#+ a pretty bad flu-like infection

[unionjackpillow]

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[raeathnos]

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[theminecraftbee]

Idk if you were watching the crafting stream this morning, but apparently like, all of the hermits are sick right now. At least, most of the people Cleo talked to. Idk how virtual coworkers somehow infected each other but I believe they did

THIS KEEPS HAPPENING. the logical answer is “this has been a pretty bad respiratory illness season and everyone is getting the flu, covid, or rsv right now”. the silly answer is “if any group could manage to transmit illness to each other remotely I guess the hermits can”,

[avastrasposts]

The Pilot and his Girl - Epilogue

One final part of the story to wrap it all up!

Series Master List

Warnings have their own post - Word count: 21.6k (I regret nothing!)

Eight years later

It was the first time since last year you were able to come this far out from Jackson. The snow had been thick on the ground since November, and any patrols this far from Jackson had been postponed until the spring. But even your corner of Wyoming had finally been graced with warm weather and sunshine, the snow melting rapidly, making it crucial for patrols to go further out to make sure there were no threats closing in on your ever growing community. 

Maria and the board had made the right decision when they’d sent you and six experienced men and women this far down the valley. You’d come across a gang of raiders on an abandoned farm after spotting the corpses of two travelers in a ravine. The travelers had been ambushed and all their possessions, including their boots, had been taken from them. Martha, a woman a few years younger than you, was one of the best trackers in Jackson, and she’d picked up the raiders’ trail quick enough. The ensuing attack on their camp had been brutal and swift, leaving the four men dead in minutes. You left the bodies where they fell, as a warning to anyone who came near Jackson. 

Now you and two of the men in your patrol are up on a ridge, surveying the area, looking for signs of travelers or infected. You’d left Frankie at home this morning, with strict instructions to not leave the bed unless it was to pee. He’d stumbled home early yesterday afternoon from his guard shift, shivering under his heavy coat and coughing loudly enough to wake Benny and Eve’s dog across the street. It didn’t take you long to realize that he was running a fever, either a flu or a bad cold. Either way, it had knocked him out for the rest of the evening and he was still drowsy when you left him in bed with a jug of water, sandwiches and a couple of precious, and long since expired, paracetamols. 

You’re used to going on patrol without Frankie these days. It was easier if one of you stayed at home with Jack when he was little, and it felt like you were tempting fate if you both left. Patrols were not as dangerous as they had been in the early days of Jackson, but they still posed a certain risk. You breathed a sigh of relief whenever Frankie returned safely, even if nothing had happened to any of you in years, life was never without risk. But these days Jackson was an imposing enough structure to deter any raiders that came close by, and the patrols that went out were well equipped, well armed and large enough in numbers to handle almost anything. 

The other four in your patrol had split up and followed trails that led away from the farm, looking for any raiders that might’ve gotten away. You hear one of them approach through the underbrush now, calling out a greeting before you see the man. 

“Hey Elijah, did you find anyone?” you ask the dark haired man that appears between the fresh green birch trees. 

“Yeah, but not a raider I think, you’d better come see him,” he replies, pointing over his shoulder. You leave the two men with you up on the ridge and follow Elijah down the narrow trail. 

“What makes you say he’s not a raider?” 

“He’s all beaten up, looks pretty rough, and he’s got a badly sprained ankle,” Elijah says, guiding his horse down through the forest. “Says he got it running from the raiders, fell off a cliff trying to get away from them. And he sure as hell look as if he fell off a clip, all cut and bruised, clothes torn, the man’s a mess.” 

“Was he armed?” 

“No, he has an empty knife sheath on his belt, but no supplies, no bag, nothing on him.”

“Huh, maybe he’s telling the truth then,” you hum, “How did you find him?” 

“Cain sniffed him out, he was hiding in a small hunting cabin, I think he thought we were the raiders, looked pretty damn scared when we kicked the door in.” 

“Did Cain clear him? He’s not infected?” 

“Na, he’s clean for that at least,” Elijah says and nodded towards the small cabin you were approaching, “Kieran’s inside with him.” 

You both dismount and tie your horses to a tree before stepping into the house. It’s really just a shed, a tiny hunting cabin built just to give shelter for a night or two with a small window and an old wood fired stove in the corner, almost rusted all the way through now. On the floor, leaning against the back wall, is a man about your age with black hair. He’s wiping his hand gingerly over his check where the blood from a sharp cut is starting to clot, and he holds his other hand protectively against his chest. The dark jeans are torn in several places and you can see scrapes and scratches through the ripped denim. The light in the cabin is dim and when you step in through the door he looks up at you, squinting against the light from the open door. It takes your brain a few long moments to catch up, to place the face, but then your jaw drops. 

“Tommy?” 

Tommy blinks a couple of times, his eyes widening with surprise, “Holy shit….” he gasps, “I thought you were dead!” 

You shake your head as you take a few steps forward and kneel down in front of the man, taking in more of him, he really looks terrible. 

“I think I’m more alive then you are, Tommy Miller,” you say, taking a closer look at him, “you really do look like you fell off a cliff.” 

“You know this guy?” The tone of surprise in Kieran’s voice reflects your own feelings at stumbling across Tommy in a small Wyoming hunting cabin. 

“Yeah, since way back,” you reply, giving Tommy a smile and he seems to breathe a sigh of relief. 

“I think I have about a hundred questions,” he says with a grin, but he winces as he shifts his weight against the wall and you hold up your hand. 

“Let us fix your ankle first, and your hand too I think right?” 

Tommy nods and you ask Kieran for the first aid kit. Tommy grimaces as you carefully pull off the boot on his right foot and peel back his sock. The ankle is swollen and starting to turn purple and you make Tommy move his toes for you. 

“We’ll get you back to Jackson, that’s our town, and have the doctor check on it, but I don’t think it’s broken. I’ll just wrap it up tight for now,” you say, “KIeran, could you see if we can get Tommy up on Aggy, she should be able to carry both me and Tommy, you can take Argento back.” 

Kieran nods and steps back outside as you open the bag and take out the elastic bandage. 

“What about…Frankie?” Tommy asks, hesitating in his question and you smile. 

“He’s good, back home sick as a dog at the moment with a man-cold, but he’s good,” you say, “we both made it and we’re still here, still married,” you grin, starting to wrap his ankle. 

“I always wondered what happened to you two,” he says, “you just disappeared after Pope died, no one knew where you were,”  Tommy looks up at you and you raise your eyebrows in surprise. 

“Joel didn’t tell you?” you ask, securing the bandage with a small knot. 

“What? He didn’t tell me anything,” Tommy looks confused and you sit back on your heels, perplexed. 

“Huh, I thought for sure he’d tell you…Joel helped us, me and Frankie, to get out of the QZ when we left. I told him to not say anything to Benny and Will, but I thought he’d tell you.”

“Will and Benny left with Diana and Eve a few years ago too,” he says, “I’m guessing now you had something to do with that too?” 

You give Tommy a crooked grin, “Yeah, that was us, and I’m happy to report that they’re all in Jackson too, all doing well. Benny and Eve even had a baby two years ago,” you smile and now it’s Tommy’s turn to look surprised. 

“I feel like I’ve missed something important….” he says and you put your hand out to him. 

“I’ll tell you everything on the way home, come on.” 

Kieran’s got Aggy, a large and steady mare, standing outside as you help Tommy to limp through the door. Together you and Kieran get him up on her back and then you mount her too, sitting in front of Tommy. 

“I’m going to assume a Texas boy like you knows how to stay on a horse?” you ask as you gently nudge Aggy forward. 

“Yeah, but it’s been a while,” he says, hooking his good arm around your waist. 

“I wanna ask you about why you’re here,” you say in a low voice, “but I don’t know if you maybe wanna save that story for later?” 

“Uuh…” Tommy hesitates, “yeah, maybe, but what makes you think I don’t wanna talk about it now?” 

“Because you and Joel were inseparable, and now you’re out here alone,” you say, looking over your shoulder at him, “so either something happened between you, or…something happened to him.” 

“Yeah…” Tommy begins but trails off, watching the forest give way to open land, “he’s not dead, as far as I know, but I left him in Boston.” 

“Ok,” you say, letting the subject rest. You’re relieved to hear that Joel isn’t anywhere near Wyoming, you still haven’t forgiven him for what happened to Frankie, even if it was inadvertent. You don’t want him anywhere near Frankie ever again. 

You tell Tommy about Jackson instead, filling him in on how you all ended up there, reluctantly telling him about the radio tower. It’s rarely used, only when someone wants to find a lost relative or loved one, but you leave that part out. 

“There’s Jackson, right up ahead,” you say, pointing across the open plain in front of the main gate that’s looming in the distance. “We all have guard duty, either on the wall or out on patrol, like I was today.” 

“You get a lot of people out here?” he asks, looking up at the wall as you ride closer. 

“In the beginning there were raiders who attacked from time to time, but I think we’ve wiped out any raiders in the area. If any come close, I think they choose to leave us alone, we’re too strong now, haven’t had an attack in years.” 

“What about infected?” Tommy glances over at Cain who’s running alongside Kieran’s horse. 

“Yeah, sometimes, we still have to be careful. But we’re starting to figure out how they move with the seasons,” you say, “and in the winter they’re as snowed in as we are.” 

You ride through the gate, waving to the guards, and carry on down the street towards the clinic. Diana runs it these days, with Eve as one of the nurses, and they spot you as you stop Aggy outside and slide off. Eve comes out first, wiping her hands and squinting up at Tommy with a professional eye and not recognizing him with his cuts and bruises. 

“You look pretty banged up,” she says, “let’s get you checked in and we’ll clean you up.”

“Eve,” you smile, “it’s Tommy Miller, from Boston, Benny’s cousin.” 

Tommy gives an awkward wave as you help him slide off Aggy to land unsteadily on one leg. Eve stares at him in confusion as Diana comes out behind her to see what the new patient needs. 

“Tommy?” she gasps, taking two long steps forward and staring at him with such intensity that he chuckles, holding on to you for balance. 

“Surprise,” he grins, holding out a hand dramatically and Eve giggles, finally finding herself again as she pulls him into a hug. 

“Holy shit, what are you doing here?” 

“Long story,” Tommy begins and you cut him off. 

“You’ve got a badly twisted ankle and a sprained wrist, save the story for after Diana has done her thing, please.” 

“Yeah, reunion later, let’s get you taken care of,” Diana says, going into doctor mode, “But it’s good to see you, Tommy. Benny and Will are going to be really happy to have you here.” 

You leave Tommy with Diana and Eve, and take Aggy to the stable before you go and find Benny and Will. They were on patrol too today and should be back already, and you find them both at Benny and Eve’s house, with Benny’s daughter Lily. Benny is feeding her with mixed success while Will watches from across the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest, chuckling at his brother’s attempts at convincing the two year old to eat mashed peas. 

“Hi,” you say as you step in after knocking, smiling at Lily who gives you a big grin, pushing her dad’s hand away again.

“Hey, how was the patrol?” Will asks and you can’t help your wide grin. 

“You’ll never guess who I found,” you chuckle as both men look up at you, “Tommy Miller.” 

“What?!” Benny stands up so fast Lily gets scared and immediately starts crying, “our Tommy?” 

“How many ‘Tommy Miller’ do you know, Benny?” you laugh, “Yeah, the one and only. He’s got a sprained ankle and is at the clinic with Diana and Eve. I wanted to let you know so we can go over there straight away.” 

Will is halfway to the door already and Benny quickly picks up Lily, her peas forgotten. 

“How did he end up out here?” Will asks as he pulls on his boots. 

“I don’t know yet, I didn’t know if he wanted to tell the whole story in front of people he doesn’t know, Kieran and Elijah were with me on the patrol.” You take Lily from Benny as he gets his shoes on and the four of you leave the house, walking towards the clinic. 

“He did tell me that Joel is still in Boston, or at least he was when he left. We found him in a small cabin and he’s been pretty banged up. He said he was running from raiders when he fell off a cliff and hurt his ankle.” 

“Shit, he’s lucky to be alive,” Will says, taking long strides and you have to jog to keep up with the two tall men. You soon reach the clinic and walk inside to find Eve manning the small desk set up just inside. Lily immediately reaches for her mom and you hand her over. 

“He’s in the first exam room with Diana,” Eve says as Benny gives her a quick kiss and you follow Will and his brother down the short hallway. The door to the room is open and Will gives the door frame a quick knock before he steps inside with Benny in tow.

“Shit, it really is you!” Benny exclaims as Will takes a few quick steps over to Tommy and gives him a big hug. 

“Man, so good to see you, but how the fuck did you find us all the way out here? Will chuckles and gives Tommy a careful clap on the shoulder before Benny steps in and hugs him. 

“Long fucking story,” Tommy grins, slapping away Benny’s hand as he ruffles Tommy’s long curls. 

“You need a haircut, cuz, how long have you been on the road for?” 

“I lost count, what month are we in now?” Tommy shakes his head and sighs, the grin slipping from his face. 

“May 8th,” Will says, “spring was late this year.” 

“Shit, May already?” Tommy says, rubbing his good hand over his face, “Let’s see, I left Boston March last year, I joined the Fireflies about two years before then, I just had to do something about the way things were going, the QZ is grim,” he grimaces, “and then a group of us transferred to Pittsburgh and from there to Kansas City.” 

“Why’d you leave Joel behind? Will asks and Tommy glances at him before he drops his eyes. 

“You know Joel, how he is after Sarah. He believes in nothing, doesn’t think there’s any point to anything. I couldn’t live like that, so I joined the Fireflies so that I could make a difference at least and Joel didn’t agree with it. Called them a bunch of delusional idiots who were going to get themselves killed, we had a big fight about it,” Tommy sighs again and shakes his head, “It got nasty, we didn’t speak much the last year I was in Boston.” 

“He still smuggling?” Benny asks and Tommy nods. 

“Yeah, he and Tess, risking their lives every time they leave the QZ. They live together now, or they did when I left. I thought maybe she’d soften him a bit but…I don’t know…” Tommy shrugs and looks at you, you’ve furrowed your brow at the mention of Tess’s name, “she’s as broken as he is and she calls the shots, Joel’s her muscle.” 

“He hasn’t changed then?” you ask, still standing at the door, and Tommy shakes his head. “If you’re asking if he still deals drugs, yeah, he does, and he still uses them,” Tommy shakes his head again, “I miss him, he’s my brother, but I had to get away from him.” 

“So what happened to make you leave Kansas City?” Will asks. 

“The Fireflies were setting up a base out in Salt Lake City and I got sent there. But…I guess I was starting to see where Joel was coming from,” Tommy shrugs and looks at Will, “the Fireflies weren’t making any difference, you know? Just creating more violence in the QZ’s, so I was trying to find a way to leave them on the way out to Utah. But then we got attacked by raiders. A few of us got away but they were hunting us, I got caught by one of them and he beat me up a bit. But I managed to knock him out and ran, didn’t stop running for hours I think. And then I fell down that fucking cliff and busted my ankle and wrist,” Tommy waves his bandaged arm and gives a crooked grin, “And I thought I was really done for it when two guys with a huge dog turned up and sniffed me out, but then she walks in, I was sure I was hallucinating.” 

You can’t help but smile, Tommy’s relief is palpable as he grins at you, “If you want to stay, we’ll put in a good word with Maria,” you say, “she’s the head of the board that runs Jackson, we always need more people we can trust.” 

“We should probably head over and tell her about you now, and see where we should house you and see about getting some food for you,” Will nods and gives Tommy a hand up from the exam table as Diana comes back in with a pair of crutches. 

“Food would be amazing,” he replies, “Diana was kind enough to give me some jerky but I can’t remember when I last had a proper meal.” 

“The community hall, where the cantina is, is next door,” Will says, “Let’s get you over there and then we’ll get Maria to come see you, saves you trying to hobble all across town.” 

“I’m going to go home and check on Frankie, I haven’t been back yet,” you step back to let Will help Tommy out through the door of the clinic, “and then I’ll get Maria.” 

“Alright, see you over there,” Will says and you head off back home. 

Frankie is where you left him, in bed, dozing with a book next to him. It doesn’t look like he’s gotten through a single page of it, but he doesn’t look as pale as he did this morning. He’s sleeping peacefully so you go back downstairs and heat up some soup for him. 

Jack tumbles through the door as you’re ladeling it into a bowl, back from school. He turned nine a few months ago and he’s growing into a mischievous little boy, all too willingly helped by his uncle Benny. He goes to the small Jackson community school, run by an elderly, former high school teacher who was brought to Jackson by her son. Jack isn’t the oldest child in Jackson anymore, over the years, small families have found their way here, mainly through sheer luck. But he’s still the only child who’s been here almost since the beginning and to him, Jackson is his entire world. Which is why he so eagerly listens to any stories about the world before the outbreak, you think they might sound like fairy tales to him, his; ‘Once upon a time…’

 To Frankie’s pride, the helicopters he’d given Jack on his first Christmas was a huge success, and stories about Frankie flying were still his favorites. 

“I’m gonna bring up some soup for your dad,” you tell him after he’s given you a hug, “Do you want some?” 

“No, I promised Benny I’d come over and play with Lily while he makes dinner,” Jack says, throwing his school bag on the table and then hanging it on its peg on the wall after a look from you. 

“They’re down at the community center with a new arrival,” you say, “I actually found one of their cousins, Tommy, when I was on patrol today and we brought him back. He’d sprained his ankle so Diana took care of him first and now they’re getting him some food.” 

“Oh, can I go down and see him?” Jack asks, already getting to his feet, always eager to meet any new people in Jackson. 

“Yeah, I thought you might like that,” you grin, “run ahead, I’m going to give Frankie this and see if he’s awake and check how he’s doing.”

“Ok, I’ll see you later!” Jack yells and takes off, slamming the door behind him. You’re pretty sure Frankie will be awake when you go upstairs, thanks to that. Putting the soup on a tray with a glass of water and some bread, you take it upstairs and gently push the door to the master bedroom open. 

“Hey,” Frankie says in a sleepy voice, “patrol go ok?” It’s always his first question whenever you come back, his worry less now but still always simmering when you leave Jackson without him. 

“Yeah, better than ok,” you say, putting the tray on the bedside table and smiling at him, “Elijah and Kieran found a man in a cabin, lightly injured after running from raiders, and I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw him,” you pause for dramatic effect and Frankie raises his eyebrows, “It was Tommy Miller,” you grin, “just sitting on the floor of a cabin a few miles from Jackson.” 

“Tommy Miller?” Frankie's eyes widen in surprise and then you see the flash of worry that you’d felt and you’re not surprised about his next question, “And Joel?” 

“Not here, Tommy left him back in Boston.” 

“Oh,” Frankie says, his face slipping into a tired smile, “did you tell Benny and Will yet?” 

“Yeah, I took Tommy to Diana first and then told them, they’re with him now,” you reply and sit down next to Frankie on the bed, putting your hand on his forehead, “How are you feeling baby? You look a little bit better but you still seem tired.” 

“A little bit better, I think the fever broke, but I’m really tired,” he leans into your palm as you caress his cheek, running your thumb over his small bald patch. 

“I brought some soup, you didn’t eat anything all day did you?” 

“No, I slept most of the time,” he yawns and leans his head on your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your waist, “I was having weird dreams, you turned blue, and then butterflies landed on you and Jack kept telling me it was perfectly normal for this time of year.” 

You chuckle lightly, running your fingers through his tangled curls, trying to smooth them out, as Frankie sighs and pulls you down onto the bed so that he can curl into you. 

“How about some food, Frankie?” you say softly, still stroking his hair. 

He shakes his head, “Stay with me like this just for a little bit, I missed you,” he tucks his arm in under you and pulls you closer, the tip of his nose buried against your neck, “Tell me what Tommy said,” he mumbles, “how did he get out here?”

You begin to tell him what Tommy had told you, but it doesn’t take long before you hear his breathing slow down and he slips back into sleep. You carefully kiss the top of his head and untangle yourself from his arms, tucking him in again. The soup is left uneaten on the bedside table but you cover it and take it back downstairs. 

You leave Frankie sleeping and walk down to the community center, where Tommy is just polishing off his second bowl of stew while he chats with Will and Benny. Maria sits next to them and as you walk over they all laugh at something Tommy says. Maria is smiling and looking at the newest Miller with a look you haven’t seen on her before. 

“Hi,” you greet them all and sit down next to Jack who’s also at the table, mopping up his own stew with some bread, “Frankie says hello Tommy, but he’s gone back to sleep, he’ll see you when he’s better.”

“How’s Fish doing? Is it just a man-cold or the real deal?” Benny grins and you give him a mock scowl. 

“He’s actually sick, but his fever broke so he’s doing better, just really tired.” 

“The flu has been going around,” Maria says, “Pat and Linda were sick last week too.” She turns back to Tommy and gives him a smile, “So, now you know how things work around here, and we could really use someone like you here too, especially seeing as you’re family to some of our oldest residents, do you want to stay?” 

“Yeah, if you guys will have me, absolutely”, Tommy says, nodding as he looks around the table, “I’d really like to stay, and I’ll do whatever you need me to do to help out.”

“Tommy used to work in construction before the outbreak,” Will says, “he’ll be a great asset to the building team.” 

“Great, that’s really great,” Maria says and stands up as she smiles at Tommy again, “Will and Benny can show you to the house but it might be easier for you to stay with one of them until you’re healed up.” 

“Thanks, I really appreciate this, Maria,” Tommy says, smiling back at her and you catch Will’s eye as he winks at you with a grin. 

…

Tommy settles in easily, both with Will and Diana, where he stays until his ankle has healed, and in Jackson. You start remembering how easy Tommy was to hang out with at the old bar back in Boston when Joel wasn’t around, as he becomes a regular at Sunday night dinners. It’s only natural that Tommy joins these weekly dinners that you have with the two Miller brothers and their wives, but you’re not surprised when Maria starts coming to them too. The flirting between the two of them is obvious and Will has to slap Benny over the head when he ribs Tommy too hard about it. A few months after Tommy arrived in Jackson, they’re officially a couple and it doesn’t take long before Tommy moves in with Maria and as time moves along, it feels as if he’s always been part of the community, and your worry about Joel lessens. 

…

The short Wyoming summer is already starting to fade as you join Maria on a patrol and hunting trip up towards the foothills of the Rockies a few months later. You’ve stopped up on a ridge that overlooks Jackson for your lunch break, letting your horses graze nearby. Even though you’re on high alert, it’s peaceful up here, and Jackson looks like any small settler town down on the plain. 

“I’m glad you could come with me on this patrol,” Maria suddenly says, looking over at you, “I wanted to talk to you about something that might be sensitive.” 

“Sounds serious,” you reply, handing her one of the sandwiches from your pack. 

“Hopefully not,” she shakes her head, “but I don’t know if you know, Tommy asked to use the radio to contact his brother back in Boston, to let him know that he’s alive, which I was fine with and he talked to him last week.” 

You feel your skin go cold as you continue to look down at Jackson and Maria seems to sense the shift. 

“I told him not to say where he was, too much of a risk of someone listening in, but I saw no harm in him talking to his brother. But I can see that you think differently,” Maria pauses and keeps her eyes on you. 

“How did you know I’d have an opinion about who Tommy talks to?” you ask, turning to meet her gaze. 

“Will,” she replies, “Tommy told him he’d talked to Joel and Will came to me afterwards and said I should talk to you.” 

You nod and look back out towards Jackson, it still looks peaceful but it’s like you can feel Joel drawing closer. 

“Is there something in Tommy’s background that I need to know about?” Maria asks and you inhale, slowly letting the air slip out again as you look down at the toes of your boots before turning fully to Maria. 

“I’m only telling you mine and Frankie’s story, Tommy has to tell you his part with Joel, that’s not for me to say anything about,” you begin and look up at her, and she nods, so you continue 

“You know Frankie was in the army for years before the outbreak, with Will and Benny, that’s how they met” you begin, “They all have different scars from those days, and they’ve all handled them differently. Frankie, unfortunately, had really bad PTSD, and he didn’t handle it in the best way….” you sigh and glance back at Jackson, it feels like you’re betraying Frankie by telling Maria but she needs to know if you’re to protect him from Joel getting to Jackson, because of course, Tommy wants his brother here too. 

“Frankie developed a drug addiction,” you say, looking back at Maria who raises her eyebrows.

“Your Frankie?” she says with surprise, “he’s the last person I would think had a drug problem, he doesn’t even get tipsy at the bar.” 

“That’s the reason, he knows too well how easily he falls into it,” you reply, “and when I met him he’d gotten past that. He told me everything, the PTSD, the drugs, how he really hit rock bottom, and how he pulled himself together again. He’d put his life back together again when we met.” 

“Good for him, that’s not easy,” Maria says as she pours you both tea from a thermos and you take the mug she holds out. 

“Yeah, he had a lot of help from his friends, from Benny and Will, but mostly from a man called Santiago, you’ve probably heard about him.” 

“Yeah, you guys mention him sometimes, he’s the one you call ‘Pope’ right?” 

You nod, the usual twinge of grief in your heart as you think about Santi, “That’s him. He let Frankie sleep on his couch when he was at his lowest, lost his job, his apartment, he had nothing left, and Santi kept him afloat. And then Frankie’s girlfriend at the time got pregnant, and with Pope’s help, Frankie managed to get clean so that he could be a good dad for the baby, a girl called Lucía.” 

Maria sighs and you see a shade of a grief pass over her face, “Since she didn’t come to Jackson with you, I guess she didn’t make it?” 

You turn back to look at Jackson, rubbing a hand over your face. Certain memories from the past eighteen years are harder to look back on than others and as the scenes from the roadside outside Franklin floats up into your mind, tears well up and you swallow hard before you speak. 

“She died on one of the first days. Frankie and I were trying to get to her, she was staying with her mom on outbreak day, but we were too late. It broke Frankie,” you say, your voice unsteady as you drag the heel of your hand over your eyes, “And I know you understand.” 

You’d seen Maria’s little shrine to her son Kevin in her house, and noted how Tommy had added Sarah to it a little while ago. 

“I’m sorry,” Maria reaches out and puts her hand on your arm, “I didn’t realize he had a daughter too.” 

“He never talks about her to others, not even Jack knows, Frankie’s gonna tell him when he’s a bit older. But losing her, and then working for FEDRA, triggered his PTSD again. He was in bad shape and it was harder getting out of it this time, I had to try so hard…” you shake your head and Maria sits silently next to you until you draw a deep breath and continue. 

“Eventually we made it to Boston, we’d met Tommy and Joel just before we got there so we all arrived together and Frankie and the others started working together as smugglers, without me.” 

“You knew Tommy and Joel before the outbreak right?” Maria asks and you nod. 

“I met them once, we spent a fourth of July weekend together, so I didn’t know them well. But Joel, back then, he was a nice guy. Great with both his daughter and Lucía, seemed much more on top of things than Tommy,” you smile and Maria chuckles. “But after Sarah and ten years after the outbreak…he was very different. Not the same man at all,” you say, “He doesn’t seem to care about anyone except maybe Tommy. And the worst thing was, he brought out the worst in Frankie, Joel had no qualms about using violence to get what he wanted or needed, and it rubbed off on Frankie. Frankie’s not a violent man, none of them are, but they can be very violent when they have to. And Joel gave Frankie the permission to be as violent as possible…”

 You stop for a minute, gathering your thoughts as you remember the darkest days in Boston. 

“Frankie’s PTSD got bad, it was never really gone, not after Lucía, but it got really bad when he worked with Joel. And then Joel found a guy that could supply drugs,” you look over at Maria, “You probably don’t know, but because of Frankie’s addiction, Will, Benny and Pope were dead set against dealing any kind of drugs when they were smuggling. But Joel didn’t have the same reservation. And Frankie got addicted again…” 

“And Joel supplied them to him?” 

“Yeah, he did, but in Joel’s defense, he was using them too and he didn’t know Frankie used to be addicted. And when Frankie told him, Joel cut Frankie off and stopped selling to him. But there was another smuggler, Tess, that Tommy and Joel started working with, and she continued to sell to Frankie. And now, apparently, they’re pretty tight. Tommy said they’re living together, but…listen, Maria,” you turn back to her, taking your eyes off the view as you take hold of her hand to make your point crystal clear, “I do not want Joel Miller in Jackson. I’m sorry he lost his daughter, but he’s not a good man anymore, and if he comes here, I’m scared what he’ll bring with him and what it’ll do to Frankie.” 

Maria nods and holds your hand tight, “I agree with you, I only know Joel from what Tommy has already told me, but it’s enough for me to know that we don’t want someone like him here, even though Tommy loves him.” 

“But Tommy talked to him already?” 

“Yeah, but only to let him know that he’s alive and well, I told him not to tell Joel where we are.” 

“Sean knows what radio tower we’re broadcasting from, so Joel will know Tommy’s in Wyoming.” You get to your feet, nerves starting to grate on your limbs and you need to move so you pace along the ridge. 

“Maybe you should talk to Tommy?” Maria suggests, “make sure he knows you’re worried what’ll happen if Joel comes here.”

“And tell Tommy he can’t see his only living family member again?” You look at Maria and shake your head, “I can’t do that, much as I don’t want Joel here.” 

“Then talk to him and just tell him how you feel at least, Tommy knows what kind of man Joel is, he might come to the same conclusion as you, without you having to tell him.” 

“You think he’ll listen to that?” 

“Maybe, Tommy loves Joel but he did tell me about what the two of them used to do as smugglers, and he knows I think Joel was a dark influence on him. I think he’ll see it the same way for Frankie.”

“Yeah, ok, if you think he’ll understand,” you reply as Maria starts packing up the lunch. 

“He will, Joel was a big influence on him, but he’s been away from him for a long time now, he’ll understand.” 

…

You and Maria make it back to Jackson early in the evening and you drop off the rabbits you’ve managed to snare at the butches, bringing home some fresh deer meat in exchange. Jack is at the kitchen table as you come through the door and Frankie is peeling potatoes. From the conversation you can hear drifting out into the hall, Jack is trying to understand how the dam that supplies the electricity works, and Frankie is going through the different steps as you walk in. 

“Hey mom,” Jack says as you press a kiss to the top of his head, before putting the meat in the fridge. Frankie wipes his hands and pulls you into his side with an arm around your waist, tilting your head up with a hand on your cheek so that he can kiss you. 

“Welcome home, hermosa,” he mumbles as Jack makes retching noises in the background and you giggle. Jack’s at the age where any sign of physical affection between adults is the most embarrassing thing ever and Frankie loves teasing him about it. Wrapping both arms around you he buries his face against your neck and places loud, smacking kisses all along your throat as you try to fight him off, laughing at Jack’s loud protests behind you. 

“Nooo, stop,” he wails, “that’s so icky!” 

You can feel Frankie shaking with laughter under your hands as you finally manage to push him off. You’re laughing too and Jack shakes his head in the most indignant way as you bite the inside of your cheek, trying to stop the laughter. 

“C’mon Jack,” Frankie grins, “before you know it you’ll be desperate to kiss Simona, just give it a few more years, you’ll be asking Benny for advice.”

“Noooooo,” Jack howls and buries his head in his arms, “I’m not listening!”  

You slap Frankie’s chest but you’re still smiling, “Don’t send him to Benny for girl advice, Frankie!” 

“Fine, you can come to me for advice, Jack. I clearly know what I’m doing,” he grins at you and you have to roll your eyes at his mischievous smile. 

“I’m still not listening,” Jack mumbles from under his arms. 

“It’s fine, Jack, you can come out, I won’t let him kiss me again,” you laugh and Jack’s head pops up as you swat away Frankie’s grabby hands and he gives you a look as if you’ve just kicked his puppy.

“Mujer malvada,” he pouts, going back to the potatoes in the sink and you stick your tongue out at him before you start cleaning the fish that’s going to be dinner.  

“Have I told you how I met your mom, Jack?” Frankie asks, looking over his shoulder at the boy, who shakes his head.

“It better not be gross,” he says, “if it’s gross, I’m leaving.” 

“No, I promise, nothing gross, but I was at this bar with Benny, Will and Pope and she came in with some friends and I thought she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen,” Frankie winks at you and you’re not surprised to feel butterflies in your stomach even now as he smiles softly. 

“I was trying to be sly and look at her without her noticing, but she saw me straight away and I got all shy, didn’t know what to do with myself,” Frankie chuckles at the memory of the night at The Outback Bar. “And then Pope saw that I was looking at her and he started staring and then Benny and Will turned around and looked too and your mom got all nervous and- “ 

“I did not!” you protest laughing, “I suddenly had four big guys staring at me from across the bar, it was a bit disconcerting, but I was not nervous!” 

“You were totally nervous because we were checking you out, but you only had eyes for me, hermosa,” Frankie smiles. 

“It’s getting gross!!” Jack warns from the table and it makes you both laugh again. 

“So Pope said I should go and ask for her number, but I was too shy, I didn’t think someone like her would want to talk to me,” Frankie smiles at you again and you give him a wink before going back to the fish. 

“Wait,” Jack says, “what number? Why did you need a number from her?” 

“So back before the outbreak we had telephones, kinda like radios, but every telephone had a unique number and if you dialed it, you got to that specific telephone. So I wanted the number for her telephone so that I could call and talk to her,” Frankie explains and Jack nods. He’s used to things from before the outbreak needing to be explained and it constantly amazes you how normal he seems to think this world is, but of course, it’s the only world he’s known. 

“So I was too shy to go ask for her number,” Frankie says, “But Pope bet me money that I wouldn’t have the guts to do it, and that made me go up and talk to her.” 

“And then I wouldn’t give him my number,” you laugh, “he came up to me just as they were closing the bar and I didn’t want to give my number to this random guy, even though he was kinda cute.” 

“I was devastated, Jack!” Frankie says, throwing his arms out for dramatic effect and making Jack giggle, “She was so beautiful and had this amazing smile and I really wanted to get to know her but she just turned me down and then she and her friends were leaving.” Frankie looks over at you with a tender smile, “It was like electricity when you looked at me across the bar, hermosa, and then you broke my heart.” 

“So what happened?” Jack asks, interested against his will, leans forward on the table. 

“I had to go back to Pope and tell him I didn’t get her number and he was nice enough to not tease me too much about it,” Frankie says, smiling at the memory, “And then we left the bar, I was going to drive everyone home, and as we were walking across the parking lot I hear someone call my name, and I turn around.” Frankie’s finished with the potatoes and places them on the stove and turns it on before sitting down at the table next to Jack. “She was walking towards me across the lot and I was rooted to the spot like a fool,” he chuckles, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck as he looks up at you, “But Pope, he gave me a shove and made me move, so we met in the middle and she asked me for my phone and then she gave me her number.” 

“And then I kissed you,” you say from the counter, wiping your hands clean from the fish as you smile at him. 

“And then you kissed me,” Frankie says, and his eyes soften as he meets yours, “And I was a goner, I think I fell in love with you right there.” 

“Gross,” Jack says, breaking the spell and Frankie laughs, reaching out and pulling you down on his lap. 

“Not gross at all, it was the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he smiles and Jack shoves his chair back from the table. 

“I’m leaving,” he announces and you hear him thunder up the stairs, “I’m gonna get my bag and toothbrush!”

“His toothbrush? Were we that gross today?” you ask, confused, and Frankie chuckles. 

“He’s sleeping over at Mike and Jesse’s place, he asked me when he got back from school and since it’s a Friday, I said ok and we get the house to ourselves tonight…” Frankie’s hand slides up to grip the back of your neck and pull you closer, brushing his nose against yours before he gently kisses you. 

“Did you already make plans?” you smile between Frankie’s soft kisses and he nods. 

“Dinner and then an early night I think, I definitely need to lay down and be in a horizontal position for most of the evening, and I think you should join me.” 

“You’re such a dork, Francisco Morales,” you say, cupping his cheek with your hand as you feel him grin against your lips. 

“I love it when you use my full name, I know I did good when that happens,” he kisses you again but you hear Jack come thundering down the stairs so you pull back and stand up. 

“You’ve got everything?” you ask him as he comes into the kitchen and he holds up his backpack and pillow. 

“Yeah, I think so,” he says and you bend down and give him a hug and a kiss. 

“Have fun sweetie, don’t let Jesse scare you and Mike with ghost stories again ok?” 

“I’m not scared of those anymore mom,” he protests, “they’re not real.” 

“Alright then, good to know,” you laugh as Frankie comes over and gives Jack a hug too. 

“Sleep well, gordito, see you tomorrow morning.” 

“Ok, see ya tomorrow!” 

Jack wriggles out of Frankie’s tight hug and gives you a big grin and disappears out through the front door. Frankie immediately takes your hands and puts them up around his neck so that he can wrap his own around your waist. 

“I have plans, hermosa,” he smiles, leaning his forehead against yours. 

“Dinner first, Morales,” you say, making him walk backwards to the kitchen where the potatoes are boiling on the stove, “but then you’ve got free range, you can fuck me however you want, come wherever you want…” you trail off, placing a kiss on his soft lips as he groans. 

“You’re killing me, cariño.”  

…

“Let me hear it, bebita, please,” Frankie growls, digging his fingers into your thigh, holding you open as you arch your back and choke back a moan, “The house is empty, you know I love hearing what I do to you.” 

“Oh god, Frankie…” you pant as he bends his head back to your heated clit and circles his tongue around it again, “pleasepleaseplease,” you plead, fingers grabbing his curls to urge him on. You hear him groan into you as he tightens his grip on your hips, licking and sucking, his nose slipping through your folds as he lets his tongue taste you. His hips are grinding into the bed, seeking any relief. You know he’s rock hard and leaking, he’s groaning into your soft heat, lapping at your opening as you writhe underneath him. 

He’s taken his time tonight, he only rushed you upstairs after dinner, slowing down as he got you to the bedroom. Asking you to take your clothes off slowly, one item at a time while he watched. You’d seen him grow hard, palming himself through his jeans, a mischievous smile making his mouth twitch as you pulled your t-shirt over your head, letting your hands skim over your breasts on the way down to your pants. 

When he had you naked and lying back on the covers, he pulled his own shirt off and climbed up between your legs, pushing them apart with his knees. Sinking back on his heels he took his time looking over your body, his warm palms skimming over your legs, caressing the soft skin on the inside of your thighs. When finally made space for his wide shoulders between your legs, you were moaning, begging him to touch you where you needed it the most. 

Now he’s lazily letting his tongue flick across your clit, holding you open with one hand as his other begins to tease your opening, one thick finger sliding in, your arousal letting him push it in with no resistance. 

“Fuck…Frankie…” you keen, “more, give me more…” and he chuckles, you can feel the vibrations across your heated skin as you try to press your core closer to his mouth, his fingers. 

“Relax, bebita,” he mumbles, his lips brushing over your clit with every word, his tongue lapping over it again, making you whimper, “we have all night.” 

But he pulls out his finger, and slides two back in, curling them as he pushes deep and then out, slowly. Setting a steady pace, he knows exactly how to make your back arch as he holds your hips down with a heavy arm over your belly, fingers and tongue working together to make you come undone. You can feel your muscles tighten as your mind unravels, all there’s room for is how he makes you tremble and whimper, trying to remember how to breathe. 

You grab hold of his curls, twisting your fingers around them, pulling him closer. When you glance down you see him looking up your body, dark eyes watching your chest heave as you gasp for air. 

“Frankie…” you moan, dropping your head back onto the pillow, the sight of him, your legs spread wide around his shoulders, too much to handle as he curls his fingers back and increases his rhythm. You hear him mumble against your skin, incoherent words that pulls your coil tighter. 

He’s pushing your leg up, moving to give himself more leverage, leaving your clit for a moment to lick a broad stripe up from where his fingers are knuckle deep, to the very apex. He feels your pussy start to clamp down harder around him and he knows you’re close. Glancing up at you again he seals his lips around the swollen button and pulls it into his mouth, making you cry out, tightening your fingers in his hair. He doesn’t let up, moaning into you, his fingers finding every nerve ending as they slide through the silky heat. He pushes himself up on his knees, groaning as the movement makes his pants rub against the aching head of his cock, but the new position lets him spread you open, gives him more leverage and he uses it to increase the pressure on your clit. 

Your mouth falls open, strangled cries escaping as the coil tightens in every muscle. You can feel him grab your thigh, his fingers digging in as he holds himself together, intent on making you topple over the edge. Forcing your eyes open you look down at him, on his knees, the dark curls on the top of his head brushing over your belly as he buries his face between your legs. He’s growling into you and as he quickly slips in a third finger, stretching you open, his tongue flicking hard over your clit, you feel yourself explode. 

“Frankie, fuck…d-don’t… “ You close your eyes against the onslaught, colors dancing behind your eyelids as his movements continue to shoot electricity through your muscles, thick fingers keeping you open, his shoulder forcing your legs to spread wide as his tongue laps across, and then around, your overwrought bundle of nerves. 

He feels your grip on his hair loosen, the muscles in your legs go limp around him, and he slowly gives your clit a final, soft, kiss, his fingers slipping out. You’re gasping for air as he leans his head against the plush inside of your thigh, relishing in the softness of the flesh and the sight in front of him. He can feel the heat coming from your folds, puffy and shining, slick with your arousal and his saliva, and as he lets his eyes trail up your body he meets your drowsy eyes. 

“You back with me?” he smiles, giving your thigh a soft kiss. 

“Just about,” you smile back at him, “I lost a few seconds there.” You reach down and take his hand, tugging slightly on it, “Come here, take those pants off and fuck me, Francisco Morales.” 

He groans at your words, his cock twitching and reminding him of how painfully hard it is, and he lets your fumbling fingers open the buttons when he reaches your mouth. You can taste yourself on him, smell it on his beard, it’s slick against your cheek when he slides his tongue into your mouth. 

“Got..got to get ‘em off…” he mutters, struggling to keep kissing you and push the stubborn jeans down his legs. He groans as the rough denim scrapes across his cock tenting in the soft cotton of his boxers.

“Oh fuck it,” he snaps and pushes himself up off the bed and you can’t help but laugh as he stumbles back, tugging at his pants, kicking them off his feet and rushing to crawl up the bed to you again. 

“I need to fuck you so badly now,” he growls, grabbing your hand and moving it down between your bodies, making you close your fingers around him. He’s hot and velvety to the touch, you love the feel of him like this, so hard you can feel every ridge and vein, every twitch as your hand caresses the heavy weight of his cock. 

He moans into your mouth, hips thrusting into your hand, and you guide the head to brush across your clit, gathering the slick that still coats you. The feel of him across your sensitive clit makes you shiver as he moans again, a low rumble coming from deep inside him. He drops his head against your shoulder, pushing your legs apart with his hips, letting you guide him inside. 

“Always so good, cariño,” he mutters, pushing his thick length in, inching it deeper with shallow thrusts, “always so fucking good, bebita.” 

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you take him deep, as he tries to hold himself up over you, but you pull him down. He always thinks he’s too heavy on top, but you love to feel him over you, his hot skin sliding against yours, crushing you down into the bed, wide shoulders and arms caging you in underneath him. 

“I want you closer Frankie,” you mumble, your arms around his shoulder, tangling your fingers in the long curls at the back of his neck, pulling him down, “I love feeling you weighing me down.” 

You reach up and find his lips, feeling him breath into your mouth as he starts thrusting into you, grunting, panting hard. “Love looking up and seeing only you above me, only you Frankie,” you whisper and he whimpers, you can feel him stutter and pick up his speed, moaning into you.

“You feel so good, baby,” you kiss his open mouth, “make me feel so good, so full, so fucking full of you, so thick, so hard.” 

You wrap your legs tighter around him, rocking up to meet his thrusts, “Fuck me harder Frankie, you feel so good like this,” you’re mumbling against him, your hands holding him close to you, he’s panting, groaning and every sound you pull from him makes your own arousal build again. 

As he changes his angle, you moan, squeezing your eyes shut, he’s hitting something deep inside that shoots sparks through your limbs. 

“You’re gonna make me come again, please, make me come again…” you can’t stop yourself from crying out as he sinks his teeth into your lip, his dark eyes glinting above you. 

He’s moving faster, pushing himself deeper, each thrust grazing over your clit, sending sharper sparks through your body with each pass. 

“Come on then,” he growls, almost an order, “come for me again and I’ll fuck you so full, cariño, I’m so…fuck…close,” he groans, his rhythm faltering and it hits you like a truck, your body tries to arch up against him, his weight keeping you pressed against the bed as you cry out, almost a sob, digging your fingers into his shoulders. 

Frankie’s breath catches in his throat, through your own haze you hear him shout, he’s grinding into you, groaning loudly into your ear as he struggles to hold himself up under the onslaught of his climax, his groans turns to whimpers and you pull him down on top of you, not caring about his heavy weight. 

His face is pressed against your shoulder, and he turns his head, drawing a deep breath as he feels your pulse race under the delicate skin on your throat. He looks at the way it thrums, your breathing slowing down as you relax under him, your body soft and pliant. Your fingers move from his shoulders, he knows he’ll feel marks there tomorrow, and up into his hair, caressing slowly through the tangled curls, scratching his scalp. 

He hums, melting into you, he knows he should move, get his weight off you, but you're warm, soft, like velvet under him, and his body doesn’t want to shift. Instead he presses himself closer, his nose skating across your jaw, lips against the soft skin by your ear. 

“Tell me to move,” he mumbles, breathing against you and he sees you shake your head, your fingers holding him tight, passing through his hair and sending delicate shivers down his spine. 

“Don’t move, stay,” you whisper, cupping the back of his head with your hand. 

He draws a deep breath, listening to the silent house, your breathing, your heartbeat under his ear, the soft scrape of your nails against his scalp. 

“If this is the rest of my life, I will die the happiest man in the world,” he says, his voice low, not wanting to disturb the peace. He sees corners of your mouth quirk up in a lazy smile as you turn and kiss the tip of his nose, the only part of him you can reach. 

“Have I made you happy?” he asks, voice still low and quiet. He knows the answer, has known it for years now, but sometimes he still wants to hear you say it. 

“Always, Frankie, you always make me happy,” you smile, shifting under him so that you can look at him, your eyes softening as you lean your forehead against his, “Have I made you happy?” 

“More than anything, hermosa, amor de mi vida, you make me happy every day,” he says, brushing his lips against yours, pressing a soft kiss there, keeping his lips close to your mouth, sharing breaths. 

….

It’s a rare morning the next day, waking up when you want to, not when the old shrill alarm clock wakes you. Or actually, this morning you wake up when you feel Frankie shift behind you, his warm body pressing closer to you, his heavy arm pulling you just that little bit tighter. He’s not even awake yet, his even breathing tickling the back of your neck as he stirs, even in his sleep making sure you’re near him. 

You let yourself wake up gently, relishing in the feeling of being warm in bed with Frankie, safe, happy, nowhere you need to go today at least. Frankie’s hand is resting on your chest, between your breast, and you trace soft patterns with your fingertips on the back of it. Slowly he wakes up, burying his nose into your hair and breathing deeply, groaning as he stretches out behind you. 

“Morning,” he mumbles, his voice low and heavy with sleep. 

“Morning, my love,” you say, turning in his arms so that you can see him. He gives you a sleepy smile and cups your cheek with his hand. 

“Have you been awake long?” He asks and you shake your head. 

“Just a little bit, I was enjoying the peace and quiet. And you were so warm and nice, my Frankie shaped furnace,” you smile and give the tip of his nose a peck, making him wrinkle it with a grin, “Did you sleep well?” you ask. 

“Yeah, like a log, no nightmares, no bad dreams,” he replies, his thumb caressing your cheek, tracing along your nose, under your eyes and following the line of your jaw to your chin, “slept like a baby.” 

His nightmares are almost rare these days, but you still ask, you always want to know and he knows why, he’s never going to hide anything from you again. 

He shifts, his hand slipping over your shoulder, down along your body until he can cup his large hand over your ass and pull you closer. It makes you smirk and he chuckles. 

“How do you feel about morning sex, cariño,” he grins, grabbing your thigh and hooking it over his hip. His half hard cock is already making itself known and it makes you give an involuntary shiver as your hips buck into his. 

“I’d be very interested in morning sex,” you smile, leaning forward to capture his sleep warm lips in a kiss, ignoring the morning breath. He hums into your mouth and grinds his hips in between your legs, dragging his rapidly stiffening cock over your clit in a move that makes you moan. 

A door slams downstairs and you hear Jack’s clear voice echo through the house. 

“I’m back! I got eggs from Jesse!” 

Frankie groans and you sigh, much as you love your son, his timing is unbelievably bad. 

“We’ll be right there, honey!” You call over Frankie’s shoulder. He groans again, grinding into you harder this time. 

“I can be real quick and quiet, you know that,” he growls, grabbing your hips and you laugh, pushing him away. 

“Raincheck, Frankie, we can always take a shower later,” you smile, kissing him as you pull away from his grabby hands. 

“I’m taking that as a promise,” he grins, rolling out of bed and grabbing his pants and following you downstairs. 

“Morning sweetie,” you say to Jack, kissing his cheek, “did you have fun?” 

“Yeah, we played this old game called Twister, do you know it?” he asks. 

“The one with the mat and you have to put arms and feet on the right markers? Yeah, I used to play when I was little.” 

“Jesse traded for one and we played it all night, it was so much fun!” Jack’s out of the chair and demonstrating on the floor how he contorted his body to reach the markers, “I want one too!”

“I could probably make you one,” Frankie says from the stove, “it wouldn’t be hard.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, I’ll see what supplies I have, I know I have paint already.” 

“Can I help?” Jack asks as you start putting away the eggs that he’s handed you. 

“Sure, do you want to do it today?” Frankie ruffles Jack’s hair, “And give me a hand with breakfast, did you eat already?”

“Yeah, I ate there. Can we do it when you’ve had breakfast?” 

“Unless your mom has plans for us?” Frankie hooks his arm around your waist and puts his chin on your shoulder, “Any plans for us, cariño?” he grins, giving you a quick wink. 

“No, no plans at all actually,” you give him a mock scowl before kissing the tip of his nose with a smile. 

…

The conversation you had with Maria sticks in your head after Frankie leaves. You haven’t told him about it yet and part of you wants to protect him from having to worry about Joel. You bounce it back and forth in your head, going from wanting to ignore the whole thing to trying to convince yourself that the chances of Joel showing up are slim. But then you remind yourself that if Benny and Will, and Tommy, could make the trek across the country and find Jackson, so could Joel. Joel is nothing if not persistent. 

In the end, you decide that you have to talk to Tommy, at least for your own peace of mind. 

You seek him out at home when you know Maria is busy with a town meeting, knocking on their front door. He answers with a smile and opens the door wide, inviting you in.

“Hey, good to see you! Maria’s not in if it’s her you’re looking for,” he says and leads you into the kitchen. 

“No, I know she’s at the town meeting, I actually came to see you,” you say, deciding to get straight to the point. 

“Alright, what’s up? And do you want some tea? I was just going to make some,” he replies, holding up a mug to you. 

“Thanks, tea would be great,” you sit down at the kitchen table and tap on the surface with your nails, gathering your thoughts. 

“So what’s up? Seems serious, you look pretty tightly wound,” Tommy turns to you after putting a kettle to boil. 

“I don’t know how to start, Tommy, I feel a bit shitty about bringing this up with you, but…” you shift on your chair, leaning back and Tommy furrows his forehead as you fidget. 

“I talked to Maria, and she told me you talked to Joel on the radio,” you eventually say, watching Tommy take out another mug and tea, “And you know how bad Frankie was in-”

“You’re worried Joel’s gonna come out here,” Tommy says, and it’s not a question, “And get Frankie back into trouble.” He pours the boiling water into the mugs and sits down opposite you at the table. 

You shift again uncomfortably but Tommy doesn’t look mad or disappointed, he’s just nodding slightly, looking down at his own mug. 

“I’m sorry, Tommy, I know he’s your only family,” you begin but Tommy shakes his head. 

“I know maybe more than you think,” he says, “Benny told me pretty much everything, I think he’s worried about Joel turning up here too. So I know the part my brother played in Frankie’s drug addiction.” 

“It’s not just that, Tommy,” you reply, leaning forward and holding onto the mug, “besides, the drugs don’t worry me so much, I doubt anyone could find drugs out here anyway. But Joel is violent.” 

You see Tommy’s shoulder’s drop forward, like he’s hunching, as he gives you a small nod, “I know, it came out after Sarah.” 

“It gets to Frankie too, Joel’s anger rubs off on him, Tommy. And Frankie knows how to be very violent, maybe even more than Joel, and with his PTSD, the fucking leftovers from Delta…” you shake your head, sighing, “When we were in Boston, Frankie behaved in ways I’ve never seen from him, when he was working with Joel. And Joel…he sees it like it’s the only way to do things, to survive, and he encouraged Frankie, saw it as he was doing the only right thing.” 

“You know Maria doesn’t want him here either, right?” Tommy asks, “I told her about how Joel and I had been surviving since the outbreak and she doesn’t think what we did was right, says we could’ve made different choices.” 

“But Joel never saw it that way,” you reply and Tommy nods in agreement. 

“No, he never did, he was barely surviving, after Sarah, and he just hardened. I never questioned if what we did was right, we did it to survive and he was the only family I had so I followed him. Blindly maybe. 

“And he hasn’t changed? Since Frankie and I left Boston I mean,” you ask. 

“No, if anything he’s more ruthless than ever. We started working with Tess, Frankie introduced us to her, did you know that?” 

You nod, Frankie had told you everything that had happened those last few months in Boston, how he got drugs after Joel stopped selling to him. 

“She can be as ruthless as Joel, whatever it takes to survive, and it turned out they were kinda the same, maybe like with Frankie and Joel,” Tommy drains his mug of tea and gives you a crooked smile. “It took me a while to pick up on it, but they must’ve started something pretty soon after we met her. I only found out when I realized she’d moved in with him, that they were sleeping together.” 

“It’s hard to imagine Joel caring for anyone but himself and you,” you say, “it sounds horrible to say it, but he’s so different from who he was when I met him before the outbreak, I can’t see him loving anyone.”  

Tommy shrugs, “I don’t know if he loves Tess, if he’s even capable of that anymore, losing Sarah, it took it all out of him. Maybe she’s just in his sphere, someone he needs to protect, like he used to protect me.” 

“Has it changed him, being with Tess I mean?”

“I was hoping it would change him, soften him at least a little, but whatever it is they have, Joel is the same on the outside. And things in the QZ were getting worse so when Marlene, she’s the leader of the Boston Fireflies, approached me, I wasn’t hard to convince…” Tommy leans back in his chair, sighing deeply, “Joel got really mad when he found out I joined them, we had a big fight, left it on pretty bad terms…” Tommy trails off and looks guilty.

“We didn’t really get past it before I left…” he says after a long pause, “when I told him I was leaving with the Fireflies he just just shrugged and said I’d always joined every lost cause. Maybe he’s right, I don’t know. But I know he was mad at me for leaving, but I couldn’t stay and do nothing.” 

“At least you tried to make a difference, Tommy, even if the Fireflies weren’t right for you,” you say, giving Tommy a small smile, he seems to be feeling guilty about leaving Joel but you think it was probably for the very best, at least Tommy. 

“I’ve got to ask though…” you hesitate, “do you think Joel wants to come out here, bring Tess? Because…fuck, that’s my worst nightmare at the moment Tommy.” 

“I won’t tell him anything,” Tommy shakes his head, “And Maria asked me to not contact him again.” 

“She did?” Your eyebrows shoot up and you can’t help the relief that floods your chest, “I didn’t know she was going to do that, I…I’ve got to admit I wanted to but Joel’s your brother-” 

“He’s my brother, and I love him,” Tommy interrupts,”but you met him before the outbreak, he isn’t the same person now, hasn’t been for almost twenty years, and Jackson doesn’t need someone like him, he brings too much violence and he only cares about himself.” 

You nod, leaning back in the creaking kitchen chair, the knot in your stomach is unraveling as you let yourself exhale. 

“I’m sorry it has to be that way,” you say, “but I’m relieved, keeping Frankie, and Jack, safe and happy, is all I care about. Maybe I’m like Joel in that respect, but they’re my family, and to me, Joel’s a threat to them.” 

“You’re nothing like Joel,” Tommy replies, “or maybe, we’re all a bit like Joel, keeping our family safe first, but I know my brother’s ways are too violent. It took me a while to understand that, but here, in this community, it’s clear that there can be another way of keeping family safe.” 

… 

When you get back to your house, Frankie’s already back and you can smell the wood smoke from the fireplace. You’re not surprised when you find him flat on his back on the couch, his cap pulled down over his eyes, snoring softly. As you walk into the room he stirs, pushing it up onto his forehead. Years of being a soldier, and living in this new world, has made him a very light sleeper, the years in Jackson haven’t changed that. Now he’s giving you a sleepy smile as he reaches out for you, pulling you down over him when you take his hand. 

“Hey, cariño,” he says, tucking you into his side so that you can stretch out and put your head on his chest, “I missed you when I got home.” 

“Yeah, I was out,” you say, burying your nose into his soft t-shirt, “I went to see Tommy about something.” 

“Mhmm…” Frankie hums, still sleepy as he runs his hand up and down your back, you can feel his lips against the top of your head. 

“How’s Tommy?” he asks eventually and you have to shift so that you can look up at him, his sleepy brown eyes looking up at you. 

“I went to see him about Joel,” you confess and although you expect Frankie to look confused, he just nods and sighs. 

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about Joel coming here too,” he says, pushing his cap further up so that he can see you properly, “Tommy’s the only family he’s got, I wouldn’t be surprised if he comes out here too.” 

“He won’t,” you say, shaking your head, “Tommy told Maria about what kind of man Joel is and she’s asked him not to talk to him again, to not risk him coming here.” 

“And Tommy’s ok with that?” Now Frankie does look surprised as you nod. 

“Yeah, he’s no fool, he knows what kind of man Joel’s turned into. And they didn’t leave it on the best of terms when Tommy joined the Fireflies. And he doesn’t want him to come here either, he knows the type of violence Joel brings.” 

“Cariño, I don’t think Tommy not talking to Joel is going to stop him if he really wants to find him. If you and I could make it across the country, so can Joel, especially if he’s looking for his only brother.” 

“Frankie, I really don’t want him to come here, he can’t come here, I don’t want him even near us,” you push yourself up to sitting and Frankie follows you, but he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. 

“You’re worried I’ll fall back into the same habits as in Boston,” it’s not a question, but you nod as he rubs his hands up and down your back. 

“You shouldn’t worry, cariño,” he says, “even if he does come, I’m not the same man I was in Boston, I promise.” 

“I know, Frankie, he just scares me, he just…” you trail off but Frankie knows what you’re thinking. 

“I know he brought out the worst in me, cariño, but I’m stronger now. I haven’t used drugs in almost nine years, I’ve got both you and Jack, and a purpose in Jackson that’s more important than any of the shit I did in the QZ’s.” He cups your cheek in his warm palm and caresses the soft skin, “If, and it’s a big if, he comes here, it won’t be the same as last time, I know that, hermosa.” 

You nod into his hand and he gives you a warm smile, “Always looking out for me, still don’t know what I’d do without you, cariño.” 

…

Frankie’s words calm you some, and he’s right of course. He is stronger now than he was before, he’s nothing like the man he was after his daughter died, and life has almost returned to normal for the two of you. It’s only the constant patrols, and people’s scars from life outside of Jackson, that remind you of what surrounds Jackson. But as spring turns into summer and then fall, your fear of Joel showing up lessens. Tommy doesn’t contact him again and he doesn’t turn up. Jackson has turned into a busy small town and life keeps you occupied, before you know it, it’s winter again and the town prepares for its official holiday celebration.

…

“Are you going on patrol tomorrow?” Frankie asks you one afternoon as he comes back home, shrugging out of his thick jacket and stomping the snow off his boots. 

“No, not until Saturday, why?” 

“They’re showing ‘The Goodbye Girl’ at the community center tonight, I thought we could go. I have no idea what the movie’s about but apparently it won an Oscar,” Frankie says, giving you a cold kiss as he comes into the kitchen. 

“You’re freezing, Frankie,” you smile and he rubs the icy tip of his nose against your cheek, making you protest when he moves further down and presses it against your neck. 

“It’s freezing outside, I was chopping wood though, kept me warm,” he grins, his warm hands sliding between your sweater and jeans, “But what do you think, wanna go on a movie date with me and Jack?” 

“Sure, sounds nice,” you say, giving up on stopping him from warming his nose up against your skin, his nose is cold but his breath is warm and sends shivers down your spine, “Beats watching Home Alone for like the hundredth time.” 

“Yeah, the movie selection isn’t great,” Frankie chuckles, “I mean, great movie, but how many times have we seen it now?” 

“We need to figure out where the nearest movie theater is and see what’s available,” you say, “What movies were in theaters on outbreak day?” 

“Uuhh…all I remember is that Pope and I went and saw the re-release of Scarface, that was awesome,” Frankie says as he lets go of you to grab a glass and fill it up with water and you lean on the counter next to him. 

“You and I went and saw ‘Lost in Translation’, that’s the last time we went to the movies before it all.” 

“Oh yeah, that was good too,” Frankie nods, “made me wanna go to Japan. Remember we were planning it, seeing if we’d be able to go someday?” 

You sigh and wrinkle your nose, “Let’s change the subject, now I’m bummed we never got to go to Japan, or even on a proper holiday together.” 

“You wanna sip cocktails on the beach with me, hermosa?” Frankie smiles, coming to stand in front of you at the counter, his hands on either side. 

“I would love to sip cocktails on a beach with you, Frankie,” you smile back at him, wrapping your arms around his neck so that you can card your fingers through the curls on his neck, “see you in a cute little speedo, all nice and tan.” 

Frankie snorts, “When did you ever see me in a speedo?” 

“Never, but a girl can dream,” you grin back at him, “Although, I’m not sure what speedo would be able to contain your…’talent’.” 

“I wanna see you in a bikini again,” Frankie says, his voice taking on a lower tone, “I grieve the loss of that yellow bikini you had…” he gives you a mischievous smile, “any chance of finding something like that at the store?”

“Not much need for bikinis in the apocalypse, Frankie,” you laugh, “but I’ll see what I can do, maybe I can use it for gardening in the summer. But on one condition.” 

“Anything, hermosa…” Frankie has pulled you closer, his mind clearly on the lost yellow bikini as you feel his half hard cock pressing into your belly. 

“You help with the gardening, wearing a speedo,” you grin at him as he laughs. 

“Deal, anything to see you in a bikini again,” he says, smiling down at you, “but I can’t promise we’ll get much gardening done.” 

He bends his head down, letting his nose brush against yours, the tip of it warm again as his hand slips up to hold the back of your neck and his lips press against yours. He deepens the kiss, nudging your mouth open with his tongue as you pull him closer. It’s soft as he licks into you, small touches, tasting him as your breaths mingle. 

He’s so familiar now, the way his hand holds your neck, lightly caressing your hair, his other hand at your waist, fingertips grazing whatever bare skin he can reach. You think you could identify him just by the way his thumb rubs small circles into your waist, his touch seared into your brain just as his taste is. Even his tongue is familiar, and the way the tip of his nose always touches the same spot on your cheek when he tilts his head to kiss you deeper. Your fingers run through his curls, finding the well hidden scar from some old army injury, and down to his neck again. 

He hums into your mouth, his cock pressing hard into your soft belly, heat pooling between your legs, before he reluctantly pulls away, leaning his forehead against yours. 

“Wish we had more time, hermosa,” he mumbles, “I need to take a shower and I want to take it with you.” 

“Jack will be home any minute,” you say in a low voice, gently scratching the back of his head, “and I should make some dinner before we go to the movie.”

“Alright, raincheck for tonight then,” he smiles, giving you one more kiss, letting it linger, before he pulls away. 

…

The Jackson community center is full as the movie starts playing, movie night is always popular. Jack managed to snag a seat reserved for the children in the middle of the room, and now he sits engrossed in the images playing out on the large white screen hanging on the wall. Frankie and you are standing by the wall, watching the film through the gaps in the audience as people filter in and out. Frankie, thanks to his height, could have a better view, but he prefers to rest his chin on your shoulder as he stands behind you, hands secure around your waist. You can feel his breath tickle your cheek and you lean against his scruffy jaw, briefly closing your eyes to capture the moment in your mind; the warm community hall, Frankie’s soft beard against your skin, his strong arms around your waist and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat behind you, and all around you the smell of fresh popcorn. 

You open your eyes again and look for Jack, he’s got his elbows on his knees, wide eyes staring at the screen, mouth hanging open as he takes in every detail of the scene in front of him. It makes you smile to see him so enthralled by every movie that gets shown here, and it makes you wish you could show him your own favorites from when you were nine, almost ten, you remind yourself. He’ll be ten in a few weeks.

The film doesn’t capture your imagination as much as it does for Jack so you let your eyes drift across the audience, you spot Will and Diana across the hall, but you can’t see Benny and Eve. You look around the room for them, they usually always turn up, only for Benny to moan about the movie selection as you all walk home together afterwards. 

Searching the room you spot Tommy talking to Maria, her hand on the small swell of her pregnant belly, and something about the conversation makes you stop and look at them. When Tommy turns and walks away Maria sees you, and gives you a smile, but it looks tight. You smile back but in the corner of your eye you see Tommy exit the community hall and disappear outside. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up, a shiver running down your spine, and as you look back at the screen, you can’t focus on it. 

“I’ll be right back,” you say, turning to give Frankie’s cheek a kiss, “pee break.” He nods and lets you go as you slip through the crowd, avoiding Maria’s eyes. You don’t know why you need to see where Tommy went, but something in your gut tells you to find out, Tommy’s face said something. 

The air outside is cold as you exit the hall. You left your coat with Frankie so you tuck your arms around yourself as you look up and down the street. It’s empty, only fairy lights and snowflakes. Not sure where to go, you turn and walk down towards the stables, the snow whirling around you. 

Nothing stirs and there’s no sign of Tommy as you make your way past the small shops that serve the community. You’re shivering as you reach the stables and the warm smell of horses and manure envelops you as you crack the door open and slip inside. A soft nicker from the horses closest greets you, the large animals stirring and looking in your direction at the intrusion. Finding old Winston, a graying gentleman now, in his stall, you softly rub his muzzle as he blows warm air at your fingers. 

“All quiet here, old friend?” you ask in a low voice, and Winston snorts gently, lowering his head so that you can reach between his ears. 

“Only my ghosts, I guess,” you whisper, leaning your nose against his soft head as you scratch his forelock. He shifts his weight, putting his muzzle on your shoulder and nipping gently at your sweater. The stable is warm and comforting, the smell of horses familiar and safe, but after a few minutes you pull yourself away, giving Winston a final scratch. 

“I’d better get back before Frankie sends out a search party,” you say, giving him a final pat. 

The cold air makes you shiver as you close the stable door behind you and hurry up the street again. You almost don’t see him coming towards you, a tall man, wrapped in a heavy tan coat, but his boot scuffs against the street, making you look up as he passes under one of the street lights. He sees you, as you see him, stopping in his tracks and you freeze in place. There’s no mistaking him, he’s aged, his hair gray now, but it’s still Joel’s sharp eyes that meet yours. His expression grim as you look at each other for a beat, fear starting to coil in the pit of your belly. 

He glances at the side street, up towards the edge of town, and down at his boots, before he looks up at you again. 

“I’m leaving in the morning.” 

It’s all he says, turning and taking long strides up the street as you stand rooted to the spot, nausea creeping up your throat. 

… 

“Where have you been?” Frankie asks as you open the door to the community center, he’s just coming out of the hall, his coat on and yours in hand, “I was just about to go looking for you.” He notices your shivers and quickly holds out your coat for you, pulling it on and starting to rub his hands up and down your arms, “Why were you outside, what’s going on?” 

“Nothing, I just needed some air after I went to the bathroom,” you quickly lie, “I went down to the stables but I didn’t realize how cold it was until I was coming back.” 

“Crazy girl,” he smiles, “getting frostbites just to say hello to Winston, you spoil that horse.” 

“You know I have a soft spot for him,” you say, letting Frankie lead you back into the hall where the movie is still running. You’re glad for the darkness, standing in front of Frankie again as he keeps rubbing warmth back into your arms. Pretending to watch the movie your thoughts are in turmoil.

Joel is in Jackson. 

You glance over at Maria and see her looking at Tommy with an odd look, he’s standing a little bit in front of her, leaning against one of the wooden pillars, turned away from her. You can only see his profile, but he seems to have the same expression that you can feel on your face, watching the big white screen, but seeing nothing. As if he can feel your eyes on him, he turns his head and locks onto you. You should smile, pretend everything is fine, but you know Tommy knows Joel is in town, you can see it on his face, and Maria knows too. And you can’t hide your fear. 

Behind you Frankie laughs at something that happens in the film, his rumble vibrating against your back, and you tear your eyes away from Tommy and look at the screen. 

…

It’s late as you walk home with the rest of the movie goers, Jack almost stumbling on his feet, yawning widely. Frankie can sense that something is going on, but he says nothing. Instead he pulls you closer under his arm, holding on to Jack’s hand with his other. When you get home he sends you upstairs, giving your hip a squeeze. 

“Go to bed, I’ll lock up and make sure Jack gets to bed,” he says and you nod, kissing Jack goodnight. 

You’re tucked into bed, under the warm covers, but not even close to sleepy as Frankie comes into the bedroom and closes the door behind him. He pulls off his clothes as you watch him from the bed, and he pulls back the covers and climbs in next to you. 

“C’mere,” he mumbles, pulling you into him, both his arms encircling you as you tuck your face into the crook of his neck. His hand comes up to cup the back of your head, caressing you lightly and you can feel his lips pressed against the top of your head. 

“What’s going on, cariño?” he asks, running his hand up and down your back. 

“Joel’s in Jackson,” you say, and his hand goes still on your back. 

“Did you meet him?” Frankie pulls back a little so that he can see your face and you nod. 

“Just for a moment, on the main street. All he said was that he’s leaving tomorrow.” 

“So soon? He must’ve only gotten here today,” Frankie says, sounding surprised, “I heard some of the guys saying a couple of people had been picked up by Maria’s patrol today.” 

“Do you think Maria said he can’t stay?” you ask, “Could Tommy be leaving too? She was looking at him oddly at the movie, just before he left.” 

“Is that why you snuck out?” Frankie asks, “How did you know Joel was in town?” 

“I didn’t, I just got a weird feeling about Tommy leaving,” you reply. Frankie’s gone back to running his hand up and down your back as he furrows his brow, looking lost in thought. 

“With Maria pregnant, would he really leave her?” you ask, “Even if she said Joel had to go?” 

“If he does, leave her, I mean, Tommy’s not the man I thought he was,” Frankie shakes his head, “I can’t see him running out on his child, he’s been so happy about it.”

“If Joel really does leave tomorrow, then the rest is really between Tommy and Maria. And if Tommy leaves her…” you sigh, “then I guess we’ll have to help her anyway we can.” 

“I just can’t see him doing that,” Frankie shakes his head again, “not now, but who knows, if Joel’s back…I don’t know.” 

Frankie goes silent and you have nothing else to say, so you rest your head against his chest again, listening to his steady heartbeat. You’re almost asleep when Frankie presses a kiss to your head. 

“You don’t have to be scared of him, cariño, not now, I promise.” 

“I love you, Frankie,” you mumble and his arms tighten around you. 

“Love you too, hermosa.” 

… 

Joel really is gone the next day, you hear talk of him, but he’s nowhere to be seen. Tommy says nothing and you catch Maria avoiding your eye, but she says nothing either. You think Tommy realizes that you somehow know Joel was in town, but you don’t bring it up, and after a few weeks, the brief encounter with Joel almost seems like something you imagined. 

…

The winter drags on, the snow as thick as the first winter you spent in Jackson. When patrols snow in you find extra work learning how to repair everyday objects. It means you get to work with Frankie as he teaches you about wiring and welding. The first lamp you manage to rewire without his help brings you enormous satisfaction, but Frankie’s smile is worth more. 

“Proud of you, cariño,” he grins as you flick the switch back and forth, watching the lamp blink on and off. 

When the snow finally begins to melt, everyone is eager to get back to patrols, even the horses are unusually frisky. The first real chance to stretch out in a fast gallop makes them all take the bit between their teeth and run, thundering over the fresh spring grass as their riders whoop. As you all finally bring them to a halt, their sides lathering, stomping their hooves and snorting loudly, it feels like the winter is truly over even. 

Your first patrol of the spring is uneventful except for taking down three runners in the distance.

“Fuck,” Benny hollers, as your third shot takes down the third runner, “that’s three for three! You missed your calling as a sniper,” he laughs, scanning the clearing below you for more infected. 

“It’s a skill I never knew I had,” you grin, pulling back the bolt of the rifle and slotting in a new bullet. 

“Well, you had the best teacher of course,” Benny smirks as you both get to your feet, “I was always a better shot than Fish.” 

“Benny, you can take credit for my skills in hand to hand combat any time, but the shooting, that was Frankie,” you laugh. 

He just smirks again, swinging himself into the saddle, “Speaking of hand to hand combat, it’s been ages since we did any training, maybe we should get back to it? I know you and Fish are getting old, but that’s no reason to slack off.” 

“Who are you calling old?” you snort, “You’ve got more gray hair than I do!” 

“Pfft…it’s just the light,” he scoffs and you can’t help but laugh. Benny is still mostly blonde, the youngest of you all, whereas both Will and Frankie were more gray nowadays. Frankie’s patchy beard had started turning gray years ago and now none of his original chocolate brown color remained. 

The ride home is easy, you keep your eyes open and stay alert, but patrolling with Benny is always fun, his easy, golden retriever, energy hasn’t diminished with age. If anything, it’s more pronounced than ever with his daughter Lily. She’s inherited her mother’s ginger curls, but all of Benny’s energy and she runs the Miller household. At least for now.

“How’s Eve doing, one more month to go right?” you ask and Benny nods with a grin. 

“She’s huge, pissed off and hating it, but I’m being the perfect husband, she gets foot rubs every evening.” 

“Good man, Benny,” you laugh, “you’d better keep her happy.” 

“She’s been having the weirdest cravings,” he says, “Where the hell am I supposed to find Reese’s? Or Diet Coke?” 

“Try harder, Benny,” you grin and he gives you a mock scowl before breaking into another big smile. 

“She’s being a fucking champion though, I know she’s struggling, her back’s killing her, so I just try to make sure she can rest as much as she wants.” 

You hear horses behind you and you both turn to look at the approaching riders. You smile as you recognize Frankie’s cap, he’s returning with young Jesse. He’s just become old enough to go on patrols and has been going out regularly with you all to learn the ropes. 

“Hey, how was your patrol?” Benny calls as the two men get close. 

“Quiet, didn’t see anyone or anything,” Jesse says, “but we saw a whole herd of bison, should be good hunting tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, the herds are getting really big,” Benny says as they pull up their horses alongside you. Frankie rides close to you, putting his hand on your thigh and giving it a squeeze. 

“Hey, hermosa,” he mumbles and you lace your fingers between his. 

“Hey, honey,” you smile back at him. 

“Did you guys meet the new arrivals yet?” Jesse asks and you all shake your heads. 

“No, but I heard someone new turned up, yesterday right?” Benny asks. 

“Yeah, a man and his daughter, a teenager.” 

“Where’d they come from,” Frankie looks over at Jesse who waves in a vague way back up north. 

“Somewhere in Utah I think, Salt Lake maybe? But they’re staying up in that green house on McMill’s Lane.” 

“Almost neighbors then,” Benny says, “we’ll have to go and say hello.” 

…

You don’t make the connection, and neither does Frankie, and you don’t go to see your new neighbors straight away. So it’s not until you’re walking out from your house a few days later, Frankie just behind you, that you see them. 

You look up from opening the low gate onto the street as you hear footsteps approaching, and you see him. Joel, slowing down, eyes on you and Frankie, dropping behind the young teenage girl walking in front of him. His face is unreadable, apprehensive maybe, his fingers twitching by his side. You hear Frankie come up behind you and stop, waiting as Joel takes a few more steps down the street.  

The girl with him notices that Joel’s slowed down, “C’mon, I’m fucking starving,” she says, glancing back at him, but she follows his line of sight and spots Frankie and you by the side of the road. She looks between the two of you and then back at Joel, furrowing her brow. Joel picks up his pace again and comes towards you, passing the girl who’s stopped, still looking at between the three of you. 

The silence is awkward, Joel’s jaw ticks and you feel a shiver of fear run down your spine. But Frankie moves first, placing his hand on your lower back, a warm, steady presence, and takes a step forward, holding out his other hand towards Joel. 

“Good to see you, Joel, we didn’t know you were back in town.” 

“Good to see you too, Frankie,” Joel nods, shaking his hand, “We just got here a couple of days ago, been getting settled in.” He gestures back at the girl who’s still standing a few feet behind him, watching the exchange. 

“Hi, I’m Frankie,” Frankie says, giving the girl a wave and a smile, “this is my wife.” 

You give the girl a small wave and your name. You can’t wrap your head around Joel turning up with a teenage girl, you feel like you’re staring at her as much as at Joel. 

“Ellie,” she says, raising her hand in a short wave, stepping closer to Joel. “Can we please go, I really am starving.” 

“Yeah, sure, we’d better get going,” Joel hums, glancing up at you and meeting your eyes for a brief second. 

“Alright, we’ll see you around,” Frankie says, giving the girl a smile, “Nice meeting you too, Ellie.” 

The odd couple make their way down the street as you follow them with your eyes. 

“That was weird,” Frankie says, “Jesse said it was a man and his daughter, but she can’t be Joel’s daughter.” 

“Tommy didn’t say anything about Joel adopting a kid either, back in Boston,” you say as Frankie takes your hand and you start walking down the street, watching Joel and Ellie disappear down towards the community center, “Could she be Tess’s daughter?” 

“Tess didn’t have a daughter, at least not as far as I know,” Frankie shakes his head, “It’s a mystery, and I wonder, where’s Tess, if only Joel is here?” 

“Yeah, true,” you worry at your bottom lip and you feel Frankie glancing at you. 

“Don’t, cariño, don’t worry about him being back,” he says, gently stopping you by pulling on your hand and reaching up to tug your lip from between your teeth, “It won't be anything like before, I promise.” 

“I know Frankie, I trust you, it’s all different now,” you give him a weak smile, “I’m just worried what else he’ll bring.” 

“Let Maria handle him, Maria and Tommy, it’s his brother,” Frankie cups your cheek gently, smiling down at you, “it’s just you, Jack and me, that’s my team. Ok?” 

“Ok,” you reply, your fear dissipating a little and you smile back up at him. He gives your forehead a small peck and takes your hand again. 

“C’mon, then, let’s go find Jack before he accuses us of forgetting about this school play.” 

… 

You see Joel around town the next few days, usually with the teenager, Ellie, in tow. And when you see his name on the patrol schedule you realize they’re staying and the knot in your stomach grows again. You have so many questions, and they all lead back to the graying man who now seems to always hover at the corners of your mind. 

“Fuck it,” you mumble to yourself, turning around and walking back up the small street you live on, past your house, until you’re standing in front of Joel and Ellie’s front door. 

The teenager opens when you knock on the door, and she gives you a guarded smile as she lets you in. 

“Joel, someone here to see you,” she calls into the house, leading you into the kitchen, and you hear footsteps on the stairs. Joel stops in his tracks as he sees you standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, clearing his throat, fingers twitching again. 

“Hey,” is all he manages, giving you a nod before stepping into the kitchen, skirting around Ellie who’s looking between the two of you with a curious face.

“Hi,” you say, your earlier determination slipping away and you retreat to the kitchen counter, leaning against it, shoving your hands into the pockets of your jeans. 

“Uhhm…can I get you something to drink, we’ve got some elderflower cordial. Diana gave us some of her homemade,” 

“I’m fine, thanks,” you say, swallowing and glancing at Ellie who’s quirked her eyebrow and is looking at Joel with a smirk. 

“What’s going on?” she asks, “Why are you being so weird?” 

“Just being polite,” Joel grunts, yanking the fridge door open and pulling out a jug. 

“How do you know Joel?” Ellie asks, looking over at you, and you meet her curious eyes before looking back at Joel, wondering what he’ll say. But he’s busying himself with taking down two glasses from the cabinet, wiping one of them down with the dish cloth. 

“Frankie, my husband, and Joel used to work together back in Boston, years ago,” you say, “Will and Benny are Frankie’s best friends.” 

“Oh yeah, they gave us some stuff,” Ellie says pointing at the dry goods on the kitchen table. 

“Ellie,” Joel suddenly says, his voice gruff, “we’ve got some things to talk about, could you maybe go over and see if Eve needs help with something for a while.” 

“No, I want to know what’s going on,” she says, frowning at Joel, “Is this about what Maria said to you last night?” 

Joel’s eyes are on Ellie and he scowls, “You shouldn’t be eavesdropping on conversations that aren’t meant for you.” 

“Yeah well, talk quieter then,” Ellie scowls back at him and turns to you. “Maria said stuff had happened in Boston with Frankie and-”

“Ellie!” Joel snaps, “That’s none of your business, that’s between me, Frankie and her,” Joel motions to you, and it earns him another scowl from Ellie. 

“Maybe it is her business too, Joel,” you can’t help but speak up, “if she’s living with you, under your protection?” 

“Don’t.” Joel growls, “Don’t bring her into this.” His voice is low, a warning but you clench your jaw, meeting his dark eyes. 

“Like you brought Frankie into it?” you challenge and you see his jaw tick, his fingers wrapping hard around the glass in his hand. 

“Ellie,” he says, not taking his eyes off you, “go help Eve.”

“But I-” 

“Now.” 

Ellie glares at you, “You don’t know him,” she spits out, “you don’t know him at all and-” 

“Ellie, we’ll talk when you’re back,” Joel’s voice is almost pleading with the teenager now and she looks at him. There’s a silent communication between the two of them while they stare at each other, and then Ellie turns around and stomps out from the kitchen, throwing a final angry stare at you. 

The front door slams shut and Joel lets out a sigh. 

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he says, his voice still tight as he looks at you. 

“She’s awfully loyal to you it seems,” you reply, crossing your arms over your chest, “I can’t imagine what you did to earn that kind of trust.” 

“Long story,” Joel says, shaking his head, “Ain’t got nothin’ to do with Frankie and me.” 

“I don’t want you in Jackson, Joel,” you square your shoulders, spitting it out before you lose your nerve. “I’m grateful to you for helping us get away from Boston. But I don’t want you here.” 

“Well, you ain’t the only one it seems,” he replies, giving a twisted grin, “Maria made it very clear last night that I’m only welcome because of Tommy.” 

“I’m not telling you to leave,” you say, “You’re his brother, I wouldn’t do that to him, but he knows how I feel about you.” 

“Things have changed…” Joel begins but you cut him off. 

“You forget I lived with a drug addict for years, long before you came back into the picture. One of the first things Frankie taught me about his addiction was that you can never trust an addict. You’ll say things have changed but I can’t believe you.” 

You study Joel, he’s looking back at you, his fingers still twitching, but he meets your eyes with a steady gaze. 

“I don’t expect you too,” he says finally, nodding, “I can just tell you that things are different now,” he looks over at the door where Ellie disappeared, “She’s the reason things ain’t the same, I’m not the same.” 

His response makes you swallow your sharp retort, Joel’s face softens in a way you have never seen, his eyes still on the spot where the teenager just was. When he looks back at you some of the softness remains. 

“Why?” you ask simply, but he shakes his head. 

“It’s a long story, but I ain’t the same, not at all.”

The silence stretches out in the kitchen as you look at each other, Joel’s face doesn’t harden again, his fingers have stopped twitching, and you feel the knot in your stomach loosen a little. 

“I’m…I’m sorry about Frankie,” Joel finally says, sighing and leaning back against the counter, “I didn’t know then, I didn’t see it, how I affected him. And I’m sorry I sold him the pills. It ain’t no excuse, but you know I was using them just as much, and I just didn’t know he’d already been addicted before.” 

“If you bring drugs back into Jackson, Joel…” your voice is low in warning but Joel shakes his head before you even finish your sentence. 

“I won’t, I promise. Like I said, things are different now.”  He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest, mimicking your stance as you observe him. 

You want to believe him, he feels different, but you’re scared. Seeing him again has brought back dark memories of Frankie spiraling out of control, hearing the stories of what he did to others, seeing him passed out on the couch, his guilty, pained face as he left you, even when you asked him to stay. 

Santi. 

You drop your gaze to the toes of your boots, shaking your head. But Ellie’s scowl, her defense of him, the way Joel’s face softened when he thought about the girl, his daughter, it makes you doubt your initial thoughts. 

“Joel…” you say, inhaling slowly, making your mind up, “If you bring drugs here, if you fall back into who you were in Boston, if you bring out the worst in Frankie again….” you pause, looking at him, his face is open, nodding along to what you’re saying, “If your presence here begins to threaten my family…” 

He nods, understanding your underlying threat, and lets you continue. 

“I’ll trust you now, because of Ellie, she’s loyal to you, obviously fiercely loyal, and you must’ve done something to earn that.” 

Joel nods again, his shoulders dropping slightly, and you nod back, the silence stretching between you in the small kitchen as you fall silent.  

Eventually you clear your throat, your piece said, “I’ll see you around, probably tonight if you want to, Sunday dinner at Will and Diana’s, it’s tradition.” 

“Alright,” he replies, “we’ll be seein’ you then.” 

You push yourself off the kitchen counter and walk to the front door, you can hear Joel following you and as you put your hand on the handle he speaks up. 

“I…I just wanna say thanks, for givin’ me a chance,” he says and you give him a small crooked smile. 

“Don’t make me regret it, Joel.” 

“I won’t, I promise.” 

…

You tell Frankie about your conversation with Joel as he cleans up in the bathroom, getting ready to head over to Will and Diana’s for dinner. 

“That girl, Ellie, she seems to have changed him in some ways,” you say, sitting on the toilet seat as he dries off from his shower. It’s taking everything you’ve got to not reach out and trail your fingers through the soft hairs on his belly, the happy trail leading down to… You pull your eyes up to his face, meeting his smirk. 

“Am I distracting you?” he grins, bending down and tilting your chin up with his hand so that he can kiss you as you smile. 

“Always, especially when your dick is right in my face,” you chuckle, “But as I was saying, Ellie was ready to bite my head off for challenging Joel, she’s very loyal to him. He must’ve done something good to earn that kind of devotion, to be her father all of a sudden.” 

“Maybe he has changed, but he’s here now, we’ll just have to wait and see,” Frankie says, pulling on his boxers and then a clean t-shirt. “And cariño, try not to worry. I’m not worried for myself, I’m not the same man I was back then,” he sinks down on his haunches in front of you, cupping your face with both his hands, “You got me through it, you got me here, and with you and Jack in my life now, I’m the strongest I’ll ever be, he can’t get to me again,” he leans his forehead against yours, “Ok?” 

“Ok,” you breathe and he smiles, pressing his lips against yours. 

“Ok then, hermosa,” he whispers, “Let’s go over to Will’s before our son claims we’re starving him.” 

As if on cue you hear Jack shout from downstairs, “I’m hungry! Can we leave now? Please!” 

His dramatic outbreak makes you both giggle as Frankie stands up, pulling you to your feet, “Go calm the ravenous monster we’ve created,” he chuckles, “I’ll see you down there.” 

…

You can hear music from the back garden as the three of you approach Will and Diana’s house. During the warm summer months the Sunday dinner moves outside when the weather allows and tonight the air is balmy and soft. As you round the house and step into the garden you’re greeted by Diana bringing out a tray of meat to the barbecue. 

“Hi guys, right on time! Frankie, can you please bring this to Will, I need to get an extra cushion for Eve.” 

“Sure, I’ve got it,” Frankie says and takes the heavy tray from her. 

“Can I help you with anything, Diana?” you ask and she waves you into the house. 

“Yes please, that tray to the table please,” she says, but as the screen door closes behind the two of you she puts her hand on your arm. 

“Just so you know, Will invited Joel and the girl he arrived with, Ellie, tonight. I hope that’s ok with you and Frankie? Have you seen him yet?” 

“Yeah, I’ve talked to him, it’ll be fine,” you say, giving her a smile, “Or at least I hope it’ll be fine, he seems different, maybe he’s changed for the better.” 

“Ok, that’s good. And I hope you’re right, I haven’t had a chance to talk to him yet but I met Ellie in town earlier. She seems like a great kid, very protective of Joel, which surprised me.” 

“Yeah, me too,” you reply, glancing out at the garden. You can see Frankie by the barbecue with Will, Benny is kneeling next to Eve who’s on a sun lounger, Joel and Ellie haven’t arrived yet. “That’s what makes me believe him when he says things are different now, but he’ll have to prove it too.” 

“Alright, I’ll take my cues from you,” Diana says, “just let me know if you need our help to kick him out of Jackson if he misbehaves,” she gives you a wicked grin and it makes you laugh. 

“Thanks, I’ll let you know if it comes to that.” 

Diana grabs a tower of glasses and a large jug, “Come on then, lets get poor Eve something to drink, she’s so fed up with this baby now.” 

You pass out drinks to everyone, handing tall glasses to Will and Frankie before grabbing your own and standing next to the two men by the grill. Frankie’s hand drifts down to the small of your back and you lean into him, taking comfort in his presence, his warm body next to you and his hand slowly circling over your t-shirt. They’re talking about putting together a larger hunting party and culling the local bison herd once the young calves are old enough to be separated from their mothers. 

You listen to them with half an ear, waiting for Joel and Ellie to show up. You feel on edge, despite what you said to Diana, it’s as if you can’t relax before you’ve seen Frankie and Joel together. 

You spot them arriving with Tommy and Maria, Tommy proudly holding their month old baby boy in his arms. Joel comes in after Ellie, she’s looking shy, glancing around the garden but Jack spots her and runs over. You’d talked to him earlier about Ellie being new in town and asked him to look out for her, thinking it would be easier for her to talk to someone her own age, even though she looks to be a few years older than him. You smile as you see Jack wave her over to the table where Diana has set out drinks and popcorn as snacks while everyone waits on the meat to be done. Jack pours the elderflower cordial in two glasses and offers one to Ellie with a flourish that makes you stifle a giggle. 

“He’s quite the gentleman,” you hear Will chuckle and you look up to see both men watching the interaction, “you raised him well, Fish.” 

“I had to, or she’d never forgive me,” Frankie smiles, giving your hip a small squeeze. 

“I asked him to take care of Ellie,” you say, “it’s intimidating to turn up to a party where you know no one.” 

“He’s doing a great job,” Will says, turning back to the meat, “We’ve got about ten minutes until the meat is done I think.”

“I’m gonna go say hello to Joel,” Frankie says, “I haven’t had a chance to talk to him yet.” He drops a kiss on your cheek and walks over to where Joel is talking to Tommy, the baby now in Eve’s lap on the other side of the garden. 

You watch the two men shake hands as Tommy excuses himself, going over to Eve and Maria. 

“You’re worried,” Will says in a low voice, a statement rather than a question, and you pull your eyes from Frankie and look over at him. His steady blue gaze is on you as he lets the meat rest. 

“I guess,” you confess, “less than I was before, but…yeah…it’s hard seeing him with Frankie after all that happened.” 

“I talked to him, to Frankie I mean,” Will says, “he knows how worried you are, but he’s confident Joel can’t get to him like he used to. And I agree.” He smiles at you, a small quirk of his lips, “Frankie’s not the same, not at all, you know that too.” 

“I know, of course I know,” you sigh, “and Joel doesn’t seem to be the same either, but…you know…” you trail off, looking at Will who nods. 

“Give it time, if Joel has changed you have nothing to worry about. If he hasn’t changed, Frankie certainly has, and you have nothing to worry about either.” 

“Yeah, I know you’re right,” you say, looking back at Frankie and Joel. You can read Frankie’s body language better than anything, and he looks relaxed, an easy smile on his face as he says something to Joel and motions over at Jack and Ellie. Even Joel smiles as he looks at Ellie, busy trying to catch the popcorn Jack is tossing at her mouth. 

Maybe things really will be fine now. 

You sit next to Frankie at the dinner table, Joel and Ellie across but slightly to the side. The patio table, made for six, which once only saw you and Frankie, has been expanded to accommodate the large group now sitting around it, thirteen individuals, including the children. 

It’s incredible, you think, as you look around the table, how the community grows, how your extended family has grown. Even if you don’t count Joel and Ellie to that group, they’re still family to Will and Benny, and they’re your family. 

But as usual, at every Sunday dinner, the four of you all remember the people that are missing. It’s inevitable to see the three old friends from Delta Force together, and not touch upon the memory of Pope. It hurts less now, you can think about him, you and Frankie can even joke about him. And when you see Lily stick out her tongue to her dad, it reminds you of Lucía at the same age, as you look around the table, you miss the people who should be there too. 

Will raises his glass, as he usually does, and looks at Benny, Frankie and you, “To Pope,” he says with a smile and everyone raises their glasses, Joel too. Only Ellie looks confused but she drinks as everyone else drinks. 

“Alright, tuck in,” Will waves his hand over the spread and Jack dives for the fattest sausage with a happy yelp, making everyone laugh. 

Platters and bowls are passed around as plates are piled high and soon everyone is following Will’s orders and tucking in. 

“Who’s Pope?” Ellie asks around a mouthful of burger that she's carefully constructed, watching Jack build his own. “And this is like the tastiest thing ever,” she says, swallowing down her mouthful and taking another large bite. 

Your eyes flick up to Joel and you can sense the mood shift around the table, Maria and Tommy both glance over at you, Frankie’s hand falls onto your leg and Will clears his throat. But it’s Joel who speaks up. 

“Pope was an old friend, back in Boston,” he says, “Especially to Will, Ben and Frankie, they served in the army together before the outbreak.” He looks up at Frankie who’s got his eyes on his food, his thumb rubbing across your jeans. Ellie catches on to the tension and looks over at Joel. 

“What happened?” she asks, glancing between the three of you, this kid is clearly too perceptive for her own good, you think, just as Joel begins to answer. 

“He...he died. FEDRA in Boston executed him, I…fucked up something, it’s a long story, you don’t need to hear the whole thing.” 

“Maybe she does, Joel,” Maria suddenly says and from the corner of your eye you see Tommy grab her hand as if to stop her. 

“Why? What did you fuck up?” Ellie asks, still looking at Joel, and then Frankie and you.

“It doesn’t matter Ellie, not now,” Joel says, his voice sharper now, telling her to quit it. 

“Is that why she’s all weird around you?” Ellie plows on, nodding to you, ignoring Joel’s tone.

“Joel’s right, Ellie,” you say, “It doesn't matter now, we can put it behind us.” 

“But Maria said stuff had happened with Frankie and you and now his wife doesn’t want you here. Do you want him to leave too?” The last thing she says to you and you have to shake your head. 

“No, not now,” you reply, “But I admit, I didn’t want him here when he first came, because of what happened in Boston,” you look straight at Ellie, deciding it’s best to treat her as an adult, be honest with her. “Joel did things in Boston, you don’t need to know what, that made me not trust him, but I’m giving him a second chance.” 

Ellie meets your look with a steady look of her own, and you feel like you’re being evaluated by the teenager. 

“It’s ok, Ellie,” Joel says, “She’s looking out for her family, that’s all, and she’s right not to trust who I was in Boston.” 

“But you’ve changed and…”

“But she doesn’t know that, so for now, I need to earn back that trust.” His tone says ‘leave it’. 

Ellie looks up at him and he gives her a nod, his eyebrows raised and she seems to concede, looking back at her burger and taking another bite. 

Frankie’s hand is still on your jeans, grounding you, as you glance over at Jack. He’s looking at you, wide eyed and worried, his own burger forgotten. Frankie suddenly takes your hand, his long fingers wrapping around yours. 

“C’mon, family council,” he says softly, “Jack, c’mon, you too, son.” 

No one says anything as the three of you leave the table and walk around the side of the house, Frankie scooping Jack up into his arms even though he’s really too big to be carried by his dad anymore. He stops as you all reach the front porch, placing Jack down on the stairs. 

“C’mere, cariño,” Frankie pulls you down on the step just below the one he sits on, so that he can wrap one arm around you, and the other around Jack. 

“Jack, I know you don’t know what happened when we lived in Boston,” he says looking over at the young boy, “And you don’t need to know all the details, but I think you’re old enough to know the story at least.” 

Jack looks serious as he nods, and you wrap your arm around his waist, the other around Frankie so that you’re sitting in a little huddle on the porch stairs. 

“I used to be a soldier, Jack, before the outbreak,” Frankie says and Jack lights up. 

“You flew helicopters, I know!”

“Yeah, I did, exactly, but I did a lot of other things too, things that left bad marks on my mind, things that gave me nightmares and left me feeling like a bad person,” Frankie says and Jack nods along, listening intently.  

“I was very unhappy, until I had a daughter, your sister Lucía. She made me want to be a better person, and I managed to get past the bad thoughts.” 

“But you still have nightmares,” Jack says, his face worried, he’s been woken up on a few occasions by Frankie’s shouts, when you haven’t been able to calm him. 

“I do, I think I will probably always have them, but it was much worse back then,” Frankie strokes Jack’s head, calming the boy before he continues, “Lucía, she died when the outbreak happened, and…I almost died too, when I lost her, it broke my heart because I loved her so much.” 

Jack nods solemnly, he knows this part of the story, Frankie had told him not too long ago about Lucía. 

“And then we had to survive the first few years of this new world, and it wasn’t anything like Jackson,” Frankie continues, his hand starting to rub over your shoulder as he looks at you, “It was dangerous, and all the things I’d done as a soldier, all my nightmares and bad thoughts, they came back and I didn’t handle them very well.” 

“What did you do?” Jack asks and Frankie looks back at him, pulling him closer. 

“I started taking special types of pills, they’re a drug that makes you feel better at first, but soon they just make you feel worse than ever, but then I couldn’t stop taking them. And my nightmares got worse, and I wasn’t acting like myself. I was very angry and scared, I thought your mom would leave me, that she’d be fed up with my problems and not want to be with me anymore.” 

At this Jack looks over at you with a worried frown and you give him a reassuring smile.   

“I never, ever thought about leaving him, and I kept telling him, but he was so unhappy, so broken after all that had happened, that he didn’t believe that I would want to stay with him. He didn’t think he deserved me.” 

“It’s hard to explain, Jack, even now, but I thought that I was a really bad person, and that she’d be happier if she didn’t have to deal with my mess.” 

“But you’re not a bad person?” Jack says, looking up at Frankie who has to shake his head. 

“I’ve done bad things, Jack, both as a soldier, and afterwards, but I was having trouble understanding that it didn’t make me a bad person.”

“No, Jack, your dad isn’t a bad person,” you say, pulling both of them closer into your little huddle, “He never was, he just couldn’t handle all the bad things that happened to him in a very good way.” 

“And when we were in Boston, Joel was like me,” Frankie says, “He was angry and very unhappy, but he didn’t have someone like your mom to help him out of it. And when I worked with him, we weren’t good for each other, and together we did some very bad things…” Frankie trails off, looking at you, sighing deeply. 

“Jack, what I did…” he says eventually, looking back at the boy, “it led to my best friend dying and it makes me feel very bad, thinking about it. Before he died he told me it wasn’t my fault but I still feel like it was, I made terrible mistakes, and I miss him every day.” 

Frankie pauses and you pull him closer, pressing your cheek against his chest while Jack looks up at him.

“That’s what happened in Boston, Jack,” Frankie says and Jack nods, his eyebrows wrinkled as he thinks. 

“But you didn’t kill tio Santi?” he asks eventually and you answer before Frankie can. 

“No, he didn’t, not at all.” 

“But I feel guilty about it,” Frankie says, “it was my mistake that put him in danger.” 

“Are you ok now though?” Jack asks, “You still have nightmares.” 

“I’m fine now, Jack, even though I have nightmares sometimes, but your mom takes care of me when I have them, like she always takes care of me,” Frankie says and Jack smiles at you.  

“I just wanted you to know what happened in Boston, Jack, why we came to Jackson. I left all of that behind me when we came here, and it’s been a long time since then, do you understand?” 

Jack nods and Frankie tucks him into his side, the boy wrapping his arms around his dad’s waist and you smile up at the two of them. 

“C’mere, cariño,” Frankie mumbles, nudging your chin up with his free hand and bending down to you. His lips are soft and he smells of wood smoke and barbecue when he kisses you. It’s a small, gentle press, his scruffy mustache tickling your mouth, you can feel his smile and you cup your hand around his neck, holding him close. 

Jack makes a retching noise next to you, burying his face in Frankie’s t-shirt. 

“Ewww, gross!”

THE END

That's it, end of the story after wrapping it up with Tommy, Joel and Ellie arriving in Jackson too (of course). I'm relieved and drained, so ready to shoot this out into to space and start something new, to change perspective. It's been incredible writing this story and having all your feedback some at me every time I post a new chapter and I can't thank you enough (again).

Love you all!

Taglist: @pimosworld @i-own-loki @casa-boiardi @littlenosoul @stormseyer @mxtokko @javicstories @nunya7394 @welcometothepedroverse @harriedandharassed @meveispunk @hiroikegawa @jwritesfanfics @vickie5446 @your-slutty-gf

[dimespin]

What the heck even was that illness that took out Pens whole family? To take out so many adults and wreck havoc on the survivors it must have been something terrible

I was thinking something akin to hantavirus, but new to the species at the time. Something with low to no transmission rates Saratoan to Saratoan so those who had it were infected by exposure to the host animal the disease came from (thus why it completely skipped everyone too young to work, the infection vector was on the farms they worked on) with initial flu like symptoms that would be easy to write off at first

Part of why it was as bad as it was for them was bad luck and outside factors.

For one, small group so it didn't take as high a ratio to leave few survivors - his family was smaller than others because his mother and grandmother had both had few children but his grandmother had several siblings, so more than half the adults in the house were elderly which didn't help their survival chances either. The ratio was a little less catastrophic among young and middle age adults overall, his house just didn't have a ton of those.

The majority of the household's internal culture being over 100 meant the tendency for them to remember earlier medical eras and the choice to try and handle things with natural remedies went unchallenged, leading to seeking outside help only when things were already extremely bad and it was already too late for a lot of them.

One other adult living in the house who was close to his age survived and recovered completely like he did but it was his sister's partner, so not an actual relative. She made her recovery in her birth family's home and just never came back so she wasn't there for the aftermath so he generally kinda forgets to mention her. He doesn't blame her or anything, just considers it an extraneous detail, like how he doesn't mention his brother either when telling the story.

But that does mean the disease's kill rate was a little less intense than advertised. Still pretty intense though.

[cemeterything]

we want to know about your near death experiences, please tell us of your near death experiences

erm. gonna put them under a cut in case it's too much for anyone lol (since it's kinda personal, i'm not going to pull my punches in describing how i felt, and i know not everyone's comfortable with discussions of death and near-death)

- took nearly 3 days to be born because my mom refused a cesarean and was nearly a month premature. don't know if this one counts because i was a baby but apparently they were pretty worried about my chances of survival towards the end and when i was born i was sickly and in a lot of pain for months.

- fell down the stairs multiple times when i was a kid, suffered several concussions and fractures and developed vertigo that gave me a phobia of heights i eventually grew out of. again not sure if this counts since i barely remember it but i do remember the feeling of cracking my head once and boy it's not fun. it's like cracking an egg but the egg is your skull. also remember having a lot of dreams of jumping off the top of the stairs and my consciousness separating from my body and watching it fall because of this.

- nearly drowned because i swam too far out to sea on holiday and got caught up in a massive tidal wave (it was the baltic sea in poland, on a very windy day, and i was 8 years old and an idiot). i'd just accepted that i was going to die stuck in this current i couldn't escape and given up on being afraid, embracing the cold dark tidal embrace of death, when the wave very gently set me down in the shallows and i was so at peace that i almost forgot to sit up and breathe. left a big impression in me. i did not tell my parents what happened because i was okay with it and didn't want to upset them or deal with them fussing over me or giving me hell for taking stupid risks when i didn't need it.

- got hit by a car on my bike and flipped over the hood. was fine except for bruises and scrapes but while in the air briefly freaked out and thought i could see a halo of fire around the driver's head (probably the sun shining through the rear window).

- nearly died of dehydration while infected with a very nasty bout of flu that kept me in bed for 2 months straight. i passed out on the floor of my kitchen while trying to lift a cup to pour myself a drink and would have probably at the very least ended up with severe complications if my cat hadn't wailed over my body until my mom woke up and found me lying there. while passed out i had this horrible nightmare that i was god reincarnated in a mortal body and got really upset because i didn't want to be responsible for the entirety of humanity because it was too much and i was only 15. was extremely relieved when my mom revived me and explained that i was just really fucking sick. ended up in hospital with an iv in my arm to prevent my body from shutting down on itself until the flu burned out enough for my own organs to stop fighting me.

- tombstoned off the lighthouse in the bay with some sort of friends and very fucking narrowly missed a shelf of rock that would have shattered me to pieces if i hadn't twisted out of the way moments earlier. as it rushed towards me i very much saw my life up to that point flash before my eyes and was really disappointed by how little i'd done with it. didn't actually do much about it for a while though because i was a depressed unmedicated teenager in a bad living situation. pretty sure that kid would be amazed by how far i've come since then though.

- pretty sure i only survived a bus crash because moments before it happened i felt this urge to stand up and did. if i hadn't my head would have gone through this metal bar on top of the seats and my neck probably would have been broken.

- got lost in a woodland area by google maps once and got so dehydrated from the heat and blood loss (due to trying to cut through thorn bushes when i got desperate enough to get scared) that i started hallucinating this shimmery figure i couldn't look at directly following me and chasing me every time i started to give up (somehow i just knew that letting them touch me would be very bad, but they didn't feel malevolent? i was scared but i didn't get the impression that they wanted to hurt me, just that it would be a consequence of letting them touch me). got rescued because i screamed so loud that some passing hikers heard and went in and pulled me out of there. again not sure if this one counts as near death but i was wandering in there for hours and felt like i was going to die.

[ghostradiodylan]

Do you have any headcanons for how the hacketteers would deal with being sick? Maybe how often they get sick, what type of illnesses they are prone to, etc….

Way behind on Quarry asks but I am home sick with some kind of crud right now so what better time to answer this one?!

Emma - Emma is a people person and always on the go, so she's exposed to a lot of germs. I feel like she'd be the one to get into juicing and making smoothies for immune health and the 'sexy' supplements like Moon Juice or whatever Gwyneth Paltrow is selling (but nobody’s sure if she really buys into them or if she’s just trying to get a sponsorship). Emma has a system for any kind of normal illness that doesn't completely knock her on her ass and that is to take a very hot bath with peppermint and eucalyptus bath salts and drink a hot toddy while she's in there. (Just the one, she doesn't want to drown!)

Jacob - This guy gets the dreaded Man Cold and is the sickest person who has ever lived. He doesn't get sick often because he's fairly health conscious, but he's absolutely pathetic and mopey about it when he does. He wants to be babied because his perfect male specimen of a body and extensive supplement regimen have betrayed him. He hates going to the doctor and puts it off until someone makes him go. Kaitlyn brings him soup and yells at him (affectionately) to stop being pathetic. He drinks a ton of Gatorade when he's sick (always Cool Blue flavor).

Kaitlyn - Look, Kaitlyn's Asian and her family was wearing masks during cold and flu season long before it was cool. She doesn't totally buy into the traditional Chinese medicine stuff but she does believe in the healing power of food that's spicy as fuck, especially if she's having sinus issues. She's also a fan of long, hot baths or showers, chicken soup with a ton of garlic, drinking a bunch of tea with lemon and ginger, the sauna at the gym, exercising even if she doesn't feel like it, hot yoga, and acupuncture. If that doesn't knock it out, she's not too stubborn to go to the doctor, people like that (who have insurance but don’t use it) drive her crazy (Jacob!).

Abi - If something is going around, Abi just knows she's going to get it. She’s a worrier and a bit of a catastrophizer when she does get sick. She's a hand sanitizer addict, she's got those cute sparkly holders from Bath & Body Works (but she uses the Halloween ones all year). She's good about letting herself take time to rest and get her strength back after an illness though. She likes to catch up on trash TV while she's recuperating. She also gets allergy shots because her environmental allergies are insane. She uses a neti pot or saline spray often to ward off sinus infections.

Ryan - Our stoic boy is stoic. Ryan takes all the necessary precautions to not get sick, he's kind of an obsessive hand-washer for sensory reasons anyway, but when he does, he follows doctors' recommendations to the letter and rarely complains. He will typically muddle through like normal if he's not got something contagious, but if he has to take time off work or school, he doesn't really talk about it or look to be cared for, just holes up in his room alone trying to not spread it around--he is very conscientious. Ryan gets the occasional migraine and that's one thing he can't really muddle through. He has to be in a quiet, dark room to recover, with an ice pack on his head, a caffeinated beverage, and a guided meditation podcast.

Dylan - People love to make our boy a damsel in distress because he's a cute gay string bean that bad things happen to, but Dylan is pretty tough in the game (like, unrealistically tough at times). I tend to consider his amputee arc as main canon, so given the assumption that he doesn't die of sepsis after surviving werewolves, he's got to have a pretty robust immune system and probably doesn't get sick that often. He does have that whole under-react/overreact thing going on though (the air freshener lol), so I imagine that when he does get sick, he either just carries on until he physically can't anymore (he'd wear a mask and get vaccinated and all that good stuff, he's a scientist after all, but he’s bad about making sure he gets rest) OR he starts Googling his symptoms and getting paranoid, convinced he has some rare incurable disease (he doesn't). He also doesn't really like to slow down and let people take care of him but when they really insist, he not-so-secretly loves the attention, from his mom, his boyfriend, his roommate/bestie, whoever.

Nick - Nick turns into a slimy wet sex pest whenever he gets sick. No, I’m kidding. I think it’d be funny/ironic/unfortunate if chef Nick had kind of a sensitive digestive system. He will eat anything, especially if Jacob is eating it. But, alas, Jacob has an iron stomach and our poor Nicholas does not. So he gets a lot of tummy troubles from doing things like eating 20 year old snacks or trying to go head to head with Jacob and Kaitlyn in a spicy ramen challenge. Nick gets sick a regular amount with stuff like head colds and is just kind of middle of the road as far as how he handles it. He does however have a habit of making up untrue facts about Australia that he tells his coworkers and campers when no one has the internet available to fact check him and one of them is that a steaming mug of hot pickle juice is a favorite folk remedy for colds there.

Max - he doesn’t get sick often but he is highly accident-prone. Like, so accident-prone that his family has started calling them ‘Maxidents’ when he has a major mishap. He routinely falls off ladders, gets attacked by migratory waterfowl, trips while trying to carry more groceries than he should into the apartment, etc. Max is luckily a very good patient because he has a lot of practice. He also has a lot of ice packs in the freezer at all times.

Laura - she gets onto Max about being careful, getting enough sleep, eating healthy, etc, but Laura is a do as I say, not as I do kinda gal. She does try to be healthy and active but she’s really busy (busier than ever post-canon because she thinks she can outrun trauma if she never slows down long enough to think about it). When Laura gets sick she gets Leslie Knope sick.

Max has to put her in bed and take care of her because she will not admit she needs it until she is practically on death’s door.

[banes-favourite]

How often do you think Gortash got sick(as in caught a cold or flu or something) as a child? Did his parents treat him the same as they would any other day or were they a bit less harsh or even possibly more harsh on him when he was sick?

Do you think he ever had the misfortune of getting sick while in the House of Hope? I imagine there's also the possibility of him getting sick while in the House of Hope due to a wound getting infected while it was healing since the cells don't look like they'd be kept that clean

Also just as a bonus durgetash thing: Imagine Gortash getting sick during the time he was working with Durge, and Durge attempts to take care of him. Maybe even going as far as making him something like some sort of dwarf-meat stew to attempt to get him to eat(I specified dwarf meat because in-game it seems to be mentioned as Durge's favourite, and it's just kind of cute to imagine Durge trying to feed Gortash something made using their favourite food in order to make him feel better). No idea if Gortash would willingly eat it, but maybe Durge doesn't tell him what's in it until afterwards or he's either sick enough or feels so touched by the effort Durge put in that he eats it even if normally he wouldn't want to

(cw for injury)

Hmm I think he would have been a relatively sickly child tbh, and his parents would do the bare minimum to help just so they wouldn't lose the help around the shop. Once he gets older though, he learns not to bother them when it happens because all he'll get is yelled at for 'allowing himself to get sick in the first place' so he just learns to tough it out. It does strengthen his immune system tho.

But you're right, I imagine although they mostly inflicted brute force type abuse on him, there were quite a lot of open wounds on his body, especially his face. One of them was bound to get infected eventually because yeah I doubt the slaves' personal hygiene was a priority. I think he got sick from them like twice during his time there, the first time wasn't quite so bad, a cut on his cheek got infected and he was swollen like a squirrel for like a week. Thankfully he got over that one on his own.

But it's hard to imagine he was always lucky. I think the second time would have happened when he was around 13 and it got bad. Nubaldin thought it funny to test a new knife on him and he cut a pretty big gash on his leg. It definitely needed stitches so Gortash managed to do them himself with some rusty ass needle and thread he found and honestly if he hadn't, his muscles would have stretched out dangerously just from his walking around. Obviously though the wound got infected so badly that only a few days later he was feeling tired, throwing up, couldn't breathe or speak or get out of bed. He developed sepsis and spent like two full days unable to do anything but rot helplessly in his cell, skin pale as fuck, cold to the touch even if he was in literal Avernus, fighting for his very life. Honestly if Raphael hadn't found him and healed him, he would have died. (adding to his twisted view of his abuser bc he was soo grateful to him). After that he took extra care of his open wounds.

I love the durgetash idea, your brain is huge. Durge 100% would make him a dwarf soup just to laugh at his expression when he told him afterwards. Unfortunately for him, a very sick and tired-of-his-shit Gortash would just thank him and comment that it wasn't as bad as he'd thought. Then Durge would tell him to fuck off as he drapes a blanket over him and brings him a hot coffee and threatens to gut him if he doesn't get at least 7 hours of sleep.

[theamityelf]

I enjoy calamity and details too much so I have to ask RE: your Undead Hope’s Peak AU… do you think Makoto and Komaeda would suffer SOME sort of side effects to being constantly exposed to the zombie virus? At the very least I can’t imagine either of them were able to be as vigilant on caring for themselves as they could be, especially being surrounded and essentially drenched in blood, rot, and death. If the virus was ever reversed, I have to wonder if that wouldn’t be the greatest time for both Makoto and Komaeda’s bodies to tap out and get some rest whether either of them volunteered or not lmao. Also judging by how awful the reserve course is getting the brunt of things I can’t imagine vengeance isn’t close at hand for them. This could end up causing the reserve course despair attack without Junko’s influence.

To your first point, I can definitely see them at the very least getting sick pretty regularly. They try to keep the room and their classmates as clean as possible, but yeah, the amount of stuff they're exposed to and the amount of times they get bitten and maybe forget to bandage it until later or just are too busy for a while, at the very least some of those bites get super infected with just regular pathogens. These guys have unbandaged bites while bathing with a bunch of undead people; I think at the very least, they feel sick.

I'd say one plausible way that the undead virus could affect them is that they develop a higher tolerance for those blood and meat smells. By which I only mean their disgust instincts are decreased, but they will still have a physical reaction if they're exposed for too long. So being around all that decay will still make them physically ill, but they won't feel the disgust leading up to it, so they won't know to be as vigilant as they need to be.

The smell of rotten meat doesn't bother them all that much anymore, but they will still vomit if they're in the room with a lot of it for very long. And they will still get sick if they're handling something that carries disease.

Their immune systems are definitely in a bad place on the basis of exposure, diet, and not getting enough quality rest, so they'd also be getting regular colds and stuff pretty often.

(If we wanted to, we could definitely also say that the undead virus that they're immune to, the regular infection in the bites, and whatever regular cold or flu they might come down with, end up mixing together and create whole new cultures of disease.)

To your point about the reserve course, I think Hajime could even be the catalyst for that. Maybe the reserve course didn't know that any of the lucksters were setting traps for them, because those who found out were already caught in the traps and so never got to tell anyone before they got eaten. Maybe Hajime is the first to make it back to the others with news of having been caught in an actual human trap to be fed to the main course.

I'm thinking, before that point, they didn't feel slighted by anyone in particular; they just felt like they got caught up in a zombie apocalypse, like in the movies, and it's no one's fault; just bad luck. They felt the faculty had no choice but to lock them here, since the disease had spread so much, and now they just have to survive until there's a cure. Maybe it occurred to some of them that they were here to be food for the undead, but those people were treated as conspiracy theorists. Hope's Peak may have its faults, but they wouldn't feed students to anyone. They just weren't evacuated in time, and the school had to barricade the campus so none of the undead could get out and hurt way more people.

But then Hajime gets back with news that there are human main course students setting traps to feed the talentless to the Ultimates, and that even the nice luckster who protected Hajime from such a fate is just being used by the school to take care of the Ultimates, and that causes an uproar. They realize they're being sacrificed, and they want to fight back.

Maybe they want to attack the undead, but more likely they want to charge the barricades and escape. They refuse to be the school's disposable sacrifices, even if it means the undead are able to leave the campus and infect more people outside.

[17snifflesandsnzes]

🤒😔🤝

For Woozi, maybe? Pretty please 🥰

If you have time I'd love to see 🗒 too, but no pressure 😇

Thank u

-🐮

Hi! I just did small descriptions for this bcuz that's what everyone was doing, but I hope you like it!! 💕

🤒: How often do they get sick? What kinds of illnesses do they tend to get most often? Colds, flu, sinus infections, stomach viruses?

🤝: Do they like to be taken care of when they’re not feeling well? Or do they hate it when people fuss over them? If they do, what’s their favorite thing about being taken care of? If not, why don’t they like being taken care of? How bad would they have to be before they’d let anyone take care of them in any capacity?

😔: What are their “tells” when they’re not feeling their best? Do they sleep more or less? Do they become easily irritated, aggressive, snap at little things? Or do they withdraw and become quieter, cry at the drop of a hat, stay in the background? What’s the one surefire way that one of their loved ones would be able to tell that they’re sick?

📝: Quick! Come up with a scenario for them! It doesn’t have to be anything fancy, just something you think would be cute or something you’d like to see with them!

Lee Jihoon (Woozi):

🤒: Jihoon gets sick at least every comeback. It's mainly bcuz during comeback season, he starts neglecting his health and locks himself up in his studio, which causes him to usually get sick. He usually gets a lot of colds, but his symptoms are worse. He'll usually get a moderately high fever with a cold.

🤝: Jihoon absolutely hates anyone fussing over him when he's sick. He just doesn't like to appear weak in front of his members. He also doesn't like people fussing over him for something so insignificant like getting sick. But if he has a high fever, he'll be incapable of working anyway, and if someone catches him like that, he'll be more willing to be taken care of.

😔: One of Jihoon's tells when he's getting sick is definitely how snappish he'll be. He'd get angry at whoever's trying to get him to rest and get infinitely more stressed about everything. He'll also lock himself up in his studio to avoid having to talk to his members. This is exactly when the members know that Jihoon's sick.

📝: Something I think about often is Jihoon getting sick during Nana Tour. In Italy, he won't have anywhere to hide, and with all his members there, I think he'd actually let himself be cared for. Mainly because Nana Tour made him more open as a person, I think if he caught a cold after the "hot-air balloon," he would actually let Mingyu or Soonyoung take care of him.

I hope you liked this!! Feel free to request more, this was really fun!! 🫶

[makoodles]

I wonder what the Navi would think of humans getting their yearly shots or when they get sick with a flu or something.

I mean, they're on Pandora and all, the diseases are clearly different and even more so when they're two totally different species.

But, I can't help but think of the Navi, both forest and sea, panicking because their favourite human has the flu and looks like a dying little animal and nothing they know helps them feel better.

And worst of all, for them to have a dying creature curl into a ball is the worst thing that can happen, and well when a human is feeling sick it's not uncommon for them to curl into a ball to rest.

I'm just saying, all hell would really break loose… only to have it all get better with a shot, some hot soup and a piece of candy (you know, the kind they give you after you've been brave enough for the injection).

this ask is well timed because i have a bad kidney infection right now and i just want a ten foot tall blue alien to take care of me 😭 is that too much to ask?!

fr tho they would be so funny. not only are the na'vi physically tough, but their immune systems are pretty damn impressive as well. it would be rare for them to suffer ailments like the common cold, so it would definitely cause a bit of a stir for them.

if you bring them with you while you're getting your shot, they're going to be so annoying. you'll have to hold their hand to soothe them as you get your shot, because they'll fully be ready to fight the damn nurse. overbearing, yes. adorable, also yes. they just want you to be healthy!

i don't even wanna think how they'd react if you had something serious tho (eg blood in the urine, v on topic for me rn). they'll go apeshit

[tamiisnthere]

The Hunters Headcanons! ♡( ◡‿◡ )

I just wanted to write something about these two hoodie bastards that I adore. 🥰 Again, sorry for my bad english and cringe. 😅

Enjoy! 💗

Both Hunters' names are unknown. That's why they are both labeled as L4D1 Hunter and L4D2 Hunter.

L4D2 Hunter is one and a half years older than L4D1 Hunter. Surprisingly, L4D1 Hunter is more dominant and egotistical. On the other hand, L4D2 Hunter is more aggressive and powerful. Despite this, they still take care of themselves and always protect each other.

Before the outbreak of the Green Flu virus, the brothers lived in a small apartment in Fairfield, Pennsylvania and worked at a local shoe store.

Three days before the apocalypse, L4D2 Hunter went on vacation to Savannah, Georgia, while his younger brother continued to work.

When the outbreak began, L4D1 Hunter was barricaded in his suite with supplies for two weeks. Later, one infected person got to him and bit him. L4D1 Hunter immediately shot him down, but a few minutes later he felt the pain of mutating and losing control, stormed out and began his first hunt.

L4D2 Hunter became infected a few weeks later. When he found out what happened at home, he was worried about his brother. He tried to return home, but unfortunately the airport wouldn't let him fly back to Pennsylvania. Later, the virus made its way to Savannah. He waited frustrated in the quarantine where one of the patients was infected with Green Flu and bit him. Soon a horde appeared and chased him until finally he started to mutate and fought against them and he was the last one alive. During the fight, he lost his shoes and had torn clothes.

The two brothers reunited in Rayford Port when they chased down both groups of the survivors. Somehow they managed to recognize each other and together they began to chase the second group of survivors to New Orleans, where their fates remained unknown.

Their interactions with other Special Infected are unpredictable. Both hate Jockey's maniacal laughter that scares their animal prey. L4D1 Hunter goes best with L4D1 Smoker and L4D1 Boomer, while L4D2 Hunter gets along with L4D2 Smoker, Charger and Witch. But when it comes to food, they fight over it. The brother are afraid of Tanks and try to avoid them and their fury.

The Hunter Brothers consider other Hunters who befriend their prey to be traitors.

Of course, their main enemies are the Survivors, whom they like to chase. They hate Francis and Nick the most.

Calling them "scavengers" is a bigger insult to them than Francis calling them "wussies".

The Hunters Brothers are constantly cursing. A lot. And not very pretty…

L4D1 Hunter prefers cooler climates, while L4D2 Hunter prefers warmer climates.

They always hunt together, thanks to which they have more success. Of course, they also hunt for fun, like trolling survivors and other infected. Their favorite prey are lone survivors, deers and pigeons.

When they are bored and there are no survivors or animals around, they will annoy common infected or Smokers.

They rarely collect roadkills when there is a shortage of prey around, but it's mostly boring because they love the thrill of the chase.

Despite the fact that they are zombies, at least they have preserved some humanity, as for example they will not allow themselves to kill a child and a baby animal. Even they have a soft spot for cats and turtles.

Like cats, they have an addiction to catnip, which makes them relaxed and non-aggressive.

Sometimes they don't recognize their reflection in the mirror and start growling and hissing thinking it's an intruder. After a few minutes of growling and screeching, they realize it's themselves.

They despise lemons. Mainly the acidity and the smell.

They both adore do parkour (dah) and love to watch slasher horror movies.

L4D2 Hunter listens to Midnight Riders and jazz music. L4D1 Hunter prefers classical music.

L4D1 Hunter is secretly a bit of a romantic. He cries at romantic movies realizing he is forever alone.

They are big fans of Assassin's Creed and were inspired to do parkour tricks of assassins. L4D1 Hunter is an Altaïr fan and L4D2 Hunter is an Ezio fan (Fun fact: AC2 and L4D2 were released on the same date, November 17th 2009).

If those two had Tiktok, they would do challenges that would be impossible or even dangerous for humans. This is not to make them famous, but to make it easier for them to get prey due to human stupidity. Well, later they are banned from the platform.

The Hunter Brothers sleep next to each other in various random places: on the bed, on the closet, in the box, just anywhere that is comfortable.

[jedifarmerr]

Pepper Sprout (mini-series)

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader/OFC (no physical description, established backstory & personality.)

Premise: Set after the events of the Last of Us Part 1, Joel befriends, then slowly falls in love with Ellie’s teacher.

Rating: E for future chapters (18+ blog)

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: some violence at the beginning (guns and blood), language, a tiny amount of drinking, and ambiguous age gap. This is pretty tame...for now.

A/N: Hello! I thought of this series a few months ago while playing the game and I am seriously so excited to finally be sharing it. Currently, this is shaping up to be around 5 or 6 parts? This will include some spoilers (the ending) of The Last of Us Part 1. Reader is related to a character from the Last of Us Part 2, but it's a faceless NPC.

Part 1

The air stunk of dry-rot wood, spoiled food, and flesh. He could practically taste it as if it was sitting on his tongue like a wet fuzzy sock. 

Joel was hanging back by the host stand, scanning from salad bar to sundae bar. Finger hovering over the trigger. This fight wasn’t over. 

Not yet, anyway. 

He’d dealt with enough infected over the years to know that in a horde of this size there would always be an aftershock. Just waiting and watching; somewhere out there - lingering. 

But where? 

This Golden Corral was a buffet of Cordyceps. A goddamn petri dish. The floor was covered almost entirely in torpor corpses; a dusty gray with sprinkles of crimson from those freshly slain. Florid fungus cobwebbed itself to the walls. 

A crack of glass – a screech – echoed throughout the restaurant. 

Joel whirled around. Just as the kitchen doors burst open and out flung a spider-crawling stalker. Bingo. Joel jerked his gun, aiming right between its jaundice eyes. The barrel kicked back with a bang, and blew straight through its moldy brain. 

Splat. 

Its head broke into tiny bits and pieces; blood gushing from the severed neck. 

Never one to be too careful, Joel waited a long minute before slinging the shotgun around his back, calling it. 

He took a step and immediately winced. His knees were inflamed to the point he could hardly walk. Hobbling to the nearest chair that wasn’t wrapped up in bone-dry veins, he slumped down. 

“That was too damn close,” he grumbled at Tommy as he went on massaging his achy joints. Despite the cool weather, he was drenched in sweat. His shirt was completely ruined – soaked through and through with guts. 

So much for a day off, and one he could’ve really used. He was completely exhausted. Running on pure adrenaline, and one too many shitty cups of coffee. 

The last three weeks had been intense with fall officially here, and the infected beginning their official migration north for winter. 

Tommy swaggered over. “11…12…13. 13 of those fuckers, and look at that - barely a scratch. Shit, that’s gotta be some kinda record.” He brought a hand down on Joel’s shoulder and squeezed. 

Even with blood smeared along his brow and sweat-greased back hair, Tommy looked unfazed. He actually appeared elated, reveling at the carnage and their ultimate victory. 

And fine. Joel could at least admit this was a pretty solid win. 

Too bad the bodies still needed to be searched, and god - he was so desperate to get out of here. He gave himself ten second of rest before forcing himself back onto his feet. 

“Mike’s gonna be sorry he missed it.” Tommy crouched beside a clicker with a shiv sticking out of its neck. He wiggled the handle loose, and blood oozed from the wound. 

But hey - at least the blade was still intact. 

“Yeah, right,” Joel scoffed. “That guy owes us big time - that’s for damn sure,” he reiterated for the dozenth time that day. 

It was a Tuesday, meaning the on duty patrol for this route was Mike and Eugene. Now, Eugene was actually sick with a nasty case of the flu. So, he could slide, but Mike. Hell no. His excuse was, now get this - his ankle was bothering him. 

His goddamn ankle. 

While it was probably an old injury flaring up from days of chilly rain, the guy decided it exempted him from the patrol, reciting some bullshit he’d memorized from the handbook. 

Seriously, who wastes their time reading that? 

Section four of protocol states…blah blah blah. What a fucking nerd. Joel couldn’t stand him before, and this definitely didn’t help. 

“Lucky for you, he won’t be joining us for dinner,” Tommy said, as he jingled a few shotgun shells loose from the last in his pile. “Ellie did tell you who’s coming, right?” 

Joel flicked his tongue over his lips, and chuckled under his breath. Man, he really should’ve seen that one coming because knowing Tommy: he’d been waiting all day for the chance to slip her in. 

Maria and Tommy had been playing cupid, and recently landed on a new target. 

Mike’s younger sister, who just so happened to be Ellie’s teacher, and also, a family-friend of Maria’s. It was all a very twisty hodunk small town over here. 

“She sure did,” Joel stated. Matter-of-fact. He couldn’t feed the beast, or else it would never end. 

Joel checked over the last runner, and pocketed a travel-size bottle of hand sanitizer. Some good that did them. 

“And you’re cool with that?” Tommy trailed over to the busted window they came in from. His eyes wide and bright and full of ulterior-motives. 

Joel curtly nodded befor climbing on through. 

“Guessin’ you would be.” Tommy tapped his fingers against the gun at his side. Joel stared down the end of the street at the McDonald’s; the horses were safely holed up in the Playplace: tied to a support beam for the windy slide. “Thought I remember, you saying you liked her, like as a person.” 

“I barely know her,” Joel shot the conversation dead. 

He was just telling the truth. The bulk of what he knew came from Tommy and Ellie and whatever people around town said. Always good things. She was like this patron saint of Jackson. Mother fucking Teresa.

And who knows? Maybe she was. Joel had hung out with her a whopping three times: two of which ended up being a complete mess. The first one had ended with her doubled over and hurling outside the Tipsy Bison, choking and gagging out apology after apology. She was a lightweight and supposedly, too much sugar made her sick.

Anyway – 

Then, came meet-the-teacher night where he took his turn making a complete ass of himself. It’d been fine until Ellie upped and left to use the bathroom and alone – it was painfully awkward. He’d take the piss for that one. Small talk and pleasantries were never really his forte. 

“Well, I’m not gonna say she would be interested, but-”

“Okay, Tommy,” Joel scrubbed a hand down his face and sighed. “I know where you’re going with this, so before you go on and get any ideas. It’s still a no.” 

Tommy’s expression dipped into a frown. “But what about -” 

Joel held up his hand. “I appreciate it, but I’m just not interested,” Joel let him down easily, but the assurance in his tone left little room for an argument. 

Tommy opened his mouth, but quickly clamped it shut. He huffed – defeated. Once again. That was his fifth reject; one for every month Joel had lived here. 

Despite the outcome always being the same, Tommy just kept trying. No. No. No. Not even a maybe. Not once. Joel had made his stance pretty clear. Scratch that - translucent. Dating was out; marriage was a hell no. It’s not like his first go-around had been anything to write home about, clearly. 

What a crapshoot. 

Joel viewed relationships differently than Tommy. His little brother was sickly in love, and good for him, but Joel thought the whole thing was nothing more than another liability. 

Why would he risk it? 

If he’d never been any good at them in the first place. It always seemed to be the wrong place or wrong time or too late. He’d never been able to get it right, so it was just better off this way. 

He was better off this way

---

Cleaned up and rested; later that evening, the five of them gathered at Maria and Tommy’s for dinner: roasted meat and rosemary potatoes. Served family-style, just like her mother used to do. 

Rory wasn’t here to babble away like usual as he was staying the night at his grandpa’s. 

The conversation was otherwise nothing special, mostly centered around the newbies in town. Some whispers about Jackson had spread south, and what had once been three hundred had steadily grown to around four or five. More would probably come spring.

Joel slugged back his beer, and stole a glance at the woman beside him.

She was attractive, and being this close, in this light, he could appreciate her features even more. She was inches from him, and he could smell her perfume? Soap? It was real nice. Fresh and clean and soft and as sweet as her famous nickname. 

Lolly. 

A childhood nickname that stuck to her like glue. 

When he’d first heard it, he’d expected some young girl, barely 18 to be sitting at the bar top. 

Not…her; a full-fledged woman. 

Sure, she was younger than him, but not by enough to make his stomach curl with cradle-robber shame whenever his gaze lingered for just a moment too long. 

Like now. 

Joel shook his head, and focused on Ellie, talking about school, and her extreme dislike for their most recent unit. 

While school wasn’t mandatory, all the kids enjoyed going. It was only three times a week, and half-days with all age groups coming together on Friday. Younger kids still learned how to read and do basic math, but at Ellie’s age, it was mostly job and life skills. Sometimes people would come and speak about their occupation, other days they learned how to read a map and purify water or currently – sewing. 

“Laugh all you want, I almost lost a finger.” Ellie flashed the band-aid on her pointer as proof. Lolly looked slightly guilty, even as she giggled. 

“Well, not everyone can be as talented as Lolly over here,” Maria boasted, pointing to Lolly’s little dress. “Let me guess, you made that yourself?” 

Lolly’s chewing slowed as she squinted at Maria. She was no dummy; it’d taken her all but a few seconds to sniff out the set up. 

She swallowed. “No, actually. This is one Mike brought back from that boutique in the square. I just added a little material here and there, so it would fit.”

Joel’s gaze traveled over the dress, following the flick of her wrist. It was a rusty orange number with big sleeves that reminded him of the 70’s. Even though it was completely impractical, it was also hauntingly cute. 

“Still impressive,” Maria insisted, and Lolly clicked her tongue - not playing along. 

A moment of silence followed: amplified by the scratch of silverware on porcelain. 

“Joel and I had a pretty eventful day, ain’t that right?” Tommy perked up, spearing a cherry tomato on his fork, and popping it into his mouth.

Great, now it was his turn to be buttered up. 

“Oh. Trust me, I’ve heard. Everyone in town won’t shut up about it. They keep saying you might be the best patrol we’ve ever had.” A teensy smile teased her lips, and Joel’s tongue immediately became dry toast. 

 Joel gulped, and waved off her minuscule praise. “Oh, no. It was nothing-”

“Nothing?” Ellie snorted. “Psssh. Sure smelled like something to me.” Ellie wrinkled her nose and shooed away the residual stench. 

Goddamn kids and their honesty. At least, Ellie didn’t mention finding him sprawled out on the couch with enough ice packs to drown each leg. 

Joel leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “Really now? You think you can do better, kiddo?” Joel challenged – light-hearted. 

Ellie shrugged – a cocky maybe. 

“Guess we’ll be finding out soon enough - 8 months?” Tommy pointed his fork at her. 

“9.” Ellie glanced at Joel. 

He’d snuck her a few times, and taken her up to the pond for those swimming lessons he promised her. He would surely do it again once it warmed up. 

Ellie looked at Lolly, and her brows wrangled up with some sudden thought. “Have you ever been on patrol?” 

Maria’s head whipped up as fast as a sucker punch. Lolly eye’s widened, but Joel wasn’t sure if it was Maria’s reaction or the seemingly innocent question itself that caused her to react, but then neither of them said a word. 

Joel wasn’t sure what the fuck was going on. He looked at Ellie, then his brother, but Tommy looked just as confused as them. 

Lolly must’ve noticed the regret creeping up on Ellie’s face, since she immediately offered her a small grin. 

“Believe it or not,” she said, “I used to go all the time.” 

Joel blinked back. What? When? 

He’d never seen her name listed in a single log book, and those dated back almost 10 years. Give or take. 

While Joel had only been here around six months, he’d never heard anyone talk about it, or anyone ever stopping patrol so young. Most people kept going until they either couldn’t or died. Eugene was like, 70? And he was still out there a couple times a week. 

Nobody said anything for a long minute; the silence sat heavy and tense and uncomfortable. 

Maria clapped her hands, “Anyone want dessert?” 

---

Fluffy chocolate mousse was the answer as the conversation returned to idle nothingness until it was time to go. 

While putting on their coats, Tommy offered they walk her home because the streets of Jackson were crawling with crime and all. She’d brushed it off at first, but Ellie insisted.

Turns out, Lolly knew a thing or two hundred on constellations and Ellie used the walk to pick her brain. Joel trailed a step behind them, watching Lolly’s finger trace the blanket of stars. 

Lyra. The W – named for some vain queen in Greece. Cassie something or other. Next to it, was her husband. Another C name. Supposedly it looked like a stick figure house, but Joel didn’t see it. 

Still, he listened to the sound of her voice; there was something soothing about it.

Sadly, that peace couldn’t last as Mike was out on the front porch. He was chilling on the small swing, downing a beer as if he knew Joel would end up walking her home. 

“I was wonderin’ when you’d get back.” 

Lolly jumped at the sound of his voice. She’d been so engrossed with Ellie that she’d yet to spot him. 

“Ellie. Joel.” Mike spit his name out like a jagged piece of glass. Oh yeah, the dislike was mutual. 

Joel drawled out Mike’s name; a little friendlier than usual, just to irk him. “How’s the ankle?” He pointed to the hack job wrapping. 

Mike sneered. “Better. Thanks for asking.” 

“What’re you doing out here?” Lolly butted in; the words spoken through a tight, nervous-looking smile. She refused to look directly at him or even Ellie for that matter. 

“It’s a nice night, don’t ya think? Guessin’ it’ll be the last one for a while, so thought I’d enjoy it. By the looks of it, seems as if you two thought the same.” 

Mike glared at Joel with a threat in his eyes: think about touching her and I’ll knock your teeth in. Joel would love to see him try. 

Joel wondered if Mike was always this suffocating. If so, maybe that’s why she was still single because who would want to deal with him? Mike was about to square up with a middle-aged man and a 15-year-old girl for what? Walking his sister home?

His adult sister. Nonetheless. 

Joel didn’t try to understand it. 

Lolly held Mike’s gaze for a moment before turning around with a word. She forced a smile, and it actually looked believable which was slightly concerning.

“Well, uh. Thank you both for walking me home. Ellie, I will see you tomorrow. Joel-” 

Mike cleared his throat and the anger seethed from her pores. She squeezed her eyes shut, so tight she nearly burst. Taking a deep breath, she peered back up at Joel. “It was nice seeing you again.” 

With that, she spun around and bolted up the steps. Mike didn’t seem to give a fuck, rocking back and forth so slow that the rusty screws gave into a haunting squeal. 

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Ellie spoke out of the side of her mouth, waving at Mike while taking a step back, then another. 

“You read my mind.” 

Joel and Ellie booked it down the road. 

Fuck, if he would ever go back there again.

[sesamestreep]

there's something fiction about the way that reality's going

(read on AO3)

SUMMARY: It's bad enough that Foggy has to spend his Saturday morning giving bad news to some overly-ambitious campaign manager. It's unforgivable that he turns out to be hot, of all things. [AKA - The West Wing AU] A/N: here's part 1 of that west wing au i've been talking about writing for months. I put copious notes (including a mild content warning for the 90s as a time period in general) on AO3, so I'd recommend reading there if you want more info. big thanks to @firstelevens for talking me off several ledges during the writing, editing, and posting processes for this fic!

“You know what’s sick, Karen?” Foggy asks, as he rounds the corner of her desk.

“Sick like bad, like the flu?” she asks, not looking away from her computer. “Or sick like good, like a skateboard trick?”

“Sick like disgusting and perverted.”

“Ooh, I am not sure I want to know.”

“Too bad,” he says, as he tosses his duffel bag into his office. It collides with a filing cabinet, but doesn’t knock anything over, which is pretty good from this distance. “I have reached a new level of depravity.”

“Congratulations?”

“Thank you. Ask me how.”

“Must I?”

“Yes.”

Karen sighs. “How did you reach a new level of depravity?”

“I found myself thinking, while flying with the President on Air Force One, ‘god, this sucks!’”

“That’s your new level of depravity?” she asks, unimpressed.

“Karen, I’m telling you I’m bored of flying on Air Force One! The President’s private plane is boring to me. The novelty—of Air Force One—is gone!”

“And that’s all?”

“‘That’s all’?! Karen, I—”

“I heard you the first twelve times," she says. "You’re a real sicko, Foggy, I get it.”

“This revelation means less to you than I anticipated,” Foggy says, idly fiddling with the things on her desk. 

“Sorry to disappoint you,” she says, filing something. “I kind of thought you picked up a new, exciting fetish while in Pakistan.”

“Unfortunately, no. At least, not that I’m aware of.”

“There’s always next time,” she replies. “Did you bring me back anything?”

“Also no. In my defense, you didn’t tell me you wanted a new, exciting fetish while I was there.”

“A good boss would know without having to be told.”

“Oh, no. They’ll take away my ‘world’s greatest boss’ mug for this!”

“You don’t have one of those,” she says, frowning.

“And whose fault is that?”

“Looks like we’ve both got some work to do,” she says, turning her attention back to her computer.

“Speaking of that, what are you doing here on a Saturday?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Almost always, but in this case…”

Karen looks at him like he’s sprouted a second head. “Foggy, you have a meeting.”

“I don’t schedule meetings for Saturday mornings,” he says. “And certainly not after I’ve been away in Islamabad with the President for three days and on a plane for 15 hours.”

“Yes, but this is Marci’s meeting,” Karen says. “The one you promised to cover for her, since her cousin had to move her bachelorette weekend up two weeks to—”

“This weekend. Fuck!” Foggy closes his eyes. “Oh, I should not have agreed to this! This was so stupid. I’m so jet lagged right now and I’ve been wearing the same suit for like two days.”

She wrinkles her nose. “Ew, why?”

“I packed in a hurry and I miscounted—you know what, forget it! I would still smell like airplane, regardless.”

She steps around her desk to put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure it’s not even that—Good god! That is not what airplanes are supposed to smell like!”

Foggy sniffs his shirt and winces. He was kind of hoping he was just being dramatic. “Pakistan is a very populous country,” he says, weakly. “And we were in the capitol, so lots of people, in close quarters…”

“So, unless this guy has a sinus infection, he’s going to be able to smell you from down the hall.”

“Karen, please! I am begging you…”

“Do you have another suit?”

“Not one that smells better !” Foggy exclaims. “Do I have time to go out and buy a new suit?”

“Your meeting is in 30 minutes, and I’m guessing you still need to read the briefing packet Marci left you, so you know what this guy wants to talk about.”

“This is the guy from the Bryant campaign? Mitchell…something?”

“ Matthew Murdock, yes.”

“I know what he wants to talk about,” Foggy says, waving a hand at her.

“Oh, just read the damn packet!”

“I need to find something to wear that doesn’t smell like I walked here from Islamabad, okay?”

“I’ll ask around,” Karen replies. “You prep for the meeting.”

“You’re going to ask around ?”

“Yes."

“To see if someone in the building has a suit I can borrow? 

“Foggy!”

“I feel like you’re vastly underestimating how weird of a request that is!” 

“Not all men are as suspicious as you.”

“Most men are more suspicious than me, firstly,” he says. “And secondly, even if you found someone in this office to accept this absurd request—on a Saturday, no less!—suits are supposed to be tailored. I’m going to look weird in someone else’s suit!”

“What’s worse: looking weird in an ill-fitting suit or smelling weird in this one?”

“Maybe he will have a sinus infection,” Foggy muses.

“Yes, because praying for that is less weird than my plan,” Karen says, with an eye roll. “Wait, you have a gym bag!”

“In my office? Yeah…”

“And last week, that budget meeting got rescheduled and you couldn’t go to the gym after work because it was already closed when the meeting wrapped up!”

“Yes! Why are we excited about this?”

Karen’s practically bouncing on her feet. “Because if the bag is still here but you didn’t go to the gym, that means the clothes are clean!”

“You want me to meet with the manager for a congressional campaign in my gym clothes?” Foggy asks.

“Your clean gym clothes!”

“I can’t meet him in my gym clothes!”

“Why not?”

“It’s unprofessional!”

“It’s Saturday! You’re…laid back! You’re chillin’!”

Foggy shakes his head at her, because it’s extremely clear to him that she’s never said that word in another context before in her life. “Just chillin’ at the White House! Now there’s a TV show I’d watch!”

“ Foggy !”

“It could be like this President’s version of FDR’s fireside chats! You’re a genius, Karen!”

“I’m being helpful and you’re being such a dick about it,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You’re right,” he says, putting his hands on her shoulders in a conciliatory gesture. “And I appreciate it. But I can’t wear gym clothes to this meeting.”

“It wouldn’t be that weird! You could come up with an excuse—”

“No, I understand. It’s just—I barely look good in a suit. I can trick people into taking me seriously in a suit. If this guy sees me in basketball shorts, he’ll never take me seriously.”

“You look good in a suit, no qualifiers,” Karen says, firmly. “And honestly, it would probably be charming to him if you were in gym clothes. And lastly, you are the deputy chief of staff at the White House, Foggy. People take you seriously. You are serious.”

“That was wall-to-wall bald faced lies, but I do love you for it,” he says, giving her shoulders a squeeze. “And if I’m being honest with you, I’m nervous about the optics of dressing casually for a meeting where I know I have to give someone bad news.”

Karen frowns. “What’s going on?”

“The campaign this guy is running, it’s Bryant’s campaign in the 21st district in New York State. It’s a district that, historically, a Republican always wins. From what I know, and what Marci’s told me, this guy wants more help from us, and more funding from the DNC, to get Bryant elected instead.”

“But we’re not going to do that?” Karen asks.

“No, we’re not.”

“Why not?”

“Because Bryant sucks,” Foggy admits, with a small, mirthless laugh. 

“Worse than the Republican who’s running?”

“He’s the incumbent and we know what to do with him, at least.”

“Still,” she interjects, frowning deeper, “it’s not…great…”

“It’s political maneuvering to be sure,” Foggy says, “but that’s the business we’re in, like it or not.”

“Yeah, so…”

“So, showing up to this meeting looking ready for an aerobics class and then telling this guy he’s up a creek and the DNC isn’t going to throw him a paddle might be a bad look. At least if my suit’s wrinkled and I smell bad, he can write it off as me being an overworked staffer.”

“Which, you are.”

“Exactly!”

“Yeah, okay. I get it,” Karen says, moving back to her desk. 

“I have a few minutes?”

“Yeah, read the thing on your desk.”

“I don’t need to—”

“Marci wrote it so you could—”

“Marci’s secretary wrote it, and you know that.”

“And Marci’s secretary’s work has less value than Marci’s because…?”

“Ah, okay,” Foggy says, holding his hands up in surrender. “I’ll read the thing.”

“Do you need coffee?” 

“Desperately.”

She nods. “Okay, I’ll get you some, so you can read.”

“Thank you. And while you’re at it, see if Jeri’s secretary is in and ask—”

“Excuse me,” a voice behind them says, and they both startle.

“Hi, can I help you?” Karen asks, automatically and politely, as she turns to face the man.

“I hope so,” he says. “I’m looking for Karen Page.”

“Then I can definitely help you,” she replies, cheerfully. “That’s me.”

“Oh, excellent,” the man says, offering her his hand. “I’m Matt Murdock, from the Bryant campaign. I have a meeting with Mr. Nelson at 10.”

“You’re…from the Bryant campaign?” Karen asks, hesitantly. 

Foggy knows how she feels. Absolutely nothing about this guy says ‘campaign manager’ except for the quality of his suit. He’s so glaringly handsome in a professional-athlete-who-also-gets-modeling-gigs kind of way that it takes Foggy a full minute to clock that he’s wearing sunglasses indoors (something a professional athlete/part-time model would do) and carrying a white cane. Bryant’s campaign manager is blind. That’s almost as unexpected as him being hot.

“Yes, I know. I’m a little bit early,” he says, either willfully or obliviously attributing Karen’s surprise to the wrong thing. 

Karen recovers quickly, though. “Not to worry,” she says, finally taking his hand and giving it a polite shake. “We appreciate your punctuality.”

“Well, I appreciate that handshake,” Matt offers, charmingly. “Very commanding, very firm!”

Much to Foggy’s amusement and vague annoyance, Karen lets out a hopelessly charmed laugh at that. “Thank you, I—uh, I do my best.”

Foggy gives her a wide-eyed look, and she gives him a helpless and slightly embarrassed one back. He shakes his head before inclining it towards Matt, who either hasn’t noticed him or is avoiding acknowledging him, for whatever reason.

“Would you be so kind as to let your boss know I’m here?”

“That, uh, won’t be necessary,” she says. Karen never stammers. This is so funny. “He’s, um—well, he’s right here! Foggy, are you ready for Mr. Murdock?”

Foggy does his best to hide his smile. “Am I ever!” he says, gamely, and steps forward to shake his hand. “Franklin Nelson, at your service. Everyone calls me Foggy, so you should too!”

This, somehow, catches Matt off-guard, which given his otherwise smooth and unflappable exterior, is kind of impressive. He very clearly expected to wait to be seen, and possibly hoped to have more time to flirt with Foggy’s assistant, judging by the looks of things. 

“Hello,” Matt says, stiff with awkwardness. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Same here,” Foggy replies. “Delighted to make your acquaintance! I am holding out my hand for you to shake, for the record.”

“Oh, right. I’m so sorry,” he says, as he hurries to take it. 

There’s an awkward moment as he sort of guesstimates where Foggy’s hand is before making contact and Foggy’s left to wonder if he could have made that less weird somehow and feel slightly embarrassed that he doesn’t know the protocol for this situation. And he’s already feeling pretty embarrassed that he smells like a 15 hour flight in front of this very handsome stranger, who can probably smell him even more than the average person. Unless that stuff about depriving one sense making the others stronger is bullshit, which it might be. Foggy’s tempted to ask but that seems likely to make the situation more awkward still.

Matt’s palm is a little rough in places, which is kind of nice. Foggy’s is, he knows, not even a little bit rough. He’s got the smooth baby soft hands of someone who has always been an indoor kid and then grew up to be a lawyer. No calluses to speak of whatsoever. It makes him wonder where Matt, likely a lawyer himself, got his from. And now he’s been holding this hot guy’s hand for too long. Perfect.

“Well, why don’t you step into my office?” he asks, dropping it quickly.

“You’re sure? I know I got here before our appointment.”

“No trouble at all,” Foggy says, with more enthusiasm than he feels. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“Oh, yes,” Karen pipes up. “We have coffee, tea, soda, water—”

“I’m good,” Matt says, with another charming smile in her direction. Foggy’s still waiting for his. “Thank you, Karen.”

“Yes, thank you, Karen,” Foggy says brightly, and she sticks her tongue out at him.

“Actually, Foggy, could I borrow you for a second?”

“Absolutely.” To Matt, he says, “You can go right in and I’ll be with you shortly. There’s a chair in front of the desk, where…chairs normally are in an office.”

This, for whatever reason, makes Matt snort in amusement, which is somehow better than getting a smile out of him. “Yes, I think I can manage,” he replies, and moves towards Foggy’s office.

“Great. Be right there!” Once he’s gone, Foggy leans in close to Karen. “What’s up?”

“Just wanted to point out that you should have listened to me and worn your gym clothes after all,” she says, flipping through a file on her desk disinterestedly.

“Yes, yes, I know. Karen Page the Wise, let her instincts never be doubted again,” Foggy says, miming genuflection.

“Do you still want a coffee?”

“I’ll grab it when I’m done. Hopefully, this won’t take long,” he says. He leans in even closer and drops his voice to a whisper. “By the way, is this guy a real campaign manager or is he just auditioning to play one on TV?”

“ Foggy ,” Karen exclaims, with an eye roll. 

“I’m sorry, but he’s, like, stupid handsome!”

“I hadn’t noticed,” she sniffs, feigning disinterest.

“Uh huh,” Foggy says, unimpressed. “Well, he noticed your firm handshake, that’s for sure.”

“You really are more perverted than when you left, aren’t you?” Karen says, amused. “Now, get in there and disappoint that beautiful man.”

“Lucky for him, that is something I’m very good at.”

Karen snorts at that, and returns to her work. Foggy goes back to his office and is pleased to see that Matt has managed to find a seat.

“Sorry about that,” he announces, as he settles into the chair behind his desk. “We’re a little bit scattered this morning. I just got back from Islamabad about twenty minutes ago.”

“Well, I appreciate your time.”

“Don’t mention it. Listen, Michael…”

“Matthew,” he says, surely seeing through the power play but not pointing it out. “Matt, if it’s all the same.”

“Right, sorry. Hey, at least, I knew it was one of the gospels from the Bible, right?”

The unbothered, generically pleasant expression on his face doesn't falter as he says, evenly, “There is no gospel according to Michael in the Bible.”

“Maybe not in yours,” Foggy replies, hoping he covers his nerves well enough that Matt can’t hear anything in his voice. “There’s a Saint Michael, though, right?”

“Yes,” Matt says, cracking a barely-there smile. “He’s an archangel, too.”

“An angel and a saint? Sounds like a lot of work. What’s his deal?”

“His ‘deal’?”

“Yeah, like what’s he the saint of?”

“Oh, like his patronage?”

“Yes,” Foggy says, snapping his fingers. “Like is he the guy to pray to when I’ve got a hangnail or a flat tire?”

“No,” Matt laughs, shaking his head. “He’s considered the patron saint of police officers, the military, paramedics, the protector of the Jewish people and the Vatican, as well as Germany, the Ukraine, and Brussels.”

“Wow, can you do that for all the saints?”

“A good amount of them,” Matt replies. He shrugs before adding, “I went to Catholic school.”

“That must come in handy.”

“You’d really be surprised how little it comes up,” he says, drolly. 

“Really?" Foggy asks. "Not even when you have a flat tire?”

“I would probably call AAA first, in that scenario. The saints tend to take their time.”

“Solid point.”

“Listen, Mr. Nelson—”

“God, please, like I said: call me ‘Foggy’. I’d do the classic ‘Mr. Nelson is my father’ bit but I’m pretty sure no one calls him that either.”

“‘Foggy?’ Really?” Matt repeats, incredulously. 

“Yes, it’s—not important why. It’s just—it’s what everyone calls me.”

“Fine,” he says, leaning forward in his seat. “Foggy, then. As much as I appreciate the opportunity to show off the benefits of my Catholic upbringing and education, I didn’t come here to talk to you about the patronages of various saints.”

“Yes, I knew that, actually. I’m sorry. I was stalling.”

Matt slumps back in his seat at that. “You’re going to tell me you can’t help me.”

“Listen, if this had been my meeting from the start, I would have told you not to bother coming down.”

“In your colleague’s defense, she did tell me that.”

“Well, then, I’m surprised you did it anyway.”

“You wouldn’t be, if you knew me better,” Matt replies, with so much confidence it borders on cocky. He gets five percent hotter in Foggy’s mental estimation from that alone. 

He clears his throat. “Your candidate is running for a seat in New York’s 21st district. Democrats never win in the 21st. It’s simple math.”

“Yes, historically, this district goes red in elections, but that doesn’t mean, with the right democrat and proper funding from the DNC—”

“That’s true,” Foggy allows.

“So, what’s the issue?”

“You don’t have the right democrat.”

“I…what?”

“I’m saying, Bryant isn’t the democrat to flip the 21st.”

“According to whom?”

“According to me.”

“Is there anyone else I can talk to, then?” Matt asks, clearly keeping his patience on a very tight leash if the state of his jaw is any indication. Not that Foggy is admiring his jawline at a time like this.

“Unfortunately, no.”

“Foggy, I came down here—”

“A waste of time, as promised, but hey, at least you made a new friend!”

“You and I are not friends.”

“I meant you and Karen," Foggy says, blithely, "but ouch.”

Matt's jaw somehow clenches even tighter. “I want to talk to someone who’s going to take me seriously!”

“You are talking to someone who’s taking you seriously,” he says, earnestly. “Trust me, Matt. It’s not you, it’s your candidate.”

“Well, that’s a new one,” he says, deflating.

“Bryant is a centrist—”

“It’s a Republican stronghold!” Matt exclaims. “Who else has a chance to flip the seat? Do you want to put a diehard socialist on the ballot instead and see how they do?”

“More than anything in the world, yes,” Foggy replies. “But this isn’t about what I want.”

“The incumbent is a right wing clown and he lends legitimacy to their rhetoric. I think the country would be better off with him out of a job. I’m sorry that the White House and the DNC disagree, but—” 

“You’re right.”

“I’m right?!”

“You’re right,” Foggy says. “With an asterisk.”

“Oh, boy.”

“Just a tiny footnote, really. He is a right wing clown, and he should be voted out of office, but he’s also a boon to the DNC.”

“How exactly does that make sense?”

“Every time he opens his mouth, the DNC pulls a quote, puts it on a direct mail campaign, and raises tens of thousands of dollars off of their members’ outrage. As long as we keep him in front of a microphone, we can basically print money for ourselves.”

Matt rolls his eyes. “What a reassuring thing to hear from a representative of my government.”

Foggy laughs, unexpectedly, which just makes Matt glare in his general direction. “Technically, we are the only ones who should be printing money, but that’s beside the point.”

“Are we at least approaching the point sometime soon?”

“You’re familiar with the phrase ‘better the devil you know…’”

Matt sighs. “‘Than the devil you don’t’. Yes.”

“Bryant’s the devil we don’t know. Dashwood’s the one we do.”

“Bryant is a democrat, Foggy.”

“Barely, and I don’t want it to be my job for the next six and a half years to make sure he’s not going to be the swing vote on every measure we want to get passed through the House. And it will be my job, Matt.”

“Well, if you keep selling out viable democrats like this, I don’t think you can count on re-election as a matter of course like you just did, so let’s call it two and a half years to be safe.”

Foggy leans forward onto his forearms. “Sweetheart, you don’t have a viable democrat on your hands, and that’s the nicest way anyone in this building is going to put it, so let’s quit while we’re ahead.”

“Easy for you to say,” Matt replies, standing. Foggy mirrors him. “I appreciate the condescension, by the way. No one’s called me ‘sweetheart’ in a long time.”

“No trouble at all,” Foggy says. “Feel free to stop by anytime you need your ego stroked.”

Matt laughs, or really huffs, putting his hands on his hips. He’s either getting a second wind on this argument or they’re about to get into a fistfight. He might have made that last retort too flirty. Some guys, by which he does mean most straight guys, will really take any opportunity. Luckily, a knock at the door cuts their standoff short.

“Foggy, the President wants anybody who’s available in the Oval Office in five,” Marci says as she barrels in without waiting, before her eyes land on Matt. “Oh, sorry to interrupt.”

“Marci, this is Matt Murdock, from the Bryant campaign,” Foggy says, begrudgingly. “Matt, this is Marci Stahl, deputy communications director. I believe your original meeting was supposed to be with her.”

“Yes. Hi,” Matt says, cheerfully enough, but the set of his shoulders remains tense.

“Matt, so nice to meet you,” she trills, giving Foggy a wide-eyed look over his shoulder as they shake hands. Of course she immediately clocked how attractive he is. Sometimes he thinks that an unfortunate side effect of them dating and then staying friends for so long is that they basically have the same brain. “I’m so sorry for sticking you with Foggy here. There were some scheduling issues with my calendar.”

“Not to worry,” Matt says, tightly. “Foggy’s taken excellent care of me.”

Marci purses her lips in amusement. “Isn’t he just the best?” she says, grinning at Foggy sadistically. “If I had my way, I’d foist all my downer meetings on him, because he always handles people so gently. Not my strong suit, I’m afraid.”

Foggy rolls his eyes, but Matt beats him to the punch. “‘Downer meetings’?” he asks, deceptively pleasant.

“Yes, well, it’s a pity about Bryant, but you’re young, as I can now see. You’ll have other campaigns, ones you can actually win.”

“We haven’t technically lost this one yet.”

Marci gives Foggy a look, before shaking her head. “So true,” she says, giving Matt’s arm a squeeze. “Anyway! Safe travels! Foggy, like I said, five minutes.”

“I’m in the middle of a meeting,” he replies, annoyed.

“It’s the Cruz case.”

“That’s going to—”

“It came back 5-3 against,” she says, cutting him off with a significant look at Matt. “That’s why I canceled my trip. We’re all hands on deck.”

Foggy sighs, but only because it would be inappropriate to swear. “Okay.”

“Five minutes.”

“I said, ‘okay’.”

Marci nods and departs in her usual cloud of Chanel perfume and hyper competence, her heels clicking down the hallway until the sound fades completely. Foggy rubs his face, thinking miserably about how this is just the beginning of what will most likely be a very long, bad day. He’s going to need to send Karen to his apartment to get him some clothes. He’s going to need twelve coffees, ideally right now, but he’s got to deal with Matt first. When he looks over at him, he’s standing there, shell shocked.

“I’m sorry about that,” he says, because he honestly is. “She’s—it’s not always like this.”

Matt seems to spring back into action like a spell has been lifted. “It’s fine,” he says, picking up his briefcase and his stick. “You have to get going.”

“It’s not—”

“Don’t say it’s not important, for my benefit. It sounds important.”

“I can walk you out,” Foggy says, coming around the desk towards him.

“I can manage on my own,” Matt says, not unkindly but not meekly either. The implication that he wants to end this interaction sooner rather than later is barely implied. 

“Of course. It was, uh, lovely to meet you.”

“Sure,” he replies, not reciprocating the sentiment but extending his hand as they pause in front of Karen’s desk. Foggy takes it and gives him a firm handshake. 

“Karen, could you—?"

“I’m fine,” Matt interrupts. “Thank you, though. Karen, a pleasure.”

“You too,” Karen offers. “The hallway behind you leads right to the exit. You’ll need to sign out with security.”

“Thank you,” he says, and departs without further fanfare.

“How’d he take it?” Karen asks Foggy, once he’s gone.

“Super well,” Foggy chirps. “In fact, we’re thinking this summer for the wedding.”

“That’s fast,” Karen says, barely hiding her smile.

“What can I say? When you know you know.” He sighs deeply. “Marci told you about the Supreme Court thing?”

“Yeah. You want me to go grab you a change of clothes from your place?”

“Yes, please. You need my keys?”

“I have your spare still,” Karen says, as she gets up and puts on her coat. “Need anything else while I’m out?”

“The world’s largest coffee, with as many espresso shots as the law allows.”

“Got it,” she replies with a nod. She’s already on her way out when he grabs her by the elbow to stop her.

“Am I, like, the world’s biggest asshole?” he asks, earnestly. “And be honest, because I feel like the world’s biggest asshole right now.”

“You’re not,” Karen says, immediately, squeezing his arm. “You’re the best person I know, but you’re jet lagged and overtired and stinky and now you have to spend the rest of your day talking about the death penalty. That would put anyone in a bad mood.”

“Yeah,” Foggy says. “Thanks.”

He lets her go, then, because they’ve all got work to do, but her words don’t reassure him like they usually would.

Foggy waits on the sidewalk out in front of St. Patrick’s the next morning with ten minutes to spare before the 10 AM mass gets out. He finds himself wishing he had cigarettes, which he only ever wants when he’s nervous and needs something to do with his hands. He’s complained about this before, unwisely, with his mother in earshot, which had led to her snapping at him to take up knitting if he needs something productive to do with his hands. The worst fight he can ever remember having with her was when she found cigarettes in his room when he was home from college once. What is it about being within spitting distance of a Catholic church that brings up all his repressed guilt like that?

He probably could have brought coffee, but he’s not sure if Matt declined yesterday to be polite or if he genuinely doesn’t drink it. Either way, Foggy couldn’t begin to guess how he’d take it, so it’s probably better to just skip it entirely. He doesn’t need to bribe him, and he doesn’t need anything to occupy his hands. He’s senior staff at the goddamn White House. He doesn’t need to be nervous.

Over his shoulder, he hears the sound of voices starting to drift over from the doors and of footsteps on the stairs. When he glances over, he sees crowds starting to form at the entrance. He remembers, suddenly, from a few christenings he was forced to attend for various cousins, how much people like to stand around and gab after mass and hopes that, by virtue of not being at his own church, Matt won’t be stuck talking to a bunch of old ladies for too long.

Thankfully, it’s only a few minutes later when he emerges from the crowd, easy to spot with his glasses and his stick, head down and separate. Foggy hesitates for a second, worried this will be an intolerable intrusion on something, well, sacred, but he did go out of his way to talk to him. It will be even less excusable if he doesn’t go through with it.

Matt’s head swivels in the correct direction when he hears his name called and Foggy would guess he’s good at identifying voices, both in general and in his line of work, where schmoozing and networking are so essential. Matt’s already at a disadvantage, not knowing people by sight, so he can only imagine he’s found a way to compensate for it. He’s guessing he knows who it is before Foggy even says, “on your right,” and approaches him.

“Foggy?” Matt asks, and he’s not sure if he’s guessing or just expressing surprise.

“Hi,” he says, and it comes out weirdly shy, because of course it does. Matt’s still dressed nicely, like he was yesterday, though he’s ditched the tie and thrown a sweater over his dress shirt instead. It’s like he knows about Foggy’s childhood crush on Mr. Rogers. 

“Hi,” Matt says, with a laugh. “Did we—don’t tell me this is your church.”

“Yes, I moonlight as an organist at St. Patrick’s. Just for the tips, though.”

“I—what?”

“Sorry, I’m kidding. I don’t go to church here. I went to see you at your hotel, I was hoping to catch you before you checked out, and the receptionist said I’d just missed you and that you’d gone to church.”

“She told you where to find me?”

“No, I guessed. I mean, St. Patrick’s is the closest Catholic church—you mentioned Catholic school yesterday, so I figured it was the best bet—and of course, it’s, you know, historic and beautiful, with all that stained glass and the, um…”

Matt tips his head to the side, considering him as he fumbles for words. He looks amused, at least, and not deeply offended, which is probably a good sign. He also looks like he’s waiting for Foggy to admit defeat, which is never going to happen.

“The acoustics are probably also good,” he finishes, pathetically, and Matt laughs, not like he did yesterday, all guarded and cynical with disappointment. He laughs big and unrestrained and maybe even delighted. Foggy gets the sense that he’s a little surprised by it himself.

“Yes, the acoustics were wonderful,” he says, and his eyes are crinkling attractively at the corners.

“I’m an idiot,” Foggy says, in the direction of his shoes. He doesn’t need to hide a blush from Matt, he figures, but he does it anyway.

“No, that was…” Matt takes his time searching for the word, and Foggy’s heart races. He shakes his head, helplessly. “‘Acoustics.’ You're cute.”

“I…” Foggy has fully lost his train of thought. He tries to remember a single time he has said something coherent in his entire life and fails. His brain has shut down, possibly permanently and forever.

“Sorry, that came out wrong," Matt clarifies, after a moment's pause. "What I meant was, that was a cute thing to say.”

The part of Foggy that was wondering if it would be weird to ask a guy who just got out of church if he was, perhaps, a friend of Dorothy immediately withers and dies on the spot. That was the straightest point of clarification he’s ever witnessed in his life.

“Well,” Foggy says, remarkably normally after the emotional journey he just went on, “you don’t know this, since you can’t see, but you were right the first time. I am adorable.”

Matt, thankfully, laughs at that too. “I’ll defer to your expertise on the matter.”

“I appreciate that.”

“So, you were looking for me at my hotel?”

“Yes!”

“Can I ask why?”

“I—right. That is the sort of thing that requires explanation.”

“Yes, it is,” Matt says, patiently.

“I wanted to…apologize for yesterday,” Foggy says, letting the words flow out on an exhale. “You didn’t catch any of us on our best day, and while nothing I said to you was factually incorrect or inaccurate to our position, I feel like you weren’t treated with the respect you deserve and I really regret that. None of that is how we do things, and it’s not who we are. I hope, at my best, it’s not who I am, either.”

Matt doesn’t bother to hide his surprise. After a moment, he says, “I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t worry about it. I fully acknowledge that I ambushed you—at a church, of all places—so I’ll just…”

“I appreciate it,” Matt says, suddenly. “The apology, not the ambush. Although, I guess they’re sort of intertwined at this point…”

“Sure,” Foggy laughs.

“You really didn’t have to—”

“I felt bad. It was badly done, and I wanted to try to make it right.”

“Still, I’ve been in professional politics for almost a decade now, and I can count the number of heartfelt apologies I’ve received on one hand. It’s not the sort of thing everyone does.”

“Well, it’s a thing I do, when I’m wrong. And I was. I’m genuinely sorry.”

Matt acknowledges this with another tilt of his head. “You weren’t wrong about everything, unfortunately.”

Foggy frowns, trying to parse what this means. “I’m not sure I—oh my god! Matt!”

He winces. “Do not gloat!”

“I’m not!” Foggy practically shouts. “I won’t. I promise! But, if I’m understanding you correctly, you know?”

“About Bryant? Of course I do! I work for him!”

“That begs the question of why?”

“Why do I work for him?”

“Yes!”

“I’m not in politics just for the love of it, Foggy. I’m a professional political operative, I need the work!”

“Yeah, but Bryant?”

Matt makes a face at him. “Do you imagine there’s a seller’s market out there for blind campaign managers?”

“No, but—” Foggy pauses and really considers this. Matt keeps things upbeat, from what he can tell, brushing off references to his disability easily enough by all appearances, but it must actually be brutal out there for him. “No, you’re right. It’s got to be tough. Even for someone as good as you.”

“You don’t have to say that.”

“I’m not saying it to flatter you. Considering you’re working in a district that virtually always votes red, and you’ve got a dud for a candidate, your numbers are very impressive. I mean, unless you’re handing out headshots at campaign stops, I don’t understand how you’re doing it at all.”

“Headshots?” Matt asks. “Of me?”

“Okay, don’t you dare try some sort of aw, shucks routine with me. I know you know you’re handsome.”

Matt laughs, tucking his chin in a remarkably shy gesture from such a confident asshole. “That’s a good one, though. Headshots. I’ll have to write that down.” 

“Maybe the 21st district will flip after all.”

“Okay, I know I’m not that handsome.”

Foggy wants to argue the point, but he’s also done enough embarrassing himself for one day and it’s not even noon yet. He’s got to stick to the matter at hand. “Listen, what I said yesterday—”

“Consider it forgotten. Really.”

“No, uh, what I said reflects the opinion and the decision of the White House, even if the delivery left something to be desired. But the administration, specifically the President, wanted me to be clear with you that, Bryant aside, if you ever found a viable candidate, we’d get interested in a hurry. We remain very impressed by your work, if not your candidate.”

Matt appears intrigued by this. “Did anyone happen to specify a better candidate by name?”

“Well, the suggestion was raised that you might fit the bill.”

“Raised by whom?”

“That I couldn’t say,” Foggy demurs, and Matt does that little head tilt again, so he mimes locking his mouth and throwing away the key before he realizes Matt can’t see or appreciate it. It’s also a very dorky thing to do, so that might be for the best. 

“You want me to run for office?” Matt asks, instead.

“It’s just a suggestion,” Foggy says, putting his hands up defensively. “Something to think about for the future.”

“The distant, distant future, maybe…”

Foggy shrugs. “Sure. Either way, you’ve made some friends in D.C. this time around. Your next campaign will be easier, I promise.”

“Well, I have to make it through this one first,” Matt says, grimly, running a hand over his jaw in distress. God, even distressed, he’s still ridiculously handsome.

“Hey, if all else fails, you can always pray to Saint Thomas More.”

Matt gives him a baffled look. “What?”

“You know,” Foggy says, putting his hands in his pockets, casually, “the patron saint of statesmen and politicians.”

Matt’s smile of delight and comprehension is like the sun coming out from behind a cloud, which is a sentiment Foggy would have dismissed as overly and unnecessarily poetic and saccharine probably twenty minutes ago. His words to Karen yesterday— when you know, you know— come back to haunt him and it is so unfair and yet completely expected that this would happen to him, of all people. He’s known this guy for probably thirty minutes total and still, he knows Matt is special. That this is the beginning of something, even though it probably isn’t going to be what he wishes it could be. This is, bizarrely, a talent of his. He knows when someone is going to be important to him, usually right from the start. He knew it with Marci. He knew it with Karen. He knows it now too. 

Son of a bitch, he thinks. This might hurt.

“Where did you learn that?” Matt asks, his voice gone kind of breathless around his smile.

“Not to brag, but I have access to many things in my line of work,” he replies, trying to stay casual, despite the revelations, “including several volumes of the Encyclopedia Britannica.”

“Fancy,” Matt says, with a laugh. “I appreciate the tip.”

“I couldn’t find the saint to pray to specifically for car trouble, but Saint Christopher or Saint Frances of Rome are the patron saints of drivers and Saint Catherine of Alexandria is the patron saint of mechanics, so any of them would do in a pinch. In case you were wondering.”

“Saint Christopher,” Matt replies, “is the patron saint of all travelers, actually.”

“Show-off!" Foggy exclaims. "You didn’t even have to look that up!”

“Every Catholic household has a medal or something for Saint Christopher kicking around,” he says, with a smile. “You didn’t stand a chance, I’m afraid to say.”

“What gave me away?”

“Oh, everything. I can spot a Protestant at fifty paces, especially the Christmas-and-Easter variety. It’s like the first thing they teach you in Catholic school.”

“Sure. I mean, what else are they going to do with all that time they’re not teaching you how to put condoms on bananas?”

Matt laughs another one of those big, unexpected laughs, almost staggering back with the force of it. “Yeah, abstinence only makes for very short lesson plans.”

“I’m guessing you all managed to figure out the basics anyway, just from the CDC data I’ve seen,” Foggy says, fully blushing all over with the pride of making Matt laugh and his own stupidity at bringing up Sex Ed in a moment like this. Sometimes he just truly cannot stop himself. 

Before Matt can confirm or deny that he knows how to use a condom (seriously, what’s the matter with his brain?) Foggy rushes to add, “Also, thank you for giving me the credit of going to church on Easter. My mother will be pleased to know I’m fooling people into thinking I’m a nice young man, rather than being obvious with my true heathen nature.”

“You are a nice young man,” Matt says, softly, with the appearance of having sobered slightly. Maybe Foggy shouldn’t have called himself a heathen. Maybe he was being too obvious, the coded aspect of the code word too unfortunately crackable. Oh, well. “At least, I assume you’re young? I’m guessing, from the sound of your voice.”

“I am. I mean, I guess I am. Is 34 young?”

“For the deputy chief of staff for the White House?” Matt asks, eyebrows raised. “Yes! Are you serious?”

“Well, then.”

“You’re my age.”

“And?”

“You’re very successful.”

“I got lucky," Foggy says, with a shrug. "I was in the right place at the right time. That’s all.”

“Yes, because being in the right place at the right time is something to scoff at in our line of work,” Matt says, looking unimpressed. “And definitely completely negates the fact of you being good at your job.”

“I don’t know if I’d call that a fact, per se…”

“I’ll settle for it being my professional opinion, then, and people generally pay me good money for that kind of thing.”

“Well, I left my checkbook at home, unfortunately,” Foggy quips, and is rewarded with a sharp, almost shark-like smile from Matt. “All I can offer you is my gratitude. I mean, unless—?”

“Yes?” Matt asks, when he doesn’t immediately finish his thought.

“Well, you probably have to catch a flight or a train or something soon, right?”

He nods, brow furrowed. “Yeah, my train is out of Union Station at 1:30. Why?”

“Nothing, I—I’m sure you’ve got to—and I should, probably—”

“You should probably just say whatever it was you were initially going to ask me,” Matt says, head tipped, once again, with interest.

“Right,” Foggy laughs. This is so, so stupid. “I was going to say, if you had time, I could buy you a cup of coffee, to complete my apology for yesterday and to chip away at your consulting fee.”

Matt visibly hesitates, which, of course he does. Foggy made the world’s worst first impression and insulted him yesterday. He apologized for that, sure, but Matt’s still probably not pleased about the DNC’s decision and this wasted trip to D.C. to talk about it. One pleasant conversation doesn’t make them friends or anything. 

“That's not necessary," he eventually replies, though not with a great deal of conviction, which is strange. With anyone else, Foggy would assume they wanted him to insist, but somehow he has trouble imagining that's the case here. "I'm sure you'd like to get back to your Sunday plans."

"My Sunday plans are this conversation and going into the office to debate the finer points of the death penalty. You have a pretty low opinion of yourself if you think your company ranks lower than that."

Matt seems to relax at that, oddly enough. “So," he says, with a self-deprecating smile, "this is probably the part where I should admit to an unhealthy amount of curiosity about where you’re at with the Cruz case.”

Of all the things he expected Matt to say, that certainly had not occurred to him, which means he blinks in surprise for what turns out to be a little too long.

“Sorry,” Matt says, mistaking Foggy’s pause for something it isn’t and wincing in apparent embarrassment, “I heard about it on the news. The Supreme Court’s decision, I mean, and I’ve been following the case for a while. When Marci mentioned it yesterday—I shouldn’t have said anything, but—”

“No, not at all,” Foggy says, hurriedly. “I’d honestly love to get your opinion.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I mean, you just admitted to following the case, and you’re a lawyer by training, I assume?”

“Yes.”

“Right, so that, and you know the political landscape we’re situated in at the moment as well as anyone, running this campaign, dealing with the DNC. Even if you want to give me your opinion as a Catholic, I’ll take it. It’s…we’re basically taking all bets, at the moment, if that’s not insulting to admit.”

Matt laughs lightly. “Not insulting. I think on average there was a majority of flattering sentiments in there.”

“Good,” Foggy says, sighing in relief. “That’s how it was intended.”

“I take it the President hasn’t made a decision on whether to stay the execution or not?”

“No, that’s why I’m heading into the office on a Sunday. We’re all trying to figure out our options.”

“Well, I have thoughts.”

Foggy laughs this time. “That’s what I like to hear.”

“I will, however, defer to you on the subject of where to get coffee in this neighborhood,” Matt says.

“Oh, right. Well, actually, if we cross up here—”

Foggy steps forward to gesture in the direction he means before he remembers that it won’t do much good. At the same moment, Matt steps forward too, towards Foggy, and holds out a hand in what looks like a conciliatory gesture. Foggy pauses, waiting to hear his objection or question, and not thinking too hard about how close they are now.

“Could I—that is, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, as we walk, could I hold onto your arm?” Matt asks, and he doesn’t sound embarrassed so much as tired. Foggy gets the sense that he doesn’t like asking for help or relying on people very much. “It makes navigating the sidewalks and everything easier. If not—”

“That’s fine,” Foggy interrupts, feeling only slightly bad that he’s this eager to comply. He’s mostly doing it to be nice, but there is a small part of him that’s excited because a cute guy will be touching him, which feels sort of bad. “I mean, I’m happy to—”

“Thanks,” Matt replies with just a small quirk of his mouth. If he’s noticed Foggy’s eagerness, he’s not calling it out, which is kind of him.

“Do you…know where my arm is?” Foggy asks, like a moron, making Matt laugh.

“It’s, well, it’s in this general vicinity, right?” Matt’s middle finger ends up jabbing into Foggy’s stomach, which is ideal, of course. Now Matt knows he doesn’t have abs of steel, a thing he was definitely going to pretend to have until directly contradicted. “Sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Foggy says, and just grabs Matt’s hand to get it over with. It’s not important or monumental in any way—they shook hands yesterday, so it’s not even the first time they’ve touched—but his pulse starts to race nonetheless. He places Matt’s hand on the crook of his elbow as quickly as he can without making it weird. Except that now he’s trying to remember the last time he held hands with someone and upon consideration, he thinks it’s been a while, which makes him sad to think about. 

“That’s my elbow,” he says, stupidly, because anything else he could say at this moment would somehow be more embarrassing, which is impressive.

Matt laughs, just a little huff of amusement, but his eyes crinkle adorably again and that’s good enough. “I figured that out,” he says. “Thank you, though.”

“Right. Um, so as I was saying, if we cross the street here, I know a place only a few blocks away. Hopefully, it won’t be too busy on a Sunday morning for us to get a table.”

“Okay,” Matt says, nodding. “I’ll follow your lead.”

“Great,” Foggy says, but doesn’t move. He stands there awkwardly for a moment, not sure where this temporary immobility is coming from. “I, uh, I’ve never done this before.

“Gotten coffee?”

“No, uh, that I’ve done, actually, if you can believe it," Foggy says, with a laugh. "I’ve never led someone before? I just don’t want to make you trip or anything.”

“It’s just an extra precaution,” Matt explains, calmly. This is probably something he explains a lot, Foggy realizes with some amount of shame. “I can get around fine on my own, but especially someplace new, this helps.”

“Should I point out obstacles or something? Does that help at all?”

“You’re taking this very seriously,” Matt says with a smile that might be at his expense. In which case, Foggy thinks, it is fully worth it. It’s a good smile.

“Yeah, sorry, I just—”

“You can point things out, that’s fine, but I trust you won’t lead me into any open manholes or anything like that.”

“That’s a lot of trust, man,” Foggy says, and Matt laughs. “I mean, you’re talking to someone who loves some Looney Tunes shenanigans.”

“Well, then I guess if someone paints a wall to look like a train tunnel, we’re both in a lot of trouble.”

“I’ll try to be strong,” Foggy says, “and vigilant.”

“That’s all I ask.”

Foggy realizes this is probably the moment they need to actually start walking, otherwise they’re just two guys who have linked arms outside of a church. He moves hesitantly in the direction of the crosswalk, tugging Matt gently along with him, and it doesn’t feel anywhere near as awkward as he was expecting. It just feels nice.

“You see?” Matt asks, leaning against his arm. “It’s just like walking with a person!”

Foggy digs his elbow into Matt’s side in retaliation, which just makes him ping-pong away from him before bouncing back, already laughing. “Have all the fun you want,” Foggy says. “Just remember, your life is in my hands.”

“And how very capable they are,” Matt says, mildly, still grinning. 

Foggy feels himself blush and he’s very thankful at this moment that Matt probably can’t tell. It’s the only advantage he has in this situation. Naturally, of course, he decides to cancel out that advantage immediately by saying something stupid.

“By the way, this is what I normally smell like,” he says, as they wait for the walk signal.

Matt raises his eyebrows at him. “Oh?” he says, while giving nothing away, like a total bastard.

“There’s a lot of good reasons not to take a meeting straight off of a fifteen hour flight, it turns out,” Foggy says, trying not to die of embarrassment. Maybe Matt hadn’t noticed. He thought he’d just been too polite to say anything. “I want it on the record that I, you know, shower regularly and wear deodorant and everything.”

“Noted,” Matt says with another cryptic smile. He might even inhale a little bit deeper, though Foggy might be imagining that. 

“Fine, I might even smell a little better than normal. But that’s all you’ll get out of me!”

So what if he had put on cologne that he usually forgets to wear? It was a drop if it was anything. And he only did it because of what a clusterfuck yesterday had been. He’d felt he had something to prove to Matt after that conversation went so poorly. 

Matt, of course, seems to be enjoying himself immensely. “I’m impressed,” he says, as they cross the street. “If you’re willing to go to these lengths for the likes of me, I can only imagine what you’d do for someone important.”

He doesn’t mean it like that, Foggy reasons. It wasn’t intended to make him sound like, well, a bit of a whore, but it lands like that, for whatever reason. Like he’d been strategically deployed by his superiors to smooth things over, to butter Matt up to avoid burning a bridge they might want to cross someday. But, as much as he’d love to slather him in butter right now, that is not the case and, unfortunately, it’s also not a way that Foggy’s allowed to think about this person.

“You’re important,” he says, after a moment’s pause. “We’re fucking democrats, Matt. Our whole thing is that we think everyone is important, right? And, even if you somehow weren’t, I’d still be here. Even if no one asked me to be.”

“I didn’t mean to imply—”

“Of course not,” Foggy says, more breezily than he feels. “But my point still stands. I know all this stuff with the DNC is discouraging, but don’t let it sour you on all this. You could very well be the future of the party.”

Matt laughs, nervously. “I don’t know about that.”

Foggy shrugs, which he trusts Matt can feel. “I’ve been told I have good instincts for this kind of thing.”

“Now that I can believe,” Matt says.

When Foggy turns to look at him, he finds Matt already regarding him with interest. He thinks again of his conviction from earlier that this is no irrelevant run-of-the-mill meeting—one of dozens he'll take this week, and hundreds he'll take this year—but rather the beginning of something important. He feels certain that this won't be the last he sees of Matt Murdock and wonders if the same thing is going through Matt's mind too as they walk together. If he's willing to be honest with himself, he can admit that's not just something he suspects will be true; it's something he hopes will be true too.

🏳️‍🌈 💖

[goldenempyrean]

Another Marina hc because they are also my current hyperfixation 🥹 I came across this ask meme but unfortunately can’t link the original post… what are your thoughts on the below (if you feel inspired)? 💫

🤒: How often do they get sick? What kinds of illnesses do they tend to get most often? Colds, flu, sinus infections, stomach viruses?

🤧: What does their sneeze sound like? (Description, spelling, or both!)

😩: Do they tend to sneeze just once or twice, or multiple times? Do they have fits frequently or rarely? Does how many times they sneeze depend on the cause?

🤝: Do they like to be taken care of when they’re not feeling well? Or do they hate it when people fuss over them? If they do, what’s their favorite thing about being taken care of? If not, why don’t they like being taken care of?

😔: What are their “tells” when they’re not feeling their best? Do they sleep more or less? Do they become easily irritated, aggressive, snap at little things? Or do they withdraw and become quieter, cry at the drop of a hat, stay in the background? What’s the one surefire way that one of their loved ones would be able to tell that they’re sick?

😖: Do they ever try to stifle their sneezes? Can they do it almost silently, sort of well, or are they just one of those people that can’t stifle at all? If they don’t stifle normally, is there any situation where they would at least try?

🌸: Are they allergic to any kind of plants? Flowers, weeds, trees? If yes, how bad are their allergies to those plants?

🕯: Are they allergic to other things? Dust, animals, perfumes, certain fragrances?

Anon, my dear, I love doing these! If you’re comfortable please come pop up in my DM’s so we can hyper-fixate on these together! Anyway this is gonna be long so strap in!

(And to that one specific person - please don’t start a war in my ask box about formatting again. That was horrible and made me feel like shit so just please don’t <3)

🤒: How often do they get sick?

Personally I think Carina gets sick the most often out of the two, simply due to the fact she works in a hospital. But they’ve both got pretty strong immune systems so they both get sick 1-2 times a year maybe - not counting times they pick up each other’s illnesses.

🤧: What does their sneeze sound like?

I’ve said this before in my past one with Carina but she either sneezes all cutesy and quiet or loud and harsh depending on where she is and how tired she is. Maya I feel like she just sneezes normally y’know? She’d definitely try to keep them a little held back while at work or around Carina though (until she gets too tired to care)

😩: Do they tend to sneeze just once or twice, or multiple times?

In my head Carina definitely sneezes more than once, especially if shes sick. Maya, I’m honestly not sure about, she could be either. She doesn’t like being seen as weak so she’ll probably let one slide but she’ll try and stop herself from needing to do it more than once or twice.

🤝: Do they like to be taken care of when they’re not feeling well?

Carina definitely does. She likes cuddles and naps and just being close to Maya. Maya also enjoys it just as much but she’d never admit that out-loud. Especially with her childhood, she isn’t used to it. As said previously, she’ll act a little stubborn (which she definitely was at the beginning of their relationship) but now they’ve been together she’s finding it easier to allow herself to be taken care of.

😔: What are their “tells” when they’re not feeling their best

Carina honestly just goes quiet. She’s usually chatty but if she’s not feeling great then she’ll just try and blend in and not stand out. Her accent is usually a little thicker too. Maya is similar as she’ll also go quiet but in a high-stress environment like her work she’ll often get a little snappy and short tempered but she’ll always apologise for it afterwards.

😖: Do they ever try to stifle their sneezes

If Carina is able too then she will, especially if she’s around people or at work even though she’ll chide Maya for doing the same. Maya stifles only if she’s cuddled against Carina or desperately trying to be quiet but most of the time she’ll just sneeze normally.

🌸: Are they allergic to any kind of plants?

Carina has none that she knows of. Maya has mild spring hayfever but its more itchy eyes than anything but she’ll completely shut down any accusation of it despite the fact she will take meds for it occasionally.

🕯: Are they allergic to other things?

I wouldn’t call it an allergy exactly but at the start of their relationship Carina could often be set off by the smell of smoke lingering on Maya, similarly after moving in together Carina’s numerous candles often made Maya’s nose irritated.

[writer-freak]

Bokuto taking care of sick Gn reader

Summary: Reader is sick at home and Bokuto tries to take care of you

Warnings: Gender neutral reader, reader is sick, just fluff, Bokuto being his energetic self

A/n: I have been sick for the past two weeks because first I was in so much pain I couldn't move and right now I still have a pretty bad case of the flu (though I'm mostly better). So I started writing quite a few headcanons about reader being sick, in pain, or on their period, so expect quite a lot of that content when I'm healthy again. This is just some headcanons from my old account so not really my best work but I need someone to take care of me right now

Reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated💙

Bokuto would drop every responsibility for you and just run over to your place when he hears you are sick

He will not really think through what he is going to do for you but he can't leave his love alone at home while sick

So what will most likely happen is that he shows up in front of your door hugging you 

You probably have to remind him that he shouldn't be too close to you because you don't want to infect him

He will ignore that and still hold your hand while saying that you should go back to bed

Will tuck you into bed and look at you with sad puppy eyes because he hates seeing you so unwell

Will put a hand on your forehead and will notice how much you're burning up which will set him into a panic because no human should be this hot (literally) 

Has a scattered brain and therefore will most likely call Akaashi or someone else for a bit of help on what to do so that you can feel better

He asks Akaashi what he should get and then he goes to you and tells you that he will be back in a bit and if you need something specific

After your answer he goes get all the stuff like cooling pads, some medication to lower your fever, something for your throat, etc.

He will most likely forget some things and bring other random stuff which he thought would be nice but its all cool because he remembered the most important things

Or so he thought but when he is back at your place and says that he will go back again to get the missing item you tell him to stay with you 

He will have the biggest grin because of that and goes to hold your hand before putting one of those cooling pads on your forehead

He will probably just talk to you about anything and everything to get your mind off you being sick 

So I hope you like someone talking to you because the look he will give you if you tell him that the talking just makes it worse is like you kicked a puppy 

But now we imagine that it is helpful and that after some time his rambling just lulls you to sleep

He will continue talking before he even notices that you have fallen asleep but he is happy that he could take care of you in some way

He still is worried because you of course don't magically look better but for now, he just decides on carefully scooting with you in your bed to cuddle

Because cuddles make everything better 

Well besides that after that he got sick because he of course wanted to be close to you and now you have to take care of him

But that is a story for another time

Hopefully you enjoyed this and merry christmas if you celebrate it and if not I hope you have a wonderful day