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The moment the front door opened, Joel awoke.
He didn't immediately reach for the gun under his pillow. In Jackson, no one would intrude into your private space in the middle of night.
Only she would swing open his never-locked door so directly at such an hour. But it had been a long, long time since she last did this—ever since she returned from Salt Lake City, she had never stepped through this door again.
Joel lay with his eyes open, his whole body tense, holding his breath as he strained to listen for any movement downstairs. Maybe just the wind.
Click—the sound of the door closing was like a shotgun being racked. Then came footsteps, light, slow, almost inaudible, fading away after just a few.
Just as the silence was gnawing at him, the sound of running water came from the kitchen.
Joel threw off the covers and sat up, his heart hammering—probably from sitting up too fast.
Is that so?
He took the stairs down, not bothering to quiet his steps or the creak of the old wood. He wanted her to hear him coming.
No lights on. By the moonlight, Joel saw Ellie standing by the counter, staring out the window, his owl mug in her hands. She heard him, but didn't turn.
His gaze swept over her profile. Moonlight edged the bridge of her nose and caught the light in her eyes. Her hair was a messy bun, loose strands brushing her neck. She wore that oversized T-shirt he'd dug for her—so big she used it for sleepwear. The neckline slumped over her thin shoulders, the hem hitting her mid-thigh, right where she usually wore her holster.
She was barefoot. Her calves weren't as smooth and soft as when she was fourteen; muscle definition showed now.
Joel brought his eyes back to her face.
The quiet was heavy. He held his breath, totally still. It's like a giant butterfly had landed on the counter and he didn't know what to do about it.
Can't sleep?
What's goin' on?
You okay?
...
"Hey." Joel said, his voice quieter than he intended.
The butterfly didn't fly away.
Ellie set the mug down softly on the counter. "Came for water. Ran out in the garage."
Three months and twenty-six days.
The first sentence Ellie said to him after three months and twenty-six days.
That's when Joel caught the smell of alcohol in the air.
He remembered the blaring rock music from her garage tonight—or last night? Past midnight now? And the loud, careless laughter of teenagers. That boy, Cliff? Joel'd seen how he looked at Ellie, how he talked to her. Reckless, stupid, full of himself.
He'd also seen how Ellie talked to Cliff—with that confidence, that control, that casual dismissal he knew all too well.
That control of hers used to feel unbearable to Joel. She could ruthlessly withdraw every kindness she'd ever shown you, stop answering any prayer or plea. He'd once wished she could be more merciful, gentler.
But now, seeing her exert that same control over someone else, He felt that his own privilege had been stripped away.
What did that little boy deserve it for?
Did he know how she got the scar on her left shoulder? Did he know what her three-taps-on-the-palm meant on patrol? Had he seen her at her most vulnerable? Did he know whose name she used to cry out from nightmares? Did he have the wound on his stomach that she risked her life to heal? Had he killed for her?
Her control had fallen so easily on some clueless kid.
"Mhm."
Wind outside brushed branches against a window somewhere.
"Esther here?" Ellie asked. her fingers tracing patterns on the countertop.
"No."
"Saw her come by earlier."
So she noticed.
"Came to pick up the storage boxes she ordered."
"Didn't see her leave."
"Maybe you were talkin' to that boy."
So he noticed.
Ellie nodded. She lifted a hand, her fingertip lightly tracing the rim of the mug.
Joel expected her to push further.
"I had a dream." Ellie said instead, her voice low, flat, devoid of inflection.
"Bad one?"
Shook her head, she turned to face him, her arms dropping to her sides. She could feel Joel's gaze on her, heavy with that worried concern that grated on her.
She heard herself swallow.
Through the alcohol haze, it was like hearing another version of herself speak, "I dreamt about...you, and me."
Joel's fingers tightened slightly at his sides. He was aware of his breathing. In. Out. In. Out.
"We were...standing, somewhere dark. Don't know where. Just us, facing each other, standing there." Ellie pressed her lips together. Joel heard her voice waver, a hint of hesitation and tremor creeping in.
"Then you...you..." A sigh escaped her, she was still looking down, and Joel couldn't tell if she was crying. "You came closer. Walked...right up to me. Real close."
She took a sharp breath.
He didn't speak, afraid his own voice would shake worse than hers.
"You just... just looked at me. Then you, you grabbed... you grabbed my wrist."
The last words were almost inaudible. Ellie frowned. Even in the dark, even with her head down, Joel could see the uneven skin of her forehead, her eyes widening slightly as she fought back emotion.
Before he knew it, he had stepped forward, his slightly sweaty soles making a soft sticky sound on the floor. He walked right up to her, close.
He looked down at Ellie. He wasn't even sure what expression to wear, but it didn't matter. Ellie's head was down; he could let his gaze be raw, naked, terrifying even to himself.
He reached out and grabbed her wrist.
She was too thin, too easily for him to circle it.
The inside of her arm was so warm. Was it the alcohol? Or was she always like this? Joel's mind drifted back to every time he grasped her.
But he knew this felt different. Her pulse beat under his thumb, solid, strong, he could even feel it quicken. His thumb stroked lightly, almost on its own.
Ellie inhaled, her shoulders tensing with a tremble.
She lifted her head slightly, her gaze traveling up from the hem of his shirt, stopping at the frayed neckline.
At this distance, Joel caught the stronger scent of alcohol on her, mixed with the smell of weed in her hair.
Did she drink a lot?
What did she do?
He heard himself say, "And then?"
Ellie closed her eyes, brow furrowed. Joel couldn't tell if it was from pain or a shiver.
A second later, she opened them, still fixed on his collar.
"Then, then you... you, you leaned in..."
Joel's grip tightened slightly, his thumb soothed her increasingly frantic pulse.
"Ellie, you're shakin'."
"Yeah I know..." Ellie swallowed, drawing a slow breath.
Just as Joel thought she wouldn't continue, Ellie suddenly looked up at him. Raw, naked, terrifying.
Her control.
"Then...you kissed me." She licked her lips.
Every drop of Joel's blood froze for a millisecond before boiling over. His heart scrambled wildly, as if overwhelmed by alarms from every nerve. In the quiet night, the sound was deafening.
What's she doing now?
It didn't matter. What mattered was what he was doing.
He was on the edge of a cliff, holding her wrist, standing there with her. Behind him was a vast plain—safe, quiet, cold, endless. Behind her was an abyss of boiling lava—blazing, turbulent, deadly.
One slight push, and they'd both fall.
Joel's vision narrowed from lack of air and prolonged staring. The world was collapsing, time was still passing...
He blinked, refocusing on Ellie's gaze.
He saw her gaze traced a circle from his, to his lips, to his ears, then meeting his again—flickering, wanting, but also angry, pained.
He swallowed every emotion in her eyes into his own. He looked back and forth between hers. His gaze wasn't the worry and concern she expected. It was... attention. A man's complete, undivided attention on another.
Was he really doing this? While she's drunk?
He wouldn't. If he were sober enough, rational enough, "Joel" enough. Enough like the man who loved her as he claimed to, enough like the man who'd not loved her the way he refused to acknowledge.
But if after tonight she'd vanish back into that plain again, if this was the last night before the world fell apart, if this was what she dreamed...
Joel brought his other hand up, pressed it on Ellie's shoulder, and pushed gently. Forcing her to take a step back.
Falling.
He felt her back meet the edge of the counter. He looked down at her, enveloping her, feeling the heat radiating from her just inches away.
His hand traveled from her shoulder up the curve of her neck, coming to rest as it gently cradled her face.
Ellie's eyelids fluttered shut, her lips parting, drawing in more air.
"Oh Ellie..."
He leaned down and touched the lava. No death, just warmth, comfort, softness as he'd expected and unexpected. Joel's right hand released her wrist, sliding gently up, caressing her forearm.
Ellie responded almost immediately, more steady, more certain than he expected. No surprise, no caution, no retreat.
As if this were how it always meant to be.
As if she knew this would happen, knew what she was doing, knew he would do this.
Ellie grabbed Joel's T-shirt, pulling him toward her. Joel didn't move. He kept soothing her with his lips while releasing her arm, reaching behind her, pressing against her back to lift her from the counter, then sliding his hand between her waist and the counter.
Then he stepped forward, deepened the kiss. A warm sigh escaped Ellie's lips. His palm cushioned between her and the counter's sharp edge. He felt her back press firmly against his palm, fine tremors starting from his fingertips, traveling up her entire spine.
The hand on her face felt dampness. He pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against hers.
"What happened, baby?" At this distance, he didn't need to speak loudly.
Ellie didn't answer. Joel's thumb stroked her damp, full lips, lingering on her lower lip before he leaned down to kiss the corner of her mouth.
"It's okay you can tell me."
Ellie released his shirt, flattening her palm against his chest, pushing him back until he leaned against the cupboard door.
She pressed close. Instead of answering, she asked a question.
"And then?"
"Then what? What're you doin'?"
"What would you do with Esther?"
Joel paused and said, "Now what is this about?"
Ellie looked up at him, an expression Joel had never seen before—a mix of confusion and resolve, hatred and love, desire and despair.
"Touch me." No sound actually came out.
"Touch you how?" A stalling tactic without thought.
"Touch me like you touched her."
"I did NOT touch her, and I sure as hell ain't touching you."
Why?
He'd already jumped off the cliff with her. What's the difference now?
He wanted to know what he did in her dream.
If she said it, would he do it?
If she didn't, why couldn't he?
Ellie shuffled closer, her breath hot on his neck.
"Joel."
His name from her lips was like a incantation from that movie they'd watched together—it could mean "Expelliarmus", or "Petrificus Totalus", or "Silencio". Under certain circumstances, it could also mean "Crucio".
There was almost no space between them now. She pressed her crotch against his. Joel drew a sharp breath, gritting his teeth. For a moment, he felt completely exposed.
He didn't know what horrified him more: admitting his own rapid reaction to her proximity, or knowing she felt it too.
Ellie's expression was both gloating and accusing. "Don't lie to me."
This headstrong, clever, and tenacious little girl, the one he dared not want yet could least afford to lose.
"I ain't lyin'."
He hadn't touched Esther. He didn't lied.
She seemed to try hard to digest his words. Tears streamed from her wide eyes, and almost stubbornly, her hand slid down from his chest, to his side, his thigh, toward his crotch.
Joel caught her wrist, holding her at the edge of exploration.
"Ellie, I need you to tell me what the hell's goin' on. What'd you... Why?"
"'Cause I hate you." Ellie's hand still struggled to go further. Joel tightened his grip.
"I hate that you lied to me and I hate you for moving on to someone else after you hurt me. How dare you try to be happy while I'm still in pain. You can't...you're mine." Ellie rose on her toes, her whole body shaking, unsteady. Her lips brushed his chin.
Joel released her arm, wrapping both around her, lifting her enough to bring her eye level with him, pinning her arms at her sides.
Ellie immediately sought his lips.
"Ellie." Joel pressed his forehead against hers, stopping her. "So you punishing me with all this?" The vibration of his voice transmitted through their touching foreheads.
Ellie shook her head, her breath ghost across his face. "I want this."
Joel should have known. in this situation, actually in any situation, he stood no chance against her. Had there been a single time, ever, that he hadn't ultimately given Ellie what she demanded?
"No. We can't."
"You happy with her?"
Joel didn't answer.
"Why can't you just be honest with me?" She lifted her head and met his gaze.
"I AM. So I told you we can't."
"I am eighteen! I've done this before with..."
Joel's arms tightened, enough to cut off her words, to even hurt her.
"With whom?" his voice deeper, dangerous.
Ellie pressed her lips together, looking away.
"Ellie?"
She opened her mouth, jaw tilted, looking back at Joel, "What'd you say to him that day in the warehouse? I saw you two there. He stopped reaching out to me after that."
"I don't even know who this 'he' is."
"You know who I mean."
"Ellie, I'm not fuckin' around with you on this."
"Then you just... stop pretending that..." Ellie hooked her leg firmly around Joel's waist, and he adjusted to holding her steady. Seizing the moment, she freed her arms and wrapped them around his neck.
And he let her.
Just to keep her from falling.
"What're you so afraid of?"
How can she just…be afraid of nothing?
"You got no idea what you're askin' for," Joel's voice was low and rough, "You have no idea what happens if I quit pretendin'."
"But I do."
She does.
"I know what happens every time you pretend. I saved your ass and you yelled at me. You said I'll be doing better with Tommy. You told me to leave you behind when you're hurt. And every time I call you out, things don't end up half as bad as you feared."
"Didn't work out in Salt Lake City," he said, voice barely steady.
"So now I'm here."
She had always been a girl with a clear understanding of what she wanted. Now, after all the loss, betrayal, rage, jealousy, and vengeance, she wanted to be certain she could finally settle down—to belong to a place, to a person.
She tried someone else, didn't work.
Her hands framed his neck, thumbs gently brushing his earlobes.
Joel turned his head slightly, unsure whether he meant to pull away or lean into it.
The face before him overlapped with the ghost of that fourteen-year-old girl on the road. But now, the fire blazing in this eighteen-year-old's eyes—a fire he could hardly bear—was burning those old shadows to ash.
Every door that had shut in his face over the past three months and twenty-six days was now being kicked open by her, in the most chaotic and terrifying way. She no longer took back kindness she'd ever offered. Now, she was giving—all of herself, vulnerable yet strong, reckless while clear-headed.
Would he take it?
"Ellie, you're just…you've got a deep-seated insecurity. The life you've lived—"
"You said you'd keep me safe."
"You said you'd never forgive me for that."
Was he really gonna argue with her about this? Now? Of all times?
"And now you've got a chance to tell me the truth."
Maybe this was his only chance to bring her back. Although he didn't know whether it was a chance or a trap, whether she saw herself as the hunter or the prey.
"Please Joel."
He walked straight into whatever it is.
"You wanna hear the truth?" he growled. "The truth is I remember how it felt holdin' you at the hospital. And every damn time before and after that. I remember all the..." He cut off abruptly, swallowed back the darker, wilder words. "You're drivin' me outta my mind…God help me, Ellie, I'm losin' it."
"'Cause I've been ignoring you?"
"'Cause you want me."
Both.
He was cornered.
Ellie leaned closer. "This ain't the first time I've dreamed this." Joel felt her lips brush his as she spoke.
This was what he'd always been afraid of. And this was what he wants more than his next goddamn breath. Joel didn't know how much longer he could keep holding her up like this.
"What else did I do in those dreams?"
"What you always wanted to do," she met his gaze without flinching, "Same as what you wanna do right now. And if you don't, I will go to him, now."
Ellie struggled to lower her leg, and Joel held her tight.
"No you will not."
A faint, tear-streaked smile played upon Ellie's lips. Joel realized it had been far too long since he last saw her smile.
Twenty years of hardened instinct, four years of self-deception, three months of sheer desperation—all of it turned to ashes in this smile.
He carried Ellie back to the counter and set her down atop it, gently wiping the tear trails from her cheeks.
"Now, tell me, what'd you want from me? Say it clear." his gravelly whisper vibrated through her. " 'Cause I'm only askin' this once."
Ellie let her gaze hold his, seeing past the hardened exterior to the raw vulnerability he'd finally laid bare.
"I want," she paused, "every last piece of you—the good, the bad, the broken. Give it to me Joel. Stop holding me up like I'll break, I can take it. I want it. "
Every last piece of him had long been immolated, slice by slice, in her cold, resentful, alienated gaze, in those desperate, scorching nights. Now, only a bloody, naked soul remained, pressing slowly against her burning skin, ready to sear itself completely onto her.
Joel's lips found hers again.
A sound of flesh meeting a red-hot iron plate. To pull apart now would only tear them raw.
So the kiss deepened, wilder, desperate. Joel felt the pain, but alive.
He savored the liquor on her breath, swallowing every shaken whimper and sigh of both shock and relief she offered. His fingers wound through her hair, tugging just enough to draw out a soft, satisfied sound as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
His other hand slid under her shirt, up the curve of her spine, pressing her hard against him. Ellie shifted closer, against his hip, moving with a slow, deliberate friction.
"Jesus, Ellie." It came out rough—less a moan, more like a confession. Years of longing and fear and a protectiveness that had coiled into something deeper. Something inevitable.
He left her lips, traced the salt of tears along her cheek until he found her eyes. Her lashes fluttered under his kiss. Joel brushed her hair back, nuzzled her ear, then slowly traced its shape with his tongue. Ellie let out a choked sound—almost a whimper—arching away from the sensation, but lingering beneath his lips and never really pulling back. Her hands fisted in his hair.
"You like that?" Joel's voice was low, right at her ear.
"Fuck Joel..."
Through two layers of thin fabric, Joel could feel the tight peaks of her breasts brush against his chest.His mouth traveled down, from her ear to the side of her neck, while his thumb kept circling her earlobe. His other hand slid from her back around to her front, slow, steady, taking its time across her skin, until he reached her breast. He held it, then began to rub in slow, firm circles. Ellie rocked against him harder, a frustrated sound catching in her throat.
"Easy, baby girl." He licked over the pulse in her neck, thumb slid over her nipple. She shuddered violently, yanking his head up by the hair. Her mouth crashed into his—almost biting.
Joel flinched.
"Oh sorry."
Joel ran his tongue over the stung spot. "'S alright."
She tried to speak, but he kept rolling her nipple, pulling loose sharp gasps and broken pieces of his name. His other hand joined in, Ensuring that not a second passed without her feeling the scrape against either side. Ellie felt herself melting under his touch, depleted of all strength except for the soft sounds escaping her lips. She rested her head against his chest before lifting it to gaze at him, tilting it back slightly as if too heavy to hold up. Her hands slid from his neck, then scrambled to hold on again. The striving yet desperate look on her face almost made Joel smile. He kissed her jaw and freed one hand to cup her head.
"No no no I..."
"Let's get you somewhere more comfortable."
He lifted her, and only then did she realize how wet she already was. Clinging to him, she let him carry her to the living room. Joel laid her on the couch, lifted her legs up before climbing on and supported her back as she lay down. He positioned himself on all fours, realizing he had never seen Ellie from this angle before. He'd seen her asleep beside him, in his arms or even on his lap, but never looked down at her from above. He gently stroked her face.
"God you're so pretty…and I'm surely goin' to hell."
Ellie smiled faintly, pulling his face toward hers. "Together."
As Joel's mouth obediently traveled downward, soothing her insatiable lips and neck, then licking her breasts through the fabric, Ellie's hand strained to reach his groin. Her body twisted incessantly with pleasure or the struggle of her effort.
"Keep still."
"My arm ain't long enough," she grumbled, half annoyed, half amused.
A phantom pain shot through his cock. With a low growl, he seized Ellie's persistently striving hand, bent it, and pinned it firmly beside her head. With his other hand pushing up her shirt, covered her nipple with his mouth, and drew it in without mercy, his tongue sliding across it. Ellie arched upward to meet him, her pinned hand struggling and twisting while the other gripped his hair tightly.
His palm drift down her side, eliciting wave after wave of shivers, until he reached the edge of her panties.
He paused then. His head hovering above her face, waiting.
"Did I do this in your dreams?"
"In my dreams, you didn't hesitate one bit."
Joel stared at her, fiercely imprinting her current earnest and candid expression into his mind. His fingers slowly slipped inside her underwear, soon finding themselves in a damp, sticky thicket.
"Fuck, girl. You must've made a hell of a mess on that counter."
Ellie remained silent. Joel gently played with her vulva, closely observing and savoring her every expression and reaction. For a long moment, the only sound was their ragged breathing, syncopated in the dim light. Joel's hands, on the contrary to his own expectation, were trembling slightly—a tremor that spoke of a dam about to break.
Joel's fingers stroked her clit. Ellie bit her lower lip, trapping a moan in her throat, her gaze fixed on him with defiant triumph. He didn't stop—applying pressure, then releasing it just as she stiffened and frowned, forcing out a sob-like whimper. Again and again, he pressed and let go, until her gasps came closer together, merging into one continuous rhythm. He kissed her forehead and cheek.
Her hand, still tangled in his hair, wandered downward, finding the already damp bulge straining against his boxers. Joel's rhythm broke. That single searching touch made his stomach tremble, and a low groan escaped him. Ellie's hand rubbed him through the fabric before shifting to his waistband.
Instead of stopping her or pulling away, Joel slid a finger inside her entrance.
He watched, satisfied, as Ellie's eyes closed, her lips parted soundlessly, breath held—until he crooked his finger inside and brushed her clit with his thumb. A long sigh escaped her. Her body relaxed and tensed all at once.
Soon, she recovered, tugging restlessly at his pants again.
"Ellie…"
"Shut up." she muttered, still pulling.
When she took him in hand, he noticed her grip felt larger than he remembered—firm enough to make his whole body tense. Her strokes were unpracticed, rough without enough wetness.
"Slow down, baby."
She didn't speak, but her touch softened, gradually syncing with the rhythm of his fingers. It was as if this simple act demanded all her focus, making it impossible to multitask.
"You're doin' good. Now… just relax for me."
Joel slid in a second finger, feeling the heat inside Ellie's body running high, tiny spasms and contractions clinging to his digits. He rotated and crooked them gently, searching for the spot that'd make her back arch on its own. Watching Ellie grow softer and more dazed under him, chasing her own breath, her moans shifted from rhythmic and clear to weak and chaotic, until they dissolved into nothing but breathy whispers.
He lowered his head, nudging the drooping hem of her shirt with his forehead, brushing his lips over her nipples again. Ellie shivered all over, and Joel could almost feel the wetness building around his fingers with each contraction. He didn't stop, gently nipping with his teeth, nuzzling with his nose, sliding his tongue over, making Ellie let out a string of tearful sounds.
"You're incredible baby." he said, like he was complimenting her or just talking to himself.
He could feel her teetering on the edge again. His moves got quicker but stayed gentle, his thumb pressing, circling, rubbing her clit, his lips planting right over her heartbeat. Ellie's body met his, moving with his rhythm, faster and faster, until she couldn't keep up herself, left with nothing but tight, full-body spasms. Joel felt her body clutch his fingers with a strength he'd never felt.
When Ellie caught her breath again, she started tugging her panties down, wriggling out of them, then pulled at Joel's boxers, pressing his hips toward her.
"Ellie..." Joel paused, looking up at her.
"Joel." Ellie mumbled, barely aware.
"Ellie," Joel kissed the tip of her nose, bringing her focus back to him, struggling to steady his breath.
"We ain't havin' sex."
Ellie froze, eyes wide, staring up at him, mouth open.
Joel cut her off, "Not tonight."
Ellie blinked.
"Not while you're drunk."
"I..."
"Ellie, I don't want our first time to be when you're drunk, maybe high."
"I wouldn't regret it if that's what you're worried about."
Joel almost grinned, kissing her nose again, "That ain't what I worried about."
"Then I can..."
"Ellie. You do what I say when I say it. Remember?"
She paused, then a sly and challenging smile played on the corners of her mouth.
"Sure."
"Repeat it."
"What you say, goes."
"Good." Kissed her nose.
So Ellie reached to her thigh, slowly pulled Joel's hand out, held his wet fingers, and smeared the slickness onto her own. Then she wiped her palm over her cunt, trying to get most of the wetness. After that, she held her hand out to Joel, palm open. Joel took it, kissed each finger one by one, then licked her whole palm, like he was trying to remove her fluids, or maybe leave more of his own on it.
Then Ellie tried to pull her hand back, but Joel tightened his grip just in time. He knew what she was fixing to do next, but before that, he meant to keep kissing Ellie's knuckled, long, slender, yet strong fingers, until he was satisfied.
These were the hands that shot infected without mercy, the hands that stitched up his wounds, the hands that strummed a guitar under his palm, the hands that were about to drag him to the deepest pit of hell.
When Joel finally finished kissing, Ellie grabbed his cock again, this time finding a better angle. Lubricated, her movements turning more sure.
Joel's body tensed up. He finally let go of her wrist beside her head, and Ellie immediately wrapped it around his balls and gave a gentle squeeze. Joel's arms, braced beside her head, buckled at the elbows.He buried his face in her chest, beard brushing against her skin with a gentle rasp. His stifled groans vibrated through her ribs. His fingers found Ellie's face, caressing or maybe just holding her.
"Hurt?"
Joel shook his head, fighting the moans gathering in his throat. Ellie's palm rotated, stroking over the tip. Joel's thigh twitched. So She did it again.
And again.
And again.
This is too much.
This ain't enough.
He covered her hand with his, guiding her with his own pressure and rhythm. His face returned above hers. Ellie lifted her chin, reaching for him. His lips wandered over her face like they had a mind of their own. His chest, clothed, rubbed against hers, mixing her panting breaths with his groans.
Ellie let herself follow his guidance, freeing her other hand to slip beneath his clothes. Her fingers first encountered the uneven texture of the skin on the side of his abdomen—unprofessional stitching. but she had done her best. She gently traced the bumps and ridges, imagining the many other scars on his body, those that had come before her, and those that had come for her.
Her hand slowly reached his lightly sweaty back. She traced circles with her index finger, roaming across his skin. When she touched a slightly swollen spot, Joel flinched with a sharp intake of breath.
"What's goin' on there?" she whispered.
"Not now, Ellie" Joel murmured.
So Ellie avoided that spot and continued her exploration. When she found more swollen areas, she pulled her hand back, cupping the back of his head.
"What the hell Joel..."
She kissed his eyelids, the bridge of his nose, and finally his mouth. Her fingers gently kneaded the nape of his neck, tangling in the hair at his scalp.
Joel kept his eyes fix on her. The rhythm of his hands set Ellie's whole body moving with him, a steady vibration. She felt the scalding, rigid, slick texture beneath her palm growing more intense. Their fingers twined together in a dance. Ellie always tried to stray into her own rhythm, but he'd always guide her back, gentle but firm.
He knew exactly how this dream would end.
With a low groan and a full-body shudder, he came on her stomach. Gasping for breath, he slowly uncurling their sore, clenched fingers. He blinked until a dark haze faded, and Ellie's face came into focus.
"Sorry." he said, stroking her slick belly.
"That's alright," she replied, a shy smile touching her lips. "Never knew it'd be this warm."
"I thought…"
"Never let anyone… finish on my skin before."
Joel's expression hovered between confusion and something darker.
"Reckon we can talk about it later." he said softly.
He moved off her, pulled on his boxers, and fetched a damp cloth from the bathroom. He wiped her clean with a tender touch, helped her back into her underwear, and pulled her shirt down.
Ellie shifted deeper into the couch, turning onto her side to face him, her eyes inviting him to lie down.
They nestled together in the cramped space. Joel's arm wrapped around her, holding her close, her leg tucked between his. His fingers absently twirled a lock of her hair; the tie had come loose somewhere in the cushions.
"See? Weren't near as bad as you feared," she said.
"Didn't wanna hurt you." he breathed into her hair.
"How's doing what I want gonna hurt me?"
Joel didn't know how to explain. Ellie's view of the "normal" world was all sci-fi, high-tech, and even magic; and it didn't have a place for social discipline, public order, or judgmental gossip.
Maybe that was part of why he was so drawn to her. A girl so raw, so real, so...dangerous but strong.
The source of all his fear, and the very reason he faced it down.
Ellie's fingers gently brushed the scar on the bridge of his nose, the one he'd had since the day they met.
"What happened to your back?"
"On patrol. Didn't have one watchin' my six no more." he said, tilting his head with a wry look.
Ellie didn't smile. Her expression was neutral, steady.
"When?"
"Two...or three days back? Can't rightly recall."
The past few months were full of too many half-remembered things, moments they'd missed in each other's lives, all fading away quiet-like.
Joel took a deep breath and pulled her tighter against him, letting her head nestled safe against his chest. "Ain't much of a fighter without my little archer by my side."
Ellie let out a soft chuckle. "Don't you try sweet-talkin' me. I ain't forgiving you."
"I know."
She looked up, her eyes meeting his. "I don't think I can ever forgive you for that."
"You'v already said it."
She pressed her lips together. "But," she mumbled, burying her face back, her voice muffled against his chest and so soft he could barely hear, "I would like to try."
Joel's arms tightened around her. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
"I'd like that."
Ellie nuzzled her forehead against his chest. "So maybe tomorrow, you'll ask me to come along with you."
"Alright."
Tomorrow, when the sun came up, the noise of Jackson would settle around them again—the dull routine, the rude barkeep, the loud gossips, the "normal" world.
But hell, that was tomorrow. They'd faced down plenty of "we'll deal with it tomorrow" moments, taking things as they came. And so far, they seem to be doing alright together.
So for now, they just held each other in the dim light, savorin' a peace they hadn't known for far too long. No resistance, no alarms. Please this is just too good to be gone.