Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

life in the quarantine zones are rough. you work hard, back breaking labour that leaves you with scraps for food and barely anything to call your own. you're constantly under the thumb of fedra, never feeling like you can truly get a break or feel free.
so at the first chance to slip out of there, you were gone. you knew you'd be back in the evening, you have no desire to spend the night amongst infected. but for now, you were free to scavenge for resources or just simply take a break from life in the qz.
following a makeshift trail, you head towards a forest, a few miles from the qz boundary. it’s a bit of a walk but it’s not too far and the increasing silence the further away from the qz you get is well worth it. as you approach the forest, you can it’s dense and stretches beyond your eyeline. at the edge of it, you can see the magnificent greenery and wildlife that’s sparse from the qz.
the forest casts a soft shadow over you, shielding you from the afternoon sun as you trek through the uneven terrain. it’s almost silent out here except for the soft whistle of the wind and the scuttle of wild animals. there’s a sense of peace and serenity the fills you, something you never get in the qz. you find some berries and a couple of tools that people have dropped over the years, but the sense you peace you get is the most valuable find.
as you get further in, you start to hear the sounds of animals. pulling your gun off your shoulder, you step softly towards the noise. you see the soft brown coat of a deer come into view and immediately move the gun into position. looking down the scope, you take aim at the deer's head.
before you're finger can pull back on the trigger, you here twigs snap under foot and the deer is covered by a blur. lowering your weapon you see what looks to be a man, clothes tattered and dirty and hair unkempt, with the deer now limp at his feet. he’s hunched low, almost on the ground, knife in hand that's dripping blood. for a second you think he might be infected. you've only seen runners move that fast before.
you pull your gun back up, preparing to shoot. there’s no way you’re dying to some runner on your first day of freedom. but as you stand there, weapon draw and finger on the trigger, you notice that the figure hasn’t bothered to look at you. runners can see and attack on sight, so he’s clearly not one of them. fuck– maybe it’s a stalker, trying to lull you into a false sense of security before it attacks. if it is a stalker, you know you shouldn’t waste your time with killing it.
you step closer to it and it immediately snaps it’s head round to face you. it’s teeth are bared and it’s brow is furrowed as it snarls at you back off. being closer to it now, it doesn't seem to be infected. it is in fact a man, but he doesn't really seem to exactly be in a state of humanity.
"hey," you say, slinging the gun back over your shoulder and putting your hands up, "i ain’t gonna hurt you. i just want the deer." you gesture with your head towards the dead deer.
the man grabs hold of the deer, hunching over it protectively as he growls at you. it's strange, almost frightening, to see a man in such a feral state.
“what the fuck are you?” you mutter, tilting your head to the side as take tentative steps forwards. you stop a few feet away from him, not wanting to spook him or risk getting attacked.
the man has dark brown, greying, hair that’s unkempt and looks like it’s been hacked at with a knife as a form grooming. he has a beard, equally as unkempt and greying. his clothes are tattered and dirty, practically caked in dirt and blood, and his boots are worn down and fraying. he has a deep scar on the bridge of his nose that looks years old.
you can see the knife gripped tight in his hand, ready to attack you at the first sign of a threat.
“i just want some of the deer– i’m hungry,” you say, keeping your hands away from your gun so he can see them, “can you understand me.” the man glares at you for a second before nodding. he can understand. that’s a start.
“okay,” you breathe, “i’m not here to hurt you or anything. could you cut me some of it?” the man grunts, still on edge as he turns to the deer. he stabs the knife into the stomach of the deer, pushes it in deep and wrenches the knife back, cutting through the centre of the deer, break it’s spine. hands soaked in blood, the man grabs the front half of the deer and chucks it at your feet. you jump back to avoid to the splatters of blood the deer leaves. it’s a bit of a mess but it’s something.
“thank you,” you nod, picking up the deer by it’s antlers. the man doesn’t react, simply taking the deer’s hind leg in his mouth and shuffling back, maintaining eye contact the whole time. it’s clear the man wants you gone but your curiosity is getting the better of you.
“do you have a name?” you ask. the man tenses, stopping his movements and growling at you. “you can’t speak, can you?” you should’ve taken his first growl as a sign to leave, because now he’s lept to his feet, striding to you. you could tell he was big before but now he’s in front of you, broad shoulders and snarling face above you, you can see he’s massive. he’s hard lines and straining muscle. he could surely kill you with his bare hands.
the man growls, a horrific loud sound that hurts your ears as spit flies in your face. you squeeze your eyes shut, trembling as you feel his hot breath hitting your nose. as you reopen your eyes, you see him, face inches away from yours, contorted into a horrific scowl. he doesn’t want you here.
“sorry,” you mutter, stepping back, “i– i’ll leave.” clutching the deer antlers tighter, you walk away from the man, who’s still standing there hunched and muscles coiled if you present a further threat. as you walk away, pulling the heavy weight of the deer, you can’t help but feel a sense of curiosity stewing inside you. despite how terrifying the man was as he growled at you and how obvious it is that he does not want to be disturbed, you can’t help but be drawn in by this strange, practically feral, man.
you sit down at the edge of the forest, cutting up the deer into small pieces you can take back into the qz. as the blood mars your hands, you can’t but think of the man. he needs new clothes and boots. they’re far too torn and dirty for him not risk getting an infection if he gets an injury. why are you even thinking like this? the man is basically a feral animal and clearly hates you. but behind his threatening scowl, you swear you saw something more than a beast, something akin to a broken man, lost to a pain not even his mind wants to acknowledge. you know it’s dangerous but that flicker in his eyes is going to bring you back, back to him. whether he likes it or not.

Chapter Text

you can’t return empty handed. or at least that’s what you’re telling yourself as you pick the locks to your neighbours’ apartments. this is a little overboard, even for you, but the desire to have that man in the forest trust you is clouding your judgment. it’s honestly pathetic to think you’re risking severe punishment for some guy you just met– who, most certainly hates you, and is barely human, in any philosophical sense.
the last door in the hallway cracks open and you creep inside. you’ve got a few flannel shirts, jeans, a jacket, and some socks. all you need now is a good pair of boots. you peek round the door and see exactly what you’re looking for. you snatch the boots, tying them and hooking them in the strap of your bag. it’s a few minutes til your neighbours’ shifts end so that’s all the time you’ve got to make it to the perimeter without them seeing you with their stuff.
you clumsily dash down the stairs, skipping most steps, and shoving your way out the door. as you break into the street, you can see people packing up to head home. cutting through a backstreet, you make it to your hole in the wall without running into any of your neighbours.
sprinting out into the vast field outside the qz wall feels like a breath of fresh air. a tentative hope stirs in your chest as you see the forest. you’re going to see him again– whoever he is. you can only pray that your supplies are enough of a peace offering for him to let you in. there’s too many questions you have to simply leave him alone.
the forest is even more beautiful than you remember as you push through the bushes. a small bug, smaller than anything you’ve seen before, lands on your hand. it has a vibrant red colour with little black spots. you remember reading about this back in the qz. it’s a ladybug. you smile softly, simply taking in the beauty of the little bug for a moment. once it flies away, you continue forwards.
the stench of freshly dried blood enters your nostrils, you realise you’re close to where you last saw the man. you groan as you feel your foot sink into some of the blood from yesterday. you trudge forwards, trying to listen for any movement that could indicate that the man is around.
“hello?” you call out. before you can regret yelling out to a man that’s as skittish as a bird, you feel a weight hit your back and your face plant hard into the dirt. large hands grab your arms and flip you over, spit flying in your face as that same guttural roar you heard yesterday rings in your ears.
sharp canines and that scruffy greying beard consuming your eyesight. once the man stops growling at you, he keeps you pinned to the ground, his nose pressed against your as he pants, each breath filled with a threat.
as the shock wears off, you realise he’s giving you a chance to explain yourself. unable to yourself from trembling, you take a deep breath before speaking.
“i– i came with gifts,” you stutter, “in my bag. i have clothes and boots. you need them. take them.” the man frowns in confusion, tilting his head to the side. you’re the first person he’s interacted with for years, let alone a person being kind to him. this isn’t right. this isn’t how it’s supposed to work out here in the wild.
the man grabs your shirt and slams you into the dirt again. he snarls at you before crawling off you and sitting back on his haunches. he clearly doesn’t view you as a physical threat. you don’t know if that’s progress or just insulting.
you take the opportunity to sit up. you pull the bag round into your lap and open it up. noticing the man’s tense posture and locked stare on the bag you think it’s better to let him explore it himself.
“here,” you say, laying the bag in front of him, “there’s nothing bad in it. just clothes. you can check it yourself.” the man snatches the bag and dumps the contents onto the ground in front of him.
“i– i just saw that your clothes were torn and dirty,” you say, watching the man rummage through your meager steals, “and your boots are coming apart. i was… worried that you might get sick living out here without the proper clothes.” the man grunts dismissively, holding up the jacket in front of him.
he stands up, starting to unbutton his shirt. you stare fixed for a moment as the man reveals fluffy chest hair and strong pecs dusted with dirt. as he reaches the bottom button you snap yourself out of it. you shoot up, startling the man who draws his knife.
“no, no, no,” you say, holding your hands up, “i’m sorry, i should’ve got up slower. i was just shocked. most people aren’t comfortable getting undressed in front of other people.” the man tucks his knife away slowly and tilts his head. you frown at his apparent confusion.
“what about that is confusing?” you ask. he grunts and grabs at his shirt, gesturing to pull it off further.
“you don’t understand why it’s wrong to get undressed in front of other people?” you ask, your eyes widening as he nods. fuck. maybe this man’s more feral than you thought.
“shit,” you mutter, digging into your pockets for the pen and paper you brought with you. you could tell he had good fine motor skills from the way he handled the deer so you’re praying he can write. you hold the pen and paper out to him, “can you write?”
he shrugs but takes the pen and paper anyways. he frowns at you as he waits for a question.
“how long have you been out here?” you watch as he thinks it over before hamfistedly scrawling letters onto the page. it’s clear he’s having to think about how to properly form each letter as he goes, not having done this in years.
he holds up the paper. it reads, “stopped counting at 10,” in sloppy inconsistent lettering. you can hardly begin to comprehend how long that is. over a decade, out here in the wilderness, and he’s still alive. you have to admit, that's impressive.
“did you come to live out here when the outbreak happened? like when all the infected started popping up?” the man shrugs. he looks like he wants to agree but he doesn’t have the memory to back it up.
“if you did, that means you’ve been out here for 20 years,” you say, shocking both yourself and the man as you say it, “do you remember life before you were out here?” to that he gives a strong shake of his head. he can’t remember anything but the last 20 years in the wild.
“so that’s why you don’t know why it’s inappropriate to undress in front of others?” the man shrugs but nods. he’s not certain but he assumes so. “can you remember your name?”
his name. that’s not something he’s had to use in, apparently, two decades. but it’s one of the only things from before life in the wild that he can actually remember clearly. that and a deep aching pain that always seems to linger in the back of his mind.
he scribbles on the paper again and holds it up.
“joel.”
“joel?” you say, smiling slightly, “nice.” for a second, you see his face light up at the small compliment. he’s not used to talking to, or even seeing people, so a compliment is beyond rare.
the pair of you stand there for a moment, you not knowing where to take the conversation and joel not being able to say anything even if he wanted to. joel’s posture has eased slightly through your conversation as he’s come to realise you aren’t a threat but he’s still tense. he doesn’t really understand why you have any interest in talking to him at all.
“so, i take it you wanna keep the clothes?” joel nods.
“good, ‘cause i put a lot of effort in to get you them,” you chuckle, “especially those boots.” joel raises his eyebrows and smiles for a moment. it’s a smile that only slightly reaches his eyes. you can tell there’s a pain behind there that even he can’t understand.
joel writes on the paper again and holds it up, an undisguisable nervousness coming across him. despite his life out in the wild, anxiety is not something he’s used to. he’s been able to find his rhythm out here, a rhythm that keeps him safe, and you’re disrupting it.
“stay. explain. food?”
you feel your smile stretch wider. he wants you to stay. this is a lot better than his attitude earlier. clearly the peace offering was a good idea.
“yeah, okay,” you say, following joel as he leads to where he lives. he takes you past some dense bush til you find a small hut made of branches and greenery. it’s surprisingly well built with mud, vines and roots being used to hold it together. whatever joel did before the outbreak, it’s clear that some part of him mind still remembers.
the hut is clearly built joel’s needs alone. it’s hardly big enough to fit the both of you in and the roof is too low to stand comfortably. there’s tools, some handcraft, some found, collected in one corner and opposite is a dirty old blanket on the floor. next to the tools is a plastic container joel must have found. he cracks it open to reveal cuts of the deer from yesterday. he grabs out two cuts and takes them out and round to the side of the hut. there sits a small fire pit. joel lifts a rock next to the fire pit to reveal matches. he skewers the meat on a thin piece of scrap metal that he places above the fire pit before lighting it. none of this is very hygienic but it’s nothing short of impressive. it’s easy to see why joel has survived out here alone for so long.
he gestures for you to sit on a log he’s placed in front of the fire as he crouches in next to the fire to keep his eye on the meat. he takes out the paper and points to where he wrote “explain”.
“right,” you nod, “you probably haven’t needed to cover yourself except for warmth, but most people wear clothes to conceal their nudity. it’s considered rude and wrong to undress or be naked in public.” it feels strange to explain a concept you take for granted to an adult man. you wonder what the hell happened to him that caused him to forget something like that.
joel frowns a little bit. he really has no reason to be respectful to other people, but if you’re going to be hanging around more, maybe he has a reason. he nods and flips the meat.
“do you know how old are you?” you ask, curious to see what exactly he can remember. joel shakes his head. he points at his face to ask you how old you think he is.
“maybe in your late 40s or 50s,” you shrug, “sorry, i’m not very good with age.” joel shrugs. his age is not really a priority of his.
a silence stretches over the pair of you as joel watches the meat cook. it’s not an uncomfortable silence. it’s a silence that brings you peace in the way leaving the qz for the first time had. the thought that joel lives like this, in this silence makes you envious but also a little sad. you only appreciate the silence because of the deafening rowdiness of the qz. you wonder if, after 20 years, silence becomes deafening.
joel pulls you from your thoughts with a grunt, handing out a cooked piece of meat for you. you thank him and take the meat, biting into it. eating meat with a knife and fork is a world easier than biting and ripping but as you watch joel devour his, you copy his way of eating. you weren’t so naive to expect this resourceful man to teach you nothing but you’re surprised it happened so soon.
sitting in the warmth of the fire with only the sounds of wood crackling and both of you chewing, you feel a sense of belonging well inside you. for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel lonely. the people in the qz talk, they walk on two limbs, and they know not to undress in public, but they’ve never made you feel at home. not like joel has, in his odd behaviours and general silence. joel, a man who has shattered your preconceived ideas of what is man and what is beast, for which you couldn’t be more grateful. following your curiosity has rarely paid off. you’re glad it did this time. you just hope joel feels a similar sense of belonging.
as joel finishes his cut of deer, he grabs some dirt and chucks it on the fire. he precedes to stamp it out until all the embers are put out.
“don’t do that with the new boots i got you,” you say, lightly teasing joel, “don’t wanna melt the bottoms of ‘em.” joel grunts and nods, walking over to the hut and shutting the makeshift door.
you sit there for a moment, waiting, before you realise, joel probably isn’t going to say goodbye to you. he just expects you to leave. you stand up, grabbing your now empty bag, with a sense of accomplishment. despite joel’s unconventional social behaviour, you feel like today went well. you got off to a difficult start but joel accepted the clothes and you know his name now.
“hey, joel,” you say, walking over to the closed up hut, “i’m gonna go now. i’ll come round tomorrow, maybe. bye.” you hear joel grunt softly. it’s not a grunt of annoyance or dismissiveness but he's a way of reciprocating your sentiment.
with a smile, you trek out of the forest and back to the qz. when you make it back to your apartment, slipping past your neighbours, you head to the kitchen. you open one of the drawers and pull out some scissors. you dump them in your bag and grab a razor from the bathroom. tomorrow, you’re gonna give joel a haircut.

Chapter Text

“joel! joel, buddy!” you yell out into the forest, trekking through in the early hours of the morning, “i’m back!” you hear a rustle of the leaves behind you and try to turn round to see if it was joel. before you can turn a hand is slapped over your mouth and you’re pressed up against the hard expanse of a man’s body. your whole body tenses and your breath comes in sharp inhales. until you hear that soft grunt you’ve learnt to love.
joel’s hand drops away and you turn around to face him. his scarred nose is an inch away from yours, you can feel his breath on your lips. his eyes still have the pain you’ve seen the last two days but there’s a light to them now. he almost looks excited to see you.
“shhh,” joel grunts, placing a finger to your mouth. he gestures to his ears and winces.
“oh– it hurts when i yell?” joel nods. “i’m sorry, i didn’t realise you had sensitive hearing.” joel shrugs and starts walking back to his hut. you follow him, assuming that’s what he wants.
“i got something special for you today, joel,” you smile, sitting down in front of the dampened fire pit, digging through your bag. joel growls, it coming low and deep from his chest as he glares at your bag. he’s coiled up tight, his hand on his knife. it’s clear he still doesn’t completely trust you.
“it’s okay, buddy,” you say, turning your bag upside down to empty it’s contents, “sorry, i should’ve done that first.” joel eases slightly, dropping to his knees. he crawls forwards, patting at the contents. he picks up the razor, turning it on and freaking himself out. he biffs it away scrambling backwards. you can’t help but laugh at him a little.
“it’s a razor, joel,” you chuckle, grabbing the razor and switching it off, “come sit next to me. this is what i wanted to show you today.” you pat the spot next to you on the log, waiting patiently as joel tentatively crawls over to you. he looks up at you, his eyes filled with cautious trust. he’s been hurt in ways he can’t even remember but ways that have left him scarred.
“i wanna give you a haircut,” you say, reaching your hand out to touch his hair, “can i?” joel doesn’t respond, simply freezing, his eyes locked on your hand. he flinches but doesn’t growl at you as your hand rests on his hand. his hair is rough and grimy, thick with oils and dirt. you’ll probably have to take him back to the qz if you ever want him to be truly clean but that will take a while. for now, some simple grooming should help.
you slowly move your hand in a petting motion. you can see the way joel flinches before slowly relaxing into the touch. he sits there stiff, as you run your fingers through his hair. a sound slips out of his mouth before he can catch it. it's a sound you haven't heard him make yet. he purrs. you still your movements in his hair.
“did you just purr?” you ask, smiling at his blushing face. he shakes his head.
“i think you did, joel,” you tease. he growls and wrenches his head away, crawling off to his hut.
“no, joel,” you whine, still chuckling a little, “come back. i'm sorry. you didn't purr.” joel turns his head and glares at you before crawling back over.
“okay,” you say, picking the scissors off the ground, “i'm gonna give you a haircut. it looks like you've hacked at your hair before but i'm gonna do it properly, okay?”
joel growls as you pick up the scissors.
“hey, it's okay,” you say softly, holding the scissors close to you, “i won't hurt you, i promise. i’d never hurt you. i just wanna cut your hair. i won't get anywhere near your skin.” joel frowns but crawls forwards, sitting between your legs.
you grab a piece of hair, bringing the scissors closer to joel slowly enough for joel to move away if he's uncomfortable. he lets you snip a bit of hair off his fringe before flinching away.
“it's okay, joel,” you whisper, holding up the cut hair, “see? it didn't hurt. it's just like when you do it.” joel nods. he shuffles back closer, letting you have access to his hair. you carefully snip away at joel’s hair, trimming it back and evening it out. you’re no hairdresser, but it’s looking better. joel has a frown on his face the whole time but he’s still, letting you trim his hair.
“you’re looking better already,” you say softly, pulling back to access your work, “i’m gonna do your beard now. do you think you’d be comfortable with the razor or you just want me to cut it?”
joel glares at the razor, a small growl forming in his throat.
“okay, okay,” you say, placing the razor slowly away in your bag, “we’ll just cut it.” joel nods and then stays still, letting you trim his beard.
once you finish, you brush the hair off of joel’s clothes and run a hand through his hair again. it’s still grimey and full of dirt but it looks a little more presentable. you give him a little scratch on the head and pull your hand back.
“perfect,” you smile, “it’s still dirty but you’re lookin’ handsome with your new haircut.” joel frowns but he can’t help but let a smile curl onto his lips. he lets an appreciative grumble out, turning his head to the side. as he does, you notice a scar of the side of his head that was previously hidden by his hair. you reach out, cupping joel’s face and keeping it still.
“shit, joel,” you mutter, running your thumb over the gnarly scar. it’s clearly a very old wound, turned white against the tanned skin of the rest of joel’s face. “how did you get this?”
joel’s brown eyes are wide as you touch and question him. he shakes his head. it’s clear from the pain and confusion in his eyes he has no idea.
“maybe you got it during the outbreak,” you mutter, “i remember hearing that there was a lot of violence at the time. a lot of people were killed who weren’t even infected.” a small pained whimper leaves joel’s mouth as he pulls his head away from you.
“what’s wrong?” you ask, terrified that your light touches had hurt him somehow, “did i hurt you?” joel shakes his head as stares at the ground, tears welling in his eyes. he lets out a whimper that rolls into a snarl as he shakes his head again. he looks up at you again. the pain and confusion is more pronounced now, shining through the tears. he howls at you, not to tell you to leave or to tell you how you’ve hurt, but as a cry for help.
you drop to your knees, sliding off the trunk and throwing your arms around joel.
“it’s okay, joel,” you whisper, “i got you. it’s gonna be okay, i’m here. you’re safe.” you cling to joel’s broad back, holding him tight to your chest. joel’s strong arms claw at you for comfort, burying his face in your neck. you can feel your shoulder grow damp as joel lets out painful howls. you run your hand up his back, moving it up to curl into his hair. your scratch and pet at his hair softly, trying desperately to comfort him. you don’t know what’s wrong and you have a feeling he doesn’t know either.
as you pet his hair, his howling slowly melts into soft sniffles. he leans into your hand in his hair, encouraging the comforting touch.
“there you go, buddy,” you whisper, “it’s okay. i got you. nothing’s going to hurt you.” joel shuffles forwards so his body mounts yours. he’s much bigger and heavier, pushing you back to lay against the trunk you were sitting on. he straddles your hips and slumps on top off you like a big dog. he nuzzles his face into your neck as relaxes slowly against you. he’s really heavy but you can tell he needs this, staying still so he can get comfortable.
“you don’t know why you’re upset, do you?” you whisper, you hands continuing to pet his hair and rub his back. he grunts. “it’s okay. we can figure it out together.”
joel nods, leaning his head against yours. it’s strange, being this close to a man you just met, a man that is far from average. but it feels right. having him in your arms, holding him close, reassuring him, it all feels right. it’s clear joel needs help. that there’s things within his own mind that have been hidden from him for decades, that have been torturing him and he can’t understand why. you’re determined to help him. he shouldn’t be forced to live in a way you consider “civilised” but helping him heal from the trauma hidden deep in his mind could only benefit him.
“would you like me to stay with you today?” you ask softly, “it doesn’t have to be all day. just til you’re feeling better.” joel’s grip on your shirt tightens and he nods.
“okay, i will,” you smile, “if you need me to go at any time, just tell me. i’m not leaving til you’re okay.” somehow, joel presses himself even closer to you.
without warning, joel stands up, lifting you with him. you let out a small yelp, scrambling to hold onto joel as he walks to his hut. he holds you tight, his strong arms carry your weight as he ducks inside the hut. he lays you down on the blanket inside, crawling back over you. he cages you in under his body, holding you close. he buries his head back into your neck as he rests his weight on you. it’s clear he doesn’t want you to leave. he needs you right now. it’s a strange situation for the both of you but you both know it’s right. you’re supposed to be in each other’s arms. at least for tonight.

Chapter Text

your chest feels tight, your laboured breathing bringing your mind out of its slumber. as soon as you wheeze you feel the pressure immediately lifted. large hands grab your waist and you’re flipped onto your back. your head smacks against the ground, throwing your eyes open. you’re met with panicked brown eyes, a mere inch from your face. joel.
last night hits you, as does the stench that lingers on joel. he let you stay with him. or, more accurately, he was not letting you leave him.
he nudges his head forwards, eyes still wild with fear. he tightens his grip on your waist, letting out a soft grunt.
“joel,” you smile, bringing a hand up to ruffle his hair, “you were crushing me, weren’t you? that’s okay. i’m alright.” with that reassurance, joel pulls you up into his arms, holding you suffocatingly tight as he lets you pet his hair. he lets out a low purr, nuzzling his nose into your neck and inhaling your scent.
“good morning to you too,” you giggle, running both your hands through his hair. as you feel the grime and dirt in his hair, you remember what you wanted to do for him next. “your hair’s a little grimey, buddy. how about i take you back to my place? we’ll get you a shower and clean some of your clothes, yeah?”
joel stiffens, his purring halting as mind processes the idea of heading into the qz. all those people. all those sounds, loud and painful. it’s the last thing he wants. he growls, pulling back to let you see the discomfort in his eyes.
“i know it’s scary for you,” you sigh, softly scratching his scalp, “but i promise it’ll be okay. my apartment is quiet. you just gotta trust me to get you there.” despite his reservations, the way you're scratching his scalp and the soft tone of your voice soothes joel. as reluctant as he is, he trusts you now. it's been so long since he's been around another human, let alone trust them the way he does you. it's a scary feeling but he's letting himself feel it.
he nods, relaxing his grip on you. lord help him if you give him a reason to regret this.
“thank you,” you whisper, throwing your arms around his neck hugging him tight, “let's go. i wanna show you place– not that it's very exciting.” you chuckle, standing up and offering joel a hand. “i can introduce you to the delicacies of the qz– canned beans.” joel scrunches his nose. “yeah, that’s about right.”
𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔
getting joel leave the forest is tough. he sits at the edge, on his hands and feet, with a pout on his lips and his eyes narrowed. you stand only a few feet away, a little dishevelled from last night, frowning with your hands on your hips.
“c’mon, joel,” you whine, “it’s not a big deal. you probably need the sun, hiding in that dingy forest all the time.” joel scowls and grunts, turning his head away from you.
“dude, what are you? 5 years old?” joel snaps his head back, eyes wide as brow furrows deeper. “yeah, well, then don’t act like it.”
he scowls again but finally moves. he crawls out slowly, feeling at the different texture of the ground outside the forest. it’s drier but the grass is soft. it’s not unkind to joel’s calloused hands, almost welcoming. as he crawls forwards, he looks up at you. there’s a nervousness in his eyes he’s looking to you to quell.
“you wanna stand?” you ask, “you’ll need to once we get inside the qz.” he nods and rises to his feet. as he stretches out, uncurling his muscles, he towers over you. you’re still not used to the shear size of the man but it’s no longer intimidating, almost comforting now. maybe it’s because you know he trusts you, the only person in 20 years, or because of how he cared for you overnight. regardless, it’s a sense of comradery and belonging you haven’t felt in a long time.
𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔
the walk along the trail is undisturbed. joel seems content to walk alongside you. but as you get closer to the qz, the noise of the bustling city reaches joel’s ear. he shakes his head, letting out a snarl as he slows down. you turn to face him, wincing slightly. you feel a little bad for whining at him before.
“hey,” you place a hand on his shoulder and he flinches, “hey, hey, it’s alright.” you soften your voice, rubbing soft circles on joel’s shoulder. “i promise this is gonna be okay. just stay close to me and cover your ears if you need to. c’mon.” you slip your hand down to hold his. it’s harsh and rough against your soft palm and much bigger, his fingers engulfing your hand. you see his jaw clench and him nod.
as the guards come into view, joel’s grip tightens on your hand. you give his hand a soft squeeze before he finally let’s go, covering his ears. the guards give joel some foul looks but they let him in without much of a hassle.
you grab hold of joel’s shirt, tugging him into the busy streets of the qz. the city assaults joel’s senses, causing him to whimper, not loud enough for others, but enough for you to hear. his eyes meet yours, saying all the words he can’t speak. without a second thought, you run, pulling joel with you down the street. he’s more than capable of keeping up as you curl round corners and clamber up the stairs to your apartment. you look back at joel every now and then, giving him a smile. your running became more like a game of cat and mouse than a desperate measure to help joel adjust to his environment. you even get a flash of a smile from him.
unlocking the door in less than a second, the pair of you burst inside, you jumping straight onto the couch. joel follows you, leaping out the couch to smother you. he nuzzles his head into your neck, letting out a grumble that sounds like a cross between a chuckle and an appreciation. you laugh, feeling the way joel’s beard tickles your neck.
“alright, buddy,” you chuckle, pushing at his shoulders, “you need to hop off. we gotta get you in the shower before you stink out my whole apartment. joel whines, pulling back to rest on your hips. he has a soft pout on his lips as he straddles you, pressing his weight down on your crotch. a moan slips from your lips before you can stop it. joel immediately lifts his hips, hovering over you on his hands and knees. he grunts softly, his eyes wide with concern, he’s terrified he’s hurt you. ignoring the heat in your crotch, you cup joel’s cheeks, softly brushing his beard.
“it’s okay, joel,” you whisper, shaking your head, “you didn’t do anything wrong, buddy. uh– just hop up. i’ll run the shower for you– or would a bath be easier? doesn’t matter.” joel crawls off the couch, a confused look on his face. you really don’t wanna have “the talk” with a grown-ass man. maybe he doesn’t need the talk, maybe he knows but genuinely thought he hurt you. you push those thoughts aside– along with the image of him undressing the other day that has decided to intrude at this moment– and head into the bathroom.
it’s small, a tight squeeze for the two of you, but joel manages to fit in the bath. he squats down, staring at you, sitting awkwardly in this foreign object.
“so, i’m gonna turn on the water,” you say, pointing at the tap, “it’ll come out at the end. it’s gonna be cold, okay? and i need ya to take your clothes off now.” joel frowns, pulling at his clothes in question.
“it’s okay now,” you clarify, “we’re in a bathroom and you’re getting ready for a bath. you take your clothes off when you bathe.” joel still looks unsure but starts to pull his shirt off, chucking it on the bathroom floor. seeing his broad, hairy chest and sculptured muscles, fully on display in the soft light of the bathroom, is something you’ll never forget. he looks like heaven.
he stands, hitting his back on the cold tile walls, arms huddled tight to himself as he tries to unbuckle his jeans without hitting his elbows too. he lets his jean drop, his buckle clipping the edge of the bath. to your surprise, joel doesn't wear underwear– why would he need to out there in the forest? you slap a hand over your eyes out of instinct, only hearing a soft rustle as joel pulls his jeans and the new boots you got him all the way off. he grunts at you, chucking the clothes at your feet. when you don’t uncover your eyes, joel barks at you.
“did you just bark at me?” you ask, dropping your hand. you’re greeted by the sight of joel’s nude body crouched in the tub. his thighs are thick with muscle and peppered with the same dark brown hair on chest. between those thighs is a dense patch of hair, left to grow wild for 20 years. despite the lack of maintenance, it does little to hide the size of his cock, hanging between his legs, taunting you. he’s thick, even flaccid, with a good four inches and he’s uncut.
you pull your eyes from his junk, back up to his face as he barks at you again. he has a wide smile on his lips, clearly enjoying your reaction to his body. he hasn’t had anyone look at him softly in years, let alone look at him with the kind of hunger you are now. it’s intimidating being truly looked at after all this time, but the warmth of your gaze dulls any anxiety.
“you’re right,” you chuckle, “i should actually wash you instead of just staring.” you pick up joel’s clothes and dump them in the laundry basket. you head back over to joel, grabbing the soap, shampoo and conditioner, and a flannel, kneeling down beside the tub.
“remember, it’ll be cold,” you say, placing your hand on the tap, “it’ll take a little while for it to heat up, so bark when it’s warm enough for you, okay?” joel nods, tensing a little as you turn on the tap but he doesn’t snap or snarl at you. “good boy.”
joel’s ears twitch and he turns his head to look up at you. you see a flash of affection in his eyes before he shakes his head and frowns, turning away so you can’t see his flushing cheeks.
“come on, cutie,” you smirk, unable to stop yourself from teasing him. he groans at you and then barks, nodding at the tap. you switch it off and start to wash his body with the soapy flannel. he flinches but lets you wash his back.
you’re gentle at first, getting him used to your touch. as he eases, you scrub a little harder. the grime on joel’s body is practically baked on there.
the water turns brown as the dirt washes off of joel. with the dirt dissipating, you can see the scars the marr his body. he’s been out on his own for so long, it only makes sense that he’d have scars. but seeing them, confirming the pain you know joel’s mind is hiding, it makes your heart ache. you trace a finger along the scars softly, watching the muscles in joel’s back ripple as he flinches under your touch.
“is this okay?” you ask, stilling your movements. joel looks at you over his shoulder and nods. with his approval, you continue tracing the painful lines on his body, wondering which one hurt the most.
you turn joel around, washing his soft sculpted chest and arms gently. as you move down his body, you try your best to not to stare at his more intimate areas but it’s difficult– especially when joel doesn’t seem to mind.
“would you like to do your…private parts?” you cringe just asking the question, “i don’t know if you’re comfortable with me cleaning around there.” joel tilts his head and you point to his cock and ass. he frowns at you, gesturing with his head to his crotch as to say you can do it.
“are you sure?” you ask, slowly bringing the flannel to his crotch. he nods, a lot more unphased by his nudity than you. you gently wash around his crotch before taking his cock in your hand. it’s heavy, even though he’s soft, and you can feel it twitch under your ministrations. you know to wash your penis correctly you have to clean under the foreskin, and he probably hasn’t done that for decades, but you think this time round that’ll be too far. so you elect to ignore it, moving his balls and then to his ass.
“i’ll be right back, joel,” you mutter, dropping the flannel in the tub, “rinse yourself and drain the bath.” after being that close to him, touching his entire body even if it was through the boundary of a flannel, you have to step out for a minute.
you head to the kitchen and pull out a cold beer. the coolness of it helps to calm the heat of the stuffy bathroom and the tension that joel seemed all but oblivious to.
once you’ve composed yourself, and finished the beer, you return to joel. he’s sitting there naked in the empty bath.
“it’s time to wash your hair,” you smile, grabbing the shower head off its hook, “i’m gonna have to use the shower for this, so try not to freak out. it’ll only be to wet your hair and then rinse it, okay?” joel nods but you can see his body curl in on itself as he waits for you to turn it on. as the water flows out, joel flinches back with a wary eye on the fast running water. it’s noisier than the bath tap but it’s equally as harmless, joel decides. he shuffles closer, bowing his head to let you wet it. you make quick work of wetting it and turning the shower off again.
“you’re doing great, buddy,” you smile, squirting shampoo into your palm, “i’m gonna put shampoo in now. it’ll get all that dirt out.” you smear some of it on your other hand and start to move them through joel’s hair. as you feel the dirt and grime coming away from his scalp, you can also hear a soft hum from joel’s throat. his eyes are squeezed shut and he has a small smile on his lips as you massage and clean hair and beard. you wash the shampoo out and repeat the process with conditioner.
“look at you,” you smile, standing up to admire a now clean joel, “you look like a wet cat but a very clean one at that.” joel frowns, sticking his lip out in a pout.
“hey, i wasn’t the one purring like a little kitten getting belly rubs just before. you act rough but you’re just a little kitten, aren’t ya?” joel snarls at you and you put your hands up, backing away. “i’m sorry,” you chuckle, “i’ll stop. you get dressed and i’ll make you some of those canned beans.” he rolls his eyes at your grinning face, but he can’t help but smile a little too. it’s been so long since he’s had a sense of domesticity. his mind has been craving it, even if he never knew it.
you leave joel to get changed and head into the kitchen. you crack open a can of beans and dump them in a pot, chucking it on the stove. grabbing another beer from the fridge, you lean against the kitchen counter. as you take swigs of it, you hear the soft pad of footsteps and the rustle of clothes. a clink of a belt is heard and then joel pops out of the bathroom. he looks frankly adorable in the clean new clothes you got him and with his hair all damp and slicked back.
he sits down on the couch to pull his sock and boots on. as he does he grunts at the beer in your hand.
“this?” you ask, shaking the beer slightly, “it’s beer.” finishing fixing his boots to his feet, joel crawls over to you. he sits at your feet and reaches up for the bottle.
“no way,” you tut, pulling it away from him, “i’m not having you getting drunk. no offence, buddy, but a drunk six foot tall wild cat is not what i need running around my apartment, let alone the qz.” joel snarls at you again, baring his teeth.
“is it the cat thing again?” you ask. he shakes his head. “oh, so, you’re just being a little brat are you?” he scowls and lunges for the beer again.
“joel! jesus christ,” you mutter, pulling back and placing the beer back in the fridge. joel is sitting in front of you still, a frowning pout on his face. you crouch down to his level, placing a hand on his knee. “what’s wrong, buddy? you don’t have to lash out. talk to me. i’ll get a pen and paper if you need it.”
he hangs his head, shaking it before lunging forwards. he falls on top of you, squishing you as he presses all his weight down, just like he did back in the forest. you wheeze a little, feeling the weight of joel bearing down on you, but you let him stay there, moving your hands to his back.
the pair of you lay there for a moment in the soft silence of this strange but heartfelt embrace. you run your hands along his back and then up into his hair, gently scratching his scalp and behind his ears.
“you wanna talk about it?” you whisper, holding him closer. he shrugs. “do you know what’s wrong?” he shakes his head. “i see. it’s okay, i got you.”
the forgotten beans on the stove start to boil, bringing them to your attention once again.
“shit,” you mutter, “joel, i gotta check on the beans. let me up, buddy.” joel groans but rolls off you. you flick the stove off and give the beans a stir. “they seem alright. want some?”
joel nods and you serve you both up a bowl. you place them on the table and sit down. joel doesn’t move from his spot on the ground.
“you gonna sit up here with me?” you ask, patting the chair next to you. he tilts his head and crawls over to the chair. he sniffs it and feels it out before crawling up onto it. he keeps his legs up to his chest, leaning forwards to sniff the beans. you chuckle as he scrunches his nose.
“yeah, they aren’t as good as those nice cuts of meat you get out in the forest,” you smile, digging into the beans, “but it’s some of the best shit out here.” joel lets out a small laugh before bringing his hand up to scoop up the beans. you realise you’re gonna have to tell him to use a spoon eventually but you let him simply enjoy his meal.
𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔
“alright, buddy,” you clap your hands together softly, turning away from the kitchen sink, now full of your dishes, “there’s a doctor’s office not too far from here. you wanna go get a check up? make sure everything’s alright?” joel grumbles, shaking his head. “you worried about the noise?” he nods.
“it’s not too far from here so you won’t have to put up with it for long, okay?” joel frowns. “i can find you some headphones when we go out.” he scrunches his nose up but stands up, giving you a nod. you smile, walking up to joel and cupping his cheeks.
“i know this is hard for you,” you say, gently rubbing his bearded cheeks, “but you can trust me. i won’t let anything happen to you.” joel purrs, leaning into your hands. you smile, giving him a scratch under his chin. you grab your bag and nod at the door. “let’s go.”
joel follows you out the apartment, hanging close behind you. as you descend the stairs, getting closer to the noise of the street, you can feel joel’s anxious twitches against your back. you turn around to take joel’s hand, catching the eye of one of your neighbours leaving his apartment for his shift. before you have time to recognise which neighbour it is, you see his face twist into a scowl.
“hey!” he yells, storming down the stairs, causing joel to jump, “is that my fucking shirt? you little shit!” you don’t have to tell joel to run, he’s already pulling you down the stairs at a speed you can barely keep up with. you stumble over your feet as joel pulls you into the street, your furious neighbour close behind.
the chase is a blur, all you can see and hear clearly is the back of joel’s head and the screams of your neighbour. any attempt at civility is gone from joel’s mind with him bowling people out of the way with zero regard as he navigates the busy streets.
you snap yourself out of the shock of the moment and realise joel is taking you both to the checkpoint of the qz. if you two burst through there, you’ll certainly be shot. with all your strength, you tug joel in the direction of the hole in the wall you use. he looks at you, eyes wide with concern. you haven’t seen someone look at you with such a concern for your welfare, honestly, ever. and it’d be sweet if you weren’t running from your neighbour right now.
“through here,” you yell, pulling joel to through the crack. you slip through easily but joel’s broad frame has more trouble. you watch through the crack as your neighbour catches up. joel looks at you for a second before turning his back to you and blocking out the crack and your view of what's happening behind the wall.
for a moment, you stand there, chest heaving and mind terrified as you hear your neighbour yell at joel. you hear joel’s snarl, a sickening crunch, and then silence. when joel’s back doesn’t move from the crack you feel your stomach leap into your throat.
“joel!” you scream, running to the wall, grabbing at joel’s shirt, “joel!” your voice is hoarse and tears are welling in your eyes. you can’t be the reason he dies. after all this time surviving on his own, you can’t be the cause of his death.
your hand is pulled forwards as joel finally turns around. he whimpers seeing the terror in your eyes. he brings his hands up to wipe your tears and you notice the blood splattered on his knuckles.
“joel…” you whisper, taking his bloodied hand in yours. before you can ask him what happened he shakes his head, pushing you back so he can squeeze through the gap. once he slips through the crack, you get a glimpse of the scene on the other side. your neighbour is lying, motionless on the street, his nose bleeding and face marred with blood.
“joel! wh-” joel slaps a hand over your mouth and shakes his head again. his expression is firm but his eyes are screaming for your forgiveness. he doesn’t give you the chance to before he’s pulling you in the direction of the forest.
𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔
the trek through the forest is deafeningly silent. you stare at the ground, following joel’s heels. the image of your neighbour bleeding out on the street is seared into your mind. you didn’t mean for him to get hurt, you were just trying to help joel.
once you reach joel’s home, you slump down on one of the logs, too out of it to do anything but sit in silence. joel trails off to wash his hand in a nearby stream. when he returns he crouches down in front of you. he lifts your head, holding it gently in his broad calloused hands, to meet his eyes. he doesn’t need to say anything, even if he could, his eyes telling you how sorry he is.
“it’s… it’s okay,” you sigh, your voice weak, “what you did… that was wrong. but i get why you did it. i don’t blame you.” joel presses his forehead to yours, closing his eyes, simply appreciating your forgiveness.
“and i’m sorry,” you whisper, placing your hands on joel’s shoulders, “i should’ve taken you to the qz, especially in stolen clothes. it was my fault you had to do that.” joel whines, shaking his head and pulling you into his arms.
he holds the back of your head with one hand, the other snaking round to hold your waist. he starts to rock you in his arms. he’s not sure why. feelings of love and warmth come back to him, memories in feelings alone, before the grief his mind has been running from hits him like a truck. he holds you impossibly tight, his mind resorting back to the trauma that put him in this state. as much as he wishes he knew what happened, he can’t conjure more than the gut wrenching feeling of loss. maybe it’s better he doesn’t remember.
the embrace is short lived as joel’s head snaps around. his ears perk up and he immediately carries you inside his hut. he shakes his head at you and then disappears, unsheathing his knife from his hip as he does. it’s obvious joel wants you to stay put and silent, but there’s no way you’re leaving him alone.
you pop your head out of the hut to see joel crouched behind a bush and a group of four men carrying guns, raiders, enclosing in on him. guilt hits you again when you realise they must have followed you two from the qz. as one of the raiders gets closer to joel, you panic.
“joel! look out!” you yell, the raider’s attention turning to you. joel snaps his head round to you, scowl on his face. his look says it all; you fucking idiot.
before the raider can take his shot at you, joel growls, distracting the man and lunging at him, slitting the man’s throat cleanly with one slice. as the man drops, joel throws his gun to you and turns to a raider sneaking up behind him.
you scramble to grab the gun, clutching it to your chest as you back up against the hut. as you tremble, too terrified to move, you see joel disarm and snap the neck of another raider as he fights off one from behind. a bullet nicks his arms and he roars in pain. but it only seems to emboldened him, with him charging at the man behind him, stabbing him square in the throat, wrenching the knife to the side.
too transfixed on the spurt of blood pouring from the raider’s neck, you fail to notice a dog run at you from the side. the dog growls and lunges at you, sinking its teeth into your arm. you scream out in pain as the dog’s teeth sink deeper into your arm, slicing through all your layers of skin and puncturing muscle.
joel’s attention is immediately gone from the remaining raider, bounding over to you. without a second thought, joel plunges his knife into the neck of the dog, the animal’s jaw going slack around your arm. joel rips the gun out of your hand and stands, aiming it at the raider’s head. he lets out a guttural roar, giving the man a second to speak. as the the man pulls his gun on him, joel finger twitches and he shoots the man clean through the stomach. he throws the gun away and jumps on top of the man pinning him to the ground, spitting in his face as he growls again.
despite the pain in your arm and the horrific sight of the limp dog beside you, you stand on shaky legs and stumble over to joel and the raider.
“he wants you to explain yourself,” you wince, cradling your bleeding arm, “why are you here? how did you get a dog?” joel scowls at you but doesn’t stop you.
“oh, so you speak feral fucking man?” the raider laughs, his voice humourless and gargled from the blood filling his lungs.
“answer the fucking questions,” you snap. the raider groans and joel shakes him, smacking his head against the ground.
“fine!” the man yells, wincing, “we saw you leaving the qz.” joel snarls at you this time, a look of betrayal in his eyes. “and we got a dog from jackson. happy?”
“where the fuck is jackson?” the raider rolls his eyes but answers when joel growls at him.
“it’s in wyoming! okay?” he groans, “now can you just fucking kill me?”
“how do they have dogs?”
“i don’t fucking know– ah!” joel shoves a finger into the man’s bullet wound. “they’re a massive settlement in wyoming. i think an ex-firefly set it up.” you nod.
“thanks.” the raider goes to make another snide comment but joel beats him to it, snapping the man’s neck.
you squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on the sound of joel’s and your own breathing. this can’t be real. you’ve only been venturing out of the qz for 4 days and you’ve already seen more violence than you have in your entire life. at the hands of joel. you knew this man wasn’t a gentle giant or anything, he’s survived in the wild by being ruthless, not kind. but seeing it first hand is sickening.
after a few silent moments, you feel joel’s hands hold your shoulders, guiding you back into the hut. only once you’re back in there do you open your eyes. your arm is soaked in blood and there’s more covering joel’s upper body. you had washed him clean not an hour or more ago, only to have that effort ruined in a quick few minutes.
joel rummages around in the bag you brought, finding spare medical supplies and a water bottle you had packed. he pours water over your arm and wraps it up tight in a gauze bandage. he ties it off and then does the same to the wound on his arm.
you sit, even more dissociated than before, on the blanket in the hut. you can’t go back to the qz. you’ve stolen from your neighbours and one of them is severely injured, if not dead because of that. and you led raiders to joel’s sanctuary in the forest that ended in their deaths and the death of an innocent animal.
you look up from your daze of self loathing and shock to see joel clumsily writing on the notepad from your bag.
“betrayed me,” it says when he holds it up for you.
“i know, joel,” you croak, tears filling your eyes once again, “i fucked up. i should’ve never come out here. i should’ve left you the fuck alone, like you wanted. i know, okay? you don’t have to rub it in. i can leave, for good, if that’s what you want.” joel waits a beat, his heart aching as your tears fall. he considers telling you to leave.
“no,” he writes, “you need me.”
“i need you?” you ask, frowning, “the hell does that mean?”
“alone,” he points at you, “injured.”
“but i betrayed you,” you cry, “i’m the reason your home was attacked and you had to kill those men– and that dog.” the image of the dog’s dead body flashes in your mind and a horrible sob is ripped from your throat. joel immediately takes you in his arms pulling you close to his chest. he shakes his head, rubbing your back.
when you calm you down, your sobs easing out to small sniffles, joel pulls back and writes again.
“you forgive me. i forgive you.” his eyes are soft, begging you to understand him. with a shaky breath, you nod.
“we should go to jackson,” you say. joel frowns, tilting his head in confusion. “it sounds like they have a lot of resources. i need a new home, you deserve a new home, and you deserve help. maybe they could help us.”
“help me?” joel writes.
“yeah,” you smile weakly, “maybe someone could help you get your memories and your speech back. would you like that?” joel shrugs. he’s spent so long living like this, the idea of change is terrifying. especially the prospect of uncovering his memories. he fears that they’re locked away for good reason. he doesn’t want to know what made him this why. but when he looks at the hope in your eyes, the care you still have for him after everything you’ve seen him do, it gives him a reason, for the first time in decades, to try and get better.
joel sighs before nodding. he crawls over to the blanket, trying not to put too much pressure on his sore arm. he takes you gently in his arms, holding you close as he covers you with his body again.
you wrap your arms around joel’s neck, pulling his head into your neck as you run your fingers up his scalp. joel presses a kiss to your neck, nuzzling his nose under your chin.
“joel,” you whimper, feeling his crotch press against your own, “joel– stop.” he freezes, pulling back with a hurt look in his eyes. “let’s just lay here, okay? i can’t… not now.” joel nods, snuggling back down on top of you, being careful of your arm.
his mind is all over the place, as is yours. both of you are in over your heads in uncharted territory in the attempt to try and stay together. maybe jackson will be the bastion that reconciles the distance between you. or the place that shows you that loneliness is the only thing binding you two together.

Chapter Text

“i know it feels stupid but come on,” you sigh, “you gotta do it if you wanna learn to speak again.” joel frowns and grunts at you. “don’t be like that. the leaflet said you gotta do it.”
it’s about a week into the trek to jackson, wyoming. the terrain has been tough, the sun’s been a killer, but it was slightly more bearable with joel there. although his company consists of grunts and scrawlings on paper, you can feel his affection through his actions. the way he holds you at night, his back covering you, the way he stays on guard, constantly alert, shows his care in ways words never could.
you thought a way to pass the time and make use of the trek to jackson would be to help joel learn to speak again. you’d seen a leaflet in a doctors office back in the qz ages ago. it’s not like you thought you’d fix his problem but maybe you could help him get somewhere before he sees a proper doctor in jackson.
but of course, joel is the most stubborn man you’ve ever met.
“it said something about sticking your tongue out, moving it side to side and up and down.” joel grunts, walking ahead of you up the hill. “oh– it also mentioned smiling. wouldn’t hurt you to smile more, grumpy ass.” joel spins on his heel and bares his teeth at you, snarling.
“geez, dude, chill,” you chuckle, holding your hands up, “i’m just saying, smiling could help you feel better.” he rolls his eyes and goes back to walking up the hill.
“did you just sass me?” you laugh, half in disbelief as you run to catch up with him. joel smirks, stifling a laugh, trying to hide his smile from you. you grab his arm, hooking your own around it as you reach for his face. “nooo, come on. look at me– lemme see that smile.”
joel chuckles, trying to shove you off him as he leans his head away from your hand. he moves a hand to tickle your armpit. as you tense and pull back and it’s enough for joel to pry you loose. he pushes you, harder than he intended, and you fall back onto the hard grass of the hill.
as fall, joel jolts in your direction, diving to catch you. he misses by half a second but you still land with his arms wrapped around you. the newly comforting weight of 200 lbs of muscle and supplies lifts itself from you almost as soon as you feel it fall on you.
you wince as your tailbone aches and look up to see joel’s soft brown eyes, wide with concern. the prickles of his unkempt beard scratch you as he nuzzles the side of your cheek. he drops his head down into your neck, tightening his arms around you as he does.
“it’s okay, buddy,” you whisper, running your fingers through his hair, “you didn’t mean it.” joel nods and pulls back to look you in the eyes again. he brows are pinched and he takes a deep breath.
“so…rry,” joel manages to croak out. the pronunciation isn’t quite there but it’s miles better than a grunt.
a smile curls on joel’s lips as he realises he did it, he actually spoke for the first time in 20 years. you sit up in a rush, your shoulders smacking into joel’s as you fling your arms around him.
“you spoke! joel! you spoke!” you yell, pure elation in your voice as you kiss him on the cheek, “i knew you were practicing.” joel chuckles, rolls you both over so you’re laying on top of him. he nods, pushing you up to cup your face. he smiles at you and laughs at himself.
“i told you smiling can’t hurt,” you say, brushing his hair off his forehead, “plus, you look kinda cute when you do.” joel frowns and rolls his eyes, pushing you off of him. “hey, that was a compliment.”
“no,” joel says flatly, standing up. despite his denial, when he gives you a hand up he’s smiling.
𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔
“okay, put your lips like this,” you say, puckering your lips at joel. a confused, bordering on horrified look crosses his face. he doesn’t move, simply blinking at you. “come on, joel. you promised.” he frowns and sighs.
“‘kay,” he grumbles, puckering his lips.
“there ya go,” you smile, leaning forwards from where your sat on the ground and ruffling his hair, “that wasn’t so hard. good boy.” joel shakes your hand off his head and growls. “you don’t like being called that?”
his face goes soft for a moment as he thinks it over. hanging his head, he shrugs, “no.” you’re tempted to mock him but restrain yourself, not wanting to embarrass him more in a moment of vulnerability. instead you cup his cheek, lifting his head but up to look at you. there’s a shimmer of anxiousness that belies his gaze, a yearning for acceptance you thought you had satiated.
“hey,” you smile, whispering softly, “it’s okay. you don’t have to be afraid of me– should you know that, buddy. i’ll call you or not call you whatever you like.” you give him a soft scratch under his chin, him giving you a soft purr, and drop your hand away. “back to the lip puckers now, yeah?”
joel nods but as you pucker your lips he doesn’t copy, he just lunges forwards, pressing his lips to yours. in the most literal sense, it’s a kiss, but it doesn’t feel like that. joel’s lips are smashed hard against yours, teeth clink, and your foreheads smack. but it’s a kiss.
joel moves his mouth like he’s trying to eat you, his tongue being thrust haphazardly. to try and control his movements, you enclose his face in your hands, steadying him. his movements slow but he’s still desperate with his movements. he grabs your hips and crawls forwards, laying you back on the cold dirt. you move one hand round to grip his hair and he whines softly, pressing his hips into yours.
“joel–” you moan, pushing at his shoulders. he breaks the kiss, panting above you with tears in his eyes. “shit,” you mutter, wiping his tears, “you okay?” he nods and quickly scoops you up into his arms. curling up into the position he holds you in while you sleep, he buries his head in your neck.
“it’s too much for you isn’t it, baby?” you whisper, gently stroking his hair. joel grunts and nods. “that’s okay. we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. just know i’m comfortable with it– with you.” joel’s arms tighten round you and you slowly hear his breaths evening out as he rubs his nose up your neck. he doesn’t need to say anything and neither do you. the peaceful silence and the sound of joel breathing in your scent is all the pair of you need.
𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔
it’s been a month at this point. your muscles ached, you smelt like shit, and no matter how many times you scrubbed yourself in a river it never felt like you were truly clean. sensory wise this trek had been a nightmare but there were small blessings; canned food, the daily occupier of speech therapy, and joel.
it shocked you to see how soft he really is. of course, he was still high strung, more so now that he’s left his home, still a weapon of agile violence, and a man teetering on the edge of humanity. but under all the trauma, all that pain, is a man that wants to love and wants to live again, not just survive.
“joelitoooo,” you sing, slapping your hands onto his shoulders from behind, “how much longer?” you slump against joel’s back, earning a grunt from him as your weight tips him back slightly.
in the last few weeks, you’ve taken to calling him “joelito.” he expressed his discontent for the name using his newly learnt swear words. a part of you thinks he’s only keeping up with the speech therapy so he can eventually cuss you out fluently but you appreciate his effort regardless.
“shut up,” he grunts, removing your hands from his shoulders. you pout and walk in front of him, turning to face him.
“i wouldn’t have put effort into helping you speak if i knew you were going to be so rude,” you cross your arms, trying to pretend you’re mad. joel smirks.
“liar,” he scoffs, pushing you out of the way by your head. you whine and hook your arm into joel’s, pulling yourself close to him. resting your head on joel’s shoulder, you slip your hand into his and intertwine your fingers.
“all you needed?” joel smiles, looking down at you. you chuckle and nod.
“all i ever need.”
𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔
with your pinky hooked around joel’s, you lean down to pluck a dew covered daisy. the worst of the summer is over and it’s slowly melting into autumn, announced to the pair of you by the rainfall last night.
you lean up and slip the daisy behind joel’s ear, pressing a kiss to his cheek as you do. joel snorts and turns his head to smile at you, returning the affection, placing a kiss on your forehead.
soft domestic moments have littered your month together since he kissed you. a part of you credits that to his improved speech. the speech therapy, as limited as it is under your circumstances, is clearly working, but your presence is helping joel heal from the trauma that clipped his voice to begin with. the scar near his temple worries you though. if that affected his speech he might permanently have issue speaking.
hand in hand, daisy tucked snugly behind joel’s ear, the pair of you trudge up a hill, breaking through the pine forest as you reach the peak. joel squeezes your hand and freezes, his ear twitching. you slowly step behind him, an instinct joel’s trained into you, as joel sniffs.
the sounds of horse hooves flattening the damp dirt hit joel’s ears and he shoves you down. dropping down onto all fours, he crawls forwards, catching a glance of five riders on horses, armed with rifles and a dog. he turns, hooking you by the collar of your shirt and pulling you back down the hill behind the dense pines.
you yelp, joel’s hand quickly covering your mouth as you process the blur of his movements. you look up at him, letting him see the question in your eyes. he simply shakes his head but lets his grip on your mouth drop.
“people?” he nods. “maybe they’re the jackson residents. we should be close by now, right?” joel frowns, sensing what your next words are gonna be. “we should see if they can help us.”
“no,” he grunts, “dangerous.”
“the whole point of this was to find people so you could get help,” you sigh, “and– and so we could have a home. don’t you want that?” his frown turns into a scowl as you say that, it quickly slipping into a look of pain.
“i want…” he mutters, “you alive.” he cups your face, his calloused finger tips stroking your cheek.
“i know, joel,” you smile, turning your head to kiss his palm, “please, let’s just go try talk to them. if you think it’ll be too dangerous you can pull me out of there. but we need to try– for your sake and mine.”
with a reluctant groan, joel pulls you in for a kiss. he’s gotten better than the first time but he still kisses like he’s hungry. keeping you behind him, he walks up the hill, slowly coming into the eye line of the people.
immediately their guns are up and aimed at the pair of you. joel grabs your arm tight, making sure you stay firmly behind him. he growls at the people, not loud enough for them to hear thankfully.
“are you infected?” one of them barks. you move out from behind joel.
“no, no, we’re fine,” you say, “we heard about the jackson commune. we need somewhere to stay– and he needs help.” the people tighten their grips on their weapons and joel steps in front of you again. “i told you he’s not infected!”
“then what do you mean by help?”
“he can’t speak and he’s got really bad amnesia.” joel glares at you. he wants help but he’s reasonably paranoid. living 20 years in isolation, the only human contact he’s had being malicious raiders and you the whole time, has left joel’s already traumatised mind with a warranted fear of other people.
you wiggle your arm from his grasp and hold his hand instead, squeezing it gently. he glances over to you and you give him a smile. despite the fear in his eyes, he tries to smile back.
“do you guys have therapists or doctors?” you ask, “we’ve walked all the way from boston– please help us.”
one of the people lowers their weapons and lets the dog off its leash. it podders over to you and sniffs the pair of you, circling you before running back over to get its leash clipped back on. “they’re all good.” the group all lower their weapons and turn the horses back towards the commune.
“you can ride with us,” one of the men says, gesturing to him and the rider next to him. joel looks at you, clearly hesitant about being separated from you but he knows you don’t have another option. he helps you up onto one of the horses before mounting the other.
then you’re off. your month alone together, trekking towards jackson, has ended.
there’s a trepid hope in your eyes as you smile over at joel. he’s finally going to get the help he deserves and you so desperately want for him. without the pressure of fedra in the qz or the constant fear that comes with living out in the woods, maybe you can love each other fully. the sweet domestic love you’ve both been craving, finally is completely within reach. love that’s not just sparse moments outside of fear, but love that is capable of being lived in.
“i love you,” you mouth to joel.
“i love you too,” he mouths in return.

Chapter Text

as the horses enter the gates of jackson, you turn to smile at joel, giving him a look of pure excitement and anticipation. he returns it with a weary smile. you watch as his ears twitch and nose crinkles up, his senses trying to adjust to this bustling environment.

the jackson settlement is unlike anything either of you have seen in or outside of the qz. it’s just as lively as the qz, with people down every make-shift street, stores and houses everywhere. but unlike the qz, it actually feels like a home, a community full of people that work together and caring for the well being of their fellow citizens and the town they live in. it feels like somewhere you and joel could be together, somewhere he could get help, and you two could finally find some peace as one.

joel’s agitation is putting a damper on the hopeful feeling jackson is instilling in you. his head snaps about as his nose crinkles up, sniffing at the air. the guy who’s horse he’s on notices and nudges him. he looks over at you. “what’s his problem?”

you lock eyes with joel as his head snaps over to you. his nose twitches and he gives you a look of confusion and fear, shrouded by a furrowed brow. “i think he smells something?”

“is he a fucking dog?” the guy scoffs, earning a growl in his ear. you shake your head at joel and he rolls his eyes, making you chuckle a little. that chuckle quickly dies when you see joel’s body tense up. he jumps off the back of the horse, startling the others as he does, before bounding forwards through the town, heading straight to ongoing construction.

“joel! stop!” you yell, climbing off the back of your horse and running after him. the jackson residents you were riding with are yelling something at you, but you can hardly hear it over your own breath as you try to catch up with joel.

rounding a corner, you see him halt, sitting back on his hind legs. you skid and drop down next to joel, grabbing hold of an arm and clinging to it. he grunts but barely acknowledges you as he glares towards the men at work.

“joel, what’s wrong?” is all you can say before joel shoves you off him and stands up. he hasn’t been so rough with you since your first week together, so hitting the dry, hard jackson dirt hurt more than just your back. you yell as you feel a pebble jab into the back of your head as it flings back against the dirt. usually, any noise from you and joel is on you, brown eyes wide and attentive to check you’re okay. but he remains tall and stern where he’s stood.

“joel?” a deep southern voice calls, snapping you out of your pain. as you sit up, you look up to find a man with dirty blond hair with a similar look to joel. his hair is long and shabby, his face is rounder, fuller, and his nose has a crook in it, but under all that, he looks surprisingly like joel.

“jesus christ— joel!” the man runs towards joel, equal parts desperation and disbelief in his voice. before he can reach joel, joel twitches and snarls at him, letting out a deep growl which makes the man slow. the man stares in utter confusion, like he may have mistaken joel for someone else. he places his hands up, “joel? ’s me, tommy.”

as the man states his name, you watch joel’s eyes grow cold and detached, looking almost like the broken man you’d found in the forest. tommy takes a step closer and joel’s body tenses before he turns around, back on all fours and bounds towards the gates. the people you were riding with, still trying to get their horses back in order, turn to tommy, as if to ask for orders.

“what the fuck ya lookin’ at me f’?” tommy yells, “go git ‘im!” the riders tap their horses and head off after joel who’s disappeared out the gates and into the forest nearby.

you scramble up, going to run after him before tommy stops you, a heavy hand grabbing your shoulder tight.

“who’re you ‘n’ what the hell’re ya doin’ wit’ my brother?” tommy frowns, forcing you to look at him. coming face to face with him, you can see tommy’s expression of tentative hope and further confusion. you offer up your name.

“you’re his brother?” you ask, “that— that’s perfect. you can help him.”

“what’s wrong wit’ ‘im? i ‘aven’t seen ‘im in years,” he expression flicking to concern, “why’s he actin’ like an animal?”

“he can’t remember anything,” you shrug, “he’s got a really bad scar on the side of his head. i have a feeling it could be that. i’ve been trying to help him remember things and talk again. it’s been working. seeing you must’ve made him remember something.” tommy purses his lips tight before turning and heading the stables.

“come wit’ me,” he orders, “we’re gonna find joel.” you hurry after him, watching him prep his horse and hop on. he offers you a hand, but before he pulls you up, he squeezes it painfully tight. “if i let ya near joel i need to be able to trust ya. that’s my older brother an’ i ain’t lettin’ nobody stand between me and gettin’ ‘im back ‘ere.” you nod.

“i promise you can trust me,” you say, a determination in your words, “i just want him to be okay— that’s why i brought him here. i— i love him. i want him to be safe.” tommy raises an eyebrow at you, but pulls you up anyways.

“don’ think ya love ‘im none,” tommy mutters, whipping the reins, “but i trust ya. hold on t’ me— i ain’t wan’ ya fallin’ off.” your heart aches a little when tommy dismisses how you feel for joel. you rest your hands on his hips, leaning forwards till you’re not quite touching his back. everything’s happened too fast. this wasn’t how things were supposed to go.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

joel’s throat feels raw. navigating forests while bounding faster than a man can run is nothing new to joel. however, your month together has given him space to slow down. other than the incident at the qz and then at his hut, he hadn’t had to exert much energy— at least not this much.

his hands ache as he grabs hold of a branch and swings himself down under a ledge made of fallen away dirt, soil, and tree roots. he crawls underneath, clawing at the damp soil as he burrows down, hollowing out the earth under the overhanging tree, and pressing his broad body as tight as it can go, into the dirt. despite his size, the scraggly tree roots poking out every other way, and the clumps of dirt that cling to them hide joel well.

horse hooves stamp along the forest floor, imprinting into the dirt, burying leaves into the ground, as they cane it round the corner. the heft of the riders and their horses brings loose dirt pouring over joel, but he remains unmoving and silent as he waits for them to pass. he remains tucked in there until he’s certain they’re far gone.

cautiously, joel crawls out. his movements are slow and precise, avoiding sticks and leaves that may snap or crunch, and making sure the soil that he disturbed doesn’t cave in on him. he creeps forwards towards a wide river that lays before him, cutting right through the forest.

he hugs the ledge of dirt as he tries to assess how to get across the river and whether that would do him more harm than good. he remains low and moves forwards to reach to the waters edge. dirt turns to stone there and joel remembers the pain in his hands. he dips them into the cool water, giving them a much needed respite from the pain of the harsh forest floor.

the water is crystal clear and joel can see the bottom all the way across the river. it’s too shallow for him to swim through and stay unnoticed. if he crosses it, he’ll have to stand. with the riders having passed him and heading along the stream, away from him, crossing seems like the best option to him.

joel stands, shaking the dirt off himself, and steps forwards into the water. he wades slowly, crouching to try and remain unnoticed. as he reaches halfway through the river, with the water just above his knees, he hears hooves. his head snaps round. they aren’t coming from the direction the riders left, but the way they came. he scrunches his nose and catches a whiff of the same smell from back in jackson— tommy. he groans, his head aching. he rams his palms into his head before smelling you— the familiar scent he’s been with for the past month— a safe smell. he lowers his hands and looks across to see tommy’s horse approaching. he strains his neck trying to spot you, any attempt at running now pushed from his mind, if only for the moment.

“joel!” you call out, your hand flying out to point joel out to tommy, “joel, stay there!” for a moment he does; you two come fully into view of him, you arms wrapped tight around tommy, your body pressed against his as you hold on. joel’s blood boils as he’s consumed with a feeling that’s unfamiliar to him— at least it’s become unfamiliar in the decades he’s been isolated from other people. it feels like anger, hot and searing; joel grabs his stomach in pain. but it’s not as simple as anger.

the sunlight hits tommy’s face as the horse trots out of the forest and to the lake. instead of the face of man, joel sees a flash of memories— memories bathed in blood, heartache, and an anger that pushes against joel’s skin, swelling his veins and willing them to burst. he screams, a deep violent growl and quickly plunges his arm into the water, grabbing rocks the size of his palms and lobbing them at the horse, each rock thrown is punctuated by roar that’s ripe with pain.

“tommy! turn around!” you yell, terrified at seeing joel like this, “turn her around!” tommy’s instincts kick in and he tugs at the reins, directing his horse back up into the forest.

“we ain’t lettin’ ‘im get away,” tommy snaps, looking back at you.

“we aren’t gonna get to him if he’s throwing rocks at us!” you yell, “you need your horse— we’re not gonna let her get hurt. we’ll just wait til he stops throwing shit at us.” tommy huffs in agreement, hopping off the horse and tying her to a tree. he helps you down, holding you close, trying to make sure if joel throws something it doesn’t hit you. you cling to tommy’s jacket, watching joel out of a wide frightened eye.

seeing you in tommy’s arms only serves to aggravate joel. anger courses through his muscles, making them move without a single thought. he grabs a rock and flings it towards you both. it lands against tommy’s calf with enough force to send him to the ground, pulling you with him. tommy screams, pulling his leg up to hold his shin close. “fuck! joel!”

you sit up next to tommy, rubbing your already aching limbs, and look down at his leg to see his jeans torn and blood pouring out of a gash where the rock split his skin. “fuck, tommy, you need help,” you say, looking around, panicked, trying to think of what you could use to stop the bleeding. as you look around, you catch joel making it to the other side of the river, quickly bounding up into the forest.

“stop. i got it,” tommy grits his teeth, “jus’ go get joel. i ain’t losin’ ‘im again.”

“but your leg—”

“do what i damn said!” tommy yells as he tears his jeans more to tie them above his cut. despite not wanting to leave tommy while he’s hurt, he seems capable enough, and in all honesty, joel is your priority.

without a look back, you take off across the river, wading as fast as you can. the water is just high enough to slow you down; you have to lift your knees above the water with each step you take or the river pushes against you. when you reach the dirt again, your jeans are heavy and your shoes are waterlogged. it’s an uncomfortable feeling, but the desire to find joel is stronger.

you run through the forest, following a trail of footprints and flattened shrubbery. all you can hear is your own breath and the blood pumping through your ears. images of tommy’s wound and joel’s terrifying scowl flash through your mind. you’ve only ever seen joel act in self defense, his anger being rational in your mind. but how he reacted to you and tommy, people that love him, people that wanna help him, was something different, something harder to rationalise. he hurt his own little brother; what could he do to you?

that was a stupid thought. you push it from your mind. he’s just scared. you just need to know why.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

joel stops running when he hears you coming after him. he bounds up behind a tree and sits silently behind it, waiting for you. hearing your breaths, the heavy steps from your feet, and smelling your scent feels electric to joel. he tenses as you approach, staying hidden and silent.

as you run past the tree, you notice him out of the corner of your eye, but before you can turn around, joel leaps onto your back, sending you crashing down hard into the forest floor. sticks, leaves, and stones jab into every part of your body, making you cry out in pain. joel’s massive weight bears down on you, smearing dirt into your clothes and skin.

before you can tell him to get off, joel smacks a hand over your mouth, squeezing your face tight in his large hands. he leans down, pressing his chest to your back as his legs cage you in between them, and snarls in your ear. he presses his cheek against yours, moving til your eyes meet.

“mine,” his growls, before pulling his head back and biting down hard into your neck. you scream into his hand at the searing pain, but are quickly distracted by where his free hand is going. it slips under your stomach, down to your jeans, and rips the button and zipper undone in one strong tug.

“joel?” you try to yell, but it comes out muffled. he doesn’t seem to care either way, pulling your jeans and boxers down to expose your bare ass and cock to the cold air and dirt. your whole body tenses when you hear him unbuckle his pants. you’d always imagine this would happen, just not like this.

“joel!” you scream again and he simply bites down harder on your neck, certainly making you bleed. you feel something hard and thick press against your ass and you let out a sob. you wanna beg him to stop, to think about what he’s doing, but no words would reach him.

tears slip from your eyes, wetting joel’s hand. you feel his jaw relax on your neck, releasing it. his hand jerks your head round to face him. although it’s a painful stretch, the sight you see makes it worth it. those soft brown eyes, full of concern, meet your own. he drops his hand away and kisses you hard, gnashing his teeth against your lips. it’s messy but it’s full of love and need.

joel pulls back, resting his forehead against yours, and whispers, “mine.” you nod, kissing him again. your fear dissipates as you melt into joel, but the nudge of his cock against your ass is still prominent.

“joel,” you say softly, bringing a hand up to cup his face, “what are you doing?” joel looks away from you, shaking his head. he wraps his arms round your torso, tight.

“need,” he grumbles, burying his head in your neck as he rolls his hips slightly, “mine.”

“i’m yours, joel,” you sigh, “but we don’t have to do this here— we can go back to jackson—” joel growls, shoving his hips forwards, the head of his cock hitting your hole but not slipping inside. “joel! stop it. i just wanna help you.”

joel shakes his head and presses his hips forwards, snapping them up as he pulls you down. you feel every inch of his cock breach your hole and drag along your insides. the thickness tears you open, leaving you sore in another place as the skin tears and drops of blood leak out. despite your agonised scream, joel doesn’t pull out. he bucks his hips forwards, pulling you tight to his chest and burying his head in your neck. he grunts and pants as he moves your body and his hips in time.

through the pain of your unprepared hole and the sheer size of his cock, there’s an ounce of pleasure that comes as the thick head rubs against your prostate. you let out a moan, clenching round his shaft as he hits the spot inside you. joel nuzzles your neck, kissing it wetly, as he continues to pound into you.

the sharp snap of his hips against your ass echoes through the empty forest, along with your pained moans and his gruff panting. as the pain slowly fades, overwhelmed by pleasure instead, you turn your head to be closer to joel. though this is far from what you imagined, having joel pressed this close to you, inside of you, pleasuring you, it’s something you’ve wanted for a while now. so, in spite of the contents of the forest floor stabbing you, the aches across your body, your neck and your ass bleeding, you slip your hand down to your cock and stroke it with a painful speed.

“oh fuck— joel,” you moan, your cock leaking over your fingers as you fuck your fist. joel whines, nuzzling your neck. you can feel his thrusts get sloppier and hear his grunts turning into whimpers as he gets closer. you can only assume that he hasn’t had sex in at least 20 years. the idea of you being the first in so long is enough to get you close.

joel lets out a loud whimper as he nuzzles you neck some more. he thrusts his hips forwards, pressing you flat against the ground as he cums deep inside you. he bites down on your shoulder as he rolls his hips into you a few times before completely slumping on top of you. letting go of your skin, he licks at it and the previous wound he made, before coming round to lick at your cheek. he buries his face in your hair and breathes in softly, purring slightly as he does.

joel’s cum fills your hole, you feel it start to leak out as he’s laying on you. the amount you felt pour into you makes your insides stretch from the volume. your cock twitches but your hope for an orgasm is thwarted by sticks on the forest floor jabbing into it.

“joel…” you whisper, your lungs constrained by his body weight, “joel, baby, could you roll over for me?” joel whines, still holding you tight and rolls onto his side. you take a deep breath in and try to brush the dirt off your aching cock.

with joel’s cock and cum still inside you, the desire to finish as well is still there. you grab one of joel’s hands and move it down to your cock. “could you stroke it for me, baby? just like i was doing.”

joel nods, kissing your neck and watching over your shoulder as he wraps his hand round your cock and strokes. he holds it a little too tight and strokes a little too fast, but it doesn’t matter to you. you throw your head back against joel’s shoulder, holding onto his arms tight as your hips buck up into his hand.

“oh fuck— joel— yes, keep going,” you moan, clenching your eyes shut as you feel your orgasm build back up. you turn your head, moaning into his hair as you bring a hand up to fist it, tugging at it. “fuck— yes, yes, just like that— oh fuck, joel— ‘m gonna cum— joel!”

you cum hard, spilling all over joel’s hand. your hips buck on their own, up into his hand as you ride your orgasm out. you pull joel’s head back by his hair and kiss him hard, moaning softly into his mouth.

he keeps stroking your cock til it hurts too much and you swat his hand away. you pull back from the kiss and smile at joel. you push him a little and he rolls onto his back, looking up at you with a blissful smile. you slip off his cock with shaky legs, feeling cum pour down your thighs, before turning and laying down on top of him, stomach to stomach.

“you didn’t have to be so rough,” you say, running your hands through his dirty hair, “i would’ve let you if just asked.” joel looks away with a guilty expression, almost like a puppy getting told off. he shrugs.

“need you,” he grumbles, looking back at you. in his eyes is regret, but also a commitment to his actions; he’d do it again if he thought he needed to. you nod.

“i know, i know,” you kiss him on the cheek, “i know it isn’t easy for you to communicate yet. but that’s why we’re here— in jackson— i wanna make things easier for you.” joel frowns at the mention of jackson, his nose twitching.

“i know you weren’t stoked on those people, but we’ve committed to this and you came here with me,” you sigh, “is it because of tommy? your brother?” joel growls, shaking his head, hitting it back against the dirt.

“hey! stop it,” you grab his head and hold it firmly in your hands, “i can see this is painful, but maybe being with tommy again will help you piece together what you’re missing and will help you recover. i need you to get better, joel— not because i don’t love you the way you are, but because i don’t want you to live in fear and pain anymore. please. if for no other reason, do this for me.”

joel’s brow turns up as those sad brown eyes lock on yours. as much as it hurts seeing tommy again, as much as the fragments of memories that tommy brings with him scare joel to death, he can’t say no to you. he refuses to let you down. with a sigh, he nods.

“thank you, baby,” you smile and kiss him gently. joel kisses you back, wrapping his arms round you tight. “we can rest here awhile and then we’ll head back. you have to apologise to tommy, by the way. you hurt him really bad.” joel rolls his eyes but nods. “hey, no attitude from you. you shouldn’t have thrown that rock at him.”

joel nods and quickly kisses you, wanting to move on from talking about tommy. you know he’s avoiding conversation, but finally being so close to him like this is enough to let you excuse it. every part of your body hurts, but joel’s soft lips make the aches feel like nothing.