SSgt. Joel Biermann

Lucas waits patiently for Joel to break, eyebrows raised, hoping it’s coming. Hearing him say babe is already good enough, and he’ll take it (if anything, also for the fact that he can’t help the fond smile that curls up his lips then).

“How is admitting you’re busy turning anything around?” He turns over too, so they can be facing each other. Lucas is not one for gratuitous PDA at big events like these, but he still reaches a foot forward, hooks it comfortably around Joel’s ankle, so they can have a point of contact. “You’re doing the dishes all of next week.”

His words clearly hold no harshness, his grumpy ways always softened when it comes to his husband, and he takes a sip of his beer again before asking, “are you having fun?” It’s not just idle conversation, he genuinely wants to know. At least, if Joel tells him about it, he can live vicariously through someone who is enjoying themselves.

Joel’s never been shy about PDA, it was mere necessity pre-outbreak to keep things on the down low, but now it’s to make his man comfortable. The foot hooked around his ankle makes Joel grin. Yeah, he’s been called out for a shitty comeback, but he doesn’t really care.  He knows he’s ‘lost’.

“I don’t know, babe, it sounded good when I said it!” he feigns disappointment. It did make sense in his mind but by now Lucas knows Joel makes dumb leaps when he’s trying to flirt. Joel barely waits before he concedes, “Yeah ‘course. Gotta earn my keep. Can’t have you leaving me for someone who doesn’t leave a couple spoons in the sink.”

Lucas is calm and measured. Much more thoughtful than Joel could ever dream of being.

“Yeah, I’m having fun,” it’s difficult for Joel not too, he thrives in this sort of dive bar environment, happy to let loose. He nods towards Lucas, “Couple of beers and some dancers, I’m set. Got told off by Val—” Joel grimaces, “—apparently her kid punched someone...” Joel’s involvement in that is implied. He’d insisted on teaching their kids some basic self defense.

MOUSE:

When Joel grits out the obvious choice, Mouse feels like he could smack himself in the head. Of course, he should know this, he’s talked strategy with his father hundreds of times, he just needs to shut up and do it. His father never was one for answering questions that he’s already answered. And he’s answered these questions. They’ve gone over possibilities like this, talking about worst case scenarios until they were blue in the face. “Yeah, Allies. got it.” Mouse was angry at himself for being so goddamn foolish in front of his father, knowing he expects better.

There was a crowd at the end of Allies, people coming to see if the fences are holding, or running away once they have seen the fences have no electricity, or trying to find loved ones lost in the darkness. “But- I am. I have it.” It was quiet as he slowed down, watching his father run ahead. Mouse paused, staring at his father’s back, at his anger. It was the first time he had seen his father’s famous anger directed at him, and the shame of that combined with his own anger was sharp and painful. He couldn’t figure out what to do with it except funnel it into being better. 

He grabbed the nearest man’s jacket, pushing back further towards the safety of the Triangle. He yelled to address the crowd, projecting his voice. “If you have no business being here, go towards the Tower. If you are defending the fences, find your weapons and ready yourselves. Clear out!” He didn’t stop to actually see if the gathered people followed his directions, but he hurried on to catch up. “Think any of the fences have fallen down?”

.

As they move closer to the fence, there are too many civilians. He knows fear always makes Joel angry; only Lucas really ever gets to see the side of him that genuinely feels the fear. The last thing he would ever want either of his children to see is fear, especially Mouse.

“Everybody move!” Joel bellows as he moves closer to the fence. Mouse also yells, voice carrying well. He’s a little more verbose than Joel, but he’s never known any different. All Joel can think about is every deployment where they had to move, quickly. Short sharp commands. Everyone was on the same page. Part of him wishes they could train everyone here up bootcamp style—but he knows that is no way to live. 

She would have kept talking about Lucas, but why put them both through that? Valerie only cared for Joel’s safety; she didn’t much worry about his home life. All she did was nod once at his reply. The silence was comfortable between them. Val sipped her drink and enjoyed the dancers. 

She planned on confronting Joel about teaching Remy to punch, but not until they were at work. Somehow she got it in her head that the Den– with cage fights and naked women in either direction– was the best place to have this conversation. Maybe it was about catching him off guard. 

“Remy got in trouble at school. She hit someone in the face,” she said after a while. Valerie turned to face Joel. She wasn’t that upset; It sounded like he had good intentions. But as someone with a reputation of being a little scary, she liked to mess with people. “She said that you taught her how to fight. Would you like to explain that to me, Joel?”

.

One thing Val was always good for was comfortable silences. When they worked together it was to the point. Now, he’s taking slow sips of his beer and unashamedly watching the show. Then Valerie’s speaking to him once more. That’s a hard left turn. Joel nearly coughs on his beer, but saves himself from the shock of it. Looking over to Valerie, that borderline creepy smile.

“I taught her self-defense,” Joel corrects despite knowing better. Especially with Valerie smiling like that. Not much scares him, but the wrath of Momma Bear Valerie just might strike a small slither of fear.

Joel and Valerie had a peculiar relationship. They rarely spoke about their personal lives with each other. It was a strictly professional relationship, but circumstances often put them in uncomfortably intimate situations. Joel was there for Valerie’s whole pregnancy; he saw her become a mother. Back then she was a mess. He bore witness to it all, and for that, she respected Joel. Still, better to keep things surface-level.

The festival gave them a chance to be more sociable with each other. Sometimes Val was a bit awkward in letting down that wall, but she was more inclined to be friendly with Joel than others. “The night’s not over, Joel. I’m sure Prince Charming is up next.” 

Hardly a deep conversation, but even that was more personal than they were used to. Valerie offered her best flashy smile. “Come to think of it, where is Lucas?”

Peculiar is the best way to explain Joel’s relationship with most other people, especially in the high rise. He doesn’t quite feel like he belongs amongst them, having only gotten in there thanks to his military ranking and dumb luck. Valerie in particular was an odd one.  If you’d seen someone red eyed, covered in baby puke and on the verge of a nervous breakdown, you would think that would breed some sort of closeness. It didn’t. He’s fine with that. Remy was a damn cute baby, he was always happy to help out. 

She plays along at least. Joel flashes a smile, “We can only hope.”

Then she moves on, making what feels like awkward small talk. Or pointed small talk. He’s married not dead, can enjoy a good strip tease once in a while without hurting anyone’s feelings. “Oh, he’s around. Hanging out with Elena last I saw.”

FRANK​:

Frank shrugged. He’d felt his relationship with his daughter strain over the past few years. He’d brushed it off to age but now it was just another thing for him to forget whenever he drank. He wasn’t doing a great job at it, either, apparently.

Shifting the conversation, Frank let out a cackle at Joel’s response. “My bad. Forget about the fight, look over there,” he let out, his voice half-slurred, as he motioned to a young couple a few feet away from them. “Two in one, huh?” Frank winked, but just then he felt the queasiness of the alcohol he’d been drinking and quickly shook his head. 

“Nevermind… Nevermind, I can’t handle more than one tonight. When are the strippers getting on stage again?”

.

Thankfully, he’s smart enough to move on from the fight. Most things he can be pretty reasonable, but if he has to talk to anyone about how damn ‘fun’ that disgusting cage match is... It doesn’t matter. He takes another swig of beer, push past the thoughts as Frank’s being a perv. They’re apparently not single, but at least Frank wasn’t scheming to split up a couple.

Frank barely gets a wink out before he pales: skin starting to look a little clammy; gaze unfocused.

“That was overly optimistic—” Joel deadpans, looking over at the young couple. One of them catches his eye, then attempts to subtly angle away from them both.  Frank’s not bad looking by any means but he is... old enough to be their father. Biological father, that is. Sure someone could be into that but a drunk old man isn’t exactly the most appealing prospect on a sweaty night like this.

NICKNAMES: A military hangover, if he cares about someone they have to get a nickname or pet name. Hence Babe, Sweetheart, and Mouse.

BIG SPOON: Get comfy, Lucas, he’s a cuddler. Likes to be the big spoon. He’s also the sort of person who can fall asleep anywhere in any weird position. Doesn’t sleep enough, though.

COFFEE: Black, no sugar, out of practicality. He actually loved super sweet and creamy coffees but it was easier especially when out on active duty to get by with the minimum.

DOG-EARS: Joel doesn’t believe in bookmarks, he’ll dog-ear a page it doesn’t matter. Also not afraid to write in books.

DAD COUTURE: Joel has zero fashion sense. He only wears neutrals, blacks and greens. Keeps his hair buzzed and cleanly shaved. He’s wearing black boots at all times.

CORNERS: He makes his bed military style with precise folds, every morning. It’s an ingrained habit at this point, couldn’t stop if he tried.

DOG TAGS: He still has his dog tags and wears them at all times. Sometimes he will take his wedding ring off and wear it around his neck— only if he’s afraid of losing it to a walker or getting a finger ripped off thanks to heavy labour.

Of all the unsavory things going on around her, Valerie settled on watching the strippers. Somehow it felt more sophisticated than gawking at the undead. She could look at the dancers and pretend it was 2002; that she was inside of a swanky club with well-paid and well-pampered dancers. Glamorous women living in a big world. Now her world was small, and she found herself returning to the nightmarish Den. It seemed that humanity evaded their safe zone. 

She gazed at a pretty dancer on the makeshift stage. Her body twirled beneath dim yellow lights. Valerie wondered about the girl’s life before the outbreak. Which of her dreams died when the world fell apart? Did she expect to end up here, stripping to please the soulless audience staring at her? It wasn’t a sad thought to Val, but curious. She leaned over and spoke to the person beside her. 

“Isn’t she gorgeous? It’s a shame we don’t have dollar bills. I’d love to throw some at her.”

Joel doesn’t get anywhere near as philosophical as Valerie does watching the dancers. He just smiles when any of them catches his eyes, enjoys the glitz of it all, the beauty of it. He’s married, not dead. He can enjoy a good show.

Joels cheers good-naturedly when the dancers do anything particularly impressive, and, admittedly, is shooting dirty looks at a few of the more lecherous audience members. They know better than to cause any shit with the Head Guard around. He’s probably doing the girls a favour by hanging out down by the front.

It takes a second for him to realise he’s the one being spoken too. Joel hums in response at first, head turning then gaze following to find Valerie. She’s just as gorgeous—a thought she’d probably kill him for.

MOUSE:

When the lights flickered and went out, Mouse froze. When the noise rose around him, his mind went silent, lost in a memory he had forgotten. The lights had gone out, and he had froze on the couch, watching the emergency broadcast screen flare and then disappear. The lights went out and he stayed frozen until someone picked him up, staring into the blackness. Now he stood still, careless of the shoving bodies around him. Then a voice more familiar than the arms that picked him up in that memory called out to him and he broke out of it.

It was simple, running next to his father, pulling out his gun when Joel did too. He was lucky he had brought it along. The actions were simple and Mouse could ignore the shaking in his fingers, shrugging it off as adrenaline. “Then go faster, old man.” The lighthearted retort slipped out, even though he knew the situation was dire. “Sorry. Bigelow, Center, or the Allies?” Those were the most serious concentrations of the undead, funneled by those large streets to crash into their fences, which were now devoid of electricity.

Mouse knows to immediately backtrack; so Joel does not need to comment on that dumb fuckin’ joke. Won’t waste his breath on that.

“Allies. First one’s out, first stop,” Joel grits out the second part. Mouse should know this. Every one of the guards should. It stops them wasting time. Any guards passing by will see Mouse and Joel, and move up to the next ‘weak’ spot. Joel never called it that out loud, but he knows where the worst spot for a breach could be. It’s all he does day in and day out. Imagine the worst case scenario, figure out how to decrease death counts if the worst happens. Rarely does he exercise any sort of optimism.

Given damn near every adult in the place is currently crowded at the end of Allies, they better get a fucking move on. “Where’s your gun?” Joel calls back, he hadn’t seen Mouse get it out, which he assumes means he wasn’t carrying, “I fuckin’ told you! Always. Carry.”

@mousebiermann​

First there was a flicker. Joel already set his beer down, a shock of panic sobering him up when the lights went out completely. Panic ensued. Of course it did. Those goddamn walkers in their cages seemed louder, roused by the screaming or simply the first sounds he picks up with the adrenaline rush. Joel didn’t waste a second. He probably knocked a stool over as he got up from the bar. Barking orders out—telling Johnson to get off his ass and shut the hell up, for Sosa to round up the others — then, “Mouse! You’re with me!”

LUCAS​:

It’s hard to see the grin on Joel’s face and not find his own lips tugging up with a smile, try as he might to keep his composure for the joke. His grumpy man persona is one easy to crack whenever his husband is around. He’s stopped trying to resist that for years now, to be honest. Let the world know what a big sap he is.

“Are you? Doing a good job?” He asks, skeptical eyes squinting, though there’s still that lingering amusement in his tone. His beer comes up for another sip, and he finds himself leaning towards Joel, the other man always working like a magnet. Even in this insufferable heat, it feels like he’s the only ever-warm furnace to melt the ice off Lucas’ cold hands.

The comment about his husband’s look gets a click of his tongue. “I don’t know about better looking, champ, but he certainly has been annoying me.” It’s not even remotely true, but he’s just trying to get Joel to drop the act first, at this point. “He hasn’t done the dishes once this week. Imagine that.”

.

“Nearly got you smiling, I’d say I’m doing a good job,” he gives Lucas another once over. Even suffering in this heat he looks damn fine. Even when he’s clicking his tongue and for christsakes, Joel already apologised about the dishes. He puts it down, it slips his mind.

“Hey, now, maybe he’s a busy man,” Joel knows what Lucas is doing. Knows that he can’t even stop himself entirely from falling into this little trap. And yeah he skipped out on the dishes a few times but— whatever. “Clearly too busy to spend time with you.”

FRANK​:

Joel made a good point, although Frank had already stopped seeing straight halfway through his current drink. “It’s too late for the build-up, but I’ll stop here for now,” he chuckled, setting the glass down on the bar and pushing it away from him.

“Huh,” Frank smiled at the mention of Joel not embarrassing his kids, “I’m probably embarrassing my daughter by being here.” He expected she was back in their condo, chatting away with friends or reading a book in bed. He actually wasn’t too sure what she did these days, he just assumed that’s how kids her age stayed entertained.

“Well, there’s plenty to keep us entertained tonight. Where should we start? The fight? Although I do spot a handful of attractive people around…” His eyes drunkenly drift around the bar, if he had been more sober it would have been obvious that he was on the hunt. The dizzy smirk on his face stripped any seriousness or authority he usually exuded.

“That’s just being a dad.” 

Frank’s family situation is much more complicated than Joel’s. He doesn’t think they’re close enough for Joel to start asking deep, personal shit or talking about his relationship with his kid. Neither Summer or Mouse are teenagers at least. That was a rough time.

He’s only interested in drinking, watching the dancers, and then annoying Lucas later before they get to stumble into bed each other.

“I’m not going near that shit,” Joel scowls at the suggestion they watch the fight, he’s had little reason to make his disdain for it clear, but he’s not going any closer than this,“Fuckin’ vile.”

Joel’s not going to flirt with anyone—unless he finds Lucas any time soon—but he’ll happily play wing man for the night. Or just make sure Frank doesn’t embarrass himself come the morning. He’s already acting a little sloppy, nothing Joel will judge him for beyond a friendly concern.

it had been a long time since neve had really taken the opportunity for any sort of leisure. work at the eastern oregon outpost had become more arduous as their numbers dwindled–specifically for medical staff–and then she’d been on her own. after being inside the golden triangle for the last six months, she’d been eager to prove she was worth the invitation. the den’s offer of festivities seemed like as good an opportunity as any to finally let herself relax. 

several drinks lit a gentle fire in her belly, relaxed in a way that felt so old and faraway from her day-to-day. robocop, with his inky black fur, hung close to her calf–largely unimpressed with the antics of their fellow survivors. he had once been more inclined to react to the living, but after such a long time on the road, he was largely unimpressed with people. 

for the most part, so was neve.

it was a common thing among people in the medical field. especially in smaller communities like this. it wasn’t like portland, before the outbreak, where most of the people she saw were bland and forgettable–lost in the school of fish that commuted by the max or carpooled from bedroom communities. no, in the golden triangle, people usually knew if you were medical. and if folks recognized you, well, they were bound to treat you like you were always on the clock. and here comes one now, neve thought sharply, as dan johnson headed her way–no doubt hoping to ask her about some rash, minor scratch, or other asinine thing she was not in the mood to assess. turning to her neighbor at the bar, she brandished a hopeful smile, mind still humming from a few drinks. “if you can save me from having to look at dan’s mole, i’ll get your next drink.” if they weren’t interested, well, dan was making good time on his beeline towards the both of them. they’d both be trapped in conversation.

.

Joel saw the dog first and was considering how much conversation he would have to have with the dog’s owner before completely ignoring her and attempting to befriend the animal. He’s a beautiful thing: pitch black fur and hangs close to his owner’s side.

Then she’s turning to him, she’s familiar enough, but a new face nonetheless, and goddamn Dan Johnson is on a mission. Again. He’s not really saving the woman from Dan, but saving himself.

“Johnson!” Joel barks out, suddenly, making the shift from a slightly tipsy Joel to Staff Sargeant Biermann, looking over his shoulder at the once fast approaching guard now stopped in his tracks. “What did I tell you would happen if you got that goddamn mole of yours out near me?”

Joel quirks a brow.  Johnson finds his voice after a beat.

“You said you’d cut it off—” “I said I’d cut it off myself, that’s right.”

Johnson’s deliberating whether to say something or to turn tail. Thankfully, he goes for the second option. With a sheepish nod at the woman, he leaves. He’s smart enough to not give Joel a dirty look. Never good to piss off the boss, is it?

It’s a near immediate switch back with an easy smile at the woman, “That man is a fuckin’ nightmare. Don’t need to worry about the drink, doll.”

LUCAS​:

One of the only reasons he still agrees to come to these things, is because of Joel. It gets boring, and it’s far too hot, and the hangover is not nearly worth the buzz the alcohol gives him, these days. But he can admit there’s some part of him – the sappy part – that enjoys being out with Joel. He wouldn’t be caught dead coming to one of these by himself, but he’s found out that one of the perks of having a husband is never finding himself alone for long. And if there’s one person who makes social events more bearable for him, it’s Joel.

Lucas twirls the beer he has around on the counter, and as expected, the familiar shape soon fills the space next to him. Anyone else might’ve made him immediately startle away and grumble something about respecting personal space, but he doesn’t even need to look up to recognise Joel. 

The unusually sleek act makes his brows furrow, but the confusion only lasts a second, before it melts off into an amused look as he understands the current state of tipsiness Joel is at. “Are you trying to hit on me?” He lifts his hand up, beloved ring shining under the dim lights of the bar, stubbornly trying to keep the fond smile off his lips. “Sorry, buddy. I’m married.”

.

Lucas is quick to catch onto Joel’s antics. Try as he might: he’s got kind eyes. He never could keep the fondness out of them despite his perpetual attempts to be the ‘grumpy’ guy. Joel likes to think he’s the only one who gets those looks, but he’s seen the same sort of gentleness when talking to their kids. Still, feels special. It is special.

Joel’s own smile broadens at the ring shown to him. His own matching band clinks against the beer bottle as he settles it on the bar. It’s always fun when Lucas entertains him, there’s nothing like getting to flirt with Lucas like it’s the first night all over again. Even if he was just about as receptive as he is now back then.

@lucasbiermann

Joel said he wouldn’t be embarrassing but every Biermann knew he couldn’t manage it for long. He’s had more than a couple beers, just enough for his ears to feel warm and for his smiles to linger longer. When he spots Lucas, now alone, he physically can’t keep the smile off his face. There’s still nothing quite like knowing he’s getting the luxury of growing old with a husband. 

Makes him feel all warm and fuzzy—all that cheesy shit—thinking about the first time he saw Lucas, just as miserable at a bar much like this one. ‘course it didn’t stink so much and Joel was able to do a tour, take a plane ride home  and still drink all night without a wink of rest. Now he’s feeling his age, already thinking about getting to fall heavily into bed later and wake up miserable with a hangover.

He sidles up to Lucas, leans on the bar acting all nonchalant giving Lucas a once over.

“Hey, handsome.”