Cinnamon and Honey

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/41889567.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: F/M
Fandom: The Last of Us (Video Games)
Relationships: Joel (The Last of Us)/Reader, Ellie & Joel (The Last of Us), Ellie (The
Last of Us) & Reader
Characters: Joel (The Last of Us), Ellie (The Last of Us)
Additional Tags: Selectively Mute Reader, Joel Does Not Die, Ellie Does Not Hate Joel,
Eventual Smut, We Only Talk About The Happy Parts of Part II Here
Language: English
Series: Part 1 of Cinnamon and Honey
Collections: Last of Us Fics I Love, You In The Story Bro, Just.... So cute..., •my
ultimate OC FICS hoard•
Stats: Published: 2022-09-23 Completed: 2022-10-04 Words: 22,814 Chapters:
7/7
 Cinnamon and Honey
by batsingotham

Summary

It’s Ellie who notices you first, halfway into their first year in Jackson.

“Did you know that one weird mute lady down the street makes bread?” she demands as she
storms into the living room, clutching a wrapped loaf of bread. “And she just gives it away?”

“She ain’t weird just ‘cause she don’t talk, Ellie,” Joel sighs wearily as he sits up on the
couch he had been sprawled across.

“Okay, she’s weird ‘cause she keeps to herself, then.” Ellie aims a raised eyebrow back at
him. “Sound familiar?”

[In which Joel helps his quiet neighbor open Jackson's first bakery, and she makes fast friends
with Ellie by plying her with baked goods.]

Notes

So, uh - not really sure what this is.

I meant to continue my Moon Knight fic, and instead I started playing TLOU after finding
out Pedro Pascal was playing Joel in the HBO show, and I am now utterly obsessed with this
grumpy Texan guy and his sassy adopted daughter. I haven't actually finished the game yet -
I'm just about to reach Jackson for the first time in my save file - but after reading a bunch of
wonderful fics, I was hit by the inspiration to write my own.

This first chapter is short, but I was really trying to get Joel and Ellie's voices down before I
proceeded with any backstory/characterization for Reader - I hope you all enjoy it!
 Autumn 2034
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

It’s Ellie who notices you first, halfway into their first year in Jackson.

“Did you know that one weird mute lady down the street makes bread?” she demands as she
storms into the living room, clutching a wrapped loaf of bread. “And she just gives it away?”

“She ain’t weird just ‘cause she don’t talk, Ellie,” Joel sighs wearily as he sits up on the
couch he had been sprawled across.

“Okay, she’s weird ‘cause she keeps to herself, then.” Ellie aims a raised eyebrow back at
him. “Sound familiar?”

Joel rolls his eyes, ignoring the pointed jab.

“Did you at least offer to repay her with chores that need doing?”

“Of course I did.” Ellie looks offended that he’d even think otherwise. “She just shook her
head and waved me off. Tommy says bread-making is kind of a hobby for her. They’re
planning on setting up a shop for her - he called it a bakery?”

“Huh.” Joel considers that for a beat; he hasn’t been to a bakery since long before the
outbreak, and the vague memory of the scent of freshly baked bread and pastries drifts briefly
across the front of his mind. “Yeah, I remember those.”

“Well, if that bakery smells anything like this bread does, I don’t think I’m ever coming home
again,” Ellie declares.

Joel wonders just how much hyperbole that is as she unwraps the bread loaf and tears off two
chunks, handing one to him and popping the other piece into her mouth.

“Holy shit, there’s cheese in here,” she says delightedly, her voice muffled by her mouthful of
bread. “I love this woman.”

Joel shakes his head to himself - not even remotely hyperbole, then - as he inspects the herb-
flecked chunk of golden-brown bread in his hand, the faint scents of garlic and baked-in
cheese reaching his nose when he breathes in. He can’t remember the last time he’s had
something as luxurious as artisanal bread, and the moment he takes a bite of the soft interior,
his eyes fall shut as he tilts his head back against the couch as if it would help him better
savor the flavor.

“Did bakeries back then have bread like this?” Ellie asks, sounding suddenly much closer,
and Joel opens his eyes to find her brandishing the rest of the garlic-and-cheese loaf in his
face.
“Sometimes.” He bats the parcel away. “Go put that in the kitchen, will you?”

“Did you buy bread like this?” Ellie presses even as she obediently trots into the kitchen to
put the bread away.

“Not really,” Joel answers wearily. “I usually only went to bakeries if I needed a quick cup of
coffee.”

“God, you’re so boring,” Ellie huffs as she stomps back out of the kitchen and toward what
had once been the garage, but had now been repurposed into a standalone place for her.

“Hey, thank that lady next time you see her!” Joel calls after her.

“Yeah, yeah.” She waves him off before disappearing into her unit.

Once she’s gone, Joel sinks back against the couch, the taste of the garlic-and-cheese bread
lingering on his tongue as he thinks back to the person who had made it. He’d caught your
eye maybe once just after he and Ellie had moved to Jackson, and you had given him a polite
wave from where you had been sweeping dead leaves off your porch, but that had been the
extent of your interaction.

“She’s only been here a year or so herself,” Tommy had said when he had noticed Joel
looking your way. “Actually, your house is just down the way from hers, so you might as
well get to know your neighbor sometime.”

At the time, Joel had grunted dismissively and Tommy had thankfully dropped the subject,
but now Joel climbs to his feet and makes his way to the kitchen. From the window, he can
see your house several yards away, its windows glowing a warm amber from within. You’re
wandering about your own kitchen, silhouetted in shadow as you carry a bowl to your table
and set it down.

Joel feels suddenly wrong for watching you from so far away, so he tears his gaze away from
your back and returns to the living room, resolving to go over to your house the next day and
thank you for the bread himself just in case Ellie forgets.

He finds Tommy lingering on your porch the next morning, clearly discussing the opening of
your bakery with you. You have a woolen gray cardigan pulled around your shoulders to
ward off the early fall morning chill, your cheeks flushed with the cold and your eyes bright
and excited as you wave your hands animatedly and form complicated gestures with your
fingers, but the moment you catch sight of Joel approaching the house, you freeze like a deer,
your hands falling limply back to your sides.

Noticing your sudden reticence, Tommy glances over his shoulder.

“Morning, Joel,” he says easily before turning back to you. “It’s okay, he knows signs.”

You hesitate, but when Joel nods in confirmation, you lift your hands again tentatively.

Did Ellie like the bread?

You finger-spell her name, and Joel makes a mental note to begin teaching Ellie sign
language; if the girl is serious about hanging around your bakery after it opens, she should be
able to understand you.

“She loved it,” he reassures you. “She gave me a piece, too - it was real good.”

You smile, relieved, and he marvels at how it makes you look years younger even though
you’re already easily ten years his junior.

I’m glad, you sign.

“You’ve been giving out bread to people who aren’t me?” Tommy squints mock-suspiciously
at you. “I thought I was your favorite.”

Tommy, your wife is my favorite, not you, you answer cheekily. You use a name-sign for
Tommy - the letter “T” followed by a quick tip of an invisible cowboy hat - that gives away
just how friendly the two of you are.

“It’s actually good that you’re here,” Tommy adds to Joel, ignoring your jibe. “We’re looking
to set up a bakery soon and might need an extra hand with construction.”

“Sure.” Joel shrugs. “I only came over here to ask her how I can pay her back for the bread,
so that actually works out.”

You tap on the wooden railing of your porch to get his attention, and when he turns to you,
you sign hurriedly, You don’t have to pay me back.

“It’s either that or I make Ellie clean your house for you,” Joel warns. “And trust me, you do
not want that girl handling a mop and bucket - your place is gonna be flooded for weeks.”

You laugh silently at that, your shoulders trembling with amusement and your eyes crinkling
prettily at the corners in a way Joel realizes abruptly that he wants to see a lot more often.
The only sound that leaves you is a huffed breath that clouds in front of your face in a fine
mist.

Okay, you relent before bringing your hand up beneath your chin and flicking it out in a silent
“thank you.”

“With winter around the corner, we’re probably only gonna get to open the bakery in the
spring,” Tommy admits. “So I figure we can stock up on supplies in the meantime and finish
up construction once it starts getting warmer.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Joel agrees.

He doesn’t realize he’s memorized your smile until he closes his eyes that night and can’t
stop seeing it.

Ellie is almost constantly at your house when she isn’t at home. Now that Joel is actively
working on building your bakery with Tommy and several others in the community, she takes
every excuse to hang out in your kitchen and “help” you bake various goods for everyone -
which Joel assumes means that she’s sneaking a taste of whatever you’re making. He just
hopes you’re not letting her eat raw dough of any kind and wonders how exactly the two of
you are communicating since Ellie is slow to pick up on any signs other than individual
letters.

On the last day of fall - just before they decide to wrap up construction before the winter
season sets in - Joel knocks on your front door to ask you to take a look at the bakery
foundations so far, and Ellie is the one who opens the door, a streak of white flour on her
forehead.

“This is a dinosaur-free zone,” she informs him primly. “Go away.”

“Is that right?” he deadpans. “How’s about I leave when the actual owner of this house says
so?”

You emerge from the kitchen, looking equally disheveled with a spot of flour on your cheek
as you enter the hallway. There’s a sweet scent in the air that Joel can’t quite put his finger
on, but otherwise no indication of what you and Ellie are baking together.

Hi, Joel, you sign, finger-spelling his name rapidly, and he feels a selfish twinge of jealousy
that Tommy gets a name-sign from you and he doesn’t as you add, Is everything okay?

“Everything’s fine,” he reassures you. “Just thought you’d like to see how the place looks so
far before winter starts.”

“You guys are done for the season?” Ellie deflates with disappointment. “Already? But we’re
not done with-”

You wave hurriedly for Ellie to stop and she promptly shuts her mouth, wide-eyed.

“Oops,” she says sheepishly to you. “I almost spoiled it, didn’t I?”

Almost, but it’s okay, you finger-spell so that she can follow along, smiling back at her fondly,
and Joel realizes just how slowly you are content to sign so that she can understand you.

“You two keepin’ secrets?” He squints suspiciously at Ellie, who shrugs innocently.

“Maybe.”

When Joel looks at you, you mimic Ellie’s shrug, but there is a mischievous glint to your
eyes that he’s not sure he has ever seen before.

Can we meet you there in an hour? you sign. We’ll be ready by then.

He sighs. “Yeah, okay. One hour. But we’ve really gotta wrap up and put tarps over
everything for the winter, so hurry up, alright?”

“You can’t rush perfection,” Ellie grumbles as she retreats into the kitchen again.
Sorry I kidnapped your kid, you apologize through signs, though you don’t look sorry at all,
grinning brightly like Christmas has come early as you add, I needed the extra pair of hands.

“Hell, you can keep her if you like,” Joel says dryly. “Maybe I’ll finally get some peace and
quiet in my house.”

Ellie squawks indignantly from the other room once she pieces together what the two of you
are talking about, and you giggle silently as you wave Joel off and return to your kitchen. It
isn’t until he’s back at the construction site that he finally recognizes the sweet scent that had
lingered in the air of your house - cinnamon and honey, mingling together in a rich, familiar
scent that never fails to remind him of fall.

You and Ellie show up at the construction site exactly one hour later, both of your arms laden
with several fresh, steaming apple pie tins, and set them out on a nearby folding table while
you wait for construction to wrap up.

“What’s all this?” Tommy asks as he approaches the table, and you shrug mildly.

To thank you all, you sign. One for each person. We had a good harvest of apples this year,
and Ellie helped me bake them all into pies earlier.

Tommy relays the message to the others, and Joel barely suppresses a wince in time as the
crowd erupts into a cacophony of appreciative noise.

“Christ, I haven’t had apple pie in forever,” one of the other men Joel had been working with
earlier - Kyle, if he remembers his name right - says fervently as he approaches the table to
inspect one of the pies. “Thanks, girl.”

You flush slightly - though it might be due to the cold - and shake your head modestly to
dismiss his thanks along with everyone else’s as each of them grabs a pie to take home.

“So this was your big secret, huh?” Joel demands as he joins you, Ellie, and Tommy at last,
and you shrug unrepentantly.

Surprise, you sign distractedly even as your gaze finally drifts to the skeleton of your future
bakery behind him.

“What do you think so far?” he asks, and it takes you a minute to tear your gaze away from
the foundation of your bakery and focus back on him.

I love it, you sign fervently. Thank you.

He waves off your thanks. “Got a name for the place yet?”

You shake your head. Working on it. I’ve been brainstorming with Ellie.

“So far we have ‘Sweet Eats’ and plays on her name,” Ellie adds dryly. “We’ll get there.”

“Well, you’ve got all winter to figure it out,” Joel reassures you even as he yanks on the end
of Ellie’s ponytail good-naturedly.
 He doesn’t miss the way your gaze lingers on the way Ellie laughs and swats at his hand, soft
and warm with something he can’t quite name.

Chapter End Notes

I hope y'all enjoyed this first chapter, and please let me know if there are any canon

🙈
inconsistencies with TLOU Part I since I haven't actually finished the game yet and
refuse to consider Part II as canon

getting to know Reader slowly! 🥰

I'm really trying to get Joel and Ellie accurate as well, so I hope you guys enjoy them
 Winter 2034
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Winter hits Jackson hard that year - heavy blizzards buffet the community at least twice a
month, and the residents barely have time to clean up the mountains of snow that gather
before the next one hits. Joel is positive that Ellie is going stir-crazy while holed up indoors,
but there’s only so much they can do aside from going on patrol that doesn’t involve trudging
through waist-deep snow most days.

“Come on, can’t I go over to the neighbor’s house?” Ellie whines one afternoon as she flops
upside-down off the couch. “She’s literally right there.” She gestures vaguely in the direction
of your house.

“She’s also got better things to do than babysit you,” Joel reminds her dryly without lifting
his gaze from his book; he’s too used to Ellie’s theatrics by now to give them any attention.

“Hey, she said she likes hanging out with me,” Ellie argues indignantly before thinking better
of it. “Well, she signed it, anyway, but you know what I mean. Besides, I’m worried about
her.”

That gets Joel’s attention as he looks back up at Ellie.

“What do you mean?”

“Her house has been dark since yesterday.” Ellie sits up and squints at the kitchen window,
clearly trying to look at your house beyond it. “Except sometimes it looks like there’s
candlelight inside. I don’t think she’s got power, and if she’s got no power-”

“She’s probably got no heat,” Joel finishes for her grimly. “Wait here, I’m gonna check on
her.”

“I should go, too,” Ellie protests.

“Wait. Here.” Joel doesn’t leave any room for argument as he sets his book aside and
removes his reading glasses.

Normally, Ellie teases him relentlessly for needing glasses to read these days, but this time,
she’s quiet, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she chews it absently; she really must be
worried about you.

“Is there anything I can do?” she relents at last.

“Get somethin’ on the stove for her,” Joel suggests. “I’ll send her over here to warm herself
up if the heat really is out at her place.”
“Got it.” Ellie’s chewing the inside of her cheek now, clearly contemplating what to heat up.
“Think she’d like some milk with honey in it? Like the kind you made for me that one time I
couldn’t sleep?”

“Yeah, I think she’d like that a lot, actually,” Joel agrees. “Seems like she’s got a bit of a
sweet tooth.”

Ellie rolls her eyes. “See if she makes an apple pie for us ever again if you keep poking fun at
her.” She gets to her feet and heads into the kitchen, standing on her toes and peering out the
window. “I think I see her moving around with a lantern near the back of her place. Maybe
her generator’s busted.”

“Quit spyin’ on her,” Joel reprimands as he goes to get his winter coat and pull on his boots,
deliberately not acknowledging the tiny voice in the back of his mind that points out his
hypocrisy. “And don’t go out in the snow unless I tell you to. Clear?”

“Yeah, yeah, crystal.” Ellie waves him off as she ignores his orders and continues to frown at
your house, which is nearly obscured by the blizzard.

Joel gives up on monitoring her as he steps outside, grimacing as his boots sink into the snow
until it reaches his knees before making the trek across his lawn and yours. He makes it up
the wooden steps and onto your porch before knocking on your door.

An audible thump reaches his ears before you fling the door open, visibly flustered. You’re
wearing a thick green sweater that makes you seem absolutely tiny with the way it swamps
you, shaking the sleeves away from your hands so that you can sign freely.

I wasn’t expecting company today. Is something wrong?

“Hey,” he says feebly. “No, uh - Ellie was just worried about you. Says your house has been
dark lately.” He gestures over his shoulder to his house several yards away as if it would
better explain how Ellie had seen the darkness of your windows from their kitchen. “I figured
I’d come over and check on you.”

You stare at him blankly, your eyes wide and stunned like the thought had never occurred to
you that he and Ellie would be looking at your house often enough to see that something was
wrong, and it’s then that he notices the spots of pink on your cheeks and nose - like you’ve
been scrubbing at them haphazardly with the scratchy material of your sleeves - and the
redness of your exhausted, puffy eyes like you’ve been crying.

I lost power yesterday, you confess at last. I’m working on it, don’t worry.

“Why don’t I have a look?” he offers, but you shake your head.

You didn’t have to come all the way out here in the cold for me, I’m fine-

He doesn’t bother letting you finish your protest as he nudges you aside, stepping into your
house and wiping his boots on the front doormat so that he won’t drag the slushy mess further
inside. An extinguished lantern is laying sideways on the floor - you had likely dropped it in
your surprise when he had knocked on the door, which explains the thump he had overheard -
and he automatically scoops it up to set it on the table by the doorway for you.

“Where’s your generator?” he asks.

He has to squint through the darkness to see your hands as you sign, Basement.

There’s a grudging resignation to your expression that makes him feel just a little better for
storming into your place uninvited as he makes his way across your dark hallway and to the
basement door. The stairs creak under his weight as he heads down, and he can feel your
presence behind him, anxious and fluttering like a hummingbird.

“Well, goddamn,” he can’t help but deadpan when he sees the contents of your toolbox
scattered across the cement floor like you’ve thrown them, his eyebrows raising in appraisal.
“What happened down here? Did a tornado pass through after the blizzard hit?”

You’ve crossed your arms across your chest when he looks back over his shoulder at you,
clearly uncomfortable to have been caught with your basement in such disarray, and the air is
so cold that your breath crystallizes visibly in front of your lips.

Very funny, you sign, your mouth pursing in irritation. I was trying to fix the generator and
nothing’s been working. I don't know what’s wrong with it.

To Joel’s dismay, your eyes begin welling with frustrated tears that you scrub away
unceremoniously with your sweater’s sleeve, leaving bright streaks of red inflammation
across your likely chilled skin.

“Hey.” He lets his tone soften as he holds his hands up in surrender. “I’m just pullin’ your
leg, nothin’ to get upset over.”

You sniffle sharply, scrubbing at your eyes again before signing an apology - a closed fist
circled jerkily over your chest, which makes Joel realize just how badly your hands are
shaking with the cold - and then adding, I can handle it by myself. Just go away.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere.” He plants his feet, shoving his hands into his pockets. “What
you’re gonna do is put your coat on and go over to mine and Ellie’s. She’s already got some
milk and honey on the stove for you, so you’re gonna wait there and warm up while I see
what the problem is down here.”

You’re already shaking your head rapidly before he finishes laying out the plan.

“There’s no sense in being stubborn,” he sighs long-sufferingly. “Gimme your hands.”

You raise your eyebrows, visibly taken aback, but when he holds his own hands out
expectantly, you reluctantly place your trembling hands in his. Your fingers are frigid against
his palms - practically blocks of ice themselves - and he has to resist the urge to close his
hands around yours in an attempt to warm them up.

“You see these?” He pinches one dangerously blue fingertip gently to make his point, and
you wince slightly. “They’re a sign that you’re gonna catch your death tryin’ to fix this on
your own. Now you can either let me take care of it for you or I’m gonna have to drag
Tommy and Maria into this, and I have a gut feelin’ you don’t wanna bother ‘em.” He
releases your hands and watches them fall limply back to your side as you scowl; he’s clearly
hit the nail on the head. “Just go sit with Ellie for a spell and keep her company,” he insists.
“And I’ll let you know when the generator’s fixed. Deal?”

You swallow audibly, your lower lip quivering like you’re about to start crying again, but to
Joel’s relief, all you do is swipe your sleeve over your damp eyes again and nod tersely
before stomping back up the stairs. He waits until your front door slams shut behind you - he
hopes Ellie can figure out a way to soothe your stung pride since he clearly has no clue how
to do so - before sinking to his knees in front of your broken generator and setting to work.

The moment Joel steps through the doorway of his own house one hour later, shaking snow
off his coat and boots as he goes, the sound of Ellie’s incredulous laughter reaches his ears.

“No fucking way! That’s not a thing!”

When he follows her voice to the kitchen, he realizes you are finger-spelling out an anecdote
for her in broken, fragmented sentences.

Believe it, you are in the middle of signing as he leans against the doorway to watch the two
of you interact. To his relief, your fingers are no longer blue and your face is flushed with
warmth.

“Joel!” Ellie points at him vindictively when she spots him. “She says people put coffee in
desserts before the outbreak!”

“They did,” he confirms. “Then again, the only coffee I ever had was in a cup.”

“See?” Ellie bemoans to you. “I told you he was boring.”

You’re smiling when Joel chances a peek at your face, but your eyes flick back up to him
when you catch him looking, a silent question behind them.

“Your generator’s all fixed up,” he reassures you. “A part must’ve been knocked loose at
some point, but I managed to find it and put it back in. Might wanna give your place a little
longer to warm up before you go home, though.”

You nod contemplatively even as Ellie excuses herself from the table to pour Joel a mug of
warm milk from the steaming pot on the stove.

Thank you, you sign before adding sheepishly, Sorry for being so rude before.

He waves it off. “Nah, don’t worry about it. If you wanna talk about ‘rude,’ then you oughta
hear how Ellie talks to me on a regular basis.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Ellie grumbles - proving his point - as she shoves a chipped blue mug into his
hands. The warm milk inside sloshes dangerously, and he has to fumble to steady the mug
 before it can spill onto the tile floor before he realizes that the liquid is tinged a strange
brown color.

“Hey, what’s in this?” He squints at the contents of his mug. “I thought you just put honey
in.”

“I did,” Ellie defends herself. “But she brought over a little bottle of cinnamon and mixed a
spoonful into the pot. It’s so good.”

She takes a dramatic slurp from her mug of cinnamon-and-honey milk to make her point and
Joel rolls his eyes before glancing expectantly at you, but all you do is shrug.

Least I could do, you sign before pointedly swallowing a gulp of your own milk, and Joel
dares to try a sip himself.

The warm, spicy flavor of cinnamon bursts across his tongue, followed by the soothing
sweetness of the heaping dollop of honey Ellie must have put in. Even the tiniest sip he had
taken from his mug warms him from the inside out, and when he lifts his gaze back to you,
you’re watching him warily for his reaction.

“It’s real good,” he says honestly, and you sag in your chair, visibly relieved.

“Hang on, I’ve gotta fact-check that one other thing,” Ellie bursts in, still clearly affronted by
your anecdotes of the world pre-outbreak. “Joel, she said that the Internet used to come by
mail.”

Joel raises his eyebrows back at you for an explanation.

Netflix, you finger-spell, and he snorts derisively.

“Oh, yeah, the whole mail-in DVD thing. I forgot about that.”

“Wait, so she wasn’t fucking with me?!” Ellie demands, visibly bristling. “That was real?!”

You start laughing silently, your milk sloshing close to the rim of your mug before you have
the sense to place it on the table, and Joel can’t help but grin at Ellie’s indignation even as he
watches the way your shoulders shake and your lips curve upward.

Chapter End Notes

So somehow, this became an "eventual smut" fic in the course of writing my drafts
it's still a good few chapters away, but be gentle with me when I finally post it - I've
🙈
never actually written smut before.

I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter, and I look forward to posting the next one soon! 🥰
 Spring and Summer 2035
Chapter Notes

PSA: This chapter takes place right after Reader's bakery has opened - my headcanon is
that it remains unnamed because Reader was too indecisive and the residents of Jackson
just call it "the bakery" since there's only one anyway and they don't need to differentiate
😂

See the end of the chapter for more notes

When is Ellie’s next birthday?

Your signed question takes Joel so off-guard that it takes him a moment to process it -
especially since Ellie is standing right next to him and raising an eyebrow at the silent
exchange between the two of you.

“Oh, uh-” Not sure if you want him to answer out loud, he brings his hands up and signs
clumsily, Next month - the twenty-third.

You nod contemplatively, your elbows braced on the counter of your recently opened - and
still unnamed - bakery as you sign, Could you please ask her if she wants anything?

“She wants to know if you want anything for your birthday,” Joel relays the question to Ellie,
who blinks, startled.

“Oh, uh-” She chews her lip thoughtfully. “I guess if it’s not too much trouble, one of those
cheese loaf things? Like that first one you made for me?”

You smile, seemingly relieved that it’s something simple.

I can do that, you agree, and Joel translates the sentiment to Ellie.

“Thanks,” she says gratefully, and you reach across the counter to tug on the end of her
ponytail affectionately, grinning warmly back at her. “Oh, hey, Dina’s outside,” she realizes,
abruptly changing tracks. “I gotta go, bye!”

Joel shakes his head as Ellie takes off out the door, vanishing quickly out of sight after Dina.

“Doesn’t have a crush, my ass,” he mutters to himself before turning back to you when you
tap your fingernails against the counter to get his attention. You’re signing something that he
can’t quite understand, and he frowns instinctively. “Huh?”

Does she like-? you sign again, but then you use two words that he doesn’t recognize.
“I don’t know those signs,” he admits, and you chew your lip thoughtfully before holding up
a finger to signal him to wait and then disappearing into the backroom.

You emerge again with a notepad and a pen, setting them on the counter before scribbling in
messy handwriting that looks more like a third-grader’s penmanship than a grown woman’s,
Does Ellie like vanilla or chocolate?

“Uh - chocolate, I think.” Joel squints suspiciously at you. “What’re you up to? We don’t
even have chocolate in Jackson.”

You ignore him and abandon your pen and notepad, instead signing, Any plans for her
birthday?

“Yeah, I was gonna take her up to the old museum a little ways from here,” he admits. “She’s
got a real thing for dinosaurs and space, so-” He shrugs. “Figured it’d be nice for her to see
‘em.”

I’m sure it would. Your smile is a little wistful and melancholy. I used to love going to
museums when I was a teenager, too.

It’s hard to think of you at somewhere around Ellie’s age before the outbreak - another stark
and painful reminder that Joel is more than ten years your senior.

Will you be back by dark? you’re in the middle of signing when he focuses on you again, and
he nods.

“Yeah, we oughta be. Don’t wanna keep her out in the woods after dark. Why?”

I figured I’d drop her bread off once you’re home, you answer. I can wait until the porch
light’s on.

It suddenly occurs to Joel that for all the times he’s glanced out his window at your house,
you must have been looking back, too, and he’s not sure why the thought warms something in
the pit of his stomach.

“Yeah, that sounds good.” His voice comes out a little more hoarse than he means it to, and
when your eyebrows furrow in concern, he says hurriedly, “I, uh - I should get going, see
where Ellie’s got to.”

You’re still frowning as he turns away, but when he sneaks a glance back at you over his
shoulder on the way out the door, your attention has been diverted by another resident of
Jackson approaching your counter.

Joel barely remembers to turn on the porch light when he brings Ellie home just before dusk
on her sixteenth birthday. She starts putting dinner together and outright bans him from the
kitchen - “it’s my birthday and I get to make what I want, so get outta here, old man” - so he
rolls his eyes back at her and slouches off to the porch to wait for you.
Sure enough, you turn up within fifteen minutes of his and Ellie’s arrival back home, holding
up a wrapped loaf of garlic-and-cheese bread and another container underneath it.

“What is that?” Joel demands and you shrug innocently; you can’t sign with your hands full.
He takes both the bread and the mysterious container from you. “What did you do?” he
presses again.

Don’t worry about it, you sign, grinning so smugly that he doesn’t have the heart to tell you
off.

Instead, he sighs long-sufferingly and tilts his head toward the front door.

“C’mon in. I know you’re dyin’ to see the look on her face when she opens it.”

You inch into the house after him with a timidness he hasn’t seen from you since the first day
he had approached your house, lingering nervously in the living room as he goes to deposit
both containers on the kitchen counter; maybe you’re worried about Ellie’s reaction to
whatever surprise you’ve brought for her.

“Hey, I told you, you’re not allowed in here until the food’s ready-” Ellie breaks off when she
sees you on the other side of the kitchen doorway. “Hey, you brought my bread! Thanks!”

Joel watches the tension ease marginally out of your shoulders as you finger-spell so she can
understand, Anytime.

“What’s this?” Ellie prods the tinfoil-covered container underneath and then looks back up at
you expectantly.

For you, you sign, pointing to her. Open it.

Ellie doesn’t need Joel to translate that, so she unwraps the tinfoil eagerly and then gapes at
the frosted chocolate cake sitting inside with white icing spelling out “Happy Birthday, Ellie”
in neat cursive on top. Delicate white icing flowers dot the circular border of the cake,
miraculously having survived the transportation from your house to theirs.

“Now that doesn’t look like your chicken-scratch,” Joel deadpans to cover up the sudden
lump in his throat; Christ, you had made his adopted daughter a birthday cake. How had you
even gotten the ingredients?

You flush, visibly embarrassed, and sign, I asked Dina to write the message. She has steadier
hands than me.

Joel relays the message to Ellie, figuring she would appreciate the knowledge that her not-
crush had had a hand in making her birthday cake, but she’s far too stunned to process it, her
mouth open as she stares at the cake.

“You made me a cake.” Her voice cracks as she looks up at you, her eyes suddenly bright and
damp. “A real birthday cake.”

You shrug modestly and sign, Happy birthday, Ellie.

Belatedly, Joel realizes you’ve recently come up with a name-sign for her - the letter “E”
followed by the sign for “dinosaur” - even as she breaks into a run and closes the gap
between you, throwing her arms around your middle.

“Thank you,” she says fervently, and you stare down at the top of her head with wide eyes,
alarmed, before your arms slide around her to hug her back so gingerly that Joel can’t help
but wonder how long it’s been since anyone has embraced you. Ellie sniffles and pulls back,
wiping her eyes before beaming up at you. “You should stay for dinner!”

Your eyes go round with surprise and you begin shaking your head quickly as you take a step
back and lift your hands.

“She’s right,” Joel cuts in before you can start signing a protest. “What’s the point of going to
all that trouble of making a cake if you’re not gonna share it with us?”

It wasn’t any trouble, you sign feebly, but between his raised eyebrows and Ellie’s hopeful
stare, you’re helpless to do anything but concede, Okay. As long as I’m not intruding.

“She thinks she’s intruding,” Joel says dryly to Ellie, who scoffs derisively as she turns back
to you.

“Don’t be stupid. It’s my birthday and I get to decide who eats dinner with me, and I want
you to stay ‘cause you’re my friend.”

You flush slightly again even as you level a sideways look at Joel, who shrugs.

“Yeah, she’s been pullin’ the ‘birthday’ card all day with me, too - even made me wear a
stupid cowboy hat because of it.”

You smile at last as you sign, I would have paid to see that.

Joel rolls his eyes and pretends not to watch your eyes crinkling at the corners when you start
silently laughing. You’re quickly distracted when Ellie pulls you into the kitchen, all the
while jumping into the story of their visit to the museum eagerly as you listen patiently.

Admittedly, the cake you had made is more delicious than any kind Joel can remember
having eaten since long before the outbreak.

“So where did you get the chocolate from?” Joel asks later that night after the dishes have
been washed and put away and Ellie retires to her room for the night, leaving the two of you
to sit on the porch swing and take in the late spring evening air.

You shrug and sign, That one group that passed through town a few weeks ago had a ton of
chocolate bars with them. Two loaves of bread bought me half of their stash. I was just lucky
that I already had the rest of the ingredients for a cake on hand. You hesitate. Do you really
think she liked it?

“Are you kidding?” Joel asks incredulously. “She loved it. Hell, I think she’d trade me for
you in a heartbeat if you keep baking bread and cakes for her.”
You scoff soundlessly and sign back, Which one of us showed her actual dinosaurs and
rockets today?

Joel waves it off as he reaches for his guitar automatically.

“You know what I mean.”

You’re frowning deeply when he looks back up at you after settling the guitar across his lap.

I’m not sure I do, you sign. Yes, I made her some food, but you’re her dad. She would have
been happy today even if you hadn’t taken her to that museum just because she spent the day
with you. She loves you, Joel. I should know - I’m only mute, not blind.

Joel’s throat grows painfully tight all of a sudden, and he has to drop his gaze back to his
guitar to avoid the sudden blurring of his vision.

“Well.” He has to clear his throat when his voice threatens to break. “That’s somethin’, I
guess.”

You don’t do anything to get his attention again, so he assumes you’re not trying to sign at
him as he plucks at the guitar strings aimlessly to keep his restless hands busy, but then after
several long moments tick by, your battered sneaker inches into his field of vision and nudges
the toe of his boot. When he looks up at you, your front teeth are gnawing your lower lip
anxiously, your eyebrows furrowed deeply as your hands lift again.

I didn’t want to try and upstage your gift to her, you sign, your fingers visibly trembling. I
wasn’t trying to do anything like that.

“Oh, hey, no,” Joel says, alarm sinking in when he realizes just where your mind has gone in
its panic. “I know it’s not like that.” He sets his guitar down hurriedly and turns to face you
properly. “Look, you’re not upstaging me by giving her a present. Way I see it, having you in
her life ain’t less for me, but more for her. You’re real good to her, and I’m grateful to you for
it.”

You duck your head slightly, but not before he sees a warm flush of embarrassment rising in
your cheeks.

It’s really no big deal, you sign dismissively. I love spending time with her. She’s a sweet kid.

“Yeah, sometimes.” Joel can’t help but grin. “Mostly, she’s just a pain in the ass.”

What teenager isn’t? you sign back, returning his wry smile.

“I know I was,” he agrees and watches your eyebrow quirk upward in curiosity.

I would have paid to see that, too. Your smile turns a little teasing now. Maybe I should ask
Tommy for some of those stories.

“Please don’t,” Joel says hurriedly even as he memorizes how your grin widens until it makes
your eyes crinkle again.
He holds onto that image long after you take your quiet leave, savoring it just as he had
savored the sight of you walking down the street and disappearing into your house with one
last smile over your shoulder when you had caught him still watching you.

Don’t freak out, you sign when Joel follows Ellie into your bakery at the tail end of summer,
automatically handing the teenager her usual request of a corn muffin before adding to Joel,
So Tommy told me your birthday was coming up soon and that you don’t want to make a
whole thing about it, but I may have gotten you something.

Joel braces himself for the worst even as he says wearily, “You really didn’t have to get me
anything.”

You ignore him as you fumble for something heavy beneath the counter and then haul it up
for him to see.

I’ve been fixing it up for a while, you sign breathlessly. It works well now. Consider it a
thank-you for last winter if the birthday thing bothers you so much.

“Is that a coffee machine?” Joel squints at the machine, completely distracted from any
discussion surrounding his birthday. “Damn, I haven’t seen anything like this working in
years. How’d you find it?”

A magician never reveals her secrets, you sign wryly before promptly revealing your secret, I
happened to find it while on patrol a few weeks ago. You perk up suddenly like you
remember something and sign, You’re going to need this, too. You retrieve a large metal tin
from beneath your counter and plunk it unceremoniously beside the coffee machine.

“Holy shit.” Joel picks up the tin and reads the faded label. “You found coffee grounds?”

You shrug modestly even as Ellie snorts derisively, reminding Joel abruptly of her presence
beside him.

“Well, if you weren’t already crazy about her, I bet you are now.”

“Go eat your muffin somewhere else, you little brat,” Joel grumbles, shoving her away, and
she retreats to a corner of the bakery where her friends are waiting for her, cackling as she
goes. “That girl’s a menace,” he huffs, but when he looks back at you, your chin is propped in
your palm, your head tilted in curiosity as a strange little smile plays across your lips.

Crazy about me? you sign with your free hand, visibly amused, and he’s suddenly grateful
that his beard hides the way heat rises in his face, likely turning his skin pink.

“Nah, she just - y’know-” He shrugs uncomfortably. “She likes givin’ me a hard time. You
know how she is.”

I know, you sign, but your expression shifts slightly into something less readable as you
straighten and pat the top of the coffee machine. Anyway, here you go. Happy birthday, and I
promise not to bring it up again after this.
 “Well - thank you,” he says reluctantly. “But you really didn’t have to-”

Oh, look at the time, you sign abruptly, evidently pretending not to hear him. A new batch of
bread is due to come out of the oven. Bye, Joel!

You vanish into the backroom, grinning brightly as you go, and all Joel can think about as he
hauls the coffee machine and tin of coffee grounds off the counter is how you’re still finger-
spelling his name in its entirety instead of giving him a name-sign.

Chapter End Notes

Reader's handwriting is the same as mine and I feel seen with that chicken-scratch 🤣
🥰
I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter - the museum visit in Part II made me soft and I needed
to reference it here. Hope you liked it!
 Autumn 2035
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Joel’s surprised it’s taken so long for the patrol rotations to pair you and him up, but on a
gloomy, cold morning near the middle of October, the two of you end up outside the walls of
Jackson together, your respective horses trotting side by side. The same hands that he’s seen
carefully kneading bread and pastry dough so many times behind the counter of your bakery
are now clutching a shotgun, methodically checking that it’s in working condition before
tucking it into the loop on your backpack and patting the side of your mare’s neck when she
snorts nervously and tosses her golden head.

“She alright?” Joel asks, and you release the reins to sign back to him.

Yeah. Honey just gets more uneasy when there’s a storm coming. You point to the swirling
gray clouds above.

“‘Honey?’” he echoes derisively when he recognizes the name you’d finger-spelled. When
you narrow your eyes at him, daring him to say anything about your taste in horse names, he
shrugs unrepentantly. “I’m just sayin’, I ain’t surprised that’s what you named her.”

What did you name your horse, then? you demand before taking up Honey’s reins again
when she jostles you a little too dangerously for your liking.

“I didn’t name him, Ellie did,” Joel defends himself automatically before admitting, “But his
name’s Cinnamon.”

He deliberately ignores the irony, but you clearly don’t, given the incredulous and wide grin
you aim his way. Quickly, he nudges his heels into Cinnamon’s sides to get the brown stallion
to begin cantering a little faster up the forest path.

To his dismay, you catch up to him just as quickly, still smirking.

Cinnamon and Honey, you sign smugly, your legs tight around your saddle to keep you from
falling off your horse as you ride hands-free. What a pair.

“Hush, you,” Joel grumbles half-heartedly and tries not to watch how that makes you laugh
silently, your head tilting back and your shoulders trembling with amusement at his expense.

Your laughter quickly dries up the moment he raises one hand to stop you, though, yanking
Cinnamon’s reins until the stallion stops in his tracks. You pull Honey to a halt, too, your
eyebrows knitting together anxiously as you wait for Joel’s assessment.

“Clickers,” he determines. “If I’m hearin’ right, around six of ‘em. They’re gonna flank us
from the left if we don’t take ‘em out first.”
Your face is drained of color when he looks back at you, and in that instant, he realizes
suddenly that he has no idea how much experience you have with fighting the infected hordes
- for all he knows, you’ve never had to deal with them during your own patrols in the past -
but your lips are pressed into a thin, grim line as you nod in agreement, sliding down from
Honey’s saddle.

What do we do? you sign, and only the minute trembling of your fingers gives away your
nerves as Joel takes a deep breath and lays out the plan.

Less than five minutes later, Cinnamon and Honey are both secured to a nearby tree loosely
enough that they can graze at the lush grass at their hooves, and you and Joel are creeping
through the tall grass toward the group of clickers that Joel had overheard from several yards
away. The creatures are frozen in place, their mutated heads swiveling in all directions; the
sound of a nearby waterfall seems to have confused them enough that they are trying to get
their bearings once more.

Joel figures the two of you can use that to your advantage as he draws a switchblade out of
his pocket silently, waiting for you to do the same before circling around to the back of the
group. He grabs one of the clickers first, yanking it into a headlock before slamming his
switchblade into its throat, and before the clicker beside it can react to the sudden gurgling
sound of its companion dying, you leap onto its back and stab your own pocket knife into its
neck.

Unfortunately, the second clicker has enough sense to let out an unearthly shriek just before it
dies, alerting the remaining four to your presence. You yank your bloody pocket knife
unceremoniously out of its throat as it collapses, dropping back down into the grass, and the
soft thud of your sneakers against the ground makes the other clickers swarm toward you,
arms outstretched and flailing blindly.

“Shit,” Joel swears and yanks his shotgun out from the loop on his backpack, aiming it at the
clicker closest to you and pulling the trigger.

It stumbles sideways under the impact, but shakes off its bleeding shoulder and beelines for
you again. Joel’s bought you enough time to get your own shotgun out, though, and you aim
it squarely at the clicker’s head before pulling the trigger. It explodes in a shower of blood
and gore and goes down easily.

“Get ‘em to the waterfall!” Joel shouts to you, and to his relief, you nod in immediate
understanding; the loud rush of the waterfall will make it easier for the two of you to take the
remaining three clickers out.

The clickers fall into pursuit behind the two of you, following you both to the cliffside, and
just as Joel had predicted, the sound of the waterfall behind you masks your matching labored
breathing as he pulls you behind a fallen tree log to regroup.

“I can take the two big ones,” he whispers to you, trying not to focus on how he can
practically feel your rapid heartbeat with how close you are to him. “Can you take out the
smaller one?”
You peer over the log, seemingly taking stock of the clickers as they shriek in frustration at
each other and whirl around in an attempt to find both of you, and then nod in agreement.

“Good.” Joel impulsively reaches out, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear for you.
“Get goin’. I’ll cover you.”

He wonders if you had meant to tilt your head so that it looks as though you’re leaning into
his touch, but then you’re gone before he can think about it too deeply, hauling yourself over
the log and vanishing into the foliage behind the clickers. After reloading his shotgun, he
pushes himself to his feet and fires directly at one of the larger clickers. The damn thing takes
three shots before finally going down, and as Joel ducks behind the log to reload his gun, he
can hear the smaller clicker shriek in its death throes as you kill it with your pocket knife.

He hurriedly climbs to his feet to shoot down the last of the clickers, but swears under his
breath when he realizes the creature is far closer to him than he had anticipated. His shotgun
is knocked out of his hands by its flailing arms, and it tackles him to the ground, rearing back
to sink its teeth into his skin.

“Joel!” The unfamiliar, hoarse scream reaches his ears just as he pulls his legs up to his chest,
kicking the clicker hard enough in the stomach that it tumbles over the edge of the cliff and
takes him with it when its sharp nails latch onto the thick material of his jacket.

They plunge together into the frigid water below, and Joel uses the clicker’s disorientation to
slam its deformed head into the riverbed with the heel of his boot. It dies with a gurgling wail
that’s muffled by the rushing water, and he manages to push his way to the surface, sputtering
and gasping for air as he paddles against the current to the riverbank. He drags himself onto
the muddy ground and flops onto his back, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his
breath.

The sound of sneakers splashing through mud makes him open his eyes just as you collapse
to your knees at his side, your eyes wide and terrified as your trembling fingers push his wet
hair off his forehead - selfishly, he memorizes the sensation of your fingertips against his skin
- and probe frantically around the soaked fabric of his jacket collar in search of injuries.

“I’m alright,” he rasps, wincing at how waterlogged and rough his voice sounds. “Not
bitten.”

You let out a relieved breath and before he knows it, you’re leaning down and kissing him
firmly, your shaking hands cradling his face delicately as if you think he’s made of fragile
porcelain. He freezes, startled, and you pull back, seemingly horrified at yourself as you
scramble backward and away from him.

Sorry, you sign hysterically, circling a trembling fist over your chest over and over. I’m so
sorry. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.

Icy, pathetic disappointment sinks in the pit of Joel’s stomach - Christ, of course you hadn’t
meant it, why would you have meant it? - even as he reaches out, covering your hands as you
try to sign another apology.
“Easy. You’re alright. We’re alright.” He holds your hands firmly even as you try to pull them
out of his grasp. “I’m not lettin’ go until you calm down, so take a few deep breaths and let
‘em out. Can you do that for me?”

Your lower lip quivers, betraying the onset of tears, but you nod reluctantly as you suck in a
slow, deep breath and let it out through your nose.

“That’s a good start.” Joel memorizes the feeling of your freezing hands in his as he waits for
you to recompose yourself. “Hey, was that your voice I heard?” he blurts out abruptly as
something registers in his water-addled brain. “Right before I fell?”

You’re as still as a statue, your gaze fixed on your intertwined hands as you make no move to
acknowledge him; maybe you’re hoping that if you pretend to ignore him long enough, he’ll
drop the subject.

“It was,” he insists instead. “You yelled my name. You can talk.”

You swallow harshly once, then twice, and finally whisper, “It’s not that simple.”

“Then explain it to me.” Joel tightens his hold on your hands when you try to yank them
away again. “‘Cause right now, it looks to me like you’ve been lying to everyone this whole
time.”

“I haven’t.” Your voice sounds even more wrecked than his own does, scratchy and weak
with lack of use. “I haven’t spoken in years, I swear.” You wince like every word is stabbing
you in the throat, and he takes pity on you.

“Okay. I believe you. You don’t gotta say any more right now.” He releases your hands at
last, brushing a sweat-dampened strand of hair out of your eyes again; you must have scaled
the cliff at record speed to reach him after he had fallen into the river.

He’s positive this time that you mean to lean into his touch as you tilt your head toward his
palm, your eyebrows still knitted together with anxiety as you lift your hands.

The storm’s rolling in, you sign before pointing up to the dark gray sky above. Raindrops are
already beginning to steadily patter down around you, and Joel knows the storm clouds are
going to open up on the two of you sooner rather than later. We won’t make it back up to the
horses in time, you add.

“Then let’s find some shelter,” he agrees, reluctantly dropping his hand away from your
cheek and watching you push yourself to your feet. “And we’ll make our way back once the
rain lets up.”

When he follows your lead and gets to his feet, though, his left leg crumples immediately and
you’re forced to catch his arms before he can lose his balance.

“Shit,” he grits out as sharp pain flares in his ankle when he tests putting his weight on it
again. “Must’ve twisted my foot when I fell.”
Your hands are too occupied with keeping him upright, so you say out loud instead, “There’s
a cave over there.” You nod to the rocky mountainside in the distance. “We can wait out the
rain there and wrap your foot up.”

“Does anyone else know you can talk?” Joel asks out of sheer curiosity as you begin helping
him limp toward the cave.

“No.” Your mouth - that he refuses to acknowledge had been pressed against his only minutes
earlier so that he can preserve his sanity - twists into a wry smile. “No one alive, anyway.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You plannin’ on killin’ me to keep your secret?”

You roll your eyes, but ominously don’t answer him as you reach the mouth of the cave,
turning on the flashlight attached to your backpack strap to peer into its depths. It’s not
particularly deep - just barely large enough for the two of you to squeeze into and start a
small fire to stay warm - but it’s thankfully empty, so Joel hobbles the rest of the way inside
and drops to the ground while you set to collecting a few stray twigs and broken tree
branches around the edge of the cave to act as a meager form of firewood.

The wood is damp, but with a few sparks from the lighter in your backpack, you succeed in
getting a fire going. The warmth of the flames combined with the steady downpour of rain
outside as the storm swells finally lulls the last of the adrenaline out of Joel’s system as you
settle on the other side of the tiny campfire, wringing your wet hair out onto the cave floor
and tying it back up before drawing out a roll of gauze from your backpack.

“Give me your foot.” You nod to his left leg, which he had awkwardly curled beneath himself
in an attempt to put pressure on it, and he grudgingly stretches it out, allowing you to work
off his boot and inspect his sock-covered ankle with a sympathetic grimace.

“That bad, huh?” he guesses.

“Yep.” You manage a wry smile despite how uncomfortable you clearly are to be speaking.
“We’re gonna have to chop it off.”

“Well, I had a good run - literally,” he deadpans back, which makes you laugh out loud for
the first time. It’s mostly just a soft huff of air with a hint of your real voice behind it - like
your vocal cords have forgotten how to audibly laugh - but it’s still more of a real laugh than
he’s ever heard from you before, and it makes his heart flop weakly in his chest.

“It’s really not that bad, but it’s still a pretty nasty sprain,” you reassure him before adding
thoughtfully, “Maria’s probably gonna take you off patrol rounds until you heal up and
Tommy’s gonna enforce it.”

“Like my little brother gets to tell me what to do,” Joel grumbles, ignoring your pointed eye-
roll back at him. “Wait, are you telling me not even Tommy and Maria know you can talk?”
he adds incredulously when something else occurs to him.

“No.” Your smile fades again as you focus back on wrapping Joel’s swollen ankle tightly.
“You’re the only one.”
“Okay,” he relents only because he can see how white your knuckles are around the roll of
gauze and hear your sharp, panicked breathing - bordering on hyperventilation, really -
echoing off the stone walls of the otherwise-silent cave. “Hey,” he adds after a beat, unable to
bear seeing you so afraid and uncertain of him in a way you never have been before. “I’m not
gonna tell anyone if you don’t want me to. You know that, right?”

“Not even Ellie?” you ask warily.

“Do you want me to tell her?” Joel presses, and you shake your head.

“Not yet. Maybe someday, but I just-” You swallow audibly. “Not yet.”

“Then I won’t,” he agrees, albeit reluctantly; he’s been keeping enough secrets from Ellie as
it is. “I promise.”

You relax marginally, but your knuckles are still white as you return the gauze to your
backpack once you finish wrapping up his ankle, your lips pressed tightly together with
apprehension. He wonders if you’re going to fall back into permanent silence around him, but
then you take a deep breath.

“It’s called selective mutism - what I have. The easiest way to describe it is that it’s like I
have to fight my own mind just to piece a sentence together some days. Not all the time, but
on really bad days, just thinking about talking out loud is enough to send me into a full-blown
panic attack.”

“You don’t have to tell me-” Joel tries to stop you, but you shake your head.

“No, I owe you an explanation.” You draw your knees up to your chest, huddling in on
yourself like a child, and he watches the firelight flicker over your downcast expression. “The
infection made its way to my town maybe a year or so after it started. Most people had seen
runners and stalkers by then, but back then, the first wave of infected was just starting to turn
into clickers.”

Joel suddenly remembers his own first encounter with a clicker and the utter disgust and
horror that had followed in its wake. He’d been lucky he hadn’t been alone then - he had at
least had Tommy with him in the first few years following the outbreak - but he had never
really forgotten the raw terror that had coursed through him the moment he’d seen a clicker
for the first time.

“I had a little sister.” You’re picking at the skin around your fingers anxiously now, and Joel
can see that they’re bleeding slightly; it’s clearly not a new habit for you. “She was seven at
the time - I was ten years older. My parents used to call her their little miracle.” You swallow
sharply. “A clicker broke into the room I was barricaded in with her, and I didn’t know any
better at the time, so I screamed, and it killed her instead of me. My dad said afterward that if
I’d just kept my mouth shut that day, my sister would still be here, and I just-” You shrug
helplessly. “-took that to heart, I guess. Internalized it, and my brain eventually turned it into
an association - talking equals bad stuff happening. Stupid, I know.”
“It’s not,” Joel blurts out before he can stop himself. “What happened to your sister wasn’t
your fault. You couldn’t have known to stay quiet around a clicker back then.”

You smile humorlessly. “Yeah, well, my folks didn’t exactly see it that way. I think at one
point, my mom accused me of getting my sister killed on purpose, too, so that was fun.”
Before Joel can open his mouth again to protest indignantly on your behalf, you change the
subject quickly, “Anyway, I left not long after that. I knew better than to stay somewhere I
wasn’t wanted, so I spent a long time - a couple of decades, really - wandering on my own.
Quite literally ran into Tommy while he was on patrol one day and nearly got myself shot
before he realized I wasn’t infected and brought me back to Jackson to stay the night. In the
morning, he and Maria suggested that I stay even longer, so I took them up on the offer and
put some roots down.”

Joel’s hands twitch instinctively at his sides like they want to reach out for you, but he keeps
them firmly planted at his sides, unsure how to wipe the lost, forlorn expression off your face
as you stare at the flickering flames of the small campfire you’d built.

“Over the years, it just became easier to let people think I’m totally mute instead of having to
explain it each time I have a bad day.” You pick absently at a stray thread on your sleeve,
clearly not wanting to meet his eyes. “But back on the cliff when that clicker jumped you,
the, um - the thought of losing you scared me more than anything else has in a long time now.
I didn’t even know I’d shouted for you until you said you’d heard me.”

Joel realizes he’d been holding his breath only when his lungs burn from lack of oxygen,
finally sucking in a shaky breath.

“Oh,” he manages to get out, and you manage a tiny, weary smile as your gaze lifts back up
to meet his at last.

“Yeah.”

He swallows past the sudden lump in his throat and gives up on keeping his hands still as he
holds them out in supplication.

“C’mere.”

You shuffle closer hesitantly, placing your rain-chilled hands in his and allowing him to pull
you closer until you’re tucked in firmly against his chest. Now that you’re molded against
him, he can feel your minute shivering - the only sign of your lingering anxiety - and ducks
his head to press his cheek against the top of your damp hair as he tightens his hold on you
until you finally settle into stillness against him.

“I ain’t goin’ anywhere,” he promises you quietly. “You’re stuck with me.”

He can feel your lips curve into a shy, tentative smile as they brush against his exposed
collarbone.

“Good.” Your breath is warm against his chilled skin, and the admission slips out of him
before he can really even think about it.
 “I had a daughter. Years ago - long before Ellie. Her name was Sarah, and she was twelve. I
had her real young, and her mom took off when she was a baby, so it was just the two of us.”

You are silent even as you tilt your head up to frown deeply at Joel, but he doesn’t look at
you, instead fixing his gaze on the opposite cave wall and watching how the firelight throws
strange patterns against the stone.

“When the outbreak started, you know how the military handled it - no one went in or out of
infected zones. Tommy and I tried to get Sarah out in his car, but we crashed and she hurt her
leg. I figured our best shot was for me to carry her to the highway, and-” He swallows
harshly. “The soldier was tryin’ to shoot me. He hit her instead, and she died in my arms.”

“Joel-” you say so softly that he almost doesn’t hear you, but he shakes his head sharply to
dissuade you from trying to ease the sting of his memories.

“I’m not tryin’ to get you to feel sorry for me, I just - you and your sister? I get it. I blamed
myself for a long time - still do some days.”

“Yeah,” you agree quietly even as he feels your fingers curl into the lapels of his jacket as if
you’re subtly trying to anchor him back to reality; maybe you are. “Me, too.”

He doesn’t bring up your impulsive kiss back on the riverbank, nor do you. Instead, you
wordlessly press closer and nestle your head against his chest - just over his heart - and he
tilts his head back against the cave wall, content just to clutch you tightly and listen to the
rain fall steadily outside.

Chapter End Notes

So, uh - Reader's going to be talking pretty often now on around Joel 🙈

if it makes you
guys feel better, she's only talking around him because he makes her feel comfortable
enough to do so, and she'll still have moments where she's more comfortable signing or
mouthing words if her hands are busy.

🥰
I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter all the same because delving into her backstory was
something I really enjoyed!
 Autumn 2035 (Part II)
Chapter Notes

Smut warning 👀
See the end of the chapter for more notes

As you had predicted, Maria takes Joel off the patrol rotations the moment both of you return
to town and even puts him on house arrest, and he resigns himself to his fate. Ellie takes pity
on him and doesn’t make too much fun of the fact that he had injured his ankle by falling into
a river, though he does catch her biting back a smirk when he explains what had happened on
patrol.

You come over bearing dinner on the first night of Joel’s house arrest sentence, and Ellie
insists on you staying as she takes the massive casserole dish you had brought over and heads
to the kitchen to get three plates ready.

“Hey,” Joel says wryly when you peer over the back of the couch where he is sprawled out.
“Come to point and laugh at the prisoner?”

Of course, you sign, grinning so warmly back down at him that he can’t bring himself to be
mad. But also to save you both the trouble of cooking for a little while. I brought enough to
make at least three meals’ worth of leftovers.

“Thanks,” he says sincerely, and you brush it off with an absent-minded wave.

I’m not interrupting any plans for the evening, am I? you sign.

“With this damn thing?” He gestures to his wrapped foot and does his best not to watch how
your smile softens in sympathy. “Don’t think there are gonna be any plans for a while.”

“We were just gonna put on a movie,” Ellie supplies from behind you, passing a loaded plate
of roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans to you before giving another one to
Joel. “You wanna watch it with us while we eat? It’s got dinosaurs in it.”

She holds up the DVD for you to see, and you perk up when you recognize the faded art on
the disc.

Jurassic Park? You mouth the title since your hands are occupied with your plate, and Joel
nods as he shifts to make room for you and Ellie on the couch.

“Yeah, that’s the one. You’ve seen it?”

Only once when I was little, you mouth, settling in on the lumpy cushions beside him and
placing your plate of food on your knees before signing with your hands, I used to be scared
of it.

He snorts derisively. “You were scared of Jurassic Park as a kid?”

You mock-scowl, but a smile is threatening to pull at the corners of your mouth as you
answer silently, I was scared of basically everything as a kid. Don’t make fun.

Ellie sprawls out on Joel’s other side once she puts the DVD into the ancient player nestled
beneath their television and shuts off the lights, her plate perched in her lap carefully. Joel’s
seen the movie so many times before the outbreak that he can practically recite it from
memory, so he reclines back against the couch and focuses on eating instead, only bothering
to move when he has to nudge either you or Ellie and remind you both to eat your respective
meals.

It takes about half of the movie’s runtime before everyone’s plates are clear. You and Ellie are
so visibly fascinated by the plot that Joel just stacks the plates and utensils at the edge of the
coffee table to worry about washing later and drags the blanket that had been draped over the
top of the couch over all three of your laps. He’s made keenly aware of your proximity to him
when you shuffle closer unconsciously as the T-Rex makes its first appearance onscreen.

“That’s a big boy,” Ellie breathes in awe, seemingly just as engrossed in the movie as you
are, and Joel has to resist the urge to roll his eyes as he ruffles her auburn hair fondly with
one hand and leaves his free hand open on the couch between himself and you in a silent
offering.

When you don’t seem to realize it’s there, he chances a sideways glance at Ellie - who is
leaning forward eagerly in her seat now, her elbows braced on her knees and her green eyes
wide and fixed intently on the screen - before throwing all caution to the wind and brushing
his fingertips against your denim-clad knee. You jolt, startled, but then flush when you realize
that it’s just him, a shy and embarrassed grin tugging at your lips that makes a smile of his
own spread unconsciously across his face.

“C’mere,” he whispers so that only you can hear, and you slide your hand tentatively over
his, allowing him to tug you into his side until you can nestle your head against his shoulder.

The clean scent of your soap threatens to overwhelm him, and he quells it by pressing his
cheek against the top of your head in return, shifting slightly to slide his arm properly around
your shoulders. As the lingering adrenaline of the T-Rex scene fades away, Ellie shuffles
backward on the couch until her head is pillowed on Joel’s other shoulder, and he slides his
free arm around her to pull her closer until both of you are curled up comfortably against
him.

He closes his eyes only for a minute, but when he blinks himself awake, the movie’s credits
are rolling and Ellie’s untangling herself from his side, yawning and stretching. The clock on
the wall reads eleven, and Joel winces inwardly at the crick threatening to form in his neck;
he’s getting far too old to be falling asleep upright anymore.
“I’ll do the dishes in the morning,” Ellie reassures him under her breath, and when he glances
down, he realizes why she’s lowered her voice; you are fast asleep against his shoulder, your
eyes shut and your breathing slow and even. When he looks back up at Ellie, her eyebrows
are raised in appraisal as she takes in the way your fingers are curled into the fabric of his T-
shirt. “So is this a thing now?”

He swallows, unsure why he’s suddenly apprehensive about her reaction as he admits, “I’m
hopin’ so.”

She shrugs. “Eh. You could do worse.” Something in her expression softens when she looks
back down at you, but she doesn’t offer any other insight, instead retreating to her garage
unit. “‘Night, Joel.”

“‘Night, Ellie.” He watches her shut the door, a strange sense of relief spreading through him
as he sags back against the couch.

The movement makes you stir beside him, lifting your head from his shoulder blearily, and he
reaches up to smooth down your messy hair instinctively.

“Easy,” he reassures you. “Ellie just went to bed.”

“Didn’t mean to fall asleep on you,” you admit hoarsely out loud, keeping your voice low in
deference to the teenage girl on the other side of the house.

The unexpectedness of getting to hear your voice again makes Joel wonder where exactly
you are originally from; your accent is mostly neutral, but there’s the faintest hint of
something region-specific that he can’t quite pinpoint. He resolves to ask you about it
someday, but not when you’re staring up at him with your eyebrows knitted warily together
as you seemingly gauge whether it’s really okay that you’d fallen asleep on his shoulder.

“It’s alright.” He hauls you closer. “Go back to sleep.”

“I have to get up early to open the bakery,” you protest feebly.

“So get up early,” he reasons, already settling his head back against the top of yours as his
eyes drift shut. “But for now, stay the night.”

He knows you’re staring up at him, likely wide-eyed and bewildered, but is far too warm and
sleepy to care. At long last, you sink back down against his side, and once he’s confident you
aren’t leaving, he shifts to lay down properly, pulling you down until you’re sprawled on top
of him comfortably.

“Wait, Joel, your ankle-” you try to argue again, sounding vaguely like you’re stifling a yawn
even as you say it.

“Sweetheart,” Joel sighs long-sufferingly, and you abruptly fall silent. In his sleep-addled
mind, he just barely puts together that it’s probably because he’s never called you that before.
“Just sleep.”

“Okay,” you relent at last, the tension draining out of you as you settle down against him.
“Okay,” he echoes, relaxing beneath you, and is on the verge of dozing back off when he
feels your head tilt up toward his face. You’re clearly trying to see if he’s actually asleep or
not, so he does his best to stay as perfectly still as possible, keeping his breathing slow and
even.

After a beat, your lips graze the bearded underside of his jaw tentatively before your head
presses back down against his chest. He wonders if you can hear his heart hammering
beneath your ear; you probably can.

He blames it on the fact that it’s been a long time since he’s slept - in both the euphemistic
and literal sense - with anyone. Why else would he wake up so hard and aching that it’s
frankly embarrassing?

You’re still fast asleep on top of him, your fingers twisted into his T-shirt and your legs
bracketing his hips unconsciously, so he does his best to untangle himself from you without
waking you, but all it does is jostle his sprained ankle. He can’t quite bite back a hiss of pain
in time, and the sound jolts you awake, your endearingly sleepy and startled expression
immediately tilting up to his face.

“Joel? Are you okay?” It must be a good day for you, or maybe you’re just so comfortable
around him now that your voice comes naturally to you when the two of you are alone; he
wants to believe it’s the latter.

“Yeah,” he lies when your question registers in his drowsy mind. “Yeah, I just moved my foot
wrong, that’s all. Go back to sleep.”

You peer over your shoulder at the sky outside the window - dark navy threaded with the
faintest hints of pre-dawn purple and pink near the horizon - before shaking your head.

“No, I should go - gotta prep to open the bakery, remember?”

“Oh.” He tries not to sound too disappointed. “Right, yeah.”

You shift to sit upright, but Joel realizes too late that your new position means you can feel
his arousal pressing into your clothed core, and the moment you notice it, too, your eyes
double in size.

“Oh.” Your voice leaves you in a breathy exhale.

“Sorry,” he blurts out. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I just - can we pretend this isn’t-?”

Before he can finish whatever feeble excuse he’d started, you tentatively shift your hips
against his, and the friction feels so insanely good that he has to shut his eyes and tilt his head
back to recompose himself.

“You really gotta stop doing that,” he grits out, his hands instinctively flying to your waist to
hold you still.
You’re quiet for far too long, and when Joel dares to open his eyes again, he realizes you’re
watching him consideringly, your head tilted slightly with a tiny, incredulous smile tugging at
the corners of your mouth - like you can’t quite believe he’s hard for you, of all people.

“You want this.” You say it like a statement, but he can hear the uncertainty in your voice.

“I probably shouldn’t,” he admits.

“But you want this,” you repeat more firmly as if you’re trying to convince yourself of that
fact.

He swallows harshly. “Yeah.”

“Me, too.” You lean down and kiss him slowly and languidly like you’re memorizing the
sensation of his lips against yours, your mouths slotting together like matching puzzle pieces.

Your hands find his at your waist, lacing your fingers together before you drag them up to pin
them on either side of his head so that your hips are free to grind down against his again in
steady, rolling motions that steal the breath from his lungs. Experimentally, he tries to move
his hands back to your waist, but you hold them steady against the couch cushions, and he’s
pretty sure he shouldn’t like that as much as he does.

“You said you didn’t mean to kiss me,” he manages to get out against your lips, and when
you pull back, visibly confused, he clarifies, “Back at the river.”

Your expression crumples with guilt as you admit, “I thought you didn’t feel the same, so I
panicked.”

“Christ, sweetheart,” Joel groans good-naturedly. “All you had to do was ask.”

The tentative, hopeful smile that breaks across your face is more beautiful than any sunrise
he’s ever seen.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He leans up just enough to capture your mouth in a firm kiss, nipping at your lower
lip and earning a startled, but delighted little squeak that he wants to pull far more often from
you. “Weren’t you sayin’ you wanted to open your bakery early today?” he murmurs
teasingly into the kiss and grins unrepentantly when you pull back again to narrow your eyes
in a half-hearted glare down at him.

“Do you want me to leave or not, Joel?”

Oh, the sound of his name in the low, husky rasp of your underutilized voice is something he
definitely shouldn’t like as much as he does.

“No.” His voice comes out threadier than he means it to, all levity in his voice vanishing
instantly. “Stay.”
Your false irritation softens and melts into open, unabashed fondness as you duck your head
to press your forehead against his.

“Okay.” You kiss him again far more tenderly than he’s sure he deserves, your fingers curling
a little more tightly to squeeze his hands as you roll your hips against his with a low,
contented hum that makes him stamp down a responding groan.

“Don’t stop,” he breathes into the kiss, feeling your mouth curve into a smile in response.

“Wasn’t planning on it.” You rock down against him again, shivering slightly as the denim of
your jeans rubs against you. “Fuck, Joel,” you sigh contentedly against his lips, your voice
barely above a heady whisper, and before he knows it, stars explode behind his closed
eyelids.

By the time awareness returns to him and he manages to force his eyes open, he realizes
you’ve jerked backward and away from him, staring in unrestrained awe at the
embarrassingly large damp patch steadily staining the front of his threadbare pajama pants.

“Did you just…?” you breathe, stunned.

“Yeah.” Joel wonders how he has any blood left in his face to turn red in mortification as he
squeezes his eyes shut again and lets his head fall back against the armrest of the couch,
dreading your inevitable laughter at his expense even as he tries to catch his breath and come
up with something to excuse coming in his pants like a goddamn teenager. “Don’t - don’t
laugh, okay? It’s been a long time and I haven’t really-”

You cut him off with a searingly desperate kiss, crushing your mouth against his so eagerly
that he moans shamelessly against your lips before you pull back just enough to pepper sweet
little kisses across his jawline, his cheeks, his nose, his forehead - wherever you can reach,
really. You release his hands so that you can wind your arms around his neck instead, kissing
him again deeply, and he fumbles for the button of your jeans the moment he’s free to do so,
sliding one hand beneath its waistband once he gets it open and pulls the zipper down.

You let out a surprised, breathy “oh!” when his fingers graze over the edge of your
underwear, and he shoves the damp fabric aside to stroke one fingertip experimentally
through your slick, soaked folds.

“Shit,” he marvels. “You’re this wet already?”

You nod, your fingers curling into the hair at the back of his head as a pretty flush rises up
your neck and into your face. Tentatively, he nudges his middle fingertip against your
entrance and watches as your teeth sink into your lower lip to stifle whatever noise is
threatening to crawl up your throat.

“I’ve got you,” he reassures you, curling his free hand around your hip to steady you, and you
nod again breathlessly.

“I know.”
You’re so wet that his finger slides inside you effortlessly, your arousal dripping down his
knuckles as he bites back a groan at how tightly you clench around him and watches your
mouth fall open in a soundless gasp.

“How long’s it been?” he asks impulsively.

“A long time,” you confess. “Years.”

“Yeah, me, too.” Joel leans up just enough to kiss you roughly this time, licking his way into
your mouth until you’re practically whining against him. “Can you take another?” He waits
for you to nod frantically before he dares to press his ring finger inside you as well. “Fuck,
you’re so tight.”

You cant your hips downward, drawing his fingers deeper inside you, and your eyes squeeze
shut like you’re memorizing the drag of his fingertips along your inner walls.

“That’s what you want, huh?” He twists his hand until his thumb finds your swollen clit,
tracing slippery circles over it as he watches you shiver silently above him. “You wanna fuck
yourself on my hand? Think you can make yourself come just like this?”

You nod again, your eyes still screwed tightly shut and your teeth sinking into your lower lip.

“Go on.” He curls his fingers inside you. “Take what you need, sweetheart. I’m all yours.”

That’s what makes you finally open your eyes to meet his gaze even as your breath hitches in
your throat and your pussy flutters around his fingers.

“Mine?” you breathe slowly as if rolling the concept around on your tongue and savoring the
taste of it.

“Yours,” he confirms even as he brushes his thumb over your sensitive clit again, making you
bite your lip to stifle another noise. “If you’ll have me,” he adds belatedly, giving you one
last out.

You exhale a breathless laugh as you duck down to press your forehead to his.

“I am literally in the middle of having you right now, you dork. What the fuck are you talking
about?”

Joel grins despite himself at the incredulous smile on your face; he thinks he can get used to
seeing you smile like that a lot more often.

“Just wanna be sure - you can always back out if you don’t want this, y’know.”

You raise an eyebrow and then deliberately rock your hips down against his hand, a fresh
wave of slick coating his fingers when he pumps them experimentally in and out of you.

“Does that feel like I don’t want this?” you demand.

“Say it, then,” he insists.

Your amused expression softens even as your eyes - regardless of their color, their intensity
makes Joel think of warm, molten honey - darken instantly, your pupils blown wide with
desire.

“I want this.” You kiss him softly - barely a brush of your lips against his - and it must be a
sign of how pathetically affection-starved he is that his spent cock twitches in a valiant
attempt to harden again just from that tiny kiss alone. “I want you, Joel - as long as you’ll
have me.”

His throat grows tight suddenly, thick with a lump that won’t go away no matter how many
times he tries to swallow.

“Well, shit, that’s somethin’,” he croaks, and when you pull back slightly to frown back down
at him, clearly catching the emotion threatening to overwhelm him, he distracts you with
another firm swipe of his thumb over your clit.

“Fuck,” you grit out, your eyes squeezing shut once more as you grind back down against his
hand instinctively. “We’re gonna talk about this eventually.”

“I know.” He curls his fingers until they nudge against a specific spot inside you that makes
you suck in a sharp breath and arch against him. “But for now, lemme take care of you,
okay?”

You melt readily into his touch, burying your face into his neck as he pumps his fingers
steadily in and out of you and turns his head until he can brush his lips against your temple
tenderly.

“Shh, it’s alright, I’ve got you,” he murmurs when you press a strangled whimper that sounds
vaguely like his name into the junction between his neck and shoulder. “C’mon, sweetheart,
give it to me just like this. Come for me, that’s it, that’s it-”

You come with a shuddering moan that you muffle into his skin, clenching so hard around his
fingers that his cock twitches again in his pants. He curses his age inwardly; if he’d been
even a few years younger, he’s sure he’d be achingly hard and eager for another round by
now.

Instead, he focuses on coaxing you through your orgasm, pressing kiss after kiss against your
sweat-dampened hairline until you’re boneless and sated against him before finally easing his
hand out of you. You tilt your head up lazily to watch through half-lidded eyes as he brings
his soaked fingers to his lips and sucks them clean slowly, savoring the sweet tang of you on
his tongue.

“Next time, I’m tasting that straight from the source,” he tells you after he lowers his hand
again once it’s clean, sliding it just beneath the hem of your shirt to trace circles into the
warm, soft skin at your hip.

“Next time?” you echo teasingly, sounding like you’ve just run a marathon.
“As long as you’ll have me,” Joel reminds you, watching how a flush darkens your skin
before you lean up to kiss him deeply and lick the taste of yourself out of his mouth.

“What if that’s forever?” you murmur against his lips, and he hums into the kiss contentedly
even as his heart skips a beat.

“I guess that’s alright by me,” he whispers back.

He memorizes the sensation of your mouth curving into a smile against his before you pull
back and glance over your shoulder at the steadily lightening sky outside.

“I really do have to go.” You sound so incredibly reluctant that it takes all of Joel’s willpower
not to drag you back down against him and keep you there.

“I know.” He reaches up instead to smooth a stray strand of hair out of your face for you. “It’s
okay. We’ll have time later.”

You lean down and peck his lips again before sliding off him, and he immediately misses
your warmth as he rolls clumsily onto his side to watch you button your jeans up again.

“You’re gonna have to change before Ellie wakes up,” you point out, grinning, and he
glances self-consciously down at the incriminating patch of dampness on the front of his
pajama pants.

“Yeah,” he agrees grudgingly. “I’ll get right on that.”

When he looks back up at you, your gaze is soft and warm as it roams over his face as if
learning it by heart to recall later.

“Need me to help you up the stairs?” you ask instead of saying whatever you clearly want to,
and he shakes his head as he pushes himself upright.

“Nah, I’ll be alright.”

“Okay.” You duck down, kissing him firmly as one hand comes up to cradle his cheek
delicately. “I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah.” He steals one last kiss from you before you can pull away.

I love you.

The words linger on the tip of his tongue, but he swallows them down; it’s far too soon for
any conversation that heavy.

“I’ll see you later, sweetheart,” he says instead, taking the memory of your smile over your
shoulder as you slip out his front door and tucking it into a crevice behind his heart before
resigning himself to limping up the stairs to retrieve a new pair of pants.
Chapter End Notes

🙈🙈🙈
pls be kind to me this is my first smut ever

I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter! 🥰

 Winter 2035
Chapter Notes

More smut, babeeeeey 🎉

See the end of the chapter for more notes

“It’ll be fun!” Ellie tries to insist.

“It’ll be loud, is what it’ll be,” Joel grumbles as she tugs him down the snow-covered street,
glad that his ankle has long since fully healed and doesn’t give out under the slippery surface.
“What’s the big deal? It’s just another dance - there’s plenty of those.”

“But it’s almost Christmas.” Her eyes go round and pleading, but Joel’s having none of it.

“So?”

Ellie sighs long-sufferingly before playing her trump card.

“They’ve got burgers there.”

Joel is briefly torn, but the idea of food wins out and he grudgingly lets Ellie pull him along
until they enter the community hall, at which point she promptly abandons him for her group
of friends on the far side of the building. He resigns himself to a couple of hours of awkward
mingling, retrieving a burger for himself on a paper plate and then crossing the hall to where
he can see Tommy waving him over from a table he and Maria are sharing.

“I can’t believe Ellie got you to come to one of these things,” his younger brother points out
bemusedly once Joel slumps into a chair with his food.

“Yeah, neither can I,” he grumbles as he takes a bite of his burger; even in his foul mood, he
can’t help but reluctantly admit to himself that it’s delicious. “I don’t even know why she
bothered - not like I’m gonna dance.”

“Eh, you could give it a try.” Maria is distinctly smirking when Joel narrows his eyes back at
her.

“No thanks. I’m not lookin’ to make a fool of myself tonight.”

“Yeah, you do that plenty on other days,” Tommy teases even as he places a bottle of beer in
front of Joel, who puts as much mock-cheer as he can muster into flipping him off before
taking a swig of his beer. “Your girl’s been here for a while now,” he adds.
That gets Joel’s attention as he follows Tommy’s gaze to where you are standing on the far
side of the hall, nodding along politely to something another resident of Jackson - he
recognizes the other man as Kyle, who had worked with him to help build your bakery - is
saying to you.

“She’s not my-” Joel breaks off abruptly as it hits him that maybe you are.

Then again, between your bakery shifts and both of your patrol rounds, the two of you
haven’t even had a minute alone together since the one early morning you had shared right
after he had injured his ankle several weeks earlier, much less enough time to discuss in any
further detail what your fledgling relationship means to each other.

“Uh-huh. If you say so.” Tommy is disguising his own smirk behind the lip of his own beer
bottle, and Joel thinks - not for the first time - that his brother and Maria really do seem to be
made for each other even as he kicks the other man’s ankle under the table.

“Relax, I don’t think she’ll make you dance with her,” Maria reassures Joel. “I’m pretty sure
she’s never danced at one of these things, either.”

“Yeah?” Joel nods to where Kyle has taken your hands, pulling you onto the dance floor even
as you mock-scowl in pretend indignation. “Then why’s she dancing with him?”

“Fuck’s sake, Joel,” Tommy groans good-naturedly. “If you’re so jealous, then go break it
up.”

“I’m not jealous,” Joel sputters around another gulp of beer, but when he turns automatically
to watch Kyle pick you up and twirl you fast enough that your head falls back in a silent peal
of laughter, the burger he’d just eaten instantly sours in his stomach; okay, yeah, he’s pretty
damn jealous.

“Three, two, one,” Tommy stage-whispers to Maria even as Joel pushes himself to his feet
and crosses the dance floor to where Kyle has set you back down on your feet, your face
flushed with delight.

“Mind if I cut in?” he demands, not bothering to make it sound even remotely polite.

Despite the haze of jealousy threatening to cloud his vision, he can’t help but notice how your
smile brightens the moment you see him, and something in his chest softens and warms at the
same time.

“Sure thing,” Kyle says far too easily as he untangles himself from you. “See you around,” he
adds cheerfully to you before heading off to get a drink.

“Hey, stranger,” you whisper, barely audible over the music as Joel slides his arms around
your waist and pulls you close; to anyone else, it would look like you’re simply mouthing the
words since your hands are too busy winding around his neck to sign. “You clean up nice.”
Your fingers trail appreciatively over the collar of the red plaid shirt he’s wearing.

“Maria said you don’t usually dance at these things,” he retorts, not bothering with small talk.
You tilt your head innocently as the two of you begin swaying slowly in time with the music,
shuffling back and forth to the rhythm of the slow song as opposed to actually dancing.

“It got you out on the floor, didn’t it?”

“Wait, you knew I’d be here?” Joel asks bemusedly when the implication of that registers in
his brain. “But I never come out to dances.”

“Yeah, well, who do you think told me she’d make sure you’d come out tonight so I could
finally spend some time with you?” You nod to where Ellie is watching the two of you
around a glass of what Joel hopes is just apple juice and smiling smugly even as Dina draws
her into a conversation. “She even picked out my clothes.”

“You do look beautiful,” Joel concedes as he admires you brazenly; you’re wearing a forest-
green satin blouse with gold buttons that he’s never seen you in before and dark-wash jeans,
your hair left naturally loose without its usual elastic band to tie it back out of your face.

“And Kyle was a wonderful accomplice,” you add mildly, deliberately ignoring the
compliment even as a pretty flush travels up your exposed neck and into your face. “Played
his part perfectly the moment I asked him to pretend to ask me to dance so that you’d storm
out here and cut in.”

“He was in on it?” Joel turns just enough to glower at Kyle, who now seems to be happily
filling Tommy and Maria in on the scam that he, Ellie, and you had apparently collaborated
together to pull. “That fucker,” he grumbles, admittedly more impressed than annoyed that
said scam had actually worked.

“You weren’t really that jealous, were you?” Your fingers brush tenderly against his cheek to
draw his attention back to you. You’re smiling so warmly that the remnants of his irritation
have no choice but to fizzle out and extinguish themselves.

“I was,” he admits and watches your smile slide right off your face in your shock.

“You…were?” you echo slowly, clearly processing that revelation.

“I was,” he confirms before putting on his best exaggerated Texan drawl and adding
teasingly, “But now I’m thinkin’ that maybe I oughta let Kyle over yonder have another turn
dancin’ with you since you were clearly havin’ so much fun with him-”

“Don’t you dare.” Your arms tighten around Joel’s neck like you’re afraid he’s actually going
to let you go - like you have no idea that he couldn’t possibly let you go even if he tried now
that you’re finally in his arms again after weeks apart. “I’ve missed you,” you add so
earnestly that all levity is instantly sucked out of the air, and his throat becomes painfully dry
despite the beer he had gulped down earlier.

“I’ve missed you, too, sweetheart.” He smooths back a stray lock of hair behind your ear for
you. “Can’t really blame me for gettin’ jealous, though - I mean, you don’t even have a
name-sign for me when you’ve got one for everybody else. Kinda makes a guy feel a little
less special, y’know?” He tries to go for something light and teasing, but can’t quite disguise
the hurt behind it.

You jerk back, visibly startled. “What are you talking about? Of course I have a name-sign
for you.”

Joel stares at you, bewildered. “What? But you’re just spelling my name.”

“No,” you protest, seemingly horrified at the thought. “No, no, this is your name-sign.”

You release him to lift your hands so that he can see, slowly and deliberately finger-spelling
the letter “J”. What follows is what he had always assumed was the rest of his name with
how quickly you tended to sign each letter, but now that you’ve slowed it down, he can
finally see that the sign is actually meant to be you miming taking a sip from a coffee mug.

“I’ve had that sign for you since Ellie first told me you liked coffee - the day you fixed my
generator last winter,” you add by way of explanation as your arms wind back around Joel’s
neck.

“Oh,” he says faintly, his head reeling, and you grin incredulously.

“Did you really think I never gave you a name-sign after all this time?”

He doesn’t bother answering you. Instead, he throws all caution to the wind and kisses you
firmly - right there on the dance floor in front of the whole damn town, God, what is he
thinking? - but to his relief, you kiss him back without a hint of hesitation, smiling broadly
against his lips.

“Dork,” you whisper when he pulls away, positively beaming now, and he can’t help but
press his forehead against yours, smiling despite himself.

“Takes one to know one.” He revels in the sight of your smile widening until your eyes
crinkle prettily at the corners before informing you, “Y’know, Ellie’s stayin’ over with some
of her friends tonight.”

“Oh, that sounds nice,” you answer blithely. “She deserves to spend some time with them.”

“She won’t be back ‘til tomorrow afternoon at the earliest,” Joel adds pointedly.

“I’m sure they’ll have fun,” you agree, but there’s a hint of amusement in your eyes that tells
him that you know exactly what you’re doing.

“And I seem to recall promisin’ you a ‘next time,’” he muses, lowering his voice even further
so that only you can hear him, and is rewarded with the sweet sound of you taking in a sharp,
startled breath. “Do I need to keep goin’, or do you get the hint?”

“I’m getting something,” you tease faintly, though your eyes are still round and surprised, and
he rolls his eyes fondly before stealing another peck from your lips, not caring anymore how
many eyes are fixed on the two of you.
“You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” you agree happily. “But I’m your ridiculous.”

“That you are, darlin’,” he confirms, pulling you even closer and nestling his chin against the
top of your head contentedly as the two of you continue to sway in time with the music.

Barely an hour later, your clothes are scattered across Joel’s bedroom floor and you are naked
in his bed as he makes good on his promise and buries his head between your thighs.

“Joel,” you keen as your fingers tangle messily in his hair, holding him in place as he drags
the flat of his tongue over your folds slowly.

“Fuck,” he murmurs. “You taste even sweeter here. How’s that possible?”

“Don’t stop,” you breathe, and when he looks up at you, he realizes your eyes are squeezed
shut and your head is tilted up toward his ceiling.

“Eyes on me.” He kisses the soft, silken inside of your thigh and waits for you to lift your
head and lock eyes with him before laving his tongue over your pussy again.

You shudder, but obediently don’t break eye contact even as your fingers card lazily through
Joel’s hair again. He closes his lips around your clit, sucking on it gently, and watches as you
arch off the bed briefly before flopping back down unceremoniously, rattling the old mattress
as you do.

“I’m not gonna last if you keep that up,” you warn.

“Good,” he says as he pulls back to suck a red mark into the skin of your hip; it may not be
visible to anyone else, but he hopes it’ll at least make you think of him for a few more days
until it fades. “That’s the idea.”

“Joel-” you warn, but he’s already delving back down between your legs to eat you out with
renewed eagerness, swallowing down every drop of arousal that you offer him. “Oh, fuck.”
Your head lolls back against his pillow again. “I’m - I’m gonna - oh.”

You come with a quick, sharp inhale, gushing against his mouth, and he’s positive that his
beard is soaked with you when he comes up for air, pressing his cheek against the curve of
your knee as he watches you fall apart.

“You can give me another,” he says, not bothering to make it sound like a question.

“I can’t,” you protest breathlessly. “It’s too much, I can’t-”

“Yeah, you can.” He slips two fingers into you before you even come down from the
aftershocks of your first orgasm, ducking down to close his lips back around your clit as he
begins to pump his fingers in and out of you steadily.
His cock aches for attention, painfully hard in the jeans he still hasn’t taken off, but he
ignores it; he can wait forever if it means watching you moan and writhe above him the way
you are now. You’re already close again, your whimpers getting steadily higher-pitched, but
just as you are about to reach your crest, he pulls away entirely, sliding his fingers out of you
and watching as your pussy flutters around nothing.

“No,” you whine at the loss.

“Shh,” he hushes you, sliding up the length of your body to brush a tender kiss over your lips.
“I’ll make it up to you, sweetheart, I promise.”

You’re a sight for sore eyes when he sits back to admire you sprawled out in a display of utter
hedonism in his bed with your legs spread wide and a petulant scowl twisting your pretty
mouth before you promptly sit up to kiss him eagerly as your fingers work to undo the
buttons of his shirt clumsily. He shrugs it off and tosses it haphazardly off the edge of the
bed, but when he turns back to you, your gaze is fixed worriedly on the ugly, raised scar on
his abdomen.

“I got impaled on a piece of rebar,” he explains. “A couple of years back. Ellie saved my
life.”

“Does it still hurt?” Your fingertips trace over the shape of the scar delicately - as if you’re
afraid your touch will hurt him - and he shakes his head.

“Not anymore.” He kisses you swiftly again to wipe the anxious look off your face, but it
doesn’t quite work; you’re still frowning when he pulls away. “Hey,” he insists gently. “I’m
fine, really. You don’t gotta worry about me.”

Your mouth purses slightly in disagreement. “I’m always gonna worry about you - part of the
job description.”

Joel’s throat grows suddenly tight and he crushes his mouth against yours, hauling you close.
You take advantage of your sudden proximity by snaking a hand between the two of you, the
flat of your palm mapping out the shape of his cock through his jeans, and he groans into
your mouth.

“Gonna make me come way too soon if you keep that up.”

“Yeah?” You nip at his lower lip affectionately, your tongue skating delicately over it just as
quickly to soothe the sting of your teeth. “I don’t see the downside of that.”

“Depends, do you want me to fuck you or not?” he demands good-naturedly as he leans back
just enough to narrow his eyes in a mock-glare back at you, and you grin broadly as you lean
in to kiss the tip of his nose so sweetly that he can’t even pretend to be annoyed.

“You’re cute,” you tell him fondly when you pull away again.

“I am not,” he huffs mock-indignantly; then again, he’s not entirely sure anyone has ever
called him “cute” before in his life.
“Yes, you are.” You kiss the corner of his mouth. “You’re cute and sweet and adorable-”

“Sure you’re not describing what you see in the mirror every morning?” he teases back,
tilting his head to capture your lips again in a firm kiss when you roll your eyes derisively in
response. “I mean it, pretty girl,” he murmurs against your lips, and you shiver.

“Am not,” you mumble back self-consciously.

“Yeah, you are.” He nudges you back down against the mattress, taking a moment to marvel
at how you sprawl lazily out beneath him even as he undoes his jeans and kicks them and his
underwear off in one unceremonious move. “You’re the prettiest damn thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Could say the same for you.” You’ve dropped your gaze to his cock, hard and leaking as it
curves against the inside of your thigh, but when you reach down for it, he grabs your wrist
and pins it over your head.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” he warns as he tugs up your other hand to pin it down as well. “You held
me down last time, and now I get to repay the favor.”

“You liked it, though.” Your eyes crinkle slightly when you smile, an amused glint in them.

“I did,” he admits as he ducks to kiss the tip of your nose tenderly, rocking his hips slowly
against yours and biting back a curse as the sensitive head of his cock slides over your slick
folds.

Your eyes have gone wide and round when he looks up at you, your legs instinctively sliding
up to wrap around his hips and draw him closer.

“You want this?” he presses you for your consent one last time.

“I want this,” you confirm without hesitation.

There are going to be other times where Joel slides himself into you in one harsh movement,
taking you in sharp thrusts and pounding into you as roughly as you’ll let him, but this time -
the first time - he sinks into you slowly, one agonizing inch at a time, until he is fully buried
inside you. Your head falls back against his pillow, your eyes screwing tightly shut as your
breathing hitches.

“You okay?” He shifts his grip on your wrists so that he’s only using one hand to hold them
down, sliding the other hand down to trace your lower lip with his thumb carefully.

“Yeah.” Your voice escapes you in a rushed breath even as you purse your lips to kiss the pad
of his thumb delicately. “Yeah, just - it’s been a long time. Give me a second.”

“Take your time.” He ducks to press his forehead against yours, shivering when your pussy
squeezes around his cock and drags it further inside. “Hell, I could stay like this forever if
you wanted me to - you feel incredible.”

“I think it might kill me,” you joke even as a flush threatens to envelop your skin.
“What a way to go, though,” he muses, only partly joking, and you swat half-heartedly at his
chest even as you giggle - a tiny, breathy sound that makes him smile broadly in return as he
leans down to kiss you tenderly.

“I love making you smile like that,” you murmur against his lips. “It’s one of my favorite
things about you.”

“Yeah?” He pulls back just enough to kiss the corner of your smiling mouth. “That’s real
funny - I was gonna say the same thing about your smile.”

“God, we’re such saps,” you groan good-naturedly, your head tilting back against his pillow
so that your hair splays out in a messy halo, and he wonders if his pillow will smell like you
the next time he presses his face into it; he hopes so.

“Yeah,” he agrees fondly. “I think we’ve earned it, though.” He ducks his head to kiss the
crook of your neck tenderly. “Can I touch you?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, and he slides his free hand down to where the two of you are joined,
tracing his fingertips slowly in a circle over your swollen clit. “Oh, fuck,” you whimper, your
hips arching slightly into his touch, and the sudden friction makes him bite back a groan of
his own. “Joel, move, please-”

“I’ve got you, darlin’.” He slides his arm around your waist carefully before he begins to
thrust into you at an unhurried, steady pace. “Like this?” he manages to get out past the
sparks of pleasure threatening to overwhelm him entirely.

“Yeah.” Your eyes flutter contentedly shut as you let your head fall back onto his pillow.
“Just like this.”

He leans down to brush a brief kiss against your parted lips, smiling when he feels your
mouth curve upward against his own. He releases your wrists to wrap his other arm around
you, securing you against him, and your arms immediately wind around his neck to pull him
down into another kiss the moment they’re free, your fingers sliding into his hair and tangling
in the curls at the back of his head lazily.

He pushes into you as deeply as he can on a whim, still sticking to his slow, deliberate pace,
and your breath hitches audibly in your throat before you’re suddenly nudging him onto his
back, settling on top of him and sinking back down onto his cock in one swift, smooth
motion as you lean down to crush your mouth against his again eagerly.

“What is it with you and - fuck,” he groans into your mouth as his cock nudges up against a
spot inside you that makes you squeeze around him. “-and bein’ on top?”

“Are you complaining?” You’re breathless and grinning broadly when you pull back, and he
sits up just enough to deliver a particularly sharp thrust into you that makes your mouth fall
open in a soundless gasp.

“Hell, no.” He tilts his head down to watch how you ride him, your hips grinding down
languidly against his and your eyes fluttering shut with pleasure each time he thrusts up to
match your movements. “Not when you look so damn gorgeous doin’ it.”

You flush again, a pretty, warm color rising in your face and neck, and Joel can’t help but
lean in to kiss you again, his arms winding back around your waist and tugging you forward
until you’re practically plastered against him. You melt into the kiss readily, your short nails
digging into his shoulders when he hits the spot inside you that had made your inner walls
tighten around his cock earlier, and a pool of heat coils in the pit of his belly.

“Fuck, I’m close,” he confesses, breaking the kiss to bury his face into your neck. “Where
should I-?”

“Inside.” Your legs tighten around his hips as you grind down purposely, dragging his cock as
deep inside you as you can get it. “It’s safe.” You shudder slightly, and he feels your lips
brush against his temple as you admit, “I’m close, too. Fuck, Joel, please-”

“God,” he grits out. “I fuckin’ love you.”

He’s not sure for a moment if you had even heard him, but then you clench around him
abruptly as you come with a strangled whine, and that sends him over the edge, too, spilling
inside you with a muffled moan against your skin. When his senses return to him, he realizes
that he’s flopped bonelessly on top of you, pinning you to the mattress, and you are carding
your fingers absently through his hair, your cheek nestled against the top of his head as your
chest heaves to catch your breath.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I’m crushin’ you,” he mumbles, shifting up slightly onto his elbows as he
eases himself out of you carefully, but you latch onto him the moment he tries to climb off
you, your hands curling around his biceps and tugging gently.

“You’re not. Stay.” You’re clearly trying to sound mock-stern and failing miserably.

“We should shower,” he points out half-heartedly even as he sinks obediently into your
embrace and brushes a kiss against the hollow of your throat.

You huff a laugh that ruffles his hair like a warm summer breeze before answering, “Give me
a few minutes to get my legs working again first.”

“That good, huh?” he teases, nestling his head over your heart and listening to it pound
rapidly beneath his ear as it slows back down to a resting pace.

“Yeah,” you sigh contentedly, and he can’t help but feel a selfish twinge of pride at how
completely blissed out and sleepy he’s made you. “Joel?”

“Mhm?” he manages to get out.

“I love you, too.” He feels your lips press against the top of his head, and his eyes sting
unexpectedly as he tightens his hold on you. “Hey,” you say, sounding suddenly alarmed, and
he realizes it’s because a tear has unconsciously slipped out from beneath one of his closed
eyes and is in the middle of sliding down his cheek. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean-”
 “Fuck, no, don’t apologize.” He swipes at his face half-heartedly. “It’s been a long time since
I’ve heard that, that’s all - it’s stupid.”

“It’s not. It’s been a long time for me, too.” You catch his hand, nudging it away before
thumbing away another stray tear at the corner of his other eye. “In any case, I’m gonna say it
so often that you’re gonna get sick of it,” you declare, making him choke on a watery laugh.

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Good.” Your smile softens as you duck down to press your lips to the spot between his
eyebrows. “I love you,” you murmur so fondly that his heart constricts in his chest.

“Love you, too, sweetheart.” He presses a kiss over your heart. “So damn much.”

Chapter End Notes

I couldn't get the image of Joel being jealous out of my head and needed to get
something for it down 😂 and it gave me the perfect excuse to reveal his name-sign at
last, too.

Here is the outfit Reader was wearing to the dance, if anyone's interested.

🥰
I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter, and once again, pls be kind, this is the first - and likely
only - smut fic I have written/ever will write lol
 Spring 2036
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Ellie usually loves being in your kitchen; the scent of something sweet constantly wafting
through the air, the overall warmth of your house, and the noises your utensils make as you
rattle them around always seem to put her at ease. One cold March evening, though, she finds
herself picking at the skin around her fingernails, her right sleeve pulled down firmly over the
scarred bite mark she had received three years earlier as she frowns deeply down at the
checked tablecloth covering your tiny kitchen table.

Your fingers brush gently against her shoulder, making her jump, and you retract your hand
like it’s been burned, circling a closed fist hurriedly over your chest. She recognizes the sign
as an apology, so she shakes her head.

“It’s okay, I was pretty deep in my own head. I know you didn’t mean to spook me.”

You relax marginally before finger-spelling, Talk?

Ellie shakes her head again before admitting, “No offense, but this is kind of…a lot. I don’t
know if I can keep up with your signs if we talk about it.”

You are silent for a beat, visibly chewing the inside of your lower lip as you consider
something before finally sinking down into the wooden chair beside hers and finger-spelling
out a fragmented, awkward sentence slowly so that she can follow along.

Not - best - time - but - need - tell - something.

“Is it that you can actually talk sometimes?” Ellie asks bemusedly, and you freeze, startled.
“You know you’re not as subtle as you seem to think you are when you’re constantly
whispering to Joel, right?” she points out dryly. “I figured it out a long time ago. Relax, I’m
not mad. I know some days are harder for you to talk than others.”

You hesitate before clearing your throat and admitting in the most feeble voice Ellie has ever
heard, “Keeping it from you has bothered me for a long time now.”

“I know.” She hesitates before reaching for your suddenly fidgeting hands, grasping them and
dragging them closer until she can lace your fingers together. “Hey, you know I love you,
right? Voice or no voice?”

You blink, surprised, before your eyes grow suddenly misty.

“I love you, too, Ells.”

Ellie thinks she loves your new nickname for her just as much as she loves the name-sign you
had given her nearly a year earlier.
“I can’t promise I’ll be able to say much,” you concede, evidently committing to a vocal
conversation. “But whatever you want to talk about, I’ll listen.”

Ellie nods as she drops her gaze to your intertwined fingers.

“Okay.” She chews the inside of her cheek briefly before she says, “You know how I left
Jackson last month, right? And Joel brought me back?”

You nod, your eyebrows furrowing in concern.

“Well, I made it all the way to Salt Lake City.” Ellie lets you squeeze her hands and ground
her back in reality as she adds, “And I, um - I found out something that Joel’s been keeping
from me, and it’s kind of been messing with me since. I guess you’ve probably noticed I’ve
been keeping my distance from him for a while now.”

“I noticed,” you confirm. “He’s been quieter than usual.”

Ellie cracks a wry smile. “So he’s basically turned into you, then.”

“Haha, very funny,” you deadpan even as you smile back, thankfully not taking offense to her
sarcasm. Your expression softens again as you add, “You don’t have to tell me what you two
are upset about if you don’t want to.”

“No, I do,” Ellie admits. “You’re probably the only one I trust other than him to know.” She
takes a deep breath to steel herself. “I’m immune to Cordyceps.”

You’re chewing your lower lip slowly when she peeks back up at you for your reaction,
clearly processing that revelation as you absently trace patterns into her knuckles with your
thumbs. It’s something she’s seen you do to Joel’s hands in the past, too, and she wonders if
he finds as much comfort in you simply holding his hands as she does.

“Are you sure?” you ask at last.

“Yeah.” Ellie reluctantly releases your hands to roll up her right sleeve, showing you the old
bite mark on her forearm, and you suck in a sharp, horrified breath, immediately reaching out
to probe at the raised scar tissue with careful fingertips.

“Oh, fuck, Ells, are you okay? How long has it been? Does it hurt?” The questions leave you
in a rush of air like you have to get them out before your throat closes up on you.

“I’m fine. It’s been a few years, and it doesn’t hurt at all,” Ellie reassures you even as her
eyes sting suddenly at the corners; she can’t remember anyone fussing over her as tenderly as
you are now and wonders if this is what having a mother is like. “I’m, uh - I’m actually
thinking of getting a tattoo to cover it up.” It’s the first time she’s ever voiced the fledgling
idea out loud before.

“Well, as long as you think about the design before you commit to it.” You look back up at
her, managing a tiny smile despite the unmistakable worry still swimming in your eyes. “It’s
permanent, you know.”
“Yeah, okay, Mom,” she scoffs half-heartedly, and you flush slightly, clearly embarrassed.

“Sorry.”

“No, don’t be.” Ellie grabs your hands again when they begin to retreat out of her reach,
yanking them closer to herself. “It wasn’t an insult.”

Your expression softens into something so warm and openly affectionate that she can’t bring
herself to look at it for long, dropping her gaze to your joined hands again before taking
another deep breath.

“Joel and I met three years ago because the leader of the Fireflies - Marlene - was a close
friend of my birth mom’s, and when she found out I was immune, she needed someone to
take me across Boston to a Firefly escort team that would take me to a lab in Salt Lake City.
They were hoping to get a cure or a vaccine for the infection from me.”

You remain silent, but when Ellie looks up at you, you nod wordlessly for her to continue.

“When we got to the meeting point, we found out the whole escort team was dead,” she
admits. “And Joel decided to take me to the lab himself. It took us a year of traveling, but we
finally got there, and after I was on the operating table, he found out that the Fireflies would
have to take out the part of my brain that was immune to the infection to try and engineer a
cure.”

Your fingers tighten almost bruisingly around Ellie’s at that.

“He didn’t let them.” She swallows sharply. “He killed them all - even Marlene - and brought
me back here to Jackson, and he lied to me that they gave up on looking for a cure.” She
shuts her eyes tightly so that she doesn’t have to see the look on your face. “My life was
supposed to fucking matter, and he took that from me.”

You have been quiet until that moment, but you finally take a deep breath to speak.

“What makes you think it doesn’t matter anyway?”

Ellie looks up, startled. “What?”

“You said your life would’ve mattered if you had let them operate on you,” you clarify. Your
expression isn’t angry or pitying as she had feared, but a neutral, thoughtful one as you watch
her expectantly. “Why doesn’t it matter anyway?”

She opens her mouth, but then closes it when she realizes she has no answer for you. Your
gaze softens in sympathy, clearly sensing what she doesn’t voice out loud.

“Not that I’m telling you how to feel one way or another, but here’s the way I see it,” you add
gently, “Your life does matter - at least to Joel, if not to yourself.”

Ellie’s throat grows suddenly tight and painful.

“So many people died to get me to that lab,” she croaks feebly. “Joel did so many awful
things - I did so many awful things. And all of it was for nothing.”

“It wasn’t for nothing.” You squeeze her hands again gently. “You’re here, alive and safe -
that’s definitely not nothing. You don’t think Joel thought about all of that before he went
back for you?”

Ellie swallows back the sudden, thick lump in her throat, unable to answer you.

“If you’d been in my shoes, what would you have wanted?” she asks instead.

You chew the inside of your cheek thoughtfully. “I’m not sure it matters-”

“If you had,” Ellie insists. “What would you have wanted?”

You hesitate before admitting, “I would have wanted them to operate.” Ellie opens her mouth
to declare her vindication, but you squeeze her hands to stop her before adding pointedly,
“But if someone saved me because they weighed out the pros and cons and decided that my
life mattered to them more? I think I’d be pretty damn lucky to have someone love me that
much.”

“And if you’d been in his shoes?” Ellie presses.

You don’t hesitate this time. “I’d have chosen you just like he did. And if it comes down to it
in the future, I’ll choose you every time then, too.”

Ellie can’t quite stop the strangled sob that bubbles out of her throat unexpectedly as she
swipes her sleeve haphazardly across her damp eyes.

“Well, shit,” she croaks. “That’s, uh - that’s something.”

“Guess it is.” Your smile is a little watery when she dares to look back up at you. “For
whatever it’s worth, you’re everything to Joel. If you don’t know that already by now, then
you should.” You squeeze her hands again before releasing them and finger-spelling slowly,
Need - break - talk. You circle a closed fist over your chest in a silent apology.

“It’s okay,” Ellie reassures you, wiping her eyes again; if she’s this choked up, she can only
imagine how much worse it is for you if you’re not as used to speaking as she is. “I’m glad
we did talk, though.” Impulsively, she gets to her feet and crosses the space between her
abandoned chair and yours to slide her arms around your shoulders in a tight embrace. “Joel
does love you that much, too, you know. He loves you more than anything.”

You pull back just enough to raise an eyebrow pointedly.

“Well, maybe it’s a tie,” Ellie concedes. “But if you were in my shoes, I think he’d go back
for you, too.”

Your eyes are distinctly damp when she releases you, but you’re smiling faintly.

Thank you, you sign, one hand flicking out from beneath your chin.
Ellie shrugs. “Just being honest.”

She glances out your kitchen window, frowning automatically when she sees Joel sitting
alone at the table through the kitchen window of their shared house several yards away. He’s
got his hands curled around a mug of steaming coffee - likely made from the tin you had
gifted him over a year earlier for his birthday that he rations and savors like its contents are
granulated gold - but his expression is forlorn and distant like his mind is somewhere else
entirely.

“Hey, can you come home with me?” she asks you impulsively as she turns away from your
window; she has a feeling that’s where you both need to be right now.

You nod readily as you climb to your feet, tugging on the end of her ponytail with an
affectionate smile before moving to turn off the kitchen light and waving her into the hallway
as you retrieve your boots and coat. She can’t help but smile as she follows you out your door
and across the frost-bitten grass to her and Joel’s house; the weight in her chest feels just a
little lighter after her conversation with you, even if it’s not entirely gone.

You glance expectantly at Ellie when you reach the front door, and she shakes her head; she
wants you to go in first. You nod in understanding, knocking on the door twice slowly and
then three times in quick succession - your usual knock, as Ellie has grown used to - before
opening it and stepping into the house.

“Joel?” you call out loud after Ellie shuts the door and locks it once both of you are inside.

“In here,” he answers wearily, and you toe off your boots and hang your coat on the hook
behind the door before following the sound of his voice into the kitchen.

Ellie lingers behind and takes her time removing her boots and coat; she wants to give you
some privacy to greet Joel in your own way.

“Hi, stranger,” she hears you murmur fondly, and when she finally peeks around the doorway,
she finds you winding your arms around Joel’s slumped shoulders and dragging him into a
sideways embrace. “How was your patrol?”

“Quiet,” he reassures you. “Not a single infected in sight.”

“That’s good.” You duck down to kiss the top of his head tenderly before nestling your chin
into his hair. “I missed you today.”

“Missed you, too, sweetheart.” He smiles - a tired, wan little thing that Ellie hasn’t seen on
his face since long before you’d come into their lives - before turning his face into the soft
material of your sweater. “Sorry. I know I haven’t been much for company lately.”

“I don’t mind, Joel. I was just worried about you.” You tilt your head down to press your lips
into his hair again, and he sinks in just a little further against you with a heavy sigh of your
name, clearly soaking in the warmth and comfort of your embrace as you card your fingers
through the curls at the nape of his neck.
Ellie feels a selfish twinge of longing as she watches the two of you; what you and Joel have
is so natural - as easy as breathing, really - and she can’t help but wonder if she will ever find
anything like that for herself someday.

“If you’re up to it, I brought somebody with me,” you offer, and when Joel pulls out of your
embrace with a frown, you glance pointedly at Ellie hiding by the doorway.

It’s only then that Joel seems to realize she’s there, his chair scraping abruptly against the tile
as he gets to his feet quickly.

“Ellie,” he says warily even as his arm slides instinctively around your shoulders to haul you
closer when you try to step backward to give him and Ellie some space.

“Hi, Joel.” Ellie scuffs her socked toes self-consciously against the tile beneath her feet.

“Wait, but-” Joel glances down at you, visibly alarmed, and then back up at her, clearly
connecting the dots. “You-”

“She knows,” you reassure him.

“So does she,” Ellie adds, meaning something else entirely as she holds up her sleeve-
covered right arm to make her point. “I told her everything.”

Joel looks torn on what to say, so you take pity on him and stand on your toes to peck his
cheek.

“I’ll let you two talk,” you reassure him before carefully untangling yourself from his side
and taking your quiet leave of the kitchen, dropping a kiss on top of Ellie’s head as you pass
her on your way out.

“You need to marry that woman,” Ellie informs Joel without bothering to wait until you’re
out of earshot, smirking inwardly when you audibly trip over something in the living room.

“Uh-” Joel seems visibly discomfited, too, scratching the back of his head awkwardly and not
quite meeting Ellie’s eyes as he drops his gaze to the floor beneath his feet. “Yeah, that’s, uh -
that’s the plan someday.”

Ellie swallows back the thick lump in her throat and takes a deep breath to steel herself.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you for lying to me all this time. That was a really shitty thing
to do, and us coming back from that’s gonna be next to impossible.”

Joel nods mutely, not lifting his gaze from the floor.

“But I get why you went back for me,” Ellie adds tentatively. “And I think I might be able to
forgive you eventually for that, at least. I wanna try, anyway.”

Joel finally lifts his eyes to meet hers, and she’s startled to see that they’re misty and damp.

“I’m glad,” he says quietly, but doesn’t offer any other insight.
Ellie decides to extend the olive branch first. “You wanna pick a movie to put on?”

“Yeah.” Joel smiles at last, relieved. “I’d like that.”

You are waiting for them on the couch in the living room, your fingers twisted nervously
together, but when Ellie flops down against your side, you smile and toss an arm around her
shoulders to pull her close.

O-K? you finger-spell with your free hand.

“I think so.” Ellie chances a peek at Joel as he places his now-lukewarm mug of coffee on the
table in front of the couch and then pretends to busy himself with looking through their DVD
collection before she looks back up at you. “We will be, anyway.”

Good, you finger-spell and then press a kiss against her temple, which makes her smile
automatically; maybe the sense of comfort she finds in your kitchen isn’t really in the kitchen
itself, but the person it belongs to.

Joel joins the two of you on the couch, settling on your other side, and you immediately slide
your other arm around him to haul him closer.

“Which one did you pick?” Ellie asks curiously, but when the title loads on the screen, she
groans good-naturedly. “Not Top Gun again!”

“You said it was my choice,” Joel defends himself.

“Tell him to pick something else,” Ellie complains to you, but you only shrug as you nestle
your cheek against Joel’s shoulder comfortably, clearly content to be sandwiched between the
two of them.

“I’m just gonna fall asleep either way, so it doesn’t matter to me.” You reach across Joel to
steal a sip of his coffee, and Ellie pretends not to see how he leans down and presses a kiss
into your hair when you stretch past him to reach his mug, smiling more tenderly than she’s
ever seen him smile at anything before when he thinks you’re not looking at him.

“Betrayal,” she pretends to huff in mock-annoyance instead, sinking into the couch cushions
as the movie starts to play.

She’s pretty sure she dozes off herself partway through the film, but is woken up by the
sound of your murmured voice beside her.

“So. Someday, huh?” When she peeks at the two of you, she sees that you’ve tilted your head
up to smirk teasingly at Joel just as he drains the last of his long-cooled coffee.

He coughs slightly as the coffee goes down his throat wrong, clearly flustered as he clears his
throat to recompose himself; he must have assumed you had forgotten about Ellie’s
throwaway comment earlier.

“I - yeah. Someday.” He takes his time setting his mug back down on the table in front of the
couch before his eyes flick warily back up to your face as if he’s afraid of what he’ll see
there. “If, uh - if you’re up for it.”

Ellie has to bite her tongue so that she doesn’t accidentally give up the ruse of sleep - oh my
God, Joel, fuck up that proposal even worse, why don’t you? - but you don’t seem to mind,
beaming so brilliantly that your smile could rival the sun itself.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Joel echoes, seemingly relieved, before leaning in to kiss you softly - barely a ghost
of his mouth over yours. “Love you, sweetheart,” he murmurs against your lips almost
inaudibly, and Ellie shuts her eyes again; she suddenly feels like she’s intruding on an
intimate moment that she has no right to be part of.

“I love you, too,” she hears you answer before shifting slightly, clearly turning to check if
she’s asleep.

Barely moments later, she feels you brush a kiss against her hairline carefully as she does her
best to hold still so that you won’t suspect that she’s actually awake.

“Think she’ll be alright?” Joel asks quietly from your other side, and it’s only because Ellie’s
known him for so long now that she can pinpoint the raw worry hidden in his tone.

“I think so,” you confirm after a considering beat. “It just-” You break off, clearly thinking
over your words. “From what we talked about, it seemed like she thought she didn’t deserve
it - you going back for her.”

“She did. She does.” Joel’s voice is low, but fervent as he adds, “If somehow the Lord gave
me a second chance at that moment, I’d do it all over again.”

“I know, Joel.” You sound like you’re smiling again now. “If it were me, I would, too.
Anyway, what’s done is done. All we can do now is make sure she knows how loved she is.”

Selfishly, Ellie feels the corners of her closed eyes prickle sharply; even without realizing it,
the two of you have somehow soothed the somewhat-childish fear that she doesn’t deserve
the warm space - the family - that the three of you have carved out for yourselves in a broken
world.

“Guess that’s all we can do,” Joel relents with a weary sigh.

“Things will work out,” you reassure him. “Just give it time.”

“We’ve got that.” He sounds a little like he’s smiling now.

“Yeah,” you agree, and when Ellie dares to peek up at you from beneath her eyelashes, she
finds you smiling warmly back up at Joel. “We do.”

Satisfied, Ellie turns her face into your shoulder, closing her eyes once more and allowing
herself to doze off.
Chapter End Notes

And so we come to the conclusion of this universe as I envisioned it 🥺 I really adored

writing this fic, and if anyone has any suggestions/ideas they'd like to see, I'd be more
than happy to revisit this universe someday! (especially if it means getting to live in my
denial of the sad parts of TLOU Part II 😂)

🥰
Thank you all for reading and enjoying, and I've really appreciated everyone's support
from start to finish!
Please drop by the Archive and comment to let the creator know if you enjoyed their work!