presses his nose to your clit and you shudder, moving desperately against him. Slowly, you feel something breach your hole, a thick finger that slowly prods at your entrance. You whimper as he curls his index finger into, finding that spot inside of you that you can never find yourself.

"Oh my god, Joel," you moan, as his tongue and his finger move in unison. He groans against you, his breath hot, and continues his ministrations. He slips a second finger in and pulls back to watch you.

"You're takin' it so good, sweetheart," he says, his mouth glistening in the sun. "Would you take the rest of me just like this?"

You nod, pushing your cunt against his fingers. You can feel the pressure building inside you, a rubber band waiting to snap.

"Joel, I can't, I'm gonna come," you say and he moves back, pressing his mouth to your clit. You can feel yourself dripping onto the blanket below you, so wet that you're thighs are smeared with it too. You whimper when your orgasm hits, hips lifting up off the ground despite Joel's arm holding you down.

"Attagirl," Joel says, lifting up and watching as you shudder. You cover your face with your hands as the waves of pleasure wash over you, your nipples stiff against the material of your long sleeve.

It takes you a few minutes but you come back to yourself. You move your hands from your face and rest your upper body on your elbows, lifting up to find Joel watching you reverently. He gives you a gentle smile, pressing a kiss to where your thigh meets your hips before he moves you underwear so it covers you again. Then, he presses another soft kiss to your sensitive clit through the cotton fabric of your panties and you shiver.

"Okay?" he asks, and you nod, sitting up.

"Better than," you say and he grins. "I want to do the same for you."

You watch his already pink cheeks flush even more as he shifts up so that he's no longer flat on the ground. He kneels between your open legs, and something like embarrassment plays on his face.

"I, uh," he starts. "I'm already taken care of."

It takes you a second to understand what he means. He came from eating you out. You feel a throb of want between your legs and before you know it, you're pulling him down, pressing your mouth to his in a desperate kiss. He tastes different now, something muskier coating his plush mouth. He groans when you push your tongue into his mouth, wanting to taste more. He angles your jaw, pushing at the hinge so your mouth widens and it's almost as if you're both trying to devour each other. You can feel your cunt throb once more. When he pulls back, his chest is moving with the deep breaths he's taking.

"You're gonna kill me," he says and you grin, pressing a kiss to his chin.

"Good thing I'll be on patrol sometimes," you say. "It'll help keep me distracted from you."

Joel hums, pressing another soft kiss to your mouth. You like the way his mustache tickles your skin. Slowly, the two of you part. He helps you button your jeans and slip on your coat. You run your hand through his hair, fixing the messed up strands so that they're no longer falling against his forehead. The two of you pack up slowly, sharing small smiles and warm glances. When you begin walking back to Jackson, Joel pulls you to him, his large arm draped over your shoulder. He tucks you into his side like you're something precious.

"I am sorry about how I went about it but I can't say I regret the outcome of me tryin' to keep you off of patrols, sweetheart," Joel says and you laugh.

"Me neither," you agree, and he presses a kiss to your forehead.

On your first day of patrol, Joel comes by early to give you a pair of soft, leather riding gloves.

"Stay safe," he says, as watches you slip them into your coat pocket. You nod, giving him a smile. You lean up and press your mouth against his own, a gentle kiss.