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marisferasiop · 8 months

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Transplant: Part 2/3

MINORS DNI - EXPLICIT! clicking readmore implies your consent!

Summary: You and Ezra get closer; Joel pines; Tommy interferes.

Part One: ao3 / Tumblr

The weeks tick by and you’re not as busy- once the snow melts, the standard visit predictably turns from common colds and finding hypothermic people in the snow and dealing with ice- related slips and falls to finding errant infected outside the walls and a few burgeoning pregnancies inside them.

You’re talking to such a patient in an exam room on Saturday when you hear the door in the front jingle. You poke your head out and call that you’ll be right there. You finish explaining the process of a termination to the terrified young woman on the chair in front of you and leave her to her decision. “I’ll be back in a few minutes hon. Let me know. You can take some time, but it’ll be harder to bounce back the longer you wait. It’s really early now.”

You come out to the waiting area to see Tommy, Cee, and Ezra in a row of seats, looking expectant. “Hey, guys. What’s up?”

Tommy stands and waves a hand at the newcomers. “We’re trying to find jobs for these two. Cee has some trauma care experience, as it pans out, and before the slavers took their QZ and put him in the mines, Ezra says he was a- an herbalist?” He frowns and turns back.

“Forager, primarily smuggling in medicinal herbs and growin’ weed outside the QZ walls,” he chuckles with an easy grin. “But I have a keen knowledge of medicinal and ayurvedic foliage, as well as how to cure tinctures and blend salves and the like. I believe if I'm partnered with someone with a gun until I can train up my off hand with such a weapon, I can be useful foraging and working in that arena.”

“Right,” you glance back at Tommy, eyebrow cocked. “I mean, me and Sam can definitely use another for rotation. You want me to train Cee up in medicine?”

“I’m thinking you train Cee up, and take Ezra with you when you go on foraging rounds with the patrolmen, and he can make the salves and tinctures and whatever. And otherwise he can help in the community garden? Sort of part time in both til summer and fall when you will have more trips out, switch in the late summer and fall to more garden work?”

You nod, chewing the inside of your lip and thinking. You turn to Cee. “I know you're not too squeamish, which is good. You have an interest in medicine, though?”

“I've always wanted to write, honestly. Not much use for it, though. So yeah, I can do medicine. I don't not have an interest,” she shrugs.

“Fair enough. Although people like reading, still. People are still people, kid. Art is a necessity, even in an apocalypse. Write in your down time, maybe we’ll put your stuff on the library shelves,” you wink at her shy smile and turn to Ezra.

“Come on, pothead. I’ll show you the shed.”

Ezra laughs and levers himself up, still a little tilted at the hips. “I must riposte that moniker, soleil. I said I grew the weed, I never mentioned partaking.”

Tommy waves you both off and disappears back outside to attend to whatever chore he has today.

“Forgive my disbelief. You have always seemed like a man looking for any way to enjoy some creature comforts where you can find them.”

He makes a face you haven't seen yet- a slow, easy grin edging on a smirk denting his cheek into a dimple. You're helpless but to roll your eyes with a barely-there huff and turn away, beckoning them both to follow.

You lead Cee and Ezra back through the clinic to the back lot, wedged in a narrow alley between your strip and the one behind. There’s a long shed there, painted a flaking olive drab. You unlock it and throw both doors open, revealing a long workbench on one side under a window, covered in neatly organized stacks of mortar- and- pestles and rows of Mason jars filled with plain salve or clear carrier oils. Bundles of dried herbs hang from the entire ceiling and the other three walls. The shelves along the long wall are filled with jars of dried, sealed herbs and little pots of distillates, tinctures, and resins.

“This is quite the operation,” Ezra says appreciatively, eyeing the bundles and variation, the jars lining the walls and tables. He nods to himself and turns to you with a smirk. “I’m happy to lend a hand.”

“The old lady who used to run the clinic with me was a bit of a chemistry nut. I got the feeling she cooked meth Before, honestly.”

It surprises a laugh out of Ezra, his dark eyes sparking with it. It makes you smile, and you catch Cee looking every bit a teenager, like she's watching her parent be as embarrassing as possible and would love nothing more than to flee the scene.

“Well. I gotta get back to my patient, I've left her in the exam room long enough. Come back Monday after you drop Cee at school and we can talk shop. I’ll see you on Saturdays only ‘til you're done with school, kiddo. Pay attention in science and math.”

“Sure,” she smiles easily, and Ezra takes the bait. He saunters out of the shed and they wait for you to lock up before you go back in. They wave and amble off down the alley and you go back inside.

The girl has her abortion that day after Sam gets in to cover for your disappearance into the OR. You give her some solace in the decision. She's only sixteen. One of Ellie's classmates and friends.

And it is, after all, the apocalypse.

_______________

Yarrow. Dead nettle. Clover. Stinging nettle. Fiddlehead ferns. Wild asparagus! Mushrooms galore (though you test them very, very thoroughly). Dandelion out the ass.

Ezra is certainly skilled at foraging. Skilled isn't strong enough a word for how he uncovers troves. Gifted, perhaps. Every time he comes back to you and the trio of horses, he’s got a newly- laden basket and a wide, smug grin.

You make sure to gift him back all the smiles and conversation he can stand, which is apparently an endless amount.

Every now and then you feel your escort Cam’s eyes on you from the edge of the lake some twenty yards away, fishing. Cam is Joel’s usual patrol partner because they're both brash, quiet assholes and no one else can stand being with them for a full shift. You're sure a running commentary will be belated on Joel’s next patrol rounds.

Joel as a whole subject nags at the back of your mind as you carefully saw off a veritable wall of oyster mushrooms on a fallen log. He had gotten spooked again, either by someone in town or his own built up walls, and you've been relegated back to stiff nods and barely- there glances, the shadow of him hiding behind his windows instead of escorting you through town when your shifts line up.

It chafes against all the easy smiles and conversation and escorting back and forth from your mutual street and the clinic that Ezra gives you these days. All the attention and kinship.

Part of you thinks that the most-recent wedge Joel drove between you and him is because of Ezra. Because of whatever that patrolman said that got under Joel’s skin. You know he harbors doubts about being enough, a lot of the time. Enough for Ellie, for his brother. Not being enough for his daughter Sarah, who he lost on outbreak day. Because after he declined to share your bed the day you escorted Ezra home was one of the last times you’ve seen him in the flesh, let alone held a full conversation with him.

Ellie still walks home with you plenty, but like any kid she’s absorbed in her own world. Which is good, you don't need or want to drag her into yours. You talk to Ezra and she talks to Cee, and you split at the road between your houses, and you divide again at the fence line. Sometimes he’s a shadow in the window, and sometimes she pauses to use her key to get inside.

The next day is the same; meet Ezra on the road and walk to the clinic, sometimes he leaves you there with a wink and heads for the nursery and sometimes he goes through the clinic with you and exits out to the shed and meets you back in the hallway for meals. You both walk home with the girls and split at the road. Day in, day out.

One day he asked you to come over for dinner.

“Anytime, not- not now, if it’s not convenient. You know best where to find us,” he smiles, and ducks his head and meanders off.

You blink down at the bed of dandelion you’re uprooting and suddenly he’s back in front of you with a fresh basket dangling from the loose curl of his fingers down by his thigh, watching you curiously. “Where did you fly off to, sol- chérie?” his curls float softly on the wind, that white tuft flashing, softly framing his deep, round eyes.

You huff a laugh at yourself and shake your head. He’s managed to find a few fat morels and another bundle of purplish- tipped asparagus.

“Dinner,” you say, and smile up at him, The sun frames a halo round his head and he grins, the brightness of his simple anticipation overtaking the sun itself.

“Were you, now?”

“I was,” you reply. He sets down his basket and offers you a hand up. You take it, and stand.

“I would like that.”

In lieu of answering, you dump your basket of dandelion flowers and greens into a satchel and stand. “I’ll see if Cam hasn’t caught a fish or two, since he's over here being a useless guard,” you tease loudly, earning the lazy ire of your gunman and escort. “Keep foraging?”

Ezra nods, squinting at you in the bright spring sun, and flashes that dimple.

Hours later, when the sun is setting and you’re riding the Whiskey and Rye back, closely followed by your gunman on his mount, Snickers, their saddlebags laden with tightly-bound bunches of herbs and a satchel of fish, Ezra pipes up.

“You can tell me it's none of my business, soleil. But what is the deal with you and your neighbor? I don't want to go crossing any boundaries,” he clarifies at your frown. You scowl at the back of Cam’s head and clear your throat.

“Nothing. Used to be, I guess. If you could call it that. ‘f you could call it anything. But he’s riddled with trauma, like most of us. And he stepped back. So, nothing,” you shrug. “No boundaries to cross, far as I'm concerned.”

Ezra is quiet for a stretch, pondering. You squint back at him, swaying along with Whiskey’s steps, and smirk. “I’m not hurt by it. He’s never been easy, and we had an understanding. An arrangement, more than anything. And he’s drawn back. It's not like we divorced and he kept the kid,” you snort. “I promise. I don't even owe alimony or anything.”

That finally draws a chuckle from Ezra, and you grin back at him, feeling like you won something. “Don't get a complex about it. And don't be afraid of him. He just looks tough. Big old baby, if you ask me.” You smirk when you see Cam’s shoulders shake with a silent laugh.

Ezra shakes his head and cocks a brow in your direction. “I am sure he is to you, soleil. Many men are prone to mirroring such domestic softness when presented with it. I have no doubt you were a gentle landing, while it lasted. From what I've heard from the women at the nursery and the men at the mess hall, he cuts quite the ah- intimidating figure across town. But alright. I won’t ask again, unless it seems relevant.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m probably the only person here aside from Tommy who’s never actually been afraid of him.”

“Had him made from the start, did you?” Ezra chuckles. “I would not be surprised.”

“Hard not to when he and Ellie showed back up the second time half dead and barely speaking to one another. I had them both on IVs for days, regular checkups, like I did with you. One thing led to another, et cetera.”

Ezra hums and is quiet for a stretch. “His girl and Cee are getting on like a house fire.”

“Ellie. She’s a good kid. She’s gay as the trees and smart as anything. What about Cee?” You cut him a gimlet eye and Ezra throws his head back with a laugh.

“Heaven above, soleil, I have wondered, a-haha! Maybe.” He shrugs. “She hasn’t said, but I do hope she knows I wouldn't care for her any less either way. I have long been somewhat ambivalent regarding the gender of my own partners, when I have such pleasures in this life, so I can’t see why she would hide anything from me.”

“You’ll find out soon enough, whether she sneaks off with Ellie or starts bringing a boy ‘round.”

“I imagine, based on getting to know her– in captivity of course, and then now outside of it– that Cee will do no such thing. I believe when she finds a partner, she’ll be all about sneaking off with them, not luring them home. Either way, as long as she is safe, I can’t say much.”

He grips the reins in his fist and shifts his weight to glance back at you just a foot or two behind. Not having much to say to that, you offer a friendly smile, which he returns.

“So what shall I prep for dinner, soleil? We’ve got a good handful of trout in our friend’s bag, and greens for days. The grocer should have potatoes from the nursery by now? I dug some up two days ago.”

“Definitely the asparagus. That’s the highlight of the day’s finds for me.”

Ezra hums and agrees. “I do have to admit, the buggers are hard enough to find that it feels like a veritable goldmine when you find a patch.”

The gate crew let you in and you ride the horses to the stable, making sure they got a treat each for their trouble. Cam makes himself scarce with the wall crew, and you squash the immediate feeling that the gossip has already begun. After offloading the herbs into the shack for the next week’s work, you and Ezra deposited most of the edible forage and fish at the mess hall and started the trek to Rancher Street.

You split at your front gate, accepting Ezra’s offer to come over after cleaning up.

“Gimme an hour,” you say with a smile, and he nods with one of his own, dropping a kiss on your knuckles. You roll your eyes with a snort of laughter and watch him go across to his own house, swinging the basket with what’s left of your finds.

When you turn to go up your own steps, you miss the stir of the curtain in Joel’s front window.

_______________

“The hell’s wrong with you?” Tommy asks, thunking down a condensating glass with two fingers of whiskey rimming the bottom. Joel scowls at him and takes up the glass, swirling it instead of drinking.

“Don't know what–”

“You damn well do. You were doin’ real good here for a long time, ‘n now you're back to being a cranky old asshole constantly, snapping at the patrolmen and eating barely anything and bein’ a fucking hermit. What happened?” Tommy drops onto a stool across the table at the Tipsy Bison and props his elbows on it.

“Is it Ellie?”

Joel rolls his eyes in lieu of answering. Tommy just frowns.

“Is it Sunny?”

“Why in the fuck would it be her?”

Tommy scoffs and shakes his head. “Brother, you’d have to be blind or dumb to not see that you two had been fucking for a while. You break up with her?”

A muscle rolls along Joel’s jaw as he presses his molars together. He takes a sip of his drink and frowns. “There was nothing to break up.”

In answer, Tommy gives him an unimpressed look. “So let me lay this out. You and your curmudgeonly old ass managed to get genuinely the nicest person in town into a friends- with- benefits situation, then dumped her, and still have the audacity to be an ass about it? While she’s out here keeping the town afloat and healthy every day like it’s all fine?”

“Tommy–”

“Did she dump you?”

“Tommy! I–”

“You know big brother. Sometimes I have to wonder how you turned out quite this damned mean. If anyone deserves the ass- end of your temper, it sure as shit ain't your kid or Sunny, of all people.” He dumps the rest of his drink into Joel’s glass and moves like he’s going to get up. “How long ‘til you’re begging for her back?”

Joel stares at him for a long moment before his shoulders slump in defeat.

“Probably not long.”

Tommy nods, snorting a noiseless, mirthless laugh. They're quiet for a long minute, and then: “She’s with the new guy now. I think. Went to his after they were outside the walls all day.”

Tommy arches a brow and hums. “Ezra’s nice. Don’t know much about him other than he’s sweet on her and good to his kid, works hard at the nursery and the herb shed. Maybe she’ll give it a go, decide that being a side piece for some old man dick isn’t her style after all.”

He laughs at the flat, dark look Joel gives him.

“If he's better for her, and she wants him, she should stay with him. I dont- I don't know if I could let another one in, Tommy.”

Tommy nods, finding the conversation unfortunately familiar. He heard something similar the first time Joel showed up in Jackson. It was just as heartbreaking then. “I think you should have learned by now to stop making your girls’ decisions for them, first of all. Secondly, what if she wants you both?”

Joel frowns like it's the wildest thing he's ever heard.

“I mean it. It suits your need to have that stupid- ass self-serving boundary up around your heart. And she gets the domesticity and affection she probably wants from him. Everyone gets laid and gets what they need. Might not be the worst idea.”

In answer, Joel just scoffs and downs his drink. “Maybe.”

“You best get to crawlin’ then, brother.”

_______________

Dinner was delicious.

Despite losing a hand and spending years as a grunt on rations, Ezra's bred-in southern skills in the kitchen had not waned a bit. He had Cee help him clean and filet the fish, which he pan-fried in a bit of oil and herb. (She had rolled her eyes and, after asking if he needed any more help for his date, made herself scarce. If he noticed the door across the street slam and a little brown head bobbing along by her golden one, he didn't mention it to anyone, after).

He roasted a handful of small potatoes and carefully blanched and roasted the asparagus. By the time he saw you walking across the road in a clean outfit, your hair coiffed and face fresh, he was turning off the elements and washing up.

You ate, and talked. Mostly about Before, but some about after. Friends you’d each made and lost, family that hadn't made it, or if they had, were still far off.

Ezra was from honest- to- goodness Cajun country. He had grown up trilingual in Acadia, Louisiana with a rooted Cajun father and Chilean immigrant mother. He was well- read and had been a freshly-graduated geologist working his first job with the national parks service in Yellowstone before the outbreak.

With no way to reach his family clear across the country, he’d stayed on in Wyoming. He eventually went with his ever-shrinking work group across to Bozeman’s QZ with the intent of continuing southeast on one of the work transfer convoys between QZs. A few had died from infection or raider attacks on the way to Bozeman, and the rest is history.

“A geologist. I bet they liked you in the mines in Bozeman, then, eh?” You asked, and his answering smile was only a little brittle at the edges.

“They did, which was not to my benefit, mind you. Even though my education and training was primarily regarding the dating of prehistoric stratum and lava flows, I was good at finding the ore the slavers wanted, even the little threads. They never would have let me go, you see? So I had to find a way out– for her. Even if it was the last thing I did. She had no one left to help her.”

“Awfully loyal of you,” you comment, resettling your weight in your seat beside him on the sofa. Ezra hums.

“Maybe. But when one has naught left to live for, what's a spare bit of loyalty for a friend. Especially to save them?” he basks in your soft, slow smile.

“Besides, she saved me, too. I forfeited myself to those smugglers, knowing full well I'd die, slowly and terribly, only hoping she’d run. She didn't, tough little thing. She just hid and shot ‘em when they were focused on trying to hold me down and hack my damned arm off. And then dragged my unconscious person for days to find help. What little I did to get us outside those walls wasn’t all that effort, really.”

“Ezra. It’s okay to be grateful to a child. You saved one another from a truly terrible ordeal, and now you’re safe.”

He hums and swirls the now-cool herbal tea he has cupped against his chest. You’re both at odd ends of his couch, knees up on the seat and facing one another. The sun is finally going down outside, nearing full spring now, with longer, hotter days looming.

“Soleil,” he says, and sets his mug on the upturned crate in front of the sofa, acting as a coffee table. “Allow me to press my luck a bit. If you are free to do so, and interested, I would very much like to kiss you. Or- or simply hold you, if that is not too impertinent a request.”

You can’t help the smile that stretches your cheeks to almost hurting as you copy him and set your own mug on the table. “Just one?” You tease, sliding forward on your knees until you’re on your right hip, knees against the back of the couch, your whole front leaning into his. It opens his left side up to hook his arm around you, his armless right side against the couch backing.

You’d give anything to get a picture of his face right this second, as you lean in, to keep forever. His dark eyes drop wide, soaking you in, and he leans down to carefully put his face in your path, still asking. In answer, you tip your chin up and let your lips meet in a chaste press, only the tiniest bit wet in the center.

“I may– need more than one, soleil,” he admits, and you huff a laugh. “Will you– mmff,” you cut him off by pulling his chin back toward you, opening up and letting him finally lick inside.

You both taste like tea and it’s warm and wet, something terribly soft and domestic that you haven't had in years. That you hadn't even remembered wanting in years.

The angle is awkward and both too far away and yet a link is developing in your neck from curving it. Ezra’s arm clutches you to him, his hand tight on your side and other shoulder moving, wanting desperately to pull you even closer, it seems. In response, you get onto your knees above him and pull away.

“Can I?” You ask, indicating a straddle, and his eyes blow wide, a pink tongue appearing to wet his lips.

“Christ, yes,” he pants, and you can't help another pleased smile as you throw your leg over his lap and settle down on his thighs. “You’ll tell me, soleil, chérie, if I get too ah– handsy. It has been. Years, actually, since I've been on the receiving end of such compassion.”

“Ezra,” you say firmly, tipping his face up to yours with a hand in his hair. Your other hand cups his chin, ticks a thumb over the silver half moon scar under his eye. “I will. Shut up and kiss me.”

“Ouais, soleil,” he mutters against your tongue, laving his own against it before sucking your bottom lip between his teeth to scrape it.

Long minutes pass, your hands in his curls, steering him and pulling back to tease with little sips against his panting mouth. His hand grips your ass a scant second before he hauls you closer, grinding you properly against his hardness.

“You are teasing me, radieux. Tell me if–”

“I said I would. Same goes. Where’s Cee, since we’re on the damn couch, like a couple of teenagers?” You ask, licking your own puffy, tender lips as you reach between you, deftly sliding your fingers behind the button of his jeans. You feel his belly hitch, as if ticklish, and snap your gaze back up to his.

“I’m not exactly sure. She went out with Ellie. But she’s usually back by dark.”

You both glance out the window to see it’s getting dim, the skuly going grey and orange and pink. “I have to stay at my house,” you say, accepting another kiss as Ezra sways back into you. He frowns, his brow furrowing against your lips, but lets you go easy as anything. You snort a laugh and push back, taking your fingers out of his jeans.

He frowns harder, pouting up at you.

“I’m the only doctor, sweet boy. And we don't have phones. They gotta know where to find me, if I'm needed overnight.”

“Ah, that’s alright,” he says, and manages to look only a little put out.

It makes you giggle again, a breathy thing that doesn't dampen your smile at all. You curl your fingers in the scruff under his chin and tip his face up again, against the backing of the sofa, and lean your chest against his. Ezra licks his lips furtively and swallows against your knuckles, relaxing back into the sofa as you press all up against him. His hand latches around your hip, holding you close.

“No one said you couldn't come to mine, though. Leave a note for Cee? Will she be okay?”

“Ah– I'd hate to spring it on her the first time, her just come back to an empty house and a note. She’s still a little jumpy. She’ll be here soon though, and I'll ask how she feels. If you want,” he adds, unsure if the moment has passed. He’s hard as a rock under you but you’re still in your jeans; he can’t tell if you're slick already or not.

He wants to think so.

You slide off his lap but stay close, allowing him to keep one leg stretched across his knees while you trade more questions and stories.

Ezra is spinning a tale about his cousin’s shrimping boat and a massive boil his whole family had done after. The phrase shrimps as big as a baby’s arm is bandied about, and then there is a clatter of boots on the porch.

Cee flings open the door, with Ellie on her heels. They're both grinning ear to ear and giggling but freeze when they spot you both on the sofa.

“Oh, hey.”

Ezra raises a brow and smirks. “Hey yourself.” He hangs his head to the side to peek around her. “Hello, Ellie.”

She waves. Cee frowns at you and Ezra. “We figured you’d be uh. Upstairs. Or out.”

Ezra and you both snort at her awkward hint. “As a matter of fact I was waiting on you. Didn't want to hike off and leave you alone, overnight, without warning. I assume that's not an imposition, then?” He leans his head to the side and peers at Ellie. “Your dad say you could stay?”

“He’s not–” she gets cut off by both your sharp frown and Cee’s excited interruption.

“Joel said I could stay there, actually. I was coming to get some sleep clothes.”

“Ah.” Ezra turns and glances at you, and you shrug.

“Alright. Well I'll be across the road if you need me. At Sunny’s,” he clarifies. “So I guess next door to you.”

Ellie isn't fazed but Cee makes a face and makes for the stairs to go up to her room. “Gross. See you tomorrow, then?”

Ezra chuckles. “You better get to school on time tomorrow. Other than that, you two have fun,” he smiles at her exaggerated eyeroll and winks at Ellie when the girls clop noisily up the stairs.

By the time they clatter back down with a stuffed backpack and matching grins and giggles, you're waiting by the door while Ezra waters his sprouting seeds on the patio out back.

“Be safe,” Ellie teases, ducking your harmless swipe.

“Same goes,” you tease, making a two-finger V in front of your mouth and giving her a salacious wink. Predictably, she turns beet red and scowls at you. Cee is busy tying her boots, thankfully oblivious to your gesture. By the time she's upright, Ellie has schooled her face and painted on her usual careless smirk, despite the pink dusting her cheeks.

“Have a good night, girls. See you tomorrow after school, Cee,” you wave them off. They hop off the last step of the porch just as Ezra comes back inside. He washes his hand and dries it, shoves his feet into his boots, tucks his keys into the pocket of his backpack, and lofts an eyebrow at you.

“Ready, soleil?” he slings his bag over his empty shoulder and laces his arm through the other strap.

It’s hard not to think of Joel while you're escorting another man to your house with every intention of sleeping with him. The fact that Joel is next door playing parent with the girls, including the ward of the man you're taking home to fuck, quite possibly peeking out of the curtains watching them (or you) walk across... You have to wonder if he's letting Cee stay because of Ellie, or because it gives him an easy excuse to keep hiding from you.

What if he sees you letting Ezra in? Or catches you both leaving for the clinic in the morning?

Does it fucking matter? When he's the one who stepped back, and left you hanging?

Should it?

Ezra interrupts your thoughts by catching your hand and holding it gently, tucking your fingers between his in a light squeeze with an easy smile.

Your heart thuds, delighted, and you squeeze back.

_______________

The second you close and lock your front door, Ezra's mouth is on you. He drops his bag and kicks his boots into the tray beside yours, pressing you slow and easy into the wall by the coat hooks, his hand curled protectively behind your head. You laugh into the kiss, feeling ridiculous and joyful.

He isn't pushy, or demanding. Not that you mind those things at all, with the right person delivering them to you.

Instead, Ezra tucks his fingers under your chin and tips you up, and sups a sweet, lingering kiss from your mouth. With his chest and belly keeping you upright between his long, lean weight and the wall, your knees soften and he is there, holding onto you with a low chuckle.

“How about you show me the way to your room, soleil, and I'll keep makin’ those knees weak. Once you don't need ‘em, of course.”

You snort and finish taking off your outerwear, leaving your keys hanging on the designated hook. You check the back door and leave a low light on in the kitchen, leading him up to your room.

Your house is the strange little cottage on your road, one of the oldest in town and obvious for that fact. It's an old A-frame with an abutment built at the edge of what would have been a forest before the land was cleared and developed decades past. The bottom level is a large open den and kitchen with a full bath tucked under the stairs and a small spare room to the other side. Up a narrow set of stairs, the loft is an open bedroom, where you prefer to sleep so you can hear everything in the house. If someone comes banging, asking for your care, you’ll hear it.

You lead Ezra to the stairs and push him up ahead of you. “I’m gonna use the bathroom, one sec. Go get comfy,” you say, and dash under the stairs to the doorway. You scrub your teeth and hands and run a wet rag over your bits and pits, hoping for the best.

If he didn't care about your breath or scent an hour ago, he won't now, you reason, and go back out to climb the stairs.

Upstairs is a large flat space, taking up half the room below it. There’s a toilet in a closet up here but no bath. Your bed and a dresser is up here, along with an old mirror and your chest of spare blankets. Your bed is soft and big enough for two. Ezra is stretched across it, above the blankets and still dressed.

“I wasn't entirely sure of your intentions, soleil. I want you to be explicit in your demands, and also to be aware that I do intend to court you beyond anything that happens tonight. If you don't want that, you best tell me now before I find myself acting the fool.”

“Ezra, shut up,” you giggle, pulling off your socks and undoing your jeans, leaving them open on your hips. “You are free to court me, you old rake.” He grins at your playful insult. “I don't mind casual. But I like you. And I think I'd like more, if you do, too. Sounds like it,” you shrug, and he nods fervently.

“I do, chérie. Any night I can sleep by you, hold you, would be a night well spent. And any day workin’ alongside you, or catching lunch at the mess hall. Or being out foraging,” he smiles wide and soft, his dark eyes fathomless pools. “Come here, please. Let me love you.”

You shuck your clothes and crawl onto him, letting Ezra claim your mouth while you work on his jeans and push them down his hips. He lifts them obligingly, kicking out of the garment once you get it to his knees. He tips upward and lets you pull his shirt up and off, leaving you both blessedly naked.

“Anything you don't want?” You ask against his mouth, already panting. Your slick has to be soaking his thigh by now from rutting, from how wet you've been since he’d asked to kiss you so sweetly.

“I’ll take anything you want to give,” he sighs, his hand ghosting up the curve of your ribs, marveling at your soft skin. He thumbs an errant scar here and there, evidence of life outside these walls, and kisses you again. “I want to taste you,” he says, pulling on your hip. You start to roll off so he can spread you on your back, but he tightens his grip.

“Sit on my face, soleil. I want to use my hand, and I won't be able to if I have to use it for balance.”

“Ezra,” you chastise, thinking of your weight and the mangled state of his face the day you met him, months ago now. His nose should be healed, you think fleetingly. He chases the thought away with another wicked kiss and tugs on you again.

“Come on, I would like nothing more than to be smothered in you, soleil.” He nips playfully at the inside of your knee as you give in and crawl upward with the urging of his hand on your hip.

With your knees bracketing his head and your feet tucked around his shoulders, Ezra urges your weight down. You had done this before, but it had been a long time. Joel preferred to have you against a wall, your legs over his shoulders, or under him, spread out and boneless.

Ezra wants to make it clear that he’s there to service you, in the most efficient way possible for him to do so while missing a major limb. You on top, controlling the pace and hopefully still going boneless enough to properly sit on him (if he can weaken your knees enough) that's what he wants. Suffocate him, he won't complain with a single syllable.

Ezra nuzzles into you, spreading your lips with his sharp nose gliding smoothly through your slick folds, his flattened tongue following to lap your honey up. He laves against your clit and sucks on it firmly before moving back down. You gaps, rocking your hips for more, giving in to his demanding hand on your hip. He pulls you down further so he doesn't have to reach.

He spears his tongue up into you, drawing more slick out to spread it around, encouraging you to thrust against his nose and chin. The scruff of his cheeks tickles your thighs, his mustache zinging little bursts of pleasure when you rub your clit over his open mouth.

“Oh, fuck– Ezra, I want you in me. Too empty,” you whine, clenching around nothing. He obliges with a groan, sliding his tongue back into you and bringing his hand up.

“Come back a bit, soleil. Let me suck you while you ride my hand,” he grits, impaling you with his two middle fingers, curling them with devastating agility against that spongy spot inside. In the next breath he sucks your clit between his lips, kneading it and then rubbing his tongue along the tender pearl inside until you're throbbing. You’ve got a hand fisted in his hair before you know it, your panting sounding far too loud in the loft.

Slick paints his cheeks and chin, threatening to drip down the curve of his neck as he works you. Ezra’s own stiff arousal is neglected, bobbing in the cool air as his hips stutter helplessly upward. He notices you turning to wrap a hand around him and makes a loud slurp as he detaches from your mound.

“Leave it, chérie. I want you to focus on feeling this right now, I want you to come, then you can do whatever you like. Come, now,” he demands, pulling you back to him. You curl your nails back in his fringe and buck on his fingers as he slides them back into you, three this time– pressing deeper and curling more firmly. He laps at your clit with the flat of his tongue, worrying it like a lolly.

Abruptly, with a strangled cry, you shatter around his digits.

“So good, chérie, give me all that cream. Squeezing me so tight, oh–” Ezra gives you a final lick, murmuring praise against your mound until you sit back and crawl down between his knees.

“Gonna suck you,” you gasp, still shivering back into your skin.

There’s nothing for it- Ezra’s got a stupidly beautiful package. It matches the stupidly cute look of shock and adoration on his face.

His cock is the perfect weight on your tongue, a nice handful, girthy and perhaps seven or eight inches. The ruddy, pinkish brown foreskin cups his ccokhead tightly, offering a smooth glide as you tug on his length a few times and press a kiss to his weeping tip.

“Oh shit. Oh, please soleil. I won't last a minute. I’m far too- worked up!” He chokes, hips stuttering when you lick up the rib on the underside.

“How long has it been, Ezra?” You ask, your voice like smoke. He blinks at the skylight above your bed, trying to think.

“I– years? Probably– oh shit. Probably two years?”

Instead of responding, you suck him down expertly and squeeze your tonsils around his tip. A desperate groan presses up out of his chest, his hand scrabbling in the sheets. You catch his wrist and bring it to your head, letting him hold on.

A little clumsily, he twines his fingers in your hair, not pulling intentionally but keeping you close. You bury your nose in the base of him, swallowing, and he groans, thighs flexing as he fights not to buck up and choke you.

“Oh, christ– soleil you– you’re so good. Oh, fuck!”

You pull off him and stroke a few times, teasing the weeping tip with your tongue and lips while he writhes, panting praise and gasping. It makes you feel surprisingly powerful, reducing a man to this, and you relish in it. A few more strokes of your tongue, a bit more suction and he's begging, asking you to pull off if you don't want it in your mouth. In answer, you press your nose into his pubic hair and swallow, taking him whole as he pulses on your tongue.

After, when he’s boneless and well- sated on your bed, you lay on his shoulder and twirl your fingertips through his sparse chest hair. You finally ask:

“Two years since you had a blowjob?”

Ezra chuckles sleepily, scrubbing his hand down his face and dropping it back to drape over your side. “I don’t think you understand exactly what kind of mess I'm coming from, chérie. The fact my dick is still even attached is a miracle after what those smugglers did to me. Wasn't much chance for using it in the mines, either. They worked us twelve or eighteen hours most days, and I slept in the shafts half the time. There was an inherent lack of desire, to be honest. That level of terror and anxiety, day in and day out, it takes its toll. All that aside from the fact that the girls in the brothel were practically children, and often far from willing. I had a - friend, I suppose, and we found some mutual stress relief in one another. When they died in a shaft collapse, I didn't expend the effort to replace them.”

You're quiet for a long moment, petting and relaxing. It doesn't feel right to apologize; he’ll just brush it off as pity, which doesn't fit right. You roll away a bit, urging him to face you so you can trace his eyebrows, stroke down the hook of his nose and the pillow of his bottom lip. He’s practically in a trance by the time you speak up,pulled by your softness. “I’m glad you got out, and are here, Ezra,” you decide on.

It appears to be the right thing to say. He rolls onto you and smothers you with kisses until you have to break away for air. “I am overjoyed, soleil. Sometimes– most of the time, it doesn't seem real. Like I must have died, and this is some sort of shockingly- pleasant afterlife. Or that I finally submitted to the psychosis of my prior imprisonment.” He buries his face in between your breasts and lays on you, listening to your heartbeat under his ear as it slowly calms. You card your fingers through his hair, petting gently until he’s snoring. It only takes a few minutes, which makes you huff a laugh, trying not to wake him.

You too doze off under his comfortable weight, waking in the night to pee and crawling back under the coverlet against him. He stirs a few times, curling against you and dragging you close.

When you wake, it’s fully bright out, late morning, and pleasantly cool in the house. Ezra is spooned up behind you, his arm curled under your neck and wrapped around your front, your hips nested and legs entwined.

It's almost unbearably comfortable, and you want to stay here all day instead of getting up and preparing for a day at the clinic. You lay silently for several minutes, basking in the warmth of the body pressed up behind you, the press of his lean belly, soft with sleep, against your lower back and the thighs nested under your rump.

Too soon, your bladder makes you aware of the need to get up. You groan under your breath, unwilling to move at all but already loosening Ezra’s arm from your ribs. He inhales sharply, half sitting in a daze and blinking around the room.

“Hey, you’re okay. I have to pee and get ready,” you say quietly, petting the white tuft at his temple. He nuzzles into your hand and then exhales heavily, flopping back to the bed.

Ezra yawns hugely, stretching his whole long body out and then sprawling in a lazy spool of limbs, shamelessly nude and adorably mussed. “Want company?” He husks, voice still claggy with sleep.

You snort, dropping a kiss on his scruffy chin. “If you want.”

You pad downstairs to the bathroom and start the water, letting it warm while you pee. When you step into the tub, you hear the stairs above you creak, indicating that Ezra is following. A moment later, you hear him going through his own ablutions before a tickly kiss is dropped onto your shoulder.

After doing your own, you reach up and behind your own head to scrub lather into his short curls, scritching over his scalp, and soak up all the skin pressed against yours under the warm spray.

In less than an hour, it's back to reality. But for now, it's wonderful.

_______________

A week later, after a few more nights of similar exploration and pleasant sleep, there is a knock on your door just as you're finishing cooking dinner. Ezra is sat at your island, laughing through a retelling of Cee’s school drama this week (the laughter is in empathy - she had been asked out by a notoriously misogynistic boy in the class above hers and had been appalled). He jumps up to get the door while you plate, hoping it's not the clinic but getting it is.

“Yeah I'll grab her. Come in? Soleil!” Ezra calls, coming back past the narrow half- wall separating the den and kitchen. “It’s Joel.”

“Oh,” you say, frowning. “Okay. Go ahead and eat,” you push a plate of seared cabbage and beans drizzled in sauce at him and drop a kiss on his cheekbone. He wraps his fingers around your wrist in thanks, soft as a breeze, and smiles at you.

As you turn to go meet Joel, Ezra's thumb strokes the back of your hand before he lets it drop, letting you go to create some privacy for what is likely about to be a tense conversation.

Joel is leaning by your mantle, cross-armed and looking utterly exhausted when you come into your den.

“Hey,” you say, stopping in front of him.

“Hey,” he parrots, frowning harder, like he’s ready to turn tail at the slightest hint you want him gone.

“Do you need something?” You ask. It's like pulling teeth getting the man to talk sometimes.

“I need to talk to you. Do you wanna go to the porch, or do you want me to come by, ‘nother time?” you don't miss his furtive glance toward the kitchen, mostly hidden by a blink.

You swallow, looking up at him. “I’ll overthink it if we don’t do it now.”

Joel nods in understanding. “Lead on, hon.”

You usher him into your spare room, which is sparsely set basically the way Tommy and Maria had left it some years ago when you’d arrived. He stands in the middle of it, glaring at the four walls and the unmade single bed and empty, open chest, while you shut the door and turn to face him. You hope furiously that you're not blushing too hard.

God, how in the fuck did you forget how hot he is? How much space he takes up; the presence?

“What did you want to–”

“I miss you,” Joel interrupts, barely saying the words in a low, quiet, but firm tone. You blink at him, trying to digest it.

“I’m–”

“I know you’re— look, let me say what I gotta say, or it ain’t gonna come out. I know you're with the new guy. Ezra. He’s probably more… More what you're lookin’ for in a lot of ways. But darlin’, I. I know I’ve not done a lot of good in the last twenty years. But you make me feel like I could. Like I want to. And I haven't had that, except for you and Ellie, not since Outbreak Day. And she’s moving on. I’m losing her. I’m going to. And I pushed you away because I don't want to lose you, too. And I bet you saw that comin’ a mile away- you always do. Because you're so damned smart, and good. I know you're with him. But I wanted to know if– if you wanted to try bein’ with us both?”

You stay quiet, knowing he's not done, but you can't help your eyebrows hitting the ceiling on that one. Possessive, protective Joel Miller…. open to sharing?

“I know how it sounds. But I know you love me. I know it. And I hate breakin’ your heart when I hole up into myself. But I can't help it sometimes. I’m tryin’, though. You an’ Ellie are making me try. If you had us both, you could have the softness he gives, the- the home life that I can’t - can’t handle, even if I want to, for you. And with me, you get– whatever it is you see in me.”

He nods at you, seemingly done and looking for all the world like he’s waiting for the sword of Damocles to fall swiftly.

“What about Ezra?” You ask, deciding to see how much Joel has even thought about this harebrained scheme.

“We’d… Ellie called it a poly-cule? Sometimes you're with me, sometimes you're with him, or alone. We just– share, but have our own spaces? And I'll work on my problems. I will.” He insists at your arched brow.

“But I think being with you steady and having a settled deal so I won't- can’t back out without a fight is going to help. Because sweetheart, you been too good to me. You let me go, every time. And I'm grateful for that, because I think I would’a been real mean if you hadn’t, and you don't deserve that, but it hurts. And I know it hurts you, which makes it worse.”

“And what if I wanted to have a threesome? Or if he wanted to kiss you?” You keep your face carefully devoid of emotion while you feel for the cracks in those infamous emotional walls.

“I don’t. Uh. My gut immediately said no, but truthfully, hon. I might. but– only if you're there. I don’t – don't have any interest, there, not like that.”

You're quiet for a minute and nod, chewing your lip. “Is it my turn to go?”

“Yeah. Go on.”

“I do miss you. A lot. I think about you all the time. And I'm sure Cam has been filling your ears with all kinds of nonsense about our foraging trips. But I like Ezra. A lot. He's sweet, and goofy, and easy. I’ll talk to him. He may be more interested than you’re giving him credit for.”

Joel nods, his jaw working, staring somewhere around your knees. “Alright.”

“But,” you start, stepping closer, and then again when he straightens and blinks up at your face. “What this isn't going to be is an excuse to run off with your tail between your legs every time someone notes that we’re together. It's not an excuse to fuck me behind his back or cut him out when it's convenient for you. We talk, we negotiate and we’re open, or we don't even try it. Can you do that?”

Looking surprisingly chastened, Joel nods.

“Alright. Go eat and get some sleep, you look half dead. Want some of what we have? I can make up a container.”

“Nah, Ellie’s note on the door said she cooked an’ left me some. Thanks,” he adds, feeling abruptly very awkward. He’d like to go pretend this conversation never happened for a day or two, but that's exactly what you’re getting at.

“Alright. Come on,” you open the door and lead him back to the front, only a little surprised to not see Ezra lurking about, trying to overhear. You hear him clinking about in the kitchen.

Joel stops on the porch, looking back at you. His fingertips rub against the pad of his thumb, an anxious tell. You raise an eyebrow, waiting. “Can I– uh.”

“I'm not gonna kiss you ‘til I talk to him, Miller,” you tease, giving him a smile. He huffs and shuffles his feet.

“No, I was going to ask for a hug. You always. You give good hugs,” he mutters, seeming annoyed with the fact. You snort at him and step out onto the porch, letting him fold you into a hug that arches you backwards with the weight of it.

“Oof,” you exhale into his flannel, and wrap your arms around his ribs. He squeezes you to him firmly, once, and lets go.

“Thanks, uhm. Go talk to him. You know where to find me.”

“Alright,” you say, and watch him clop down the stairs and around the fence into his own yard.

You go back inside to find Ezra still sitting at the island, pushing his food around with a fork. He straightens when he sees you, trying to appear poker- faced and failing miserably. He’s anxious as fuck.

“Anything to report, soleil?” He asks quietly. You smile at him and huff a disparaging laugh.

“Yeah, actually.” You scarf down the last few bites of your food and take up the plates, putting them in the sink. When you turn around and lean on the counter, his eyes are dark, watching you carefully.

“Come on, chérie. It’s time to gut the fencer. Lay it on me.”

“He, uhm. He wants to know if we are interested in an open relationship. Like a poly situation.”

Ezra sits straight and blinks at you, baffled. “The man purported around town to be so possessive of you that he broke a man’s nose for flirting with you at the bar…. Wants to have a sharing arrangement?”

You can't help but chuckle. He's not wrong. “I’m just as shocked as you are. He said it was Tommy’s idea. Maybe I should go ask him what on earth he said to convince Joel it was a decent idea.”

“How do you feel about it?” Ezra asks, his furrowed brow smoothing out.

You shrug and shake your head. “I don't know. I don't want either of you to get upset enough to leave for good. I like you, baby. A lot. And yeah, I miss him, but being with you has helped, made it go away for the most part. But when he is around it's like salt in a wound. Maybe this would help, but I'm not willing to lose you over it. How do you feel about it?”

“I would be lying if I said I wasn't a bit covetous of you. But I have been in such relationships before, chérie. Communication is key. And from what I understand, your old man isn’t the best at that. But I am happy to properly meet him and discuss this if you wish.”

And he does, quicker than you expected. You wake up alone and walk to the clinic alone the next day, your brow furrowed in confusion until you round the corner onto the main street and see Ezra leaning against the porch of the clinic, talking to Joel. You assume that Ezra had simply woken and waited for the girls to come out of Joel’s house, and then struck up a conversation and followed Joel as he escorted the girls to school. With no teens to be seen and a massive rifle hanging off Joel’s shoulder for rounds, that is the most likely story. Your sweet- talking, loquacious partner is certainly bending Joel’s ear, by the look of it.

“Hey,” you say, stopping a few feet away. Ezra squints at you in the bright morning sun and grins.

“Good morning, soleil. Apologies for leavin’ you to wake up cold; I saw my opportunity and struck after it.”

Their conversation must have been decent. Joel barely even rolls his eyes at Ezra’s explanation. You can't help the amused huff that escapes you. “Mornin’ to you too, grump.” You wink at Joel and he harrumphs at you.

“G’mornin’ hon.”

“You got patrol today?”

“Mmm,” he nods, adjusting the hang of the gun on his shoulder. “Goin’ to check that resort about three miles up into the mountains, now the snow’s melted.”

“Yikes. Keep awares. You’ll be back by dark?”

“Yes ma’am,” he drawls. Ezra is watching you back and forth, like someone sat on the net of a tennis match. Joel shifts his weight and holds up a hand like he’s asking for yours.

When you step forward and drop your hand in his, he drops a kiss on your knuckles, leaving you a little stunned, and turns away.

“Y’all have a good day. See you tonight,” he calls over his shoulder, already stalking off with his shoulders up around his ears. You snort and flex your hand, looking back at Ezra. He looks bemused.

“What?” you ask, giggling at his look.

“Oh nothin’. The old man just asked what I did to win you over, and I said lots of little touches and even more kisses. And that you like bein’ around your people, and not by yourself.”

You nod, scuffing your boots in the grass. “That's a fair synopsis.”

Ezra watches you another moment and stands, stepping closer. He hooks his hand around your backpack strap and reels you in, grinning. “I gotta go to the nursery today, soleil. But I will be here with bells on at lunchtime.”

“Alright. Have a good day, baby.” You give him a kiss with your hand cupped around his jaw, and he squeezes you close round the ribs for a beat before letting you go unlock the clinic. When you're inside, he waves and ambles off in the direction of the nursery.

_______________

Joel is annoyed.

His trailmates today consist of Tommy, two young trigger-happy idiots he calls the Dukes of Hazzard, a grizzled masc woman named Peg, and Cam.

Tommy started the trail out by pairing the young ones off at the tail, he and Joel in the center, and Peg and Cam on the scout front. Joel’s good ear is on the outside of the group, his flank covered by effective if jumpy kids, and he’s on his preferred mount, a roan horse called Strawberry.

That ain't what he’s annoyed by.

He’s annoyed that Tommy keeps loudly asking him about you.

“Saw you talkin’ to her man this mornin’ while I was getting trail rations at the grocer. What's that about?”

Joel just harrumphs at him and tightens the reins in his fist.

“Aw come on, brother. Did you talk to them?”

He is met with more silence. Tommy lets it be for maybe half a mile.

“Y’know. I’ll switch you and Cam out on their supply runs if you want. They’re due to go out again next week.” Tommy hides his smirk when Joel finally glances his way, curiosity heavy on his brow.

“Yeah?”

Tommy can't help but snort a laugh. “Yeah, I'm sure he’s tired of them anyhow. Might as well be three lovebirds ‘stead of two and an awkward watchman.”

Joel scowls at him, and Tommy just grins.

“Don't call me that,” Joel grumbles, driving his heels into Strawberry’s sides to get her to push forward a few yards, gain some distance.

“I won’t if you start actin’ like it, and give me some details! Or I can keep ribbing you!”

Joel just huffs and takes the verbal beating. He can't give details he doesn't have, and he doesn't think he’d share them anyway.

They get to the resort and find a huge stash of salt for the pools and roads, medicine in a meebay wing, and some tinned food. They haul everything they can carry back to Jackson and, barring a sprained ankle on Peg (exacerbating a prior injury; she walks it off) there were no injuries to report.

By the time Joel is walking to the end of Rancher Street, it’s dark. Your lights are on, and Ezra’s are dark. Joel peeks around the side of his house and sees the garage light on. Ellie’s in there, probably working away on her little hideaway. He stands there in the driveway for a long moment, wanting to see her and wanting to see you.

In the end, Ellie makes the choice for him.

“JOEL!” she shouts, throwing the door to the garage open and cupping both hands around her mouth. He winces and moves, letting her eyes catch on him in the drive.

“Stop yellin’,” he grouses, walking to her. She’s ushering him into her little house, talking a mile a minute. Cee is there, on a sofa, reading a graphic novel. She glances up at him when he walks in and waves. He nods back.

“What’d you need?”

“Can you help me build a shelf, for right here?” She points to a rectangle of space on one wall and moves her hands up and down like she’s miming the shape of a bookshelf.

“Like on the wall or like a bookshelf?” He asks, eyeing the space.

“A bookshelf!”

Joel lets a smile tick up one side of his face. “Alright. I’ll see what wood I can rustle up. You girls ate yet?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah,” the both chime in. “Left you some on the stove,” Ellie adds, going back to sit on the loveseat by Cee.

Feeling dismissed, Joel nods. “Okay. Thanks, kiddo. G’night. Night, Cee,” he says to their twinned waves, and sees himself out.

When he’s on the last step of his back porch, you open your back door and lean in the doorframe. “Hey stranger,” you say, and he pauses. He can hear the faint clink behind you in the kitchen, implying that Ezra is over.

“Hey yourself,” he replies, leaning on the porch railing.

“Good run today?”

Joel shrugs, “No injuries, got some goodies. Got harassed by my damn brother.”

You laugh, and he can’t help but smile. He’s missed the sound of your laugh. “About me?”

“‘bout both’a you,” he says, pointing at the door behind you with his chin. Mirth twinkles in your eyes and he heaves a weary sigh. “I’m off rounds tomorrow, if you wanna talk. But I'm beat tonight, hon. Not sure I can take much conversation.”

“I was gonna ask if you wanted to stay over, sleep it off, actually.”

Joel freezes, watching you carefully. You recognize the look; he gives it to other people often enough. Trying to figure out their angle, why they’re goading him, and whether it's worth it.

“He’s not stayin’?”

You shrug. “He doesn't have to. He’s the one that offered, actually. Come on,” you say, winking, and disappear back inside.

Joel stays there another second, deciding, before coming to the conclusion that there is no decision. He wants to sleep next to you, even if Ezra is on your other side. He goes into his own house and snags a change of clothes and his toothbrush and goes back out the back door, locking it and calling out for Ellie.

“Going next door for the night!” He waits for her Okay to carry back across the driveway and hops the low fence over to your side, clambering up your narrow back steps to your door.

Joel enters your house and hears you talking from the living room. He follows through the kitchen to the half wall and into the larger room, spotting you and Ezra sitting on the sofa, chatting.

“Uh. Hey,” he says, pausing in the doorway.

“Hey yourself,” You give him a beaming smile and scoot over, patting the far end of the couch for him to join you. Ezra is on one end, you in the middle. “Come here if you want. Or, you can abuse my shower if you prefer.”

Joel presses his molars together and sits. He glances at Ezra, who is watching you and Joel both with a faint smile ticking up his mouth. Joel nods at him and waits for you to initiate conversation. It’s quiet for a long moment.

“I was just going,” Ezra says, just as Joel gives in and breaks his silence.

“I don't care if you stay.”

“Oh,” Ezra says, glancing at you.

“My bed is big enough. I’ll gladly be the center of attention,” you chuckle.

And so, fifteen minutes later, you’re stretched out in bed facing Ezra, nearly asleep in the face of his soft snores. The man can fall asleep on a fence line now that he’s safe. Your face is tucked into his chest, his arm limp on the bed between your bodies.

Joel pads quietly up to the loft and comes around to the open space behind you, kneeling on the mattress and stretching out with an old man groan. You exhale sharply in a silent laugh, reaching back for his hand. Joel rolls to spoon up behind you, settling your bum on his thighs and his belly in the arch of your lower back, just the way you like. He hums against your hairline, wrapping his arm around your waist. His skin is just slightly damp from the shower, smelling like the town’s green soap, your favorite, hoarded in chips and fragments of bars in your linen cabinet to preserve it.

“Missed you,” Joel whispers against your nape, and you turn your face up to the ceiling, glancing back at him. Your arm lifts and bends back, fingers curling in his damp hair.

“I missed you, too,” you whisper back. He kisses your cheekbone and squeezes you round the ribs once before resettling. You feel him slowly loosen against you until his snores softly mingle with Ezra’s, pulling you to sleep.

In the dim morning, the backs of Ezra’s knuckles are resting against Joel’s belly, his arm loose over the dip of your waist, sandwiched between your back and Joel’s softness. Joel is in much the same position, his arm spooled out over your hip, unmoved since he woke up when the sunlight brightened above your bed. He can feel each of Ezra's even breaths against his knuckles, the tickle of his sparse chest hair since he’d gone to bed in just shorts.

He thinks vaguely that he should be offended, repelled. He should flinch back and move his arm, pull away from such a casual, careless touch. He’s meant to be cuddling you, not sharing a cuddle with him. His next thought is that moving away will surely wake you, and he doesn't want that, at all. He wants to lay here. He wants to be still and soft and comfortable, even touching Ezra.

He stays.

AN: if you finished or came back from part 1 for more, that means you liked it! please like and reblog! this is not an archive, views depend on your sharing! (so does my continued writing!)

Part 3 should go up on ao3 this weekend! bookmark and sub there for the quickest updates!

Edit: link to part 3: link

#ezra (prospect)#prospect (2018)#joel the last of us #joel miller #joel x reader #ezra x reader #joel x reader x ezra #poly dynamics #the last of us

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lu-undy · 3 years

Text

Chapter 54 - SBT

Here it is!

"So, what's cookin'?"

Mundy entered the kitchen and went behind Lucien's back. He slid his hands on his sides, on his white shirt, and felt the Frenchman's skin shiver slightly.

"Hm, well, given what I have in the fridge, I am making my favourite. It is a French classic."

"Oh, what's that?"

"Let us see if you can guess from the ingredients." Lucien chimed as he lifted the lid of the pan up, unveiling the bubbling content.

"Alright, so, you put onions, garlic, you cut peppers, courgettes and aubergines… Hm… What's that? Tomato sauce and herbs…"

"You want to taste it?"

"Yeah, smells very good."

"Here." Lucien grabbed the wooden spoon and took a bit of the sauce before putting the lid back on the saucepan.

Mundy got his mouth closer.

"Wait! It's very hot." Lucien blew on it gently for a minute or so and all that Mundy could do was stare at those pouting lips…

"Here, you may taste now." Lucien got the spoon closer to Mundy's lips while holding a hand underneath it, in case it spilled a bit.

The Aussie tried a bit of the tomato sauce and closed his eyes.

"Mmh…! No idea what this is, but crikey, it's tasteful. I can feel the veggies' in the sauce!" He opened his eyes and smiled.

Lucien grinned in pride.

"It is a ratatouille. Oh, let me help…"

Mundy had a bit of sauce dripping from his lip. Lucien wiped it with a finger and licked it off. The Aussie's ears buzzed.

"It is a traditional dish from the South East of France." Lucien turned back to the counter and put the spoon back on it, in a little saucer.

"Oh… You're from there?"

"Non. But it is one of my personal favourites. It reminds me of summer holidays when I was a little boy. You see, the vegetables you need all come ripe in summer, when the sun is tiring and roasts every crop perfectly in the fields."

"Oh, wow… Almost sounds poetic the way you say it."

"I think it is rather poetic, the waking up of nature in spring and blooming of it in summer, the colours, the tastes, the energy of it all - oh?"

Mundy hugged his lover from behind dearly.

"You're one poetic bloke, but I guess it makes sense if you come from the city, eh?"

"You are wrong. I come from the countryside. Only when I grew up and left did I decide to live in cities. There are more opportunities there."

"Hm…"

They stayed in front of the stove, the bubbling of the ratatouille rocked them both.

"Lu'?"

"Oui?"

"I feel weird with you."

"Oh, what do you mean?" Lucien started worrying.

"I don't know what it is with me… Or with you… I just…" Mundy was staring at the bubbles gently pop in the saucepan. "I just love you differently." His head was resting on Lucien's shoulder and he wrapped his hands around the Frenchman again.

Lucien took Mundy's hands in his.

"You say it as if it were a bad thing, but is it?"

"No, no… I mean, I don't think so. I don't know. Maybe I feel like you too in the end."

"Like me?" Lucien asked.

"Maybe I feel like... the end might be closer than I think and uh… Just like you said the other day, I wanna… Uh, I wanna…" He sighed and squeezed Lucien harder, burying his head in the Frenchman's neck. "I can't say it."

"Mon amour…" Lucien's velvet voice made Mundy's insides melt. He put a hand on the Aussie's head, through his long hair. "Please, do tell me."

"I… I think I love you but…"

At the "but", Lucien turned to face Mundy and cupped his face.

"But…?" Mundy looked down, sadly. "Oh… You are now seeing things as I did, Mundy? I understand. This is the reason why I didn't want to confess my feelings to you. I was thinking that whatever little time we would spend together would inevitably end up in… Ugh, forget it, Mundy, look up to me."

Mundy still stared at his feet.

"Mon loup, look me in the eye."

The Aussie obeyed but without much conviction.

"Do you know why I did confess to you in the end?"

Mundy shook his head.

"Because however short the moment with you, I want to spend it. If this is what is left of my days, I want to spend them however I want. I… As a spy, I was part of the army and had to follow orders. But now…? Even my motherland, the one that I have been serving, the one I gave my life to, she doesn't want me. So, as you say in English, 'screw everything'. This is my only and my last chance at living my life as a free man, and I would be an idiot to not seize it." Lucien brushed his naked thumbs over Mundy's slim cheeks and looked up sympathetically in his eyes.

"Mon amour, you were the one to open my eyes to this. You were the one to push me in your arms, again and again."

"What? No, I never-"

"Oui, you did. You have been telling me to tell the man I love that I love him, to be with him because even though I won't have much time with him, I still would have some. And that little time is changing my days enormously." Lucien sighed.

"Hm. Still, I get you now and I feel it."

"What do you feel?"

"The dread." Mundy answered. "The anvil on your head is also on mine. I hate it."

"I thought we had agreed to spend a few days at least together?" Lucien asked.

"Yeah but what about afterwards?" Mundy answered. "Are you gonna… Are you gonna leave me?"

It wasn't in Mundy's habits to be emotional at his companion's departure. Most of the time, they would only stay for a night anyway, so he had learnt to not grow attached. But it was different with Lucien. He was so much more true. He wasn't like those blokes or sheilas who get a bit much to drink and end up in the Aussie's van or in their place for the night. No, Mundy had… feelings for Lucien, things that attracted him to the man without meaning the business of just one night.

"Non. The only way for me to leave you is if… You know what I mean." Lucien answered. "But for as long as I breathe, you and I should not worry. We should enjoy what we have, d'accord?"

[Alright?]

Mundy pulled Lucien in a hug and stuck his body on the Frenchman.

"You don't get it…" He answered, his arms laced around Lucien tightly. "I… I love you for real, I feel like… If I'd met you earlier we'd have… we'd have done so many things!"

Mundy's distress spilled over Lucien.

"How I wish I had met you earlier, Mundy… I feel the same for you. You are not someone who stays with me for my looks or my money."

"No, o'course not."

"I know."

"Y-you're a great bloke. What you did for me, what you're doing for her and your son… I don't know a lot of men who could do that. I mean, you tortured a bloke, let yourself be beaten up till you got knocked out, you have dinner with the bloke who did them in, just to manage to get closer and you never lose your temper… It's unbelievable - you're unbelievable."

"And now, not only do I do it to avenge two innocent souls whose only crime was to live with me, but I also do it for you and your parents."

Mundy closed his eyes and buried his head on Lucien's shoulder.

"I love you, Lu'."

"I love you too, Mundy. But please, let us enjoy ourselves, d'accord? Love me the way you like and don't think about tomorrow."

"Ok, alright…"

The embrace lasted a bit longer and when Lucien pulled out of it, he looked up at Mundy and gave him a smile that made the Aussie's body vibrate in sweetness.

"The ratatouille should be ready now, are you hungry?"

"Yeah, I want to have dinner with you."

"Good, please grab two plates and pass them on to me."

"Sure. But first…" Mundy cupped Lucien's face in his palms and put his lips on his forehead. He stayed there for a while and left a kiss. "I… I'm sorry I need to repeat it but, I love you."

Lucien smiled.

"Repeat it as much as you want, and I love you too."

A few moments later, both were on the sofa and enjoying the Frenchman's ratatouille.

"Mh… It's bloody good, love. You need to teach me, eh?"

"I would love to. You will see, it is not difficult at all." Lucien was eating slower than Mundy who couldn't help but race through his plate.

"Oh, mate, that is proper good food…"

"Well, it isn't sandwiches or nonsense like that."

"Yeah, it's so much better and… And you cooked it."

"For us, oui."

Mundy smiled as Lucien finished his plate.

"Meow!"

Perle came trotting at them. She climbed up Mundy's trousers leg and sat on his lap.

"Oh hello, kitty cat."

She stretched and yawned, which made Lucien chuckle.

"Only when she yawns do I realise that she actually has little fangs. Mon petit monstre bien-aimé…"

[My beloved little monster…]

Lucien tickled her belly and she tried fighting his fingers back.

"Mate, she likes it!"

"Of course she does, you would like my tickling too…"

Mundy chuckled.

"Yeah, I would…"

"Come," Lucien stood up and offered his hand. "There is something that I want us to do."

"Oh, ok…" Mundy put Perle on the sofa and as he took Lucien's hand, he followed him.

"Remember the lake this morning?" Lucien asked.

"Yeah, o'course."

"Well I would like…" Both entered the bathroom. "... You to try my bathtub."

"Want me to take in bath in that?"

Lucien started the water.

"Oh, non, non, non! I would like us to take a bath but this time, in a proper bathtub, please."

"Alright."

"You accept?"

"O'course."

"Perfect. Come to my room with me, we will get undressed there while the water fills the tub."

Both men ended up in Lucien's bedroom and started removing their clothes.

"Here, a towel for you, and one for me." Lucien threw them on the bed.

"Cheers, love."

"Make yourself comfortable, I will check the water and will be back with you shortly."

"Ok."

Lucien exited the room and while he did, Perle entered it.

"Hey, pretty baby, c'mere." Mundy was in his underwear, he bent down and picked her up in his hands. "You're growin' up alright, look at how big you are, eh?"

"Meow!" She proudly answered.

"You don't fit in my hand anymore and your fluff is growing longer too, hm?" He scratched under her jaw and she closed her eyes before she started purring.

"Yeah, you like all the pettin' and scratchin'..."

Mundy's eyes scanned the room around him and he noticed Perle's basket bed.

"Is that your bed, Pearl?"

"Meow." She answered.

"Doesn't have any white hair in it. You sure you sleep there?"

"Non, she doesn't." Lucien entered the room again, with his towel around his waist. "She sleeps on the bed with me, sometimes even on my very pillow. Not that I didn't try to make her sleep in her designated bed, but she does not like it."

"Can't blame her. I'd do the same." Mundy answered and they exchanged a smile.

"Come on, Bushman, the water is ready."

"Kitty cat, you go and have a nap, or play a bit. Your dad and I will be busy, ok?"

Perle rolled back on her paws and yawned. She raised her head to Mundy and the Aussie kissed her.

"There." He dropped her on the floor delicately and she trotted away.

"Please?" Lucien offered his hand and Mundy took it. They exited the bedroom and entered the bathroom again.

"Woah… Did you do all that?"

The light was off in the bathroom and candles were spread around here and there. There was a scent of vanilla in the air and Mundy didn't know if it came from the bubbles in the bath or the candles.

"Oui, let us slip in and relax, shall we?"

"Ok… How do you want us to fit there though?"

Lucien smiled.

"Are you comfortable being naked?"

Mundy blushed.

"You can answer no."

"Yeah. I'm fine with it. I uh… I actually sometimes don't bother with clothes when I'm alone in the van…" Mundy admitted with a hand on the back of his neck, slightly embarrassed.

"Then you may get rid of your towel and your underwear. I shall do the same."

In an instant, they both were naked.

"Good, now slip in, please and lie as comfortably as you can."

Mundy obeyed and soon, the water and the bubbles at the surface covered his body.

"What now?"

"Open your legs slightly, and your arms."

"What are you - oh?"

Lucien slipped in and sat between Mundy's legs. He leaned back and his head ended up on Mundy's left shoulder.

"Oh, ok, I see… Uh…"

"Now, you may close your arms, Mundy."

"C-can I hold you?"

"Oui."

Mundy arms wrapped around Lucien underwater and the Frenchman closed his eyes.

"You comfy? You ok like that? I mean you're lying on me and-and maybe, y'know, stuff is uncomfortable or something…"

"Non, Mundy, this is perfect. Your body is warm and soft, I wouldn't dream to be anywhere else but in your arms now." He answered, with his eyes closed. "Relax, please."

"Right." Mundy let the tension in his muscles disappear and the water carried them for him. He squeezed Lucien in his arms and rested his head against the Frenchman, with his lips on his hair.

"Mundy?"

"Hm?"

"Close your eyes."

The Aussie obeyed and felt Lucien's fingers wrap around his forearms underwater.

"I wanna kiss you…"

"Please do."

"I might never stop."

"Please." Lucien insisted and Mundy yielded. He peppered slow and soft kisses on his temple and his head, with his eyes still closed. "Je t'aime."

"Love you too, gosh…"

Mundy simply couldn't get enough of Lucien. He kissed him again and again, like a man who was going through a desert for years and finally found a well, he never stopped thanking the Lord or whatever greater force was responsible for this.

His kisses went slower and slower until he fell asleep with Lucien in his arms. The Frenchman let himself fall too. After all, he was resting against Mundy's naked body, safely wrapped in his arms.

The bubbles of the foam tickled their skin as they softly popped, but neither of them could hear it. Lucien was gently rocked up and down at the rhythm of Mundy's breath, and the Aussie's latest warm teddy bear was giving him the affection he had sought for a lifetime.

Non, there was nowhere else neither of them would rather be.

The more Lucien thought about it, the deeper he fell for Mundy. There he was, that man who didn't care about looks or money, that man who loved what was in his heart as much if not more than what was on his skin. He had stopped to believe that such people existed anymore.

Their nap lasted almost half an hour.

"I know you're sleepin' and you can't hear me but…" Mundy was whispering softly. "I never really fell in love like that. With you, I feel it's different. It's… it's so much better. I used to go to pubs and spend the night with a stranger here and there. I could never find anyone cause I'm… I'm too shy. How the hell do you go around and talk to people? People are scary. They judge you all the time and they expect things from you. No, I could never do that. So the only way for me to find anyone was if both of us were pissed. I'd become less shy and boom… But I never really felt anything for those people, I mean… Nothing like what I feel for you now."

Mundy smiled.

"I'm so happy with you now. I think I… I can't remember last time I felt like that. And uh… I'd never tell you but… I love all you do and say to me. It's very weird but I love it all. It's like you do something or say something and all I want is to hold you tight and cover you in kisses. Hah, I'm not the kissy type, I'm not the bloke who'll hold your hand or hug you all the time. But with you…? I'm the opposite way now. It's like I had a hole in me all along. People came along and filled it with bubbles. During those moments it's fine cause it's full, but the bubbles pop and I'm left with a hole again."

Mundy looked down at Lucien.

"But you… You're not putting bubbles. You're putting something else, something that not only stays there, but it also asks for more. It's like… like the hole's so much bigger than what I thought, it's insane."

He paused to appreciate what he was saying.

"Yeah… You make me realise that the hole is enormous and I've never really seen it that way. I guess… It's the way you see things and say things. Of course I feel as many things as you do but I never really stopped to put words on them like you do. You… When you feel things, you stop and let the feeling just invade you, you absolute crazed bloke…! Feelings are dangerous. Yeah you might have the odd good one, but, I don't know, I feel like I've had more bad ones than good ones. But you're not scared, nah. You let them overtake you and put words on them, you even sing them out loud in front of people!"

Mundy put his lips against Lucien's temple and pressed a delicate, gentle kiss.

"You're not scared at all, and it's not like you haven't gone through hardships in your life. No, you've gone through hell and you're barely coming out of it. And yet, you still take the risk of letting your feelings wreck you again, you absolute fool. Love you… Love you so much…"

Mundy put his lips in Lucien's hair and breathed in his perfume, his scent.

"I love you too, with a passion…"

"Oh, bugger, did I wake you up?"

"In the best possible way, oui." Lucien pulled his arm out of the water and put it on Mundy's cheek, pulling his face down to meet his lips. He felt the Aussie's arms tighten around him, his hands brushing his skin softly under the water. "Je t'aime."

"Love you too. And I didn't know that… that even I could love like that."

"What do you mean 'even you'?"

"I don't know. I just thought that all this was the stuff of movies that sheilas like, not really a thing that people did in real life."

"You, Mundy, have not realised something quite crucial."

"What?"

"You make of your life the movie that you want. It can be a comedy, it can be a thriller, or it can just be you and me in this bath."

"I'll take option three if that's fine with you too."

"Of course. But, to come back to part of what you were saying, I am delighted to fill that gap in you. You do the same to me. I realise it each time you touch me. I have been deprived - well, I deprived myself really - of the affection of anyone else for far too long. But maybe it was necessary."

"What d'you mean?" Mundy brushed Lucien sides under water. The Frenchman closed his eyes, and slightly turned left and right on his hips, offering more of himself, so that Mundy's hand could spread everywhere.

"Mh… Well, I have deprived myself from all those things in a decade, but maybe I needed to do that, maybe this solitude we have chosen to dive into was our way of healing."

"You think so?"

"Oui. Look at it this way, Mundy. After this decade of feeling guilty, you finally manage to visit your parents and talk to them, tell them the truth of you, tell them that you miss them. You finally manage to confront your father about things that are part of you, things that make you, you. Maybe you needed that time to process things, find a new way to live, find a new balance in yourself and in your life, find new habits, get used to everything. You understand what I mean?"

"Yeah, actually, I do… Maybe you're right."

"Maybe you have been healing for ten years, maybe the solitude was your only salvation."

"What about you then?"

"Everything I just said is applicable to me. The more I think about it, the more I am convinced that I couldn't have lived any other way than by myself for this past decade. Perle barged in my life unexpectedly and reminded me of Jérémy. I am taking care of her like I would a child."

"You're spoilin' her and she loves it."

Lucien chuckled.

"I just don't know how to treat her otherwise. She is an infant, a baby that was abandoned in the streets, how could I not try my best to bring her a dwelling and everything she needs to grow up?"

"Yeah, I get you. It's just funny to see you treat her like a baby girl as opposed to a kitten."

"I don't know how to take care of a kitten, is the problem."

"Well now you do. And I can teach you a few things too."

"Oui, please, I want her to grow up in the best manner. She deserves nothing less. I cannot imagine what it was like to be in the streets… Well, as a kitten that is."

"Yeah, quite scary, eh?"

"It must be, especially for someone as young and little as she is."

They cuddled up and Lucien raised his lips to Mundy.

"Oh, yeah, sure…"

They kissed.

"The water is getting cold. Let us wash and get out." Lucien suggested.

"Sure."

They both stood up and Lucien latched on Mundy.

"Wow, you ok?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"Loving me in this new way and being brave enough to go through it."

"Well, you make me so happy… I'd be an idiot to not try for you."

Lucien raised lovestruck eyes to Mundy who felt his heart backflip in his chest.

What a sight…

He wished he would have it framed somewhere, to look at it whenever he missed it.

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy #SBT

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