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pomegranatevampire · 6 months

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I love you, TLOU fandom.

and more importantly, I love @softlyspector; such an inspiring, skilled, and gifted writer. their works hold so much warmth and care, and I’m so honored to even be considered when it comes to the absolutely endearing scenarios they come up with.

I’m so blown away that anything I do could inspire something so lovely.

birds of a feather

Summary: Sarah is going to kindergarten. Joel is forced to reckon with his differences with the other parents.

Word count: ~3k

Relationship: Joel & Sarah

Warnings: minor mentions of anxiety, a whole lot of love from one man about his daughter

A/N: I so hope you enjoy this 💕 Thank you for reading! I would love to know your thoughts! If you happen to read this please leave some feedback, this is my first lil Joel & Sarah fic 💕 As mentioned when the snippet was posted Sarah's braids were inspired by @pomegranatevampire's lovely art, which everyone should check out if you haven't already.

He’s younger than the other parents by years.

It’s the first thing he notices when he and Sarah shuffle into the classroom and take their places along the back wall with the other parents and students. She stands beside him, and slightly in front of his legs, her hand tangled up in his. Her hair is that bright yellow that reminds him of cat’s clover and sunshine and lemon drop candy.

The whole of her is bright. A bright purple dress that his mother had taken her to the thrift store to pick out, matching mary janes, and tights with cartoonish flowers on them.

It’s not often Joel feels self-conscious, about anything, but especially about Sarah. He’s proud of the kid in front of him. He does the best that he can with her, and most days he figures he does pretty well, all things considered.

Considering he’d grown up mainly around other men, considering he’d been so young, and so very alone, and that he’d never really had anything to do with a baby before.

He barely remembers when Tommy had been that small, just a blip in his memory, a blur, a smear of a blink of time.

When she had been born, it felt as though she fit in the palm of his hand. She was so tiny, and he felt so very big and clumsy. A giant really, not fit for such a small world, such a tiny life.

Wrong, too. Because he was just a kid, not yet twenty, and sometimes he cried right along with her.

Those long, impossible nights.

The first few months, awful.

Full of restless, aching nights, with a learning curve that felt like failure. There’s an indescribable kind of pain that comes with hearing your kid cry, and not know how to help, how to fix it. But he got the hang of the late nights and long days. He found out that singing, playing the guitar soothed her more than anything else he could do, anything those baby books recommended. He learned that she liked to be held best, tight against his chest, the smell of her sweet in his nose.

He hadn’t known babies smelled like that. Pleasant, like a slightly milky vanilla.

Those days had been awful, too, because he had known. Joel knew her mother was going to leave. There wasn’t any fanfare about it, and they really both knew it was for the best in the end. They weren’t meant to be married, anyhow. Circumstance and doing the right thing after gettin’ that damn girl pregnant had been the main factors and motivations of that union, rushed at the courthouse, before she started to show, to try to preserve the illusion that things had happened in reverse of the order that they really had.

Shame had been the prevailing feeling that day; sunny and warm and uncomfortable on the courthouse steps, tie too tight around his throat.

Joel was better suited to it anyway. It was natural for him, once he got the hang of it, easy as breathing. It hadn’t been for Sarah’s mother. It was hard, like pulling teeth without novocaine, no matter how much residual love she might have felt for Sarah. She just wasn’t meant for it, and that had to be okay.

He was the one better suited to responsibility, too. He already had work lined up and a mother that was willing to babysit sometimes. So, Sarah was better with him, too, just for that, logistically and all. Maybe that was the only thing that really mattered.

And, well, Joel had wanted Sarah. He wanted her to be his, even if it was something out of a nightmare sometimes, he couldn’t imagine life without her, not anymore.

Once his ex-wife left, and it was just him and Sarah, Tommy doing the occasional babysitting stint, he forgot. He forgot the shame, the crushing guilt that made everything in the world seem his fault.

He didn’t feel young, and being a parent came naturally to him, caring for Sarah, like he was always going to be her dad. He thought it might grate, that he might get resentful about it like he sometimes felt when he had to take care of Tommy growing up, but those feelings never came.

It had been easy, even if sometimes it hurt, even if most of the time he felt like he had no idea what he was doing. It felt like it was something he had always been doing, that had always been done and needed doing.

And it was easy and it got easier.

He forgot, somehow, that he is not the typical parent, that theirs is not the typical household, especially not in Austin, Texas, in late 2006.

But as he stands now in the tiny kindergarten classroom with Sarah’s hand inside his, so little and warm, it’s hard not to notice how very young he is, how very different they are as a pair.

The desks are so tiny, so miniature. Or, maybe the world is just too big. The room is heavy with that gummy new school year scent, of crayola and glue. It’s undercut by the acid lemon of some heavy duty disinfectant or cleaner or something, and by the floral, sharp snap of the perfume of the couple next to him.

They smell expensive. They look expensive, and he suddenly wonders if this is the sort of thing people are supposed to dress up for. He’s suddenly aware of the crisp button-up shirts, the starched dress pants and jeans, the slacks and the dresses.

He’s suddenly very aware that his shirt is rumpled and his jeans have seen their fair share of much better days. There’s a stain on the hem of his shirt because their morning had been a hectic one, somehow. Nerves about this, maybe, about coming here and being seen and judged despite it all, but also just about sending Sarah off to school. They were in a rush and when he elbowed Sarah’s half-empty cereal bowl across the counter, there hadn’t been time to change his shirt as they charged out the door.

Joel hadn’t even noticed he got some on himself until this very moment, looking down at his scruffy boots.

He was only a couple months shy of twenty when Sarah was born, and it shows in this room of more capable parents, of more prepared parents, of better put together parents. Only just a couple of years ago, he was attending the high school across the street. His little brother is a senior there, and Joel is still a month away from his twenty-fifth birthday.

Probably twenty-five was the age most of the folks in the room had been getting married, maybe finding out they had been pregnant if they were young when it happened.

But, he isn’t the only young parent in the room. It’s Texas, afterall, plenty married young and had kids young.

He is, however, the only single parent, and, worse, he’s the only single father in the room. Cardinal sin, he supposes, in the harsh judgment of the bible thumping south.

There are a lot of oh bless his hearts and poor things looks being exchanged. Joel recognizes some of the other parents. People from school and around town that definitely know what happened, that know how Sarah came into the world, that will go out to the parking lot after this and remind anyone that had forgotten.

Got that girl pregnant and then she ran off and left him with the baby. Can you believe that? Oh, bless his heart, I’m sure he’s trying his best.

Whole life ahead of him, what’s a little girl to do without a mother, needs a feminine touch etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.

False concern hiding very real judgment.

Nothing he hasn’t overheard before. It does manage to sting here, though, because for the first time, it might affect Sarah too. Kids were more accepting than adults, but they repeated what they heard at home, too.

That knot of something hot and mean locks up in his chest, something protective and angry. The kind of thing those fucking anxiety pills are supposed to help with, but never seem to. Not something he wants to think about. He can just deal.

Sarah tugs at his hand and he looks down at her duck fluff hair, sticking up off her forehead because he’s still so damn bad at braiding. His mother had shown him how, weeks ago, the twist of her fingers nimble and quick. He thought he had it down, had even been proud of his work before they left the house that morning, even amidst the chaos. But looking down at his baby’s hair now, he thinks it looks clumsy, a little snarl of sunshine yellow.

She just smiles up at him with all her teeth, the gap between her two front teeth notwithstanding, pink little tongue poking through the hole, eyes crinkling up until he can’t see her irises anymore.

He snorts and a few people shoot him dirty looks, the teacher stuttering at the intrusion on her introduction. The pressure working around his ribs eases just a little. Who knew kindergarten orientation could be so intense?

Joel straightens up and squeezes Sarah’s hand back, his attention refocused on the middle aged woman at the front of the room. He nods, only half apologetic about it.

The rest of the morning he follows Sarah around the little classroom, weaving between the desks and other peoples’ kids. She’s excited for school for months, all summer, always asking the neighbor girl across the way about it, watching for the yellow of the school bus through the living room window each morning with a little sigh.

She’s smart, and Joel wants to dare to dream more for her, more for the both of them.

She’s a social little thing and Joel does his best not to feel intimidated by the other parents. It’s hard though, when he’s gotten asked three damn times if he’s her brother. Somehow, a twenty year sibling gap in age is easier to accept than Joel being her dad.

“Oh,” the ones that don’t know say. “Mama busy today then?”

Mom is out of the picture. Sarah is his.

Then, the inevitable, “Oh, you poor thing. Raising your girl all alone.”

Sarah holds onto his hand again when they leave, and even if he was miserable the entire time, he feels better about it. She talks the whole way home, from the backseat, big eyes watching his in the rearview mirror, crinkling up in that way he loves when she laughs. They stop for milkshakes on the way home, and her smile is covered in chocolate by the time they get home. He mirrors it back to her.

He feels better about the whole thing. The inexplicable knot of guilt in his chest has loosened. The first day of school would probably come with no tears or anxiety, but a smile and excitement. That neighbor girl across the way is already promising they can sit together on the bus.

Joel wants to drive her to school, but there’ll probably be mornings that wouldn’t be possible, not with the schedule he’s going to have to keep with the new job. He feels bad about that, too, because it means less time with her.

It’s terrible, another generation of Miller latchkey kids. He needs more time, but that’s the very thing he doesn’t have.

That’s okay, he tells himself, because Sarah will like it. She’ll like going to school and making friends. She’d see her grandmother in the afternoons, and her Uncle Tommy, too, if he really was close to having enough saved to get himself a truck. Tommy could pick her up after school sometimes, too, take her home and play babysitter for just a couple of hours.

It would be fine.

Sarah would love school. She’s already a smart kid, and too clever for her own good. She’s sociable and funny, friends would come easily to her like they do to Tommy. And hopefully those kids have better sense than their parents to say anything to Sarah about her mother.

Except that first day comes a week later and everything goes to hell.

And he has to wonder if everyone goes through this much grief about everything or if he’s just so goddamn unique. Just so goddamn bad at managing things. That morning is the spilled milk and cereal multiplied by a thousand.

Nothing goes right.

Not breakfast, because he opened the box of cereal and found only crumbs left in the bottom of the bag and he knew his dumbass brother ate the rest of it and that toast would not be good enough for Sarah, and, typical they were out of just about everything else.

Nothing goes right. Not rebraiding Sarah’s hair, because she insisted on sleeping with it in those messy little twists that he’s still yet to perfect.

Not getting dressed, because there was suddenly a glob of toothpaste in the middle of Sarah’s shirt which meant they had to pick something else out to wear and that was a whole ordeal, and he’s fairly sure not a single item of her clothing actually goes together.

He’s pretty damn sure they both look a mess. It would only take one look at them for everyone to know Joel is way in over his head, messing things up with her, doing bad job of it.

They can’t find her backpack, he has to pack her lunch last minute, he can’t find his goddamn keys.

But everything eventually turns up and then they’re both dressed in clothes that don't have toothpaste on them, breakfast in their bellies, and so they get out the door fine.

And then—

Joel very suddenly finds himself kneeling in his driveway with his daughter teary eyed and begging him not to make her go, and his heart snaps in half. Gravel digs into his knees, sweat drips hot down the back of his neck, but he stays there on the ground, eye level with his girl.

“I don’t wanna go without you,” she says, miserable about it. “You were there that other day we went.” It’s said like an accusation, like the beginning of an abandoning.

And he guesses that’s pretty much the center of it. They’ve never really been apart, and maybe it hadn’t been so clear school was something she had to take on on her own.

Her cheeks are bright pink with distress.

“It’s only durin’ the day, baby girl,” he says, thumbs sweeping away the tears that just keep on coming no matter how many times he pushes them away. “Uncle Tommy’ll be there to get ya after. And I’ll be home in the evening, same as always. Hey, take a breath.”

She sucks in a snotty lungful of air that hitches up in her chest and then slowly breathes it out. “But I want you to do it,” she says desolately. He cups her face, soothing away an impossible ache. “I want you to be there.”

Joel closes his eyes briefly, biting back the frustration that bubbles to the surface. He figures there’ll be lots of times like this in the future. Times where he won’t be able to be there, where he’ll have to come home late, miss dinner, miss little life events, miss things he should be there for.

Maybe he should get this first time right.

“All right. I can’t come with ya all day. It just ain’t allowed. But I’ll be there to pick ya up. Since it’s your first day n’all. Can’t be everyday, though, clear.”

She sniffles and Joel brushes a lock of her hair back, thinking that maybe his braids aren’t as bad as he thought. “Really?”

“Yep.”

“Promise?” Bottom lip trembling, another crack in Joel’s heart.

“I promise, baby. I’ll be there.” He tucks another loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Now, c’mon, we gotta get goin’. We’re already late.”

She giggles, tears drying in tacky streaks on her cheeks. “We’re always late, dad.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, adjusting the twisted strap of her pink backpack, some kind of themed princess ordeal. “We’re always late and always a mess.”

He gets to his feet and takes her hand when she holds it out to him. They walk to the truck over the crunch of gravel in the driveway and Joel helps her into her carseat. She does up the buckles herself and he checks them before closing the door.

Sarah hums along to the oldies station on the radio and Joel thinks it's only half out of nervousness as she watches the familiarity of their neighborhood roll by.

Even though he could let her out at the curb, Joel parks and walks Sarah to the front door. He’s getting this part right, he knows it by the way she smiles up at him, in that funny way she has that makes him chuckle.

He stoops and presses a kiss to her forehead. “You’ll be here?” She asks one last time.

“Cross my heart.”

“Okay.”

“Have a good day, baby girl. You’ll do good.” She nods and straightens her tiny shoulders, flitting across the sidewalk to take her teacher's hand and be herded into the building along with the rest of that year’s class.

“Appreciate it now,” a mother next to him says. “In a couple years time she won’t want anythin’ to do with ya. Just be embarrassed.”

He knows it’s probably true. He still can’t picture it.

She turns and waves over her shoulder one last time before the door closes, and Joel thinks her braids look pretty damn good.

Thanks for reading if you got this far 💕 Would love to know what you think!

#tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel and sarah #joel miller #sarah miller #tlou #the last of us

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