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toointojoelmiller · 9 months

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Blind to it all: a last of us fic

Prompt submitted by @two-birds-alone-together ❤️

Heads up for blood and disturbing stuff.

read at ao3 here

———

“I still can’t believe it,” Ellie whispers.

Her face is buried into Joel’s flannel, fuzzy and warm and smelling like soap, because for all of the stress and pain that staying at the hospital has involved, it’s also meant showers every god damn day, as many as she wants, and a sink to wash laundry in every week.

She’d scrubbed her skin raw the day they’d arrived – after the drama subsided. Joel was knocked out for a while, which left her feeling panicky and unanchored. Even though the friendly Firefly surgeon – Doctor ‘Call me Jerry’ Anderson – had offered to show her around, bragging about the machines and equipment they’d managed to salvage, she refused to leave Joel’s bedside until he was up. When he’d eventually rolled over, meeting her eyes with his, she hadn’t been able to hold back the tears. They actually made it.

“I know,” Joel says softly. “I can’t either. But it’s real.” He breathes it out shakily, his voice trembling. She feels the words rumble through his chest and presses her face in against him just a little bit harder. It kind of sounds like he’s still crying – everyone has been, pretty much all day.

They’re curled up together on the small stretcher in the corner of the little room they’ve been staying in for the past month and a half. “Told you they’d have a room ready,” he’d said, leaning against the doorway and grinning at her as she turned the sink on and off – so fucking relieved to see running water again after the dirty, gritty, painful slog here from Colorado.

They’d tried to push back against them being in one room together – tried to push back on Joel being there with her at all, really – but Joel said they were a ‘package deal’, which made her feel all tingly. “You touch him, I’m done,” Ellie had snarled, holding her knife up to her throat when Marlene had first tried to suggest he wasn’t welcome to stay. “I’m not doing shit without him here – I’ll fucking kill myself if you try to take him away.”

Dramatic, maybe. Joel hadn’t really approved of her approach but, hey – it was effective.

The way he’s holding onto her now is the way they’ve spent so many nights here, his arms wrapping her up in a big bear hug as she snuggles against his chest. With his arm covering up the ear that isn’t pressed against his chest, the sounds of music and yelling and cheering from the hallway are a bit muted.

“If anyone could save the world, kiddo, it’d be you.” He says softly into her hair, with so much emotion in his voice it makes tears start welling up all over again for her.

The door bangs open. “Cheers, you two,” Marlene says, as she walks in holding onto two cups.

Joel shifts a bit, his arms tightening just slightly around Ellie in a way that makes her smile. He’s always so fucking protective. “What have we here?” Joel says with a chuckle. “Do I need to remind you she’s only fourteen?”

“Hey!” Ellie says, slapping his chest and getting a laugh out of both of them.

“Fourteen. Forty. Look, she can have anything in the fucking world she wants, as far as I’m concerned,” Marlene chuckles. She puts the cups down on the bedside table, her eyes bright and soft as she looks at Ellie. She looks like a completely different person than the hardened woman who’d sat in front of her and changed her whole fucking life back in Boston. So long ago, now. Everything’s changed so much. She wiggles in even tighter against Joel, like she’s trying to merge into him.

“It’s just juice – don’t worry.” Marlene says to Joel. “Only brought the hard stuff for you.”

She gives him a wink, and Ellie realizes that she’s hammered. She can’t hold back the laughter – luckily, Joel and Marlene are laughing too, caught up in the giddy insanity that seems to be taking over the whole damn building right now.

Ellie sits up eagerly to grab the cups, passing one over to Joel, but giving it a sniff first. The sharp smell of alcohol makes her shudder, and Joel and Marlene both laugh at her.

Her own cup is a bright yellow colour – apple juice, her fucking favourite. She’ll never get used to a drink tasting so good. She downs it in a few chugs, not taking the rim of the cup from her lips until it’s drained. To her delight, Joel does the same, tossing back his drink in a few swallows.

“Not bad,” he says, tipping the now empty cup to Marlene before tossing carelessly it into the corner.

“Thought you might be a whiskey drinker,” Marlene says.

Ellie giggles and chucks hers in the same direction. This whole fucking day feels like a fever dream. She never wants to wake up.

“Well - it probably ain’t gonna be easy, getting to sleep after all of this – excitement. Drink’ll probably help me out, so thanks for that – but I’m thinkin’ we really oughta get some rest. Been a long day.” Joel says out loud, to both her and Marlene.

Marlene nods, slapping her hands on her thighs. “Right. Still leaving tomorrow? Sure you’re ready to say good bye to all this?”

She gestures around to the stark, almost bare room, and snorts at her own joke.

“Soon as things are organized,” Joel confirms. “What time do you think everything’ll be ready?” He’s moved his hand up to stroke Ellie’s hair and she feels her eyes closing involuntarily.

“Shouldn’t take too long,” Marlene says.

“You’re gonna give him his dose first thing, right?” Ellie says without opening her eyes.

“Yep,” Marlene replies. “Don’t worry – you’ve made it really clear that Joel’s going to be part of the first round.”

Ellie listens to her footsteps getting further away, and then stop. She opens her eyes to peek, and sees Marlene standing in the doorway, looking at them. The look on her face is suddenly so different. It makes Ellie’s stomach pang with worry. She looks - sad, maybe?

Her voice sounds more somber too. “I want to say… I know this hasn’t been… and easy process. For either of you.”

Ellie snorts at the understatement, thinking of all of the pain from all of the nightmarish testing - the hours she’s spent shaking and puking on the cold floor while Joel wiped her face off and tried to keep her from losing her mind – the awful, out of body flashback she’d gotten lost in for a day when they kept insisting she needed to be in a hospital gown for tests, and she found herself flat on her in a cold room, looking up at faces she couldn’t recognize, touching her and hurting her - thinking of when Joel had broken off a piece of the wooden bed frame in a rage, wedging it under the door when the nurses came knocking for her early one morning and she’d broken down in tears, pleading, needing just one fucking day to sleep –

Yeah. It hasn’t been easy.

Marlene shakes her head, like she can’t believe any of this. “You both understand. I know you do. How important this is. So thank you, for everything you’ve given up so far. For all of the – for everything. I know it’s – there’s been a lot of suffering. The world won’t ever forget it. Won’t ever forget the two of you.” And then she leaves, closing the door gently behind her.

Ellie doesn’t think she’s ever going to be able to sleep. Her heart feels like it could explode – excitement, giddiness, overwhelm, shock. Gooey, warm, stupid affection for the grumpy old man who seems just fine with holding her like this, even though she’s basically a grown ass adult. Who keeps staying with her, even when it doesn’t make any sense.

But Joel’s steady hand stroking her hair has never failed to do the trick, and just a few minutes after Marlene’s gone she’s feeling the tug of sleep, her whole body going mushy. Joel must be falling asleep too – she can feel his arms relaxing around her, the hand in her hair slowing down. So even with the noise of the celebration going on in the hall, she drifts off. The last thing she remembers is Joel kissing the top of her head and whispering, “We’re finally going home, baby girl. You did it.”

----

It takes a long time for her to wake up, and a lot longer for her eyes to open. But as soon as she can feel her body again, she knows something is horribly fucking wrong.

There’s tight pressure on her wrists and ankles. Cold, and hard. It’s fucking metal – thick bands locking her in place against the hard chair she’s in. Her heart starts pounding – this can’t be real. This is just a nightmare – this isn’t - she tries to squirm but she can barely get her muscles to move. Her neck feels floppy, too, like she can hardly hold it up, and her blood runs cold as she realizes she’s been drugged.

The fucking drinks – Marlene – Joel -

She’s in an empty room. The walls are concrete blocks. There’s almost nothing – just speakers in the ceiling overhead, a solid brown door in the wall to her left. A long, wide window in front of her, showing what looks like a dark room. She glances down and sees that the legs of the metal chair she’s in are bolted to the ground.

“What the fuck,” she tries to say, but she can’t get the words out right away. Her tongue feels thick and heavy in her mouth.

“Looks like she’s waking up,” she hears someone say faintly, and after a moment she realizes it’s coming from the other side of the window.

“Joel? Joel?!” Her words come out in garbled, slurred sounds. She tries to scream and it’s hardly a whimper.

All of her senses feel like they’ve been cranked up – she’s shaking, feeling every bead of panicked sweat that’s building up on her skin - hearing her own rapid breaths coming and going, faster and faster. Her mouth goes dry – she’s going to throw up -

There’s a sudden loud click, and a crackling noise floods the room before a voice starts talking. Ellie jumps before she realizes it’s coming from speakers overhead.

“Ellie, it’s Marlene,” she hears. “Don’t be scared.”

But she is fucking scared, because Joel’s gone, and that can only mean one thing.

“Where’s Joel?” she whispers. “I want Joel. I don’t – what’s –”

“You’re okay,” Marlene says. “I’m – I’m so sorry, Ellie. We don’t have any other choice.”

“Let me go,” she tries to say, having a bit more success with getting the words out.

“We’ve done some… really interesting preliminary tests,” another voice that she vaguely recognizes but can’t pin down starts to talk, cutting Marlene off.

“We’ve discovered some frequencies that seem to – have an interesting effect on active cordyceps infections. We’ve done some promising trials with live infected, and we have reason to think that this might be a pathway towards a potential cure.”

She’s getting more control back in her limbs and starts straining hard at the restraints, her skin aching as she digs her flesh into the metal edges. Her breathing is getting more and more panicked - she’ll be lightheaded soon, she knows, if she keeps it up.

“But we have the cure,” she gasps, desperately. “We – we already –”

“No, Ellie. We don’t have a cure. We have a vaccine, because of you,” Marlene says, her voice soft but sounding distorted through the speaker. “And none of us can ever thank you enough for that. You’ve saved so many people. So many lives. But - a vaccine can only keep people safe if they haven’t already been exposed. It won’t help anyone who’s already turned.”

“Why am I tied down? What’s happening?”

“There are so many more people to save, Ellie,” Marlene says, talking faster and sounding a bit breathless herself. “And we think we might have a way to make that happen. I know how much that matters to you. It’s – Anna would be so proud of you.”

There’s a long pause, and then the speaker clicks off. Ellie can hear a whining sound coming out of her chest and throat. She doesn’t fucking want this – she wants Joel, and he isn’t here, and it’s harder to breathe with every second that she can’t feel him next to her, where he’s supposed to stay forever.

“Where’s Joel?” she cries. “Please – I want Joel. Please.”

The silence continues for a few more seconds before the crackling sound comes back. “We’ve learned a lot from our previous tests,” a male voice say, one that she knows well. A nice person – someone she’s grown to really like and trust.

“Doctor Anderson,” she sobs, “Jerry – help me, please -”

“We learned a lot, Ellie – but we need to know more. We need you. None of our previous… subjects could communicate with us. You’re going to be the key to this - we need your help.”

“I’m not helping with fucking ANYTHING UNTIL JOEL IS HERE!” She yells, kicking her legs furiously and making zero headway other than worsening the pain from the metal cuffs. She can feel the bruising pain with every strike of her ankle bone against the metal. She can’t stop.

“He’s gone,” Marlene says. “He left-”

“You’re a fucking liar!” Ellie screams. The sound of her own voice is bounced back at her, her eardrums throbbing from it. “What the fuck did you do to him!”

“This is a waste of time – we’ve indulged this brat long enough,” another gruff voice says, and then there’s some back and forth arguing that she’s too distressed to really make out before the harsh sounding man says firmly, “Carly, please, get the sample ready – are we recording?”

Something in her brain falls apart. She doesn’t know what the fuck is about to happen, but she knows it’s going to kill her.

“Time is 0600 - first phase of testing – baseline, reference number B203 at - 50% initially - ”

The speaker clicks off and the voices stop.

“Let me go,” she’s sobbing.

A noise starts coming into the room from the speakers. It’s a low, humming sound. It goes on for about a minute while she thrashes around and yells, struggling against the restraints in what she knows is a hopeless effort to get away.

The sound stops, and with a click, another voice starts talking. “Do you feel nauseous?”

“Fuck you,” she snarls, “I’m not doing this – I’m not doing another fucking thing for you pieces of shit –”

“Do you feel nauseous?” the voice says again.

Ellie decides that the only option she has is her hands – and it won’t make a fucking difference with her ankles still attached, but if she’s going to die she’s going to at least try every fucking way to survive first. She starts trying to force her hands through the metal cuff, wincing but not letting up as her skin pinches and tugs painfully and the pressure on her bones builds up. She tries to curl her hand as narrow as she can get it, yanking hard – letting go and then yanking back again – she can feel her bones screaming in protest, but she’ll fucking break them all if she has to -

The door bangs open. She turns to look and feels her heart fall into the pit of her stomach.

It’s Joel. Held up by three men, one of his feet rolling to the side and looking like he’s barely able to stand. There’s a pillowcase over his head, horrifyingly bloody. His hands must be tied behind his back.

“You’ll answer every question we ask if you want him to live,” the voice says.

“Joel,” she wails.

As soon as he hears her voice, it’s like something is possessing him. His entire body jerks and the men holding him are instantly struggling to keep him contained. Another couple of guards slide into view to help control him – “Ellie!” he yells, so much fear and rage in his voice – but his voice cuts off completely with a loud and pained wheeze as he’s hit hard in the stomach, folding forward – fresh blood pouring out from the pillowcase, down his neck, soaking into the fabric -

The door slams shut.

All she can hear is the sound of her own rapid breathing. His yell echoing in her ears. Her heart is racing so fast she thinks it’s going to stop.

How can this be happening? She thinks about snow and blood and stitching up a warm and gushing wound, just for him to die here – fire and brains spraying onto her, into her hair -

“Do you feel nauseous?”

“No,” she whispers.

“Do you have a headache?”

It goes on for a while –

“Is your vision blurred?” -

“Have you lost sensation in any part of your body?” -

“Count to thirty, and then count backwards to zero by twos.” –

When the questions are finally done, another sound starts up – over and over, until she loses all sense of how much time has passed. More fuzzy, low, weird sounds, but sometimes shrill and sharp and high – always getting louder, sometimes left playing for minutes at a time. Sometimes hurting to listen to.

One sound in particular is so loud she thinks it’s going to make her lose her hearing – she tries to shrug her shoulders up, desperate trying to cover her ears with no success. They let it run for a long time.

She can’t think of what the fuck to do. Joel would find a way out of this, somehow. But with their threat hanging over her all she can think to do is answer their questions.

What if they’ve already killed him? What if they closed that door and ended his life right there?

After the awful noise comes to a halt she says, “Prove he’s still alive. Or I’m not answering anything else.” She can hardly hear herself over the ringing in her ears.

There’s nothing but silence for a few long seconds, and then a click, and a voice saying, “Answer or he dies. We’re not saying it again.”

She probably shouldn’t, but her temper is so fucking flaming hot she can’t hold back - “If you kill him this is fucking finished,” she screams. “You’ll get fucking nothing from me.”

The door opens again next to her and she spins her head to face it, wide eyed and desperate to see Joel, but it isn’t him. It’s a man she doesn’t recognize. He’s wearing what looks like a fucking space suit, plastic and white and crinkling as he walks over to her.

“Fuck you,” she hisses, spitting at him.

“Ha - that’s what the suits for,” he says casually, barely looking at her. He has a butterfly needle in his hand, and he pins her bicep in place as he jabs it harshly into her elbow, taking two vials of blood. He still doesn’t look up, but he says, with a menacing sort of grin on his face, “We’ve got plenty of ways to make you talk. Don’t start thinking you have any control here. This whole thing is bigger than you.”

Before he walks out, he grabs her head firmly and forces it to stay still while he looks into each of her eyes for a few seconds each. She squeezes them shut but he uses his fingers to pry them open. “Nothing yet,” he calls out loud. When he lets go she tries to bite at his hand, and he laughs in her face.

The door closes.

“Do you feel nauseous?”

She’s hit with a new wave of despair, sobs rolling through her.

A light is turned on in the room on the other side of the window. It wasn’t empty at all – just too dark for her to see anything. There are so many people, all staring at her – Marlene leaning against a counter against the wall with her arms crossed, not looking at Ellie. Tears leaving streaks down her face that shine in the light. Dr Anderson is talking into a little rectangular device - one of the nurses that was always so nice to Ellie is sitting next to him, taking notes on a clipboard.

And then she sees Joel – still alive. The guards are surrounding him, pinning him against the wall as he struggles. She can see the blood-soaked pillowcase moving side to side as he fights to get free. A rifle is pressed tight up against his head.

The light goes out.

“Do you feel nauseous?”

She feels like she’s going to float away from her body as she goes through their questions. When they’re done she hangs her head.

This can’t be fucking happening.

She closes her eyes and tries to go back to before – end this nightmare – get back to being wrapped up in Joel’s arms and feeling like everything was finally going to be okay -

“Time is 0710 hours – initiating testing series zero-one at full volume –”

The sound that pours into the room is like nothing that’s come before it.

Instantly, pain blooms in her head. There’s a stomach curdling, shifting, dragging sensation behind her eyes – movement – and she starts to scream, the jagged noise ripping out of her throat. She has no control over any part of her body anymore – it all feels like it’s burning, itching – her head rolls back in agony as her muscles clench so tightly they feel like they’re going to explode –

The sound cuts off after only a few seconds, and in it’s absence she can suddenly hear what she knows is Joel, yelling, roaring on the other side of the window, accompanied by loud thuds.

Ellie’s head hangs limply, chin against her chest. She’s going to pass out soon, she thinks. She’s pulling in ragged, painful breaths that don’t feel like they’re doing enough. Her whole chest is on fire.

The crackling sound that comes next isn’t followed by the question about being nauseous, but rather the voice of fucking Jerry – the same guy who used to sneak her extra popsicles after dinner and shot the shit with Joel about sports and raising a teenager – asking excitedly, “What did you just feel? What happened?”

All she can do is sob. A few seconds pass before Jerry says, like he’s begging her, “Ellie, come on. Don’t make us do this the hard way. Please.”

Quietly, behind Jerry’s voice, she can make out the sound of Joel groaning - crying.

“Hurt,” she whispers. “My – head.”

It takes a few minutes for her to get out more words, and then come the routine questions. As they get to the end she starts to panic, her body filling with terrified dread at what is going to happen next.

She’s right – it’s worse.

A new noise comes out of the speakers, and she feels the most severe pain she’s ever felt. Her whole body rocks forward and backwards, and then she’s arching up in the chair, trying desperately to get away from it – her muscles tensing and twisting until she thinks she’s about to snap her wrists from the force – and a knife is twisting into her head. The moving sensation behind her eyes is unbearable – revolting, disturbing, unrelenting - she hears herself shrieking as her vision goes black.

And then there’s a sudden popping noise. She can’t tell what it is, through the pain and the blaring, droning sound – but then the window shatters in front of her and she recognizes faintly that it’s a gun. She wonders if she’s going to get hit with a stray bullet and wishes for it, anything, anything at all for this to stop.

The sound is abruptly cut off and she goes limp.

She can make out other noises -

A few more shots. A yell cut short. A heavy weight, slamming into the ground. Gurgling.

The door swings open once again, and -

“Ellie - I’m here, baby, I – oh my god.”

“Joel,” she sobs, writhing desperately in the restraints.

“Fuck,” he grunts, and she feels him digging his fingers between her ankles and the metal rings. “I gotta – I gotta find somethin’ to get you out of here, baby girl – we’re gonna be okay – ”

There’s more shouting in the distance, getting closer. After a few loud, ear splitting gunshots it’s quiet again.

“I gotta – I gotta find the key, baby, I’ll – I’ll be right back,” Joel gasps.

“Don’t leave,” she wails, knowing it isn’t fair and doesn’t make any sense, but too exhausted to stop herself.

He lets out a sob of his own. “Ellie, I have to – I’m sorry baby, I’m – I’ll be right back - ”

She cries as she listens to him run out of the room. He’s back in a few seconds that feel like hours, rushing to her side.

“I got you, it’s okay now,” he says. His voice sounds more panicked and afraid than she’s ever heard it.

His hand briefly touches her face – and then he’s fiddling with the bottom of her jeans, trying to find where the cuffs unlock. The metal feels so cold against her hot skin. She can hear the clanging of metal on metal a few times – his hands must be shaking – and then he finally gets one of her legs free.

“Okay – just a few more and we go,” he’s saying.

“I can’t – Joel, I can’t –” she says, crying, struggling to get the words out.

“You’re okay,” he says, “Everything’s gonna be okay –”

Finally she gets herself to say it. “I can’t - I can’t see anything.”

The sound of his frantic movements stops. He chokes out, sounding like he’s been punched, “Can’t – see?”

She starts bawling so hard she can barely breathe. “Everything went black,” she sobs. “I can’t – I don’t know what’s – Joel, please.” She melts into tears, not able to get any more words out.

“Okay – you’re okay,” he says. She can tell he’s crying again. “I promise. You’re gonna be okay. I’ve got you.”

She feels her grip on reality starting to slip. Everything feels fuzzy.

As soon as Joel gets the last restraint off of her wrist he’s grabbing onto her, sweeping her up in one fluid movement and cradling her in his arms. She buries her face into him, breathing him in as she cries. Fuzzy, warm, soapy.

He starts moving – rushing forward, almost in a run. Ellie feels him press his lips against her head, whispering, “We’re going home, baby girl.”

----

cross posted to ao3, feel free to leave me a kudos if you enjoyed :)

#bad things happen bingo #last of us fic #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel and ellie #joel did nothing wrong #ellie and joel #tlou #the last of us #prompt: sound torture

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theywhowriteandknowthings · 1 year

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A Sheep Farm on the Moon Ch2 Joel Miller x F!Reader

Chapter 2 – The Sheep

Masterlist I <- Previous Chapter I Next Chapter -> Minors/under 18s DNI

Summary:

After being left hanging you are furious at Joel Miller, and after a humiating incident with the Ram, you start to question why you are feeling so many things for this complete stranger and his ragged child.

Your alarm wakes you with a start, your head pounding with dehydration from crying, and in some small part due to the drink. Your mouth is like sandpaper and you realise you had slept where you fell last night, face pressed into the sheets. You were stiff and sore from yesterday’s shearing and now only running on about 3 hours of terrible sleep. Regret. Regret is all you can feel as you try to convince yourself to get up and turn off the angry digital alarm clock on your dresser.

Shameful, what would your momma think of you now?

You chastise yourself as you drag yourself up from the heap on the bed. Your hand slaps the digital alarm violently and you sigh, it was going to be a long day.

***

You trudge through town, your boots crunching loudly on the compact snow, everything was too loud. You had managed just enough time to wait for the coffee to brew but the hot liquid had burnt your tongue as you tried to down it before heading to tend to the sheep.

Unless you were posted on patrol, there was no official start time in Jackson, people got on with things as and when they needed to, but you swear the sheep know. They know the time better than any watch smith, and they would let you know it if you were late for their feed.

True to form, you strolled across the main yard, distracted by your burnt tongue, you heard it before you saw it. You couldn’t have been more than five minutes “late” but you weren’t early, and the ram of the flock took that personally. He smashed through the closed gate, having jostled the latch from its loose mechanism. You really needed to get someone to tighten that. But it was just another task added to the seemingly never-ending list of chores that shepherding came with.

“Son of a bitch,” You swear as you sprint towards the now escaping sheep, “Ramsey you bastard!” You holler at the ram and you are certain he gives you a look as he bleats to his harem of ewes and bolts off towards the horse paddock. Your head is already pounding from the night before, your tongue hurts, and you’re emotionally exhausted, but the idiot ram needed you. The ewes stay where they are, probably because it’s warm under the heat lamps and cold as all hell out here.

You had to keep Ramsey safe, he was your only Ram and without him lambing season could be a disaster. It is the exact right time when he’d start trying it on with the ewes, it’s probably why he’s so antsy, he’s drunk on hormones.

If he got out of Jackson it could really harm the flock. At least the ewes had more sense than him.

You swallow as you try not to panic, you collect yourself as you formulate a plan.

“Hey Benny!” You call to the young man on the other side of the sheep pen who looks up to you in surprise, “You know where Jerry is? I need to borrow his dog.”

“No sweat Boss Lady, I’ll get Typhus over here asap!” Benny calls back, already jogging off as he spoke. You envy the clearly well-rested kid as he sprang off into a jog, a clear contrast with you as your work-weary, hungover body groaned at every movement. You close the gate on the remaining sheep, who had still not moved. “Good girls, smart move,” You coo at the sheep, but they pay you no mind.

“This is why I wanted to work with computers, less running around like an idiot and way more sitting down in a warm room, with real coffee.” You hiss under your breath as you break into a slow jog. As long as Ramsay stayed in the farmyard you could round him up pretty easily, even more so if Typhus was at your side. But Jerry was old, and liked to lie in on his days off, so you hope you don’t need to rely on him.

“Hey, you need a hand?” A young voice startles you from behind and you turn to see Ellie’s bright face, eager and excited at the commotion. You look around, no Joel. Relief and disappointment well up inside you as you try and put the man out of your mind.

“You ever wrangled sheep before kid?” You ask with a raised eyebrow.

“Nope.”

“Alright, come with me.” You laugh and jog off towards the hog sty. She kept up with you without a problem and all the way you could see her looking up at you, as if she was studying your ruddy, exhausted profile with glee. You slow as you see Ramsey looking triumphant as he butted against the pig pen’s gate.

“Right, we need to try and calmly guide him back to his shed.” You explain to Ellie softly as you begin to walk, so very slowly, towards the Ram.

“Uh, he doesn’t look fucking calm.” Ellie swore as she eyed the ram, her usual confident bravado a little muted. You couldn’t help but agree, Ramsey had been a pain in your ass ever since you came to Jackson. Rumour was the last shepherd gave up and moved away due to the ram’s shenanigans. You always thought that was an exaggeration, but now you weren’t so sure.

“No, he’s a bastard,” You chuckle, “But he’s a sweetheart when he gets his way.” You explain as you pull out a bundle of fresh hay from the nearby hay nets that hung on the stables. You slowly approach the ram, his bleating loud in your tender ears as you offer your hand out to the large mammal.

Ramsey eyes you as you try to bribe him with fresh hay, he’s got to be hungry, that’s part of his tantrum, you’re sure. But at the last minute you see his front right hoof paw the ground angrily.

“Ellie, move!” You cry as Ramsey charges, he’s going full tilt at you and you stand your ground until you can see the steam coming from his nostrils. You throw yourself up onto the wall of the closest stable, earning an irritated snort from Jessie, the chestnut horse you loved dearly, but the feeling was not mutual. Ramsey thudded against an old wooden pallet and bleated pathetically as his curled horns got stuck between the slats.

“Sorry girl.” You apologise to the horse as she snaps angrily at you with her teeth. You smile and turn to the mewling bleats of the rebellious ram who was now stuck with a pallet on his head.

“Ramsey, you couldn’t wait five minutes?” You scold the sheep as you grab him by the base of the horns, slowly, firmly moving his head to and fro as you manoeuvre him out of the wooden slats. Ramsey brayed beneath you as you helped him but once he was free he tried to writhe in your grasp but you were wise to his antics.

“Calm down you little shit.” You scold him as you use all the strength you have to manoeuvre him back towards the sheep shed.

“You got him!” Ellie exclaimed and you jumped, almost losing your grin on the ram, you look up to see Ellie sat on the fence to your right.

“Jesus, kid, you startled me.” You snap.

“Woah sorry lady I would have helped but you told me to move.” Ellie shrugged, her legs swinging playfully as she spoke. You huffed in response but couldn’t help but smile at the guts on the kid. You began the long task of steering the moody ram towards his gate.

“So, was Joel with you last night?” Ellie asked and it was like a slap to the face. This time you did let go of Ramsey and he turned his head violently, hitting you in the stomach, throwing you, as he ran off past the gate, towards the Main Street. You lay on your back for a moment as the throbbing subsided, the wind ripped from your lungs as the strong horns hit you.

“Shit are you ok?” Ellie ran to you, already kneeling in the snow next to you as you tried to recover from the hit. You were sure at least one of your ribs were broken, the pain from breathing was so acute it almost made you pass out.

“Ellie?” Joel’s voice cut across the yard as you tried to respond that, no, you are not ok. But the embarrassment of Joel seeing you like this was mortifying, combined with the fact every time you tried to speak the pain almost made you pass out.

“Over here, sheep lady’s hurt.”

“She has a name Ellie,” Joel chastised her as he faltered, realising that yet again, he didn’t know it, “You ok Darlin’?” The drawl of his Texan accent somehow thicker as he adopted a caring tone of voice. His face came to join Ellie’s as you looked up into the sky. He looked tired, haggard, like he hadn’t slept.

Good.

You thought a little bitterly as you tried not to cry out in pain as every breath shot pain through your left side. Your vision swims but you try and remain conscious as the pain swells up again as you cough.

“Just peachy, no thanks to you.” You hiss as the pain threatens to make you throw up.

“Fair,” Joel’s handsome features twisted up into a grimace, “Can you move?” He asked attentively as Ellie just looked between the two of you knowingly. She smiled but for once didn’t pipe up as you wheezed in pain.

“No sir, I think I’ve got a broken rib.” You admit as you close your eyes, frustration driving you to tears as you try not to let the incident get to you.

“Damn that’s no good Darlin’ you stay awake with me ok?.” He responds with a breathy sigh. In your delirious state you almost thought you felt him cup your cheek as he spoke to you again but this time you couldn’t make out what he was saying.

The pain rips through you as you feel yourself being picked up from the ground. The noise you make is animalistic as the pain becomes too much and you’re taken under, an off switch in your brain flipping as you pass out.

***

You wake to the sound of people fussing around you, the smell of lavender and rosemary thick in the air. You crack your eyes open slowly, the familiar roof of the doctor’s upstairs exam room coming into view.

“You’re awake!” Gordon Holm’s voice lilts across the room as you tried to sit, “No, stay down, your rib is in a bad way.” He commanded in his watery voice. Gordon had been a doctor before the end of the world, only around two years left before he had planned to retire. He was old.

“What’s going on?” You ask, your voice hoarse and broken.

“You’ve likely got as bruised or fractured rib, but nothing more serious, your ribs are in the right place, and you’ve got no signs of internal bleeding.” Dr Holm’s voice rattled through his teeth.

“Damn it I have so much more to do with the sheep before Spring hits.” You groan, rolling onto your good rib, propping yourself up to swing your legs over the side of the bed with a barely stifled groan. You eased yourself up and began to hobble out of the second floor exam room. The pain was blinding, but you had too much to do, and you had too much to block out of your mind to stop being busy.

Fucking whisky, Fucking Joel, Fucking Ellie, Fucking Ram.

You curse as you hear a disapproving grunt from behind you, you had almost made it to the door before he had noticed you. You turn with an apologetic smile and wait for your scolding.

“Good God above girl,” Dr Holm sighs in despair, knowing he can’t stop you, “If you’re just going to leave before I’m finished, make sure to ice it frequently for the next few days then do the same with a hot water bottle twice a day for the next few weeks after that. Please just make sure you take it easy, and here,” He threw a bag of cannabis at you and you raised an eyebrow, “To help you sleep, and to ease the pain, but don’t go shearing and smoking. Preferably I’d have you doing no shearing at all.”

“Alright doc,” You shrug, the scarcity of opioids post-apocalypse meant Jackson had to be creative with their pain medication, “I promise not to give it to the school kids either.” You jest but the look on Gordon’s face was murderous as you knew you’d pushed the old man too far. You hobble down the stairs, fleeing his wrath, leaning against the narrow walkway as you limp down to the ground floor, the reception was empty, figures, it was probably still too early for normal practice hours.

The cold air sent shockwaves through your chest, ripping a snarl from your mouth as the injured rib rocked on the exhale. You continued on, too proud, too stubborn to let pain stop you. The trudge back to the sheep shed seemed to last forever as every step brought fresh pain. But soon enough you were back in the shed, on your chair, trying to muster the energy to shear. Ramsey looked at you from the other end of the shed, you could swear he looked guilty, if that was even possible.

“It’s ok Rams,” You coo to him, “I shouldn’t have been late.” The Ram huffed at you and settled down to sleep amongst his ewes. You sigh as you put your hands in your pockets, the bag of weed crinkling as your hand brushes it. You haven’t smoked since you were in the QZ, and didn’t really enjoy it back then, but you knew from the way the pain shot through you just sitting down meant you wouldn’t be able to shear.

“Thought I’d find you here.” Tommy’s voice calls from the gate, leaning over it just as Joel had last night.

“Hey Tommy, you here to chew me out? Who sent you, the doc?”

“Surprisingly not, Joel did.” He shrugs, but there’s a knowing look on his face as he locked eyes with yours.

“That is a surprise,” You snap, the pain driving your temper up, “Tell him to mind his own damned business.”

“I did, but he never listens to me, or anyone for that matter. I thought it best find you before he does and give you fair warnin’,” Tommy chuckles but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes, “What went on with you two last night? He’s been in a sour mood,” He paused, this time the smile did reach his eyes, “Well, more sour than normal all morning.”

“Nothing.” It wasn’t a lie, you wanted to laugh along with Tommy, but the venom in your tone told Tommy that Joel had indeed, fucked up.

“Well, I tried,” Tommy shrugged, throwing you a sympathetic grimace, “My brother is stubborn though, so don’t blame me if he comes a’calling to march you off to bed.”

“Roger that Boss Man, thanks for checking in on me though.” You say, a little guilty for taking out your frustration on the wrong brother. He smiled at the nickname you had given him on the first week of your patrol training.

“It’s alright, you’re important round here y’know, look after yourself.” Tommy orders you with a playful shake of his finger and headed off into town. You liked Tommy, a lot, he was one of the few people who gave you the time of day, and he always seemed to be truly listening to the people he spoke too. It baffled you how different he and his older brother were.

You battled with your deep-rooted stubbornness and injured pride for a few minutes before giving in and heading back home, calling out to a farmhand on the way to take over for a few days. He made no complaint and wished you well. But you were really too damned tired and in too much pain to care.

I’m never drinking again.

You vow, knowing it was a lie, but it made you feel a little better. You frown as you reach the top step of your porch, a bottle of moonshine with a hand written note, and a bundle of herbs sat at your door. You pick up the note with a hiss as the pivoting movement irritates your ribs, it has your name on it in shaky handwriting. You pick up the whisky and herbs before heading inside.

You deposit the bottle on the kitchen counter before putting on a pot of coffee and grabbing some of the cookies Layla, the school mistress, had dropped off recently, the ancient tin opened with a pop and the sudden movement had you bent over the counter in agony. You focus on the aged and deteriorated image on the tin to focus, it once had a print of a castle somewhere in Scotland and you could still just make out of the silhouette amongst the bare metal.

It takes you a few minutes to recover, but you head to the sofa with a large cup of strong black coffee in one hand, the letter and the bundle of herbs in the other and two sugar cookies stuffed in your mouth. As you sit you lift the neatly tied collection of herbs to your nose, the sweetness of the cookies and the fresh scent of the herbs a lovely combination. It’s immediately calming as you take in the notes of lavender, pine, rosemary and something earthy you couldn’t quite place. After a few seconds of huffing the delightful collection of scents you decide to look at the letter. It was a simple page folded in three and you smile from the moment your eyes read the scruffily written line below your name.

Hi there, Ellie here!

I wanted to apologise to ewe for being so woolly today and getting you hurt. I feel so baa’d about it and hope you forgive me and this doesn’t put a permanent (sheep)dip in our friendship.

If you need anything while we’re here let me know and I’ll get Joel to do it.

So yeah, be seeing you.

Ellie x

P.S I don’t know what you said to Joel last night, but he was SMILING, actual real life face contortion in a good way! I don’t know what you said to him but I have only seen him smile like twice, ever, and one of them was after I made a killer diarrhoea joke. But yeah, I like it when he smiles, so if you could make him do it more I’d owe you one.

The sheep puns had you smiling so hard your rib twinged in pain, you were a little disappointed it wasn’t some soppy apology from Joel, but he didn’t seem the type to apologise, full stop, let alone with any soppiness. You sip slowly on the coffee as you re-read the letter. She was gruff and unrefined, but she was funny, and kind.

Definitely not his bio kid.

You think, feeling only a little guilt in being so harsh on the man, he’s clearly been through a lot and is in the middle of something complex with Ellie. But then everyone has history, everyone has baggage, he doesn’t deserve your undue kindness. He certainly wasn’t giving you any. But then you re-read Ellie’s words and you can feel the emotion in her writing, she cares deeply about Joel. Maybe he wasn’t a complete asshole after all, how can such a bright, vibrant kid care for him if there wasn’t another side to him.

Stockholm syndrome I guess?

You smirk, knowing that you were being unfair, but he deserved it, even if only for now.

He came home smiling, because of you.

You re-read Ellie’s note a few more times, draining your coffee as you do, you hobble back up to the kitchen and start another pot of coffee, still reading the note. You pick up your refilled mug and carefully place the note in your pocket.

The crinkle of the small plastic pouch of weed against your hand as you pocketed the note made you finally consider the pain relief it would bring. But you realise you have no papers, and bongs were few and far between even before the end of the world in this part of the world. Christian values and all that. You roll your eyes at the thought but then smirk, you have an idea.

***

You had been rifling through the attic for half an hour until you found exactly what you were looking for, a battered old copy of the King James Bible. It had been in the nightstand drawer when you moved in, but you weren’t religious anymore and didn’t see yourself going back any time soon.

You ease yourself back down the built in ladder that led down to the first floor of your house and don’t bother putting it back now, it hurt enough getting it down in the first place. You head to the kitchen counter, the page that falls open is from the book of Esther and you smile at the memories of being read this by your mother many years ago. It almost seems too good to rip out from this part, so you flick forward to the next book, Job.

Yes, that seems morbidly appropriate.

You tear out a few pages and place them on the counter, trying to remember how to roll a joint as you heard a sharp knock at the front door. You consider ignoring it as you stare back somewhat guiltily at the make-shift, blasphemous, rolling papers. But the sharp knocking on the door persists and you sigh, you would stomp over to the front door if the pain wasn’t so intense, so you limp, bitterly.

“What?” You snap as you pull the door open and look up into the dark eyes of Joel Miller. You try not to gasp at the sight of him, both because you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, but also because you knew how much that would hurt your ribs.

“What yourself.” He grumbles, his hands behind his back as he tried not to fidget. He was sweating in the cold mid-Winter air as he tried to collect his thoughts. You realise you’re smiling, he’s cute when he’s nervous.

“I didn’t expect you at my door.” You roll your eyes, the pain fuelling your irritation, but you were almost beginning to soften up to him. Almost.

“I just wanted to apologise for last night.”

“Stop.” You sigh as you pinch the bridge of your nose, impatience and pain grating on your already short fuse.

“You didn’t even let me speak.” Joel protests as his eyes meet yours as he stepped forward before stopping himself, one foot on the bottom step. He was so quick to anger, quick to act.

“Do you think I really need to hear some half-baked excuse about wandering the wastes, finding trouble at every turn, and how life has made you hard?” You blurt, unable to hold yourself back.

“That wasn’t-” Joel fumbled, caught in the pre-rehearsed speech he had prepared. He wasn’t good at this, apologising.

“Just stop, leave me alone.” Your tone is biting, and shame and anger on full display as you lean against the doorframe, the cold air sapping your strength as you shudder, the shiver sent agony through your ribs. A cry erupts from your lips as you slip from the doorframe, you don’t remember falling but you blink and you are on your knees, side searing from the pain of the impact.

“Shit you alright Darlin’?” Joel’s voice is in your ear, his one hand on the crook of your elbow. You hate yourself for the burst of warmth that is spreading to your thighs at the hot breath on your cheek, his warm scent washing over you in waves of sawdust, lavender from the soap he used, and a warm scent you couldn’t place underpinning it all like a lacquer.

“No,” You give up as you fall against him, “Just get me inside and leave me alone.” You whimper as the painful but somehow exciting act of him pulling yourself up into his arms is too much to bear and tears run down your cheeks. You look away from him, not sure if the sound that came out of your mouth was pain or pleasure, maybe both. He helps you stand but doesn’t let you go, his one arm on the crook of your allow the whole time.

“Yes ma’am.” He says eagerly, he steers you to the kitchen, kicking the front door closed with his boot as he sets you down and guides you towards the countertop. Your heart catches in your throat as the poorly rolled first joint sat in front of you on the counter.

“This isn’t-” You panic, the fear of being caught smoking was deep rooted, and long redundant, but it was strong enough to make you blush. Joel moves around you, his interest piqued, you watch in horror as he eyes the half-rolled failure of a joint on the counter. He turns his head slowly with a mischievous look on his face as he catches your gaze over his shoulder, the perfect profile of his face silhouetted by the sunlight that shines through the window. It makes your knees weak seeing him smile, even if it was at your expense.

“So, you’ve never rolled your own joints?” Joel chuckles, he’s caught off-guard at the nostalgia rolling gave him and at the embarrassed look on your face as he called you out. His eyes are fixed on yours, his lips parting slightly as he notices the look you’re giving him.

“No,” You say abruptly, “I’ve never been a big fan, but the doc gave it to me for the pain.”

“And,” He starts, crossing his arms across his chest as he turns to face you, leaning back against the counter, “Have you started on the prescribed pain relief?” He asked knowingly, and in what you assumed was his dad voice coming out, as you blush at the gentle teasing. He was enjoying himself and that managed to both piss you off and turn you on all at the same time.

Fucking hell Miller, what have you done to me?

“You know I haven’t,” You say, “But I probably should.” You admit before looking up into his warm brown eyes, they shine with amusement as you glare right up at him, which only made the creases at the edges of his eyes deepen as his smile widens.

He’s enjoying this too much.

He stands there waiting for you to ask the question, not letting this go it seemed. You pout, but the pain in your side was becoming unbearable and no matter what, you needed to get at least one of those joints rolled.

“Joel, can you roll me a joint?” You ask, not breaking eye contact, your mouth set in a firm line.

“I thought you’d never ask.” He said, his face awash with a triumphant grin.

***

The evening sunshine bathed Jackson in a hazy amber glow as you sit on the small wooden bench in your back yard, Joel had rolled you four joints, one a little bigger than the other, which you held as you waited for him to come out of the house. The back door closed with a bang and you hear him swear under his breath. He descended the steps with a cup of coffee in each hand. You turn to watch him, his brow knitted as he continues over to you on the bench.

“I didn’t know how you took your coffee, so went with black.”

“Good choice.” You nod, taking the cup carefully in both hands, trying not to jostle your ribs, it felt good to be sat down, not worrying about the sheep, just sitting still, relaxing.

“So, the Book of Job?” Joel asks after taking a long sip of the coffee, his eyes looking out over the square yard. In the Spring it was full of flower beds full of wildflowers, hydrangea bushes, and the lone cherry tree in the middle would bloom with coral and magenta blossoms. But now it was all covered in a thick blanket of snow. Formless, shapeless.

“I had opened up to the book of Esther but didn’t fancy spiting a strong woman like that. Instead, I took a leaf out of God’s book and chose to spite Job instead.” Joel nearly choked on the large mouthful of coffee he had in his mouth. You try to contain your laughter as you take pride in catching him off guard so violently.

“Christ, Darlin’, don’t make a man laugh like that when he’s got hot coffee in his mouth.” He laughs, wiping a few rivulets of coffee from his chin and whiskers as he looks at you with a wicked, playfully scolding smile.

“Didn’t realise I was funny.” You shrug before taking a long gulp of coffee, the warm liquid travelling down your throat blissfully as you hold the joint in your hand out to Joel. You look up at him and you feel like you were back in the QZ, a dumb sixteen-year-old getting the older boy in your shared accommodation to show you how to smoke. Joel just raised an eyebrow at you, making you ask the question.

“Fucking hell Joel, isn’t it enough that I have a bruised rib, do you have to torture me psychologically too?” You grumble, the embarrassment sitting high on your cheeks as you see his body relax a little.

“Alright Darlin’ I’m sorry you’re just adorable when you get so flustered.” He admits, his smile softening as he took the joint from your hand, his bare fingertips brushing against your skin, making you shudder. You think you feel him react too, but he doesn’t stop as he licks his lips, his thick, strong tongue gliding delightfully between them. He pops the joint on his bottom lip before pulling a silver flip lighter out of his pocket. The silver lighter engraved with a stylised, blocky serpent’s head, a frill of feathers ringing its neck.

“I ain’t your Darlin’ pal.” You grumble, but you can’t help thinking about the fact he just called you adorable. You knew it was a Texan thing to call every woman some form of Darling but you were still mad at him for going cold on you last night. Any other day, any other time, it would have turned you to mush.

“Yes ma’am.” He said with a smirk, his mood much better than the night before. You try not to let the notion go to your head. He struck the flint once, the flame flickering softly in the cool evening breeze. He twirled the joint between his fingers as he held it over the open flame, starting it as evenly as possible. The familiar closing click of the lighter brought a melancholy smile to your face.

He’s probably just not that into you, he’s being kind. Just let him have a smoke with you and let it go.

“That a real Zippo?” You ask as he takes in the first drag on the joint, watching the way he breathes it in, trying to take mental notes for when you do it.

“How’d you know?” Joel asks as he breathes out the cloud of smoke from his lungs, looking at you with a smile as he hands you the now subtly smouldering joint. You roll it between your thumb and forefinger, trying to find a reason not to.

“Dad used to like Zippos, got real angry if you called a flip lighter a Zippo, he always used to explain the difference.” You ramble a little, trying to work up the courage to smoke the joint.

“Your dad had some strong opinions,” Joel coughed a little before continuing, “so is this real?” He looked at the joint then up to your eyes pointedly.

“I’m not sure,” You admit your mind was too focused on other things to care, “Probably not, I don’t recognise the design.” You prop the joint between your trembling lips and after a calming breath out, you inhale as evenly as possible as you taste it on your still-burnt tongue, mossy, sweet, herbal, and earthy. The taste of cannabis smoke not a good, nor a bad thing, just odd. You exhale and the sensation tickles at the back of your throat, but you don’t cough, thank the lord. The smoke snakes into the air like a river meeting an inky, black ocean. You hand the joint back to Joel and stare up into the diamond studded sky.

Thanks Job.

You think sardonically, as the biggest hurdle seemed to be over, you didn’t break into a coughing fit like all those years ago in the QZ, you smile as you feel the high already settling over you, you felt a little more able to move, a little more able to tolerate the pain when it did come.

“Fuck the doc grows some good shit.” Joel breathed out as he took a longer, more concentrated pull on the joint. You half-laugh, half-sigh as you realise he tricked you into showing you how to take a safer, more manageable hit the first time around because now, a verifiable waterfall of smoke leaves his lips, some of it curling down around his lips and chin. The effect mesmerising.

“I wouldn’t know.” You giggle still building up on the high, it didn’t feel like you were ever coming back down.

“I’m sorry about last night da-“ he paused, trying to replace the endearing term with your name, but you still hadn’t given it to him. You were surprised, assuming he would have heard it from Tommy.

“Tommy didn’t even tell you my name?” You ask already feeling so much better, so little pain, but you were floating and that was too much to bear at times. You accept the joint from him and took one last puff, smaller again than before, but you didn’t want to be completely out of your mind. Joel didn’t reach for it this time, and something told you that putting it out was the best move. You stick it in the snow that had accumulated to your left and realise that might have ruined the joint for the next time. But you didn’t care, not really.

“Well, I said you hadn’t given it, and that we had that, moment, and the pendejo chewed me out for hours, and said I didn’t deserve your name if you hadn’t given it to me, he’s super protective of you, you know?” Joel half-admitted, half-rambled as he drifted in orbit with you.

“Oh, really?” You muse, the thought of Tommy, or anyone really, caring about you for more than your worth to the community was an alien feeling. You always keep to yourself, you’re polite and kind for sure, but you never really felt like Jackson was home.

“Maria too, you’re really well regarded here…” He trailed off before speaking again, “Please, let me know what your name is D-.” He winced as he realised he used the D work again. You smile, maybe it was the weed, maybe it was that you were feeling way too many things for this gruff man, but you feel content. You scoot closer to him, it was bold and brash but that didn’t matter right now.

“You really want to know my name?” You ask as you lean against the back of the bench where his arm was draped. You were both rising high now, carefree, any awkwardness dissolved.

“Only if you think I’m worthy.” His tone was playful but you could hear a hint of sincerity behind it all. You hum to yourself, a small part of your mind willing you to forgive him, that part of your mind was all too eager to know what his mouth tasted like. You giggle at your dirty mind before refocusing on the handsome, kind, asshole of a man next to you.

“Alright.” You whisper, the cannabis making you bold as you cup his chip with the index finger and thumb of your right hand, the contact making you both shudder. You coax him, trying not to twist to hurt your left side, drawing his head down to your shoulder so his left ear was level with your lips. As he leans in, pliable in your hand, you whisper your name to him and he hums almost in approval. He pulls back slowly and looks down at you with hazy eyes. He tests your name aloud and warmth floods through you as he says it aloud in the cooling night air.

“About the other night,” Joel sighs as his rough, calloused hand brushes up to your cheek, his thumb rubbing on your cheekbone right over the ragged white scar from childhood. You freeze and the warmth of arousal spreads to your belly, “I shouldn’t have kissed you.” He whispers, his eyes locked with yours as you melt into the palm of his hand.

“No, you shouldn’t have,” You agree breathily, “You shouldn’t have just kissed me, you shouldn’t have stopped there.” He hisses your name as his head drops, his forehead meeting yours.

“Why’d you have to be so stubborn, so goddamn beautiful?” Joel asks you softly, as he drops his head to the crook of your neck. His hot breath washes over you as he breathes you in, out, in, out. Two weed-addled fools fumbling as if you were both carefree, reckless teenagers again.

“Fuck you Miller, no need to mock me.” His head snapped up at that and suddenly his hands were on your shoulders, his eyes boring into yours.

“Don’t do that, don’t ever sell yourself short.” He breathes, your noses almost touching as he spoke. You shrug, not really knowing what to say but your mouth opens regardless.

“Just, no-one has called me that other than my mother.” You admit, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip, too many emotions being boosted by the high, too much going on in your mind to manage or process.

“Why ever not?” Joel breathes as he places a kiss to the corner of your mouth, his hands are still possessive on your shoulders as he lingers there, waiting for an answer.

“Have you been able to call anything beautiful in this world?” You turn your head, your lip catching the edge of his bottom lip as you speak, you still hadn’t kissed yet, but the fire that burned in your belly was raging as you tried not to pant at the arousal you felt.

“No,” He admitted, but continued, “It’s been a good while, but I know it when I see it.” He tilted his head a little further, the press of your lips on his was so brief, so partial, that your breath hitched in your throat. You wince, the pain in your ribs was far more tolerable under the influence of cannabis, which was a welcome reprieve.

“Joel, you don’t have to do this.” You whisper to him, giving him an out before things hit the point of no return.

“Uh-huh, I know,” He whispers your name against the corner of your mouth and you melt, “I want to do this.” He whispered against your skin before he turned his head to meet yours, the hot, firm press of his lips on yours was explosive. His one hand moved to your cheek, the other to the nape of your neck. Holding you to him as he finally let go of whatever it was that held him back before.

His lips were warm, hungry against yours. He pressed his thick, hot tongue against your lips and without hesitation you gasped, letting him in as he groaned into your mouth. His tongue probed your open mouth, it was warm, hot and forceful as he held you to him. Your hands move to his thick curls and you tangle your digits in them, a slight protest to your left side making you wince, but you pull yourself closer to him. He purrs audibly at the sensation and deepens the kiss, his long tongue lapping you up as you squirm for him. Your tongue still hurts from the burn earlier but you didn’t care, this was worth it.

“Hey,” He breathes as he pulls away, “This is going to get out of hand if we don’t cut it out.”

“So?” You practically whine as you try and pull his lips back to yours but at that moment you twist in a way that makes you see stars, the weed unable to numb the pain surging from your side.

“Fuck.” You huff, realising he was right.

“See, this is what I was worried about, let’s get you to bed.” He says softly as he stands up and offers you his arm. You take it and allow him to steer you up to your room, he raises an eye at the still-deployed ladder to the attic but you just shrug it off. You hesitate at your door and steal a look up into his dark, cannabis-softened eyes.

“Stay.” You beg him, sex or not, you wanted to feel him tonight, have him keep you warm with his strong, muscular arms.

“I can’t, you know that,” He breathed but he was clearly considering it, staying with you, “But I’ll be by tomorrow, I promise.” He places a small kiss on your lips, eliciting a mewl from you. The last remaining blood in his head shot straight to his cock but he resisted, just.

“Goodnight, sleep well and I’ll be by tomorrow.” He promised, almost repeating it like a mantra so he couldn’t go back on it. His head was full of thoughts of how you felt, how you tasted, but he had to be good, you were hurt, he wasn’t here to hurt you. He’d already done that and it was one of the biggest regrets in his life.

“Alright.” You sigh as you watch him leave. You limp into bed, properly this time, and fall asleep between the sheets to images of Joel’s firm mouth on yours, the heat that pooled inside you, and the soft groans he made when he thought you couldn’t hear. The other places you wanted him to firmly place his mouth.

***

You were sitting on the sofa, a dog eared copy of your favourite book in one hand, and a cup of mint tea in the other, lost in the story that you could probably recite word for word, but it didn’t stop you re-reading it once again. The knock at the door startled you, and you put the book down before hobbling eagerly, hoping it was Joel making good on his promise. You were right, sort of. You hear Ellie before the door is fully open, calling out your name as she beams up at you, Joel her ever-present shadow at her back.

“Hey there Ellie, to what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask, keeping your eyes off Joel as long as you could, you want Ellie to feel valued, in a way you often weren’t as a young woman.

“Joel said we could come round and check in on you!” She said with bright eyes, the smile on her face infectious.

“Of course, I’m not really doing much until this rib is healed so the company is appreciated, come on in, both of you.” You slowly swing the door wide, careful to not jostle your side. Ellie charged in like a whirlwind and took in every corner of your house.

“Wow that’s badass!” You hear her call from the living room, you guess it must be your Winchester hanging above the fireplace. The antique was beautiful and one of the few things you still had of your father’s.

“Sorry, I mentioned I was stopping by and she, well, she isn’t one to take no for an answer.” Joel says as he places his palm on the small of your back. The touch is soothing, gentle, but the warm stir of arousal still shudders between your legs as you look up into his handsome face.

“Honestly, it’s really nice to have her here,” You admit, mirroring Joel’s actions as you tuck your hand into the back of his jeans, “Besides, you both make me smile.”

“I’m glad, because I don’t think I’m going to be able to keep her away,” He chuckled before bending his head down to your neck, “I don’t think I could keep myself away either, not after kissing you properly.” You shiver and he grins at your reaction, getting exactly what he wanted, you realise and blush harder.

“Come on, I’ve got loads of stuff in the attic we can pull down for her to rifle through.” You head up the stairs together, the attic ladder still lowered from the previous day. You crawl up after Joel and soon you’re managing both him and Ellie, who couldn’t not be involved, to take down box after box of the junk you stored in your attic.

As Ellie took the last box, labelled music, you turn to make a shaky descent but Joel cut you off at the top of the ladder. The sound of Ellie rummaging with excited gasps clear from the ground floor of the house. He stands there for a moment, looking over his shoulder to make sure Ellie was preoccupied.

“Hey there,” He drawls as he crosses the short distance between you and his mouth is on yours, gently this time, mouths closed, emotional rather than carnal. He holds your face in both of his large hands, and breaks the kiss to look into your eyes, “I missed you.”

“It’s been less than twenty-four hours Joel Miller, how could you possibly have missed me already?” You tease, knowing exactly how because you hadn’t stopped thinking about him from the moment your eyes opened this morning.

“Because I haven’t needed to see someone, to touch someone, to just be around someone so desperately for over twenty years.” He breathes against your lips, his eyes ablaze as he drinks in the sight of your wide, tear filled eyes.

“Joel,” You breathe back as you try not to sob with joy, “I have never felt like this, it’s maddening and I just can’t stop thinking about you.”

“Good, then we’re on the same page.” He murmurs before pulling you gently against him, his lips finding yours as he pressed his hot tongue against the seam of your lips. You deny him for a second or more until his growl ripples across your lips. His eyes open to meet yours and the desire is etched into those dark, threatening depths. His tongue darts back into his mouth as it presses into a hard line.

“That’s for going cold on me Miller,” You whisper as you kiss him once more, taking his lower lip between your teeth, “Don’t go cold on me again.” You breathe into his soft lips.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He kissed you hard again, his tongue forceful this time but you were like putty in his hands, pliable and desperate to feel him explore your mouth with his large tongue. You whimper against him as his one hand falls to your collarbone, rubbing a calloused hand over the thin, sensitive skin. The other hand is on your ass, kneading gently as he deepens the kiss.

“Ew Gross.” Ellie’s voice calls out from the top of the ladder. You split apart in an instant, the sudden movement ripped through your side, causing you to curse under your breath.

“Christ Ellie, what are you doing up here?” Joel scolds her as he tries to straighten himself out.

“You guys were taking for-ever,” She huffed but she was smiling as she sassed you both, “But I see it was for good reason.”

“Ellie, I-“ You start but she interrupts you.

“If you two making out makes him happy,” She nods towards Joel, “Then I won’t stop ya, but hurry up I’ve found a book the size of my head!” She trilled before descending the ladder once more.

“That could have gone a lot worse.” Joel sighs, releasing a tense breath he had been holding the whole time Ellie was speaking.

“I think it went pretty well, it’s good my rib is fucked, we might not have been caught in such a modest embrace if I was fighting fit.” You wink at Joel and the flush across his tan skin is barely visible but you hear his breathing hitch as you spoke.

“Downstairs, now.” He orders, his tone serious but the fire that danced behind his eyes was anything but.

“Alright,” You lean up for one last chase kiss, “But once I’m fighting fit, we’re going to make up for the lost time.”

“Yes ma’am.” He mumbles into your lips as he returns the kiss, just a little harder before releasing you.

“Shall we?” You ask as your head spins with excitement. Joel nods and gestures to the attic hatch.

“Lead the way.”

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