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madsnowstorm · 1 year

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strawberry wine - joel miller x ofc!liv stone/fem!reader

after - part twenty-two

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

you agree to something...unexpected.

a/n: we're in the SHOW PLOT BABIESSSSS ugh I'm having so much fun with this 🤍

word count: 5.1k

warnings: canon-typical violence, you know the drill.

✨@friskito-library for updates on new parts/works✨

“I don’t know where he is, Liv, I swear.”

You sigh, leaning back in your chair, and dig in your pocket. You produce two ration cards, the highest value kind, and slide them across the table. “Now, you and I both know that’s a load of bullshit, Ted. So why don’t you stop wasting my time and tell me where Robert is?”

Ted’s a good kid. A little screwed up, sure, but so is every other kid that was born on the edge of the outbreak. He’s helped you out with a few jobs here and there, but lately, he’s been running shit for Robert, which made him the obvious first choice to find out where your least favourite smuggler had run off to.

You watch Ted’s eyes dart between the ration cards on the table between you and over your shoulder to where Joel and Tess are standing. Joel’s stance is wide, his hands shoved in his pockets, his brow hard. His eyes are glued to you, and you follow Ted’s eyes, glancing back at your husband and your friend.

“Don’t worry about them,” you tell the kid. “Look at me.”

“I told you, Liv, I don’t know where—”

“You don’t know where he is, yep, I heard you the first time. But I know it’s bullshit, because I know for a fact you were running a job for Robert three days ago, before my ass ended up in lock-up. And I also know that I saw you just outside the warehouse district, and ten minutes later, I have FEDRA all over me. You screwed me, so give me this, and I won’t let Joel break your jaw.”

The kid whimpers.

You reach into your pocket, pull out another card. “Now, Ted. Or I walk.”

His throat bobs, but he reaches for the cards. Bingo. “T-there’s a red-tagged building, Stillman and Cross. He said he was taking the battery there, that he had someone else who would pay triple what Tess offered.”

You stare him down for a moment. “You know what happens if I find out you’re lying, don’t you?”

His eyes shift from your face back to Joel over your shoulder. “I do.”

“Broken jaws take a long time to heal,” you say almost casually, and Ted nods. You slide out of your seat. “See you around, kid.”

As soon as you’re close enough, Joel and Tess start to walk, and you fall into step with them, fitting yourself between them both. “Well?” Joel prompts, his hand finding the small of your back.

“Cost me three cards,” you tell them, “but he told me. Red-tagged building at Stillman and Cross.”

Joel’s brow lifts. “Wasn’t that a Firefly building, back when Tommy joined?”

Tess nods. “It was. Then they emptied out, and Miguel took over.” Her eyes shift to you, and she clears her throat. “It was empty again, last I heard.”

You shake a memory away. “I have a thought. We take the subway tunnel under Haymarket, that gets us into the building from below, and we can take him by surprise. He’ll never see us coming, and if all three of us go, he doesn’t stand a chance.”

“Pay this fucker back,” Joel says, and you can’t help your grin.

You go back to the apartment. Tess heads up to her place to get her bag, and the moment you’re through the door, you beeline for the wardrobe, digging out your guns, your knives, the bat. Joel had reluctantly put everything away after you’d convinced him not to go straight after Robert. You needed to be smart about it, to get the battery, and once the plan was more fleshed out, when you realized Ted would know where Robert was and you had a place to start, he softened slightly.

Only slightly.

Time has made Joel harder. It’s made you both harder, both new versions of yourselves you hadn’t anticipated turning into. The last decade has pushed you both to your limits, in every goddamn sense, but still, your love for each other? That’s never so much as wavered. Never.

It’s mostly weapons, in your bags. Ration cards, emergency supplies on the off-chance you need to make a quick getaway after you confront Robert. Bolt cutters. Ideally, you’ll go, scare the shit out of him, get the battery, then come back home. You’ll plan a real route, get the truck from Lee, and off you go.

It’s pouring rain, by the time you meet Tess in the lobby and step back out into the streets. Joel keeps a tight grip on your hand as you head towards the subway, and all three of you are soaked to the bone when you reach Haymarket, you and Tess standing in front, trying to look casual while Joel clips the chain on the door with the bolt cutters.

You all step through, crouching to fish flashlights out of your packs. The bat is tucked between your shoulders, mostly hidden by your bag, but you go for your gun instead. “Ready?” Tess asks, and you both nod, heading down the stairs.

The flashlight beams light the way, revealing mouldy walls, cracks in the ceiling letting rainwater drip down over you. Joel shoves his hand through his hair, wet strands slicking back across his scalp, and you can’t stop yourself from thinking idly that he looks good.

The steps down were at least partially lit between your flashlights and the diffused daylight coming through the windows, but as you descend into the subway tunnel itself, it’s nearly pitch black. Not a shock — you used to meet people down here all the time to trade — but it still makes your gut twist. A few years back, you’d heard rumours about a swarm of Infected that had stumbled in through the opposite end, which fed out into the open city. No more subway drops for you.

There are multiple doorways that lead up from the tunnels, the few you’ve used over the years to get out of the QZ proper, others that have helped when you almost got caught out after curfew. There are a few offices, maintenance rooms and supply bunkers that have served in a pinch.

“That’s the one,” Tess says, pointing to one of the little staircases that lead up from the subway rail itself. She goes first, and you follow, Joel close behind, his hand bumping your leg as you walk up the few steps. Tess opens the door, stepping inside, and you go to follow again, but Joel hooks his fingers into your back pocket, stalling you.

There’s no noise, at first, and you move toward the doorway. When Tess’s shouted oh fuck! echoes through the tunnel, you bolt forward, gun raised, with Joel a half-step behind you. “What?”

Then you see it. The far wall of the office. You can just barely make out the body within the fungus, nothing human left, just cordyceps spreading across the tile. The face open in a silent roar, fungi sprouting from the mouth, the eyes, the ears. Frozen in place, creeping in every direction. Taking over, even buried beneath the earth.

“This one’s done,” Joel declares, shining his light on what used to be the person’s face. That’s one thing you’ve learned about the Infected, over the years: nothing lasts forever. The infection can only push the human body so far, and it gets to the point where there’s nothing left for the infection to puppet.

Beside you, Tess exhales sharply, a hand pressed to her chest. “Yeah, I know, I just…I wasn’t expecting it.”

Joel glances at you. “That wasn’t down here last time?”

You shake your head. “Nothing was. But when was the last time we were here, Tess? A year? Two?”

“More than that,” she answers, sweeping her flashlight beam over the body. “You think he came down after he was infected?”

Joel sighs, and his words send a prickle through you. “Maybe down here is where he was infected.”

Tess stares at the body for a moment before she turns away. You clear your throat, tap your flashlight to Joel’s. “Let’s keep moving.”

The office leads into a narrow hallway, a series of ladders that have been tied and strapped together leaned against the wall. Probably not up to code, but it’ll do. Tess slides her flashlight into the strap of her bag, and you and Joel do the same, both peering up as Tess grips the ladder and starts moving up. “It’s like they reframed the whole structure,” Joel says, tapping your ass as you move to follow Tess. “Probably in the eighties. Everyone was cutting down on apartment sizes to sell more condos.”

Tess pauses, shooting you a look over her shoulder. “This has been Construction Corner with Joel Miller.”

You sputter out a laugh, the ladder wobbling in your grip, and when you look behind you, Joel looks less than impressed. “Hey, I’d watch it.”

“Sure you would,” he grunts, swatting your ankle. “Keep goin’.”

A few more rungs before you call out to Tess. “How far up we gonna go?”

“Uh,” she pauses, swinging her boot off the rung and onto what looks like solid floor, “this far.”

You all shuffle off the ladder one by one, Joel grabbing your hand when you offer it, while Tess pushes on the makeshift door cut into the drywall from the inside. It’s been a long time since you and her came in this way. “This opens into the hallway,” she says, more for Joel’s benefit than your own. “What the fuck? Someone put a piano in front of this?”

Joel sweeps his flashlight over the ceiling, catching on old pieces of insulation and cracked drywall. As Tess pushes on the door again, something hits your nose and you wince, the telltale tang of wasted ammunition curling at the back of your throat. “Wait,” you whisper, grabbing her forearm, stopping her from moving the door again. “You smell that?”

“Gunpowder,” Joel answers, and the beam of his flashlight traces the door, down to the bottom, where you see a thin drip of blood seeping through the bottom crack, pooling on the floor. “Shit.”

Both you and Joel draw your guns, and you push forward, Joel calling your name as you shove your shoulder into the door, sliding it open. The body that was leaned against it slumps over as you step through, peering around, something in you twisting when you see the dead man’s face.

Robert.

“Fuck,” you murmur, stepping through the door completely, your gun still raised. Joel’s right behind you, his brow furrowed, Tess a step behind him. Both their flashlights rake over Robert’s body, and over the car battery on the ground beside him. Tess steps towards the battery, inspecting it closer, while you turn to Joel, seeing the displeasure on his face. “The fuck happened here?”

He just shakes his head, jaw set, mouth a firm line.

“Well, the battery’s no good,” Tess informs you, nudging it with her boot. “And he still tried to sell it. Twice.”

“You’re shocked?” you scoff, glancing up the hall. There are more Fireflies, all of them riddled with bullets, bodies propped against the wall. “Doesn’t surprise me one bit. Greedy fuck.”

Someone lets out a pained groan, somewhere nearby, and you all jump on the defence, guns raised. Joel steps in front of you as you move down to where the hallway crosses with another, and you move to his right side. There’s mumbled conversation, words you can’t make out as Joel presses himself to the wall, inching towards the corner.

“Shit…Oh god, just…fuck!”

Joel turns the corner, and you’re quick to follow, both of you with your guns raised, steps silent as you creep closer towards the two women toward the end of the hall, one helping the other to her feet.

Suddenly, the door you’re barely in front of swings inward, a young girl shouting as she surges forward, a knife raised. Joel moves quicker than you, blocking the blow and sending her to the floor with a grunted fuck. The knife hits the floor, and Joel swings his gun towards the girl. She looks up at him with an almost feral look in her dark eyes, baring her teeth at him.

She looks young, maybe thirteen or fourteen. Dark hair, dark eyes, pale. She’s got dark-coloured Converse on her feet, and for some reason, it makes you smile.

The sound of guns cocking rips your eyes from the young girl, and you turn to see the two women at the end of the hallway both with pistols pointed in your direction. “Liv?”

“Marlene?” you reply, officially confused as shit.

She stares at you for a long moment, her face pinched in pain before her eyes drop to the girl. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” the girl replies, her eyes still glued to Joel.

She goes for the knife, but Joel puts his boot over the blade before she can grab it. She bares her teeth again. “Ellie,” Marlene calls, assumedly the girl’s name, but she’s too busy sneering at Joel. “Ellie.”

Ellie whips her head in Marlene’s direction, and instantly, you see the fear that works across the young girl’s face. “Oh, shit!” she gasps.

Marlene loosens her grip on the gun, tilted the barrel of it away from your head. “No, it’s okay. I’ll be all right.” You see her face fall slightly. “You can’t be stupid like this.”

Yep, you’re fucking confused.

Tess, who you’d left inspecting the battery, rounds the corner. “So this is who Robert screwed us over with?” she asks, moving up to stand beside you. “The Che Guevara of Boston?”

You scoff, jutting your chin at Marlene. “War must be goin’ pretty shitty for you to be buying from scumbags like him. I know we screwed you once or twice, but at least you didn’t end up with a bullet in your gut.”

“Yeah, it’s been a fucking stretch,” Marlene asks, sagging against the wall slightly. “The merch was bad, and he obviously didn’t take fuck off for an answer.”

You squint at Marlene, but your ears prick when you hear Ellie mutter, “Give me my knife.”

“What do you need a car battery for?” Joel asks, ignoring the girl at his feet. Ellie reaches forward, and both you and Joel swing your guns at her. “Don’t.”

“Not at her,” Marlene nearly shouts, both her and the woman standing beside her lifting their guns again, pointing at you both. Tess lifts hers, aiming for Marlene. “Point it at me.”

Joel gives you a look before glancing down at Ellie, who’s pressed herself against the wall, her hands raised in surrender. She looks fucking terrified. “Joel,” you murmur, pointing your gun away from the girl, toward Marlene and her friend. He follows suit, and you hear Ellie’s relieved exhale.

“To answer your question,” Marlene says, “I need it for a better reason than you do. No offence, but Tommy’s just one man.”

“What the…” Joel mutters, but you reach out with the hand not holding your gun, touch his chest.

“Who told you we’re going after Tommy?”

Marlene almost laughs. “It’s our business to know things. You of all people should know that, Liv.”

“To know things,” Joel repeats, and you can see the anger creeping up his spine, feel it in the heavy beat against your palm. “You’re the cause of it. You turned my own brother against me.”

“Okay, Joel,” Marlene mumbles, nearly rolling her eyes. Your own anger spikes.

“That was a lot of gunfire,” Marlene’s partner says. You don’t know her name. “FEDRA’s gonna be on their way.”

“I know,” she answers, and she stares at the kid at your feet for a long moment before speaking again, her voice louder. “We were gonna move Ellie outta the zone tonight.” Joel’s eyes flick down to the girl, and you watch him for a moment before your eyes move back to Marlene. “But we won’t make it anywhere like this. Not for a while, anyway. So now I’m thinkin’, you’re gonna do it.”

You squint at the woman. What…

Behind you, Tess: “Why the fuck would we do that?”

At the same time, Joel: “The hell we are.”

And Ellie: “I’m not going with them!”

You can’t read the expression on Marlene’s face. She’s in pain, clearly, but there’s something more to it. Something you’re certainly not used to seeing on the Queen of the Fireflies. But then it clicks.

She’s desperate.

“Liv,” Joel says, tearing your focus from Marlene, his gun still pointed at her, “we don’t have time for this.”

You meet his eyes for a sec before your gaze moves back to the Fireflies at the end of the hall. “Oh, you don’t have time?” Marlene calls, and she’s not even hiding the desperation anymore. You can hear it clear as day in her voice.

“Who is she?” you ask, narrowing your eyes, tilting your head towards the kid on the ground.

“To you?” Marlene shoots back. “She’s cargo.”

“We don’t smuggle people,” Joel nearly shouts, and you put your hand on his arm.

“I can do it,” the woman beside Marlene says, and the Queen snaps.

“Kim, you don’t have a fuckin’ ear on your fuckin’ head, could you please!” It’s only then that you realize that Marlene’s friend — Kim — has clearly taken a shot to the head, because most of her ear is missing, blood smeared down her neck. Marlene keeps talking, staring you down. “There’s a team of Fireflies waiting for her at the old State House.” Behind you, Tess scoffs. “I know what’s out there. We were going with an entire squadron for that very reason.”

“An entire squadron,” you repeat, “and you want the three of us to do it?”

“I don’t have a truck, I don’t have a squadron,” Marlene says, “FEDRA’s five minutes away. What I do have is you. And I know what you’re all capable of. For better or worse.” Her eyes slide from you to Joel, and you inhale sharply.

At your feet, Ellie looks at you all warily. “What are they capable of?”

Marlene just keeps on talking. “You get her there safely, and they’ll get you what you need. Not just a battery, but the whole thing. Fuelled-up truck, guns, supplies, all of it. I swear.” Joel’s head turns to you, his jaw set. Somehow, this has become your call. “I swear,” Marlene says again.

Joel slides his boot across the ground, Ellie’s knife spinning out of reach. “Asshole!” she shouts, and as the three of you step away to deliberate, you stoop to the floor, scooping the thing up. It’s a simple thing, short blade, wooden handle with a metal switch. You slide your finger across the wood, feeling the weight of it in your palm, turning it over as you step back.

There are initials carved into the bottom, right along the edge of the wood. ASW.

“You trust her?” Tess asks you as you move away, Joel’s hand settling against your hip.

Joel shakes his head. “Me either,” you agree, giving a slight nod, “but she seems desperate.”

When Joel speaks, you don’t miss the thread of hope in his voice. “Firefly vehicle usually means repurposed FEDRA stuff,” he says, “so better-than-decent chance of makin’ it to Tommy in one of those.” He looks at you. “Get us to Lincoln too.”

You nod.

“The second we hand this kid over—” Tess starts, but Marlene’s voice cuts her off.

“Ya’ll talk it through, but please remember that I’m bleeding out.”

Joel reaches out and grabs your wrist, the hand holding the knife. His eyes are hard as you meet them, but he lifts his chin, and you nod.

“Okay, here’s the deal,” you call to Marlene, turning on your heel. “We take the kid to the State House, but we don’t hand her over until we get everything that we want. Everything. Guns, truck, ammo, whatever we ask for. Anyone so much as pauses, we kill her. Then and there.”

You’ve barely gotten the words out before Marlene agrees. “Deal.”

“Really?” Ellie quips, almost exasperated. “That fast?”

Marlene looks at her, that same desperation still laced in her voice. “You are all that matters. My team will not jeopardize that. Remember what I told you?” Ellie glances up at you, and you try to school your face neutral. “Now go get your bag. Now, Ellie.”

With a huff, the kid gets to her feet and stalks into the room she’d leapt out of. You all just stare each other down until she returns, a green and blue backpack in her hands. She stares at Marlene, and Tess turns on her heel, heading back down the hallway. Joel touches your arm, nodding his head in the direction Tess went. “Let’s go.”

Ellie stares Marlene down until she nods, and then spins, shoving Joel with her shoulder as she goes, plucking her knife out of your hand before pushing past you as well. Joel gives you a look, and you just shake your head.

“Miller,” Marlene calls, and both of you turn to look at her. “Don’t fuck this up. Please.”

Thunder rumbles, the moment you step foot back outside. It’s still early, nowhere near curfew, but you’re all quick to move through the city, circling back to the apartments. You need to regroup, gather more supplies, if you’re gonna make it to the State House.

What the fuck did you just agree to?

Tess leads the pack as you stride through the rain, Ellie behind her, you behind Ellie, Joel behind you. You don’t miss the way the kid pulls her hood over her face every time you pass a FEDRA soldier, flinches every time one of those big FEDRA trucks rolls past on the street.

Somewhere between the Firefly building and your apartment, Joel grabs your hand, pulls you back into step with him. “I don’t like this,” he says softly, his tone rough.

You lace your fingers with his. “I don’t either. Doing Marlene a favour wasn’t exactly high on my list of things to do. But if they pull through and get us what we need, then it’s worth it, right?”

The furrow in his brow deepens, but he squeezes your hand, gives a slight nod. “Right.”

It’s not long before you’re inside the building, climbing the stairs up to your floor. Ellie’s foot slips on one of the steps, nearly sending her tumbling back. Out of instinct, you grab her by the arm, pushing her back upright. She shoots you a look over her shoulder, her eyes wide. “Thanks.”

You just nod.

Joel holds his hand out for the keys as you approach the apartment, unlocking the door after you toss them to him. You push the door open, stepping aside for Ellie to enter after Joel gestures for her to step forward. “Give us a minute,” you say, stepping back out into the hall, pulling the door shut. It earns you a shouted what the fuck! from the kid, but you ignore it.

“So, what’s the plan?” Tess asks, hands braced on her hips.

You breathe out a sigh, leaning back against the door. “When’s the last time we even made it near the State House?”

Joel pushes his hand through his hair. “Long way or short way.”

“We took the short way last time,” Tess says, glancing at you. “Nearly got ourselves killed.”

You chew your thumb. “So we take the long way? If things go bad, we’ll figure something out. Drop whatever we have to, head for Bill and Frank’s.”

“And what, leave the kid there?”

“If shit hits the fan, Lincoln first. We check on them, we resupply, and we head for Wyoming. Simple. There are more than enough cities between here and Wyoming with Firefly groups. Chances are we can find another one to drop her at.”

“Nothin’s ever fuckin’ simple, Liv,” Joel grunts, and you shoot him a glare. “Lee had the decency to warn me to stay off the streets tonight. Apparently, the Fireflies freaked FEDRA out, few guys got shot. This is risky.”

“Every single fucking thing we do is risky, Joel. If we wait this out any longer, someone’s gonna come snooping, or Marlene’s gonna rat us out and we’re gonna lose our window. You wanna get to Tommy, this is what we have to do.”

He just glares back.

“I’ll go check out the spot under Lancaster,” Tess offers, and you nod, your eyes stuck on Joel’s.

“Yeah, that’ll work,” you say. “I’ll come with you, keep an eye out. We should leave after dark.” You take a step away from your husband, your eyes still glued to his. “Stay with the kid.”

You start walking away before he can convince you otherwise, but you still hear his protests as you and Tess head back toward the stairs. “Wait. Why do I have to…Liv! Olivia!”

“You’re gonna pay for that one,” Tess mumbles as your feet hit the top step, both of your knees creaking as you make your way back down to the lobby. “He’s right, though. This is risky.”

“It’s all risky. Walking around in broad daylight is risky, these days.”

“You got me there.”

“I knew, you know,” you tell her, gripping the stair rail, “that eventually we’d leave Boston. Just never thought we’d be doing Marlene any fucking favours in the process.”

You reach the lobby, push back out onto the street. It’s still raining, but you weren’t inside long enough to feel dry, and your boots seem to find every puddle as you head toward Lancaster. It was one of the first spots you used, when you first started smuggling. A just-wide-enough storm drain that got hit in the bombings before the QZ walls went up, the tunnel under that opened up on the other side, a large slab of asphalt hiding the exit. More than once, FEDRA’s posted themselves in front of the entrance, close enough to the QZ wall that it gives them a good vantage point.

Today, not a soldier in sight.

“Good,” you mutter, glancing over your shoulder as you and Tess round the corner, trying to look as casual as possible. “We should head back through the market. Pick up some supplies. In case anyone’s tailing us.”

“You know, you’re just as paranoid as your husband, sometimes.”

“Oh, shut it.”

You only make it about ten feet before someone calls Tess’s name. You both freeze, and you haven’t seen Tess go that pale since the last time you ran into a Clicker.

Robin.

You turn slow, spotting Tess’s ex-girlfriend on the opposite side of the street. She’s dressed in full FEDRA gear, gun at her hip. Last you heard, she was still teaching at the school; what subject, you didn’t know, but clearly something that warranted her carrying a weapon. Maybe teaching the next generation of soldiers how to become shittier shots than the current ones.

Robin’s ponytail swings as she crosses the road to where you’re stood, her dark hair made darker by the rain. “Tess,” she says again, something unreadable in her voice. You don’t know her well enough to get a clear read on her. “Can we talk?”

Tess is rigid as hell at your side, and you turn to look at her. “Tess?”

“Yeah,” she says finally, returning your glance. “Give us a sec.”

With a nod, you wander a few steps back. You’re right at the edge of the market, and you busy yourself trading a couple ration cards for new bootlaces, glancing over at Tess and Robin every few moments. Tess looks exasperated, and when Robin reaches for her, your hand automatically wanders toward the gun tucked in the back of your waistband, hidden beneath your shirt. Tess grabs Robin’s wrist, her expression going hard as she drops her hand forcefully, making Robin stumble back a step.

Without another word, Tess stalks towards you, her face a hard mask. Behind her, Robin lingers in the street for a moment, staring after Tess, before her shoulders slump and she turns away, disappearing around the corner.

“What was that about?”

“Let’s go.”

You wander around the city another hour or so, waiting for the sky to darken, making sure no one’s following you. There are a few people that owe you favours, and you collect on a few, returning to the apartment shortly after curfew with a few extra boxes of ammunition, some dried beef, rolls of bandages.

When you push open the door of your apartment again, they’re both in the living room. Ellie’s perched on the chair by the window, a smug grin on her face, and Joel’s stood in front of the couch, like he just got up, hands braced on his hips. A familiar stance.

He doesn’t say anything as you and Tess step through the door, Tess shutting it behind you. Joel looks at you, then at Ellie, then back at you, his face expectant. “Lancaster looks good,” you say, pulling your coat and Joel’s off the hooks by the doors. Tess swings her back from her shoulders, pulls her own out. “Ellie, you got a jacket in your bag?”

“Yeah,” she answers, a streak of fear in her eyes as she looks at you.

“Okay,” you nod, “get it. It’s time to go.”

Joel walks over to you, taking his coat when you hold it out to him. He steps close to you, one hand finding a home on your bicep and squeezing. “You good?”

“Fine,” you say, glancing over your shoulder at where Tess is shrugging into her jacket. “We ran into Robin.”

Joel’s brow goes hard. “She…?”

“Tess didn’t tell me,” you reply, reaching up to brush an errant strand of hair from his forehead. “I don’t think she was suspicious. We were in the market, nothing out of the ordinary.” You incline your head toward Ellie. “How’s the kid?”

“Smart ass,” Joel grunts, and you have to stifle your laugh. “Seems scared though. Was askin’ me how many times we’ve done this, if we’d be okay.”

You nod. “We will be.”

“We going or what?” Tess calls, and you tug on Joel’s hand, all of you heading toward the door.

“Wait,” you say, and head for the bookshelf, reaching for the copy of Moby Dick that you’d cut the middle of out. You flip it open, pull out the portable radio Bill had given you. “Just in case.”

Joel just nods to you as you swing your bag from your shoulders, sliding the radio into one of the pockets. “We’ll see them soon,” he reassures you, and you just nod as you all step out of the apartment, pulling the door shut behind you.

You take one last glance around as the door swings closed. Who knows the next time you’ll see this place again.

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madsnowstorm · 1 year

Text

The Younger Kind Part 3 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley goes on another unremarkable date before heading home early. You stay and have a drink with him while you fix up his dating profile. Maybe now he will find some more compatible matches.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, and age gap (eventually 18+)

Length: 4300 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

Bradley started his Friday morning the same way he always did; by running around the house in a complete disarray.

"Noah, eat your waffles. We're going to be late," he said, his flight suit hanging halfway off his torso.

"I want cereal," he whined, and Bradley ran his hands over his face and sighed. Then he got a bowl of cereal ready and finished eating the waffles himself.

After burning his tongue on coffee that was way too hot and eating a handful of sour blueberries, Bradley was hauling Noah out to the Bronco and buckling him in.

"Is my babysitter coming again?" Noah asked on the way to daycare. He had been asking Bradley that all week.

"You had a lot of fun with her?" he asked as he pulled into the parking lot. "You liked her?"

"Yeah. Bring her back."

Bradley smiled and then he cringed. He liked you, too. And he'd made a complete ass of himself, flirting with you like you and he were the same age. You'd been sweet about it though. He wouldn't do it again.

"She's going to come over again tonight," Bradley told his son as they walked into the daycare. "You can play with her all you want."

At least Noah looked happy about it. Bradley had mixed feelings about the way he would be spending his evening. He was going out with a woman from the app, his first foray into online dating. Her photos looked nice, and she was a thirty-four year old publicist. He had no idea what he was going to talk to her about, but he was meeting her at a sleek martini bar at her suggestion. He didn't even like martinis.

"Bye, bub," Bradley said, kissing Noah and dashing back out to make it to base on time.

And of course he was already starving again. He kept meaning to leave some snacks in the car since he was always running all over town. The first person he saw as his stomach growled was Nat.

"Did you not eat breakfast?" she asked as they walked across the tarmac.

"I don't have any food at my house, and I don't have time to go grocery shopping," he growled, grabbing a smashed granola bar out of his helmet bag. "And I can't go tonight, because I have a date from that fucking app you put on my phone!"

Bradley was absolutely not in the mood to go on this date. However, Nat looked delighted.

"That's great!"

"Is it? Is it really? Because I'm meeting her at a fancy martini bar. I don't like martinis, and I don't like getting dressed up."

Nat rolled her eyes. "It's your first date using the app. It'll be fine."

Bradley headed straight for his F/A-18 and started to climb into the cockpit. He had the fleeting thought that he would rather be at home all evening, coloring and eating those peanut butter covered carrot sticks with you and Noah.

-----------------------

You woke up late on Greyson's couch with a stiff neck and a growling stomach. As you walked into the kitchen to get a drink of water before leaving for your first class, you found Greyson, hungover and eating Cheetos.

"Hey," he groaned, holding his head. "You coming back over tonight."

"No," you told him, reaching for a glass. "I'm babysitting later."

He pouted in a way that you used to think was adorable when you and he were in a relationship. "But we didn't even get to mess around last night," he whispered, wrapping his arms around you.

You managed to slip out of his grip before he got Cheeto gunk all over you. "Don't ask me to come over anymore if you're just planning on playing video games."

He just looked at you like you had two heads. "Isn't our arrangement to have fun together? You could have played too."

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. "I'll text you when I'm free, Greyson. Maybe we can hang out then."

You ducked into his bathroom to get changed and get ready to go, and you just knew stopping for coffee wasn't going to be an option. You would have to hope like hell that you'd have time to get coffee and something to eat when you left campus and headed to Bradley's house later.

You already really liked it there. None of his mugs matched. The area rug in the living room had a snag in it. Noah had colored on the wall in the hallway. It was cozy, cluttered and lived in. And you liked the way Bradley and Noah filled the space.

"Stop thinking about him," you mumbled as you drove yourself to class.

Your day went by in a blur. You'd managed to get a snack and some coffee around lunchtime, but your last lecture ran late. You had the choice to stop for food or get yourself cleaned up a bit before heading to Bradley's house.

"Stop thinking about him!" you mumbled again as you stopped in a bathroom to fix your lipgloss and your hair. Surprisingly, you didn't actually look too bad for having slept on a couch. And now you could just make yourself some coffee in Bradley's kitchen using one of his silly mugs.

-----------------------

Bradley ran through the locker room like it was a race.

"What's your problem, Rooster?" Hangman asked him, looking like he had whiplash as Bradley dashed past.

"I've got more than one, I can assure you," Bradley grumbled, pulling on clean underwear, gym shorts and a tank. "I need to stop for groceries and get Noah and be home by 6. See you on Monday."

He only had time to stop at the store he didn't like, but it was on his way to get Noah. He grabbed some fruit, macaroni and cheese, a few frozen meals, pasta sauce, and French vanilla coffee creamer. Then he picked up Noah, out of breath by the time he was buckling him into his carseat.

"Can we see the babysitter now?" Noah asked with a smile.

Bradley kissed his forehead. "Yeah, bub. We can go see her now." Bradley was almost as excited about the idea as Noah was.

Your car was already there when he pulled into his driveway at 6:15. Shit, he had told you he would have dinner ready for you. Fuck, he was supposed to meet his date in less than an hour.

"Let's go inside," Bradley said, scooping Noah up with one arm and carrying the groceries and his flight suit in the other. You must have let yourself in, because the door was unlocked. "It's just us," he called out, and you poked your head out of the kitchen. Bradley was already grinning as you smiled at both of them and came to get Noah from him.

"Hey, Noah. Ready to color again?" you asked, taking the child in your arms. Bradley's heart skipped around awkwardly as you smiled at him over your shoulder on your way back to the kitchen. That lipgloss was like a beacon, and he followed right behind you.

"I started making dinner," you told him. "I hope you don't mind."

Mind? Bradley couldn't think of anything better than you, coloring with Noah and making dinner.

"I'm sorry. I was supposed to have done that."

You just shrugged and set Noah down on one of the kitchen chairs. There was an assortment of coloring and craft supplies in front of him, and he got right to work.

"I figured you two got held up. I'm just making spaghetti, nothing crazy." Bradley watched you stir the noodles. Usually when he did that, they ended up in a gigantic clump.

"Well, thanks. I did get some pasta sauce. And I think there are some meatballs in the freezer. Oh, and this is for you."

He watched you turn to face him, and your eyes lit up when he handed you the coffee creamer. It was as if he'd just handed you a bouquet of flowers or twenty bucks.

"Thank you," you sighed softly. "I didn't get enough coffee today."

Bradley turned on the coffee maker for you. "That's pretty much the only thing I always have here. Drink as much as you want, please." He ran his hand through his messy hair. "I could use some too, I think."

"What time is your date?" you asked, turning toward Noah and finding him coloring the page with the hippos on it.

Bradley's eyes went wide. "I have to be there in thirty minutes," he said, grimacing as you strained the pasta.

You laughed. "Guys have it so easy. You can throw on some jeans and a nice shirt. Run your fingers through your hair, and bam, you're ready to go out."

He watched you work from behind, taking in your jean shorts and tee shirt. He should really be getting ready to go, but he didn't want to move away from you. "Nah, women have it easier."

You looked up at him over your shoulder again, something that already made Bradley smile.

"Now this reasoning, I've just got to hear," you said, raising one eyebrow.

"Guys don't need a lot to work with. Makeup and all that stuff? Don't need it. Is it nice sometimes? Sure, I guess. But just hanging out at home, eating popcorn in my pajamas with the right girl sounds pretty good right now."

"Yeah," you agreed, scooping spaghetti into three bowls. "It does. Maybe that's what Noah and I will do later."

And now Bradley was jealous of his three year old child.

-----------------------

You watched Bradley inhale a bowl of plain spaghetti in his fitted jeans and blue dress shirt. He looked like any woman's dream date, and you were sure he would end up scoring a second date if he wanted one.

"Bye, bub. Be good," he said, kissing Noah on his forehead. And when he took a step closer to you, a brief flash of him kissing you on your forehead crossed your mind. You bit your lip to keep from gasping, and his eyes tracked the motion.

When Bradley's lips parted before he swallowed hard, you had to reach behind you for the edge of the counter.

"I'll have my phone on. Not sure how long I'll be out. Should be home by ten?"

"Sounds good," you told him in a soft breathy voice. "No rush."

As he was turning to leave he reminded you, "Seriously, you're welcome to eat or drink anything you find."

You just nodded as he strolled through the living room and left to go make some other woman feel like she just won the lottery.

"Hey Noah, wanna sing some songs while I do some meal prepping for you guys?" you asked.

He was now sitting in the middle of the floor with his blocks out. "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star!"

"Good choice." You sang song after song, occasionally stopping to help him with his building projects. You sipped your coffee out of a mug that said My best friend went to Glacier Bay and only bought me this stupid mug while you portioned out spaghetti and meatballs. At least this way Noah and Bradley would have something to get them through the weekend.

You found some frozen chicken, and next time you could make them some fajitas or something with it. But this was the saddest kitchen you had ever seen. Well maybe besides Greyson's.

And that was the first time you had thought about him all day. You hadn't stopped thinking about Bradley and Noah.

"Another song!" Noah exclaimed, and you started Old MacDonald for him. You put the containers of spaghetti into the refrigerator and sat on the floor with your mug of coffee. After building a few towers, you got Noah to agree to make some construction paper crafts.

"Can you make me a dog?" he asked, and you made him a sad looking red dog. That was followed by a weird looking yellow cat and a blue moose.

"Let's make you a crown so you can be Prince Noah," you said, pushing his dark hair back from his forehead. He looked a lot like Bradley. He was so cute, you wondered what his mom looked like. You wondered what happened to her. She didn't seem to be involved at all, and Bradley never talked about her.

"And you can be a Princess!" he shouted.

"Sure," you said with a laugh. And half an hour later, there was a mess of construction paper all over the floor and a giggling child in your arms.

"We can watch one short cartoon, and then it's your bedtime," you told him. He already looked sleepy, and he couldn't stop yawning. He sat next to you on the couch with his yellow crown crooked on his head. Your own purple crown was a little crooked too, but you didn't want to take it off yet.

You didn't want to bother Bradley on his date, but you snapped a quick photo of Noah in his crown and texted it to him. You got an immediate text back.

Bradley Bradshaw: He looks cute. Where's your crown?

You pressed your lips together. Should you send him a selfie while he was on a date? Before you could change your mind, you took one and checked it before sending it to him as well.

Bradley Bradshaw: A crown fit for a princess.

You led Noah into the bathroom to get ready for bed with a gigantic smile on your face. You helped him brush his teeth and get changed into pajamas. You read him three books and got him a sip of water, but you were still smiling.

"Let's leave your crown on your dresser," you told Noah, gently taking it off his head as he sank back onto his pillow. "Good night," you whispered, but he was already falling asleep.

You felt soft and warm inside as you cleaned up the mess on the kitchen floor. You emptied the dishwasher and cleaned the counters. You picked up the toys on the living room floor. When you opened up a bag of Skittles and just started to settle in with a textbook, you got another message.

Bradley Bradshaw: I'll be home soon. Didn't want to scare you again.

It wasn't even 9 o'clock yet! Why was he already coming home? You weren't going to complain. The idea of him kissing his date goodnight or bringing her back here left a weird taste in your mouth. You popped a few Skittles to try to make it go away.

A couple minutes later, when the front door opened, you nearly choked on your candy. God, he was so hot. He was carrying a six-pack of beer and a bottle of wine, and you couldn't help but wish he'd invite you to hang out longer.

"You're home so early," you said from your spot on the couch, and his eyes met yours immediately. "Was your date awful? Or did she take one look at you and bail?" you asked, barely able to contain your laughter as you adjusted your paper crown.

His lips parted as he huffed out a laugh. Then he glared at you as he headed your way. "Okay, Princess. First of all, yes, she was awful."

You were about to ask what happened, but he continued on.

"And second, no woman has ever taken a look at me and decided not to come back for a second one." He was staring down at you on the couch, and now you couldn't remember what you were going to say.

You pressed your lips together as heat flared through your body. "You know, I believe that," you said softly, making him chuckle. "What was wrong with her?"

He just shook his head and heaved a sigh. "Doesn't like kids."

You scoffed. "Well she'd like Noah if she gave him a chance. He's an angel."

Bradley smiled down at you before taking a seat on the couch so that his thigh was rubbing yours.

"Was he good tonight? No tears at bedtime?"

"Mmm, he was perfect," you managed to say as his body heat radiated through his pant leg.

"That's good. Hey, I need a drink. Do you want something?" he asked, holding up the wine and the beer. "I wasn't sure what you liked, but I sure as hell wasn't about to drink a thirty dollar martini."

He had thought about you when his date ended. He had thought about coming back here and having a drink with you. He had thought about what you might like. You needed to catch your breath. "Sure. I'll go grab some glasses." When you started to move, Bradley pressed the wine bottle against your leg.

"No, I'll go. You stay here."

You watched him walk away, and then you buried your face in your hands. You'd never make it out of here with your dignity intact if he kept being so sweet.

"You cleaned the kitchen," he called from the next room. He returned with two mismatched glasses and a corkscrew. "You didn't have to do that."

"I made you some meals, too. Your refrigerator reminds me of my ex-boyfriend's fraternity house," you said, pretending to shudder as he looked at you.

"Ex-boyfriend, huh? Is there a current one?"

You were going to melt. You were going to slide onto the floor and pass out. "No." You were surprised your voice came out as steady as it did. He looked pleased. He was smiling as he sat down next to you again.

"That's good. Wouldn't want to keep you here in the evenings and make him miss you. Wine or beer?"

It took you a second to realize he was asking you a question. "Um, wine." Your mouth felt dry as you watched him open the bottle and pour some for you. "So did you just ditch your date and stop at the liquor store?"

Bradley snorted as he poured himself some wine as well. "Pretty much. I should have known it would be bad from the get go, you know?" he asked, setting the bottle down and clinking his glass to yours. "She likes the opera and martini bars, and I... don't. Not that I can't hang, but I would just rather-"

"Eat popcorn on your couch in your pajamas. Yeah, I know," you said with a smirk. He just looked at you again like he couldn't quite make sense of you. "So where did you meet her anyway?" You picked up your bag of Skittles and ate a few before handing them to him.

"On an app," he said before he dumped a few directly into his mouth.

"You're on a dating app?" You were surprised.

"Yep. My friend hijacked my phone and downloaded it. I don't even know what all she put in my profile."

"Gimme your phone," you said, holding out your hand. "I want to see it."

He just entered his passcode and groaned. "Fine, but I get to finish the Skittles." He handed over his phone and then dumped all of the remaining candy into his mouth. You watched him chew for a moment before you looked down at his phone.

"Holy shit," you whispered.

"What's wrong?" he asked, leaning a little closer to you.

"Nothing, it's just your photo."

"Is it bad? Nat said all my photos were terrible."

You laughed right at him. "No. It's very good."

----------------------

Bradley was not going to be able to keep his cool for much longer. He just sipped his wine, wishing there was more candy for him to stuff into his mouth.

"It's good?" he asked you as you scrolled through his profile.

"Oh yeah. Both of them are. But you need more photos than just the two. Wait, golden retriever energy?" You burst out laughing and let your eyes wander all over his face. "Yeah, I can see that."

"I still don't understand what that means," he grumbled, leaning closer again as you opened the tab for his matches.

"You have almost three hundred women trying to chat you up!"

He just scratched his mustache. "I do? Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Look," you said, holding the phone up. "That's insane. Didn't you set any filters?"

"Huh?"

"Filters," you mumbled. "There's gotta be... oh, here we go. You need filters. Otherwise you look desperate. Or like you just want to hook up." You met his eyes, seemingly searching for an answer.

"I'm not desperate. And I don't want to just hookup," he promised, leaning back against the couch and watching you work.

You leaned back too, nearly resting your face against his shoulder. He wished he could just match with you on the app and call it a day.

"Okay, what's the age range you're into?" you asked softly, your purple crown sliding down a little bit on your forehead as you juggled his phone and your glass of wine.

"Um, I guess my age?"

You rolled your eyes at him. "You're only interested in women who are specifically thirty-six years old?"

"Well, no. I guess broader than that," he replied. He was about to say twenty-five to forty, but he changed his mind at the last second. "How about twenty-four to forty?"

You looked at him and smiled. "Okay," you murmured, typing something into the app. "Now there's a little checklist where you can make different selections. Would you date someone with kids?"

"Yes."

"How about a smoker?"

"No."

"What about...."

Bradley listened to you ask him each question, and he answered all of them for you. But he couldn't stop looking at you, curling up closer and closer to him. Your face was so cute and animated. Your eyes were so expressive.

"And now," you said, grinning at him. "It's time for some more pictures. You don't have any other photos saved to your phone?"

"You can look. But it's all just pictures of Noah," he said, realizing too late that when you opened his photo gallery, his most recent one was the selfie you sent him.

"Oh," you whispered, grinning down at his phone before pressing your lips together. Bradley was too embarrassed to say anything, so he just let you swipe through his photos. "Mostly Noah," you said softly, still smiling at all of them. "Looks like I'll just have to take some."

You held up his phone and took a picture of him before he could stop you. "Oh, please don't post that," he told you, reaching for his phone, but you held it up over your head in an effort to keep it away from him.

"What? You looked okay," you said, glancing up at the screen. "It needs a little something extra though." Carefully, you removed your paper crown and set it on his head, your fingers brushing through his hair. They were gone in an instant, but now he was craving your touch. It was insane how close you were to him. You shouldn't be this close.

"How's it look?" he whispered.

"So cute," you said with a laugh, and he let you snap a photo. "We could post this one and say A Prince looking for his Princess."

"Absolutely not."

"Come on! I'm sure anyone would jump at the chance for a second or third date with that!"

Your whole face was lit up when you talked, and Bradley just wanted to play along. "Nope," he said. "It's your crown anyway. Maybe I'll just stick with calling you Princess." He gently set it on your head again, letting his fingers graze your hair.

You sucked in a deep breath. "Only for you and Noah. He did tell me I was a pretty Princess earlier."

Bradley wanted to kiss you. He really thought you would let him if he tried it. He let his knuckles brush against your cheek before he pulled his hand away, causing your eyes to flutter closed while your lips parted.

"Looks better on you anyway," he whispered, memorizing the way your eyelashes brushed your cheek where his hand had just been.

Why couldn't he feel even a fraction of this attraction to either of the women he'd gone on a proper date with? Women who were his age. What was he even thinking here?

It was as if you could read his mind when you opened your eyes. "Well, if you'd just sit nicely for me, I could take an additional photo for the app. That plus the filters should have you matching with people who you're more compatible with."

Bradley swallowed hard. "Fine," he agreed, and you were smiling so much, he couldn't help smiling too. When you showed him the photo, he had to agree that he looked pretty good, and then you were adding it to his profile.

"There," you said, finally handing back his phone as you stood and stretched in front of him. Your arms were high over your head, and your back was arched like some sort of depraved ballerina from his fantasies. Jesus, he knew he could get hard for you instantly, and that thought terrified him.

"Thanks," he mumbled, his voice so deep and raspy.

"Now, instead of a million pointless messages and matches, hopefully you'll have a handful of good ones."

Your words made sense, and he mulled over them as you gathered up your things and headed to the front door.

"You'll text me when you want me again?" you asked softly, and Bradley nearly moaned.

"I will," he agreed, closing and locking the door behind you with a soft groan.

-----------------------

Good job, Princess. You just made him more likely to find a match online. Enjoy your babysitter fic @beyondthesefourwalls

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