Work Text:
The first time Etho notices anything strange about what Joel eats is when he kills a zombie, and without hesitation, puts the rotten flesh into his mouth and eats. It isn’t rushed or forced either—just like he’s replenishing health, ignoring that it’ll only make him hungrier later.
“Joel, I have food,” Etho decides to pipe up, because maybe Joel is trying to conserve food? Strange and unnecessary, considering it’s only the second session, but he’s seen weirder, more paranoid people. And this is his soulmate. There’s probably more baggage hidden under that manic psyche.
“Mh? Yeah, so do I,” Joel shrugs, roughly. He finishes the last of the rotten flesh and picks up his axe to deconstruct the crafting table in front of them.
Etho pauses. Maybe he’s trying to avoid the subject. But it doesn’t feel right, and the cold, quiet thought of something more sinister settles uncomfortably in his chest. Carefully, he places the thought somewhere he will remember, and keeps it in mind.
It becomes habit, to keep food on hand, and subtly test Joel’s preferences. It’s easy enough to see what he prefers—berries of any kind, pumpkin seeds, apples, and the occasional raw meat, although Joel refuses them most of the time.
“It’s less efficient,” Joel murmurs to him, legs swinging over their terraced gardens. Then he turns to Etho with that look in his eye, and Etho obligingly brings the glowberries out of his inventory, watching as Joel leans forward to eat it out of his hand then leans back, self-satisfied. It’s eccentric and eclectic, but as long as Etho is sure Joel is eating, he doesn’t really mind.
But they’re not together all the time: Etho goes mining, Joel builds their base, and on the way back, he stumbles across a pale garden. Or, more accurately, he comes across Joel, knelt down and pulling out pale moss from the muddy ground to eat. Etho mumbles a curse under his breath, crossing the marshy grounds in a few strides to where his soulmate sits, completely content.
“Joel,” Etho says, pulling the man up and feeling him relax against him, which also apparently means he decides to put all his weight on Etho. He readjusts his footing, scowling at Joel, limply lying on him. There’s a certain energy buzzing under Joel’s skin, not shaking, but close.
“Etho,” he laughs, grinning up at him as he waves a hand towards their base. “I finished our base—a boat—one of the best, if I do say so myself.”
"That's nice. Good," Etho replies, almost on autopilot. "I'd like to see it." Joel smiles at him brilliantly, and Etho absentmindedly wipes away the recesses of dirt on his chin and face before Joel languidly detaches himself and leads him towards their base.
"So why were you at a pale forest?" Etho awkwardly asks, fingers easily drumming a steady beat on his sword's hilt. He pushes some hanging moss out of his way.
Joel looks at him a little incredulously, as if he's being the unreasonable one. "Cause the moss tastes good. Why were you in the deep dark? You do realize, if you die, I die?"
He pauses. "Joel," Etho says, then another time, more insistently, "Joel." The other stops in his tracks, looking back at him almost impatiently.
"Etho, I know you're trying to stall so you don't need to see the boat. I know your tricks, they don't work. I swear it actually looks good."
Etho sighs. "I know. I saw it from a distance; she's a thing of beauty." A pause. "Joel, we need to talk."
Immediately Joel laughs, a nervous thing, and the man studies him from under his fringe, green eyes calculating. "Sounds pretty ominous, doesn't it?"
"It's not—never mind. Joel, it's about the food."
"The food? We have plenty. We have a sheep farm, you brought over cows, needing more sounds a bit greedy," Joel shoots back, because his soulmate has a propensity for deflecting, apparently. Etho breathes past the whirlwind in his chest, insistent and too loud for its own good.
"That's my food source. You're eating moss off the ground and half-rotten berries," Etho retorts, because they're getting nowhere.
Joel makes an affronted noise. "I do not! Most of the berries you give me are fine. The rotten ones are appreciated more, though."
Etho wonders if he'll ever start to understand him. Concern wars with exasperated fondness, and he really doesn't know how he's gotten wrapped up with this man. Because if someone has told Joel before, that they were more important than him, that he didn't deserve proper food, much less food at all...
"Why?" he asks, careful to not allow his tone to go too flat, but Etho's pretty sure he failed.
Joel blinks back at him, confused, before a wave of understanding washes over his face, and with it, amusement. "Etho, did you not know? I'm a scavenger. As in an insect hybrid. Or well, a springtail, which is a hexapod, and technically doesn't fall under insects at all, but it's about the closest—"
"Joel," Etho says, and the man looks up to stare him in the eyes. "...Nothing. I'm just glad you're okay."
Joel's face splits into a grin, filled with personal and teasing amusement as they easily make their way through the forest. "Aww, Etho, I didn't know you cared so much."
They'll be okay. They have a sheep farm, partly for the wool and partly for the meat. He'll plant more sweet berry bushes nearby. One life down between the two of them is nothing.