#jocy

[pewslight]

[heffrondriving]

- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ Which Side Of My Heart Are You On? ❜ : ̗̀❥ JO TAYLOR × LUCY STONE┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

: ̗̀❥ RATING: T // WORD COUNT: 9,080 // CHARACTERS: lucy stone, jo taylor // RELATIONSHIPS: lucy stone/jo taylor, obligatory kendall knight/jo taylor // TAGS: one shot, fluff, mild hurt/comfort, lil lucy angstiness, romantic tension, slice of life, friendship, pining, gay panic, flirting, confusion, internal conflict, self-denial, arguing, character study(ish), femslash, girls in love, canon compliant, useless lesbians <3, rarepair // AO3

: ̗̀❥ inspired by the song Like That by Stand Atlantic and dedicated to @digitalfate 💙

❥៚ 𝑶𝑵𝑬: 𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒄𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒏, 𝒚𝒐𝒖’𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒂𝒔𝒆 (𝒄𝒖𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒗𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒔 𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆) ─ೄྀ࿐

❝ Honey-coated speech and I’m overdosing It’s just like that (It’s just like that) Delicately dying for another minute It’s just like that (It’s just like that) Gold rush, what you digging out of me? This head rush, stomach’s in my neck I gotta stand still, dizzy, dumb and in between... ❞

Things have been weird. And while Lucy wouldn’t mind a dash of weirdness cutting up the basic monotony of her daily life, this was just asking for madness.

Well...there was asking for madness, and there was turning right to madness, and Lucy felt so impossibly caught up in the middle of it all that she would have given anything to feel normal again, even just for a second.

But that was also ridiculous. She was Lucy Stone, for crying out loud! She was hardly the poster girl of normalcy, and she rocked that rollercoaster ride hard and fast, no safety bars allowed. She was an up-and-coming punk goddess shacking up in the very heart of Heartless Hollywood, land of the rich and famey and batshit crazy. She had four good friends who also happened to be rowdy hockey players slash huge popstars slash absolute troublemaking hooligans from Minnesota, all of which constantly dragged her along their insane cartoonish escapades. And believe her, Lucy had tried normal, once upon a terrible time—having apple-cheeked, insidiously overwound, suburban basketcases for parents will do that to a ponytail-pulled kid.

And still, it was amazing—infuriatingly so—how none of it held a Yankee gift-basket candle towards the weirdest way Jo had been making Lucy feel lately.

So maybe that was Lucy’s own fault, a slow undoing by her own personal hubris a-la Ajax tragedy—after all, she was the one who chose to move back to the Palm Woods, despite the rocky not-quite-history she had with the place. With the way things were going for her flourishing career, she could’ve gone all-out and holed up in some nice ultra-luxury condo elsewhere in LA, preferably somewhere far away from her old lie of a life and the pretty little faces that came back to haunt her every restless night she was all alone and running on twenty cans of Pipeline Punch Juice Monster and writer’s block. But that just wasn’t Lucy’s thing. She was never the type to just up and run away.

Well, except maybe running away from her overbearing parents and their southern passive-aggressive authoritarian neuroses that got her poor older brother kicked to military school before she could get more secret guitar lessons from him, but that’s besides the point. If Lucy wanted to get over something, she would face it without flinching and confront whatever got thrown her way headfirst. If there was anything she learned from her cranky whipsnap of a violin teacher (and nothing more useful than sight reading and permanently disliking classical music, to be frank), it’s that quitters never get the break.

Well, okay—she had also quit the old hag for nearly breaking her fingers off with that damn yardstick anyway despite her father’s disappointed vitriol. But it turned out to be the best decision Lucy had ever made, since now she has broken away from her stifling classical musician past and finally emerged with her big break as the rock scene’s next big rising star. Even though whoever in her idiot desk monkey PR team that had the ‘brilliant’ idea to stamp her brand as a ‘pop princess’ smack dab on the cover of Wailing Note magazine out of all places seriously had another thing coming, because that couldn’t be any further from who she was trying to be. But trying to be the next Siouxsie Sioux with kickin’ song titles like ‘Teenage Anarchy’, ‘Eat My Dog’, and ‘Cut It Off And [redacted due to inappropriate graphic nature]’ don’t sell in this modern climate, so maybe Lucy could at least try to get Avril Lavigne and she wasn’t even tossed that fighting chance.

And now the cycle of Lucy’s woebegone life seemed to have gone from broken-up to breaking out and now right on the verge of breaking down, grappling with strange feelings she wasn’t sure were even hers to feel at all. Even with her pointless selfish reminiscing, Lucy knew this wasn’t just about her, wasn’t just about her messed-up past and her breakneck future making her feel a thousand different shades of weird, but it was here and now. In the present, with a girl she doesn’t know how to feel about. There was something about Jo Taylor.

Or something else Lucy was missing entirely.

There was bound to be some weirdness between them; after all, she and Jo both dated the same boy at some point—even though dated was a pathetically generous way of putting it for Lucy, what with the whole only together for barely ninety seconds deal before those fateful elevator doors opened up to a badly-timed kiss and imminent disaster. After her previous cheater boyfriend fiasco she nearly fell prey to again, the last thing Lucy wanted to do was to get caught up in an unexpected love triangle with all signs pointing to heartbreak highway with an inbound collision, which was certainly enough to break the hardest heads and make anyone’s mangled stomach drop all the way to the pits of hell.

But if her debut album was all about being strong and doing what makes you happy, then so be it. Nevermind that she also would have been totally singing out of her ass for 80% of the tracks (the remaining 20% was for the sick guitar riffs that could shred a whole factory of Dutch gouda into fine powder and disgustingly great sound production courtesy of Galactic Records, of course). Because apparently that positive fakery and callout girlpower sells and sells and sells, so hey, well done her. Make it until you fake it, right?

Anyway, all of that annoying drama was over and done with, Lucy’s had her petty little revenge via a hit Taylor Swift-esque masterpiece that landed her a cosy place on the music charts (which, in hindsight, wasn’t the most elegant of moves, but she was lonely and dejected and filled with enough unwanted spite to boil her body from the inside out, what else was a girl supposed to do other than go all Ophelia? Yeah, Lucy was tragic but she wasn’t buying into that classic brand of fridged-lady bullshit) and earned her a pretty cool future European tour, and now she had her rightful throne back at the Palm Woods along with her old close friends and a really lovely new girl friend.

Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe Lucy and Jo were only pretending to stand each other’s strained necks only to crush their heels down as soon as one let down her guard and looked away. Maybe they were only five seconds away from a slipped bitter laugh and tearing at each other’s throats with painted nails to the beat of flashing paparazzi spotlights and tonight’s E! News headlines. Lucy honestly couldn’t really tell anymore.

Sure, she and Jo were good friends now, but there was still something uncomfortable lingering in the air between them, hair-raising friction and blink-and-you’ll-miss-it dispositions and an unspoken gravity that threatened to crush down Lucy’s tin can brain if she overthinks it for too long. The worst part about it was that Lucy couldn’t figure out what it was exactly—she was completely over Kendall (and any other stupidly complicated boy trouble for the foreseeable rest of her life, if she could friggin’ help it), that much was true...but why did she still feel a dull pang of something almost resembling jealousy whenever the Palm Woods star couple were together?

Lucy has tried to cut off that insidious feeling time and time again, but the indomitable hydra’s head just kept on sprouting back and multiplying twofold, poison veins and blood-red vision, suffocating her a little worse every time.

Cutting her own annoying head off would be a much easier solution.

That Sunday was one of those weird monster-brain days. Lucy and her two best friends had been meticulously planning this girls’ day out for an entire week now as their busy acting and recording schedules never seemed to perfectly align, and that day was the only free time they had to spare. Unfortunately, Camille had to be rushed back for a last-minute audition callback for the next series installment of hit TV show My Nanny is a Werewolf on Kidzie Channel. While both Lucy and Jo eagerly volunteered to entirely nix the hangout and come with her in support instead, the actress cheerily waved their offers off, telling the girls that Logan was already coming with her anyway and she didn’t wanna ruin their plans any more than she already did, despite their assurances of the contrary.

With exchanged wishes of good luck, Camille bade her friends goodbye with a well-practiced weregirl snarl-twirl-snap combo and playful reminders to “have fun and behave yourselves while I’m away!”

Lucy couldn’t even muster up a smartass quip back to promise one or the other. If anything could send her nerves instantly unwinding end to end and back around her throat next to news of her parents coming around for a visit to subtly psychoanalyse her every disobedient move and street mimes (the creepy monochrome bastards), it was having to be alone with Jo.

Shit biscuits, this was so not in the plan!

It was going to be strange for them—potentially disastrous, even—not having Camille around, since she was practically the sole linchpin keeping their friend group together. With the veteran teen actress having been really close to each girl and being a steady presence in the Palm Woods and their lives despite all the ensuing changes and confusion, she was always there to ease out the looming tension and act as an impartial mediator between Lucy and Jo, always ready with a crazy story or a fun activity to rope in the three of them together. Not that there was anything wrong with it, but Lucy’s previous solo hangouts with Jo proved to be a bit dubious after exhausting their seemingly multiple choice chit-chat options about music and work and the-eyebrows-man-who-must-not-be-named, more often ending the conversation in question marks and uneasy silence broken only by a straw scraping against the bottom of the empty smoothie cup.

But Lucy was still determined to make the best out of what might just be a good thing. Maybe even the next best thing for them going forward. This was the perfect chance to figure out what exactly was going on between her and Jo. What’s the worst that could happen, right?

(Everything. Nothing. All of the above plus one and show the equations on scratch paper. The options were limitless and if this was a test of true strength and willpower, Lucy would rather stab herself in the neck with a freshly-sharpened #2 pencil than fail hard and embarrass herself. But she wasn’t gonna be a coward and run away, not this time. Not anymore.)

Their day was a whirlwind blur; a burning rush of exciting Hollywood lights beckoning their giddiest fancies and sweltering air competing against frigid mall air-conditioning, teasing flashes of soaring blonde curls and a steadfast hand clutching Lucy’s own, and creeping close contact everywhere she turned—every moment a suspect call, ocean bruises and rubinette touches turning into downward spirals and a bleeding fleeting desperation that seemed to haunt Lucy around like a phantom as she followed Jo around, while her friend clearly wasn’t feeling the buzzkill spectre shivering and sapping her bones dry of enjoyment.

That was good. That was bad. The answers were still a mess on the page.

For the most part, Lucy figured she did a pretty good job of the whole rigmarole. Despite her brain initially going full neurotic on her, it really wasn’t all as bad as her nightmarish fantasies had twisted it out to be. As a matter of fact, it was Mr. Fox levels of fantastic.

They visited some boutiques and spreed the shops to mix and match some cool new outfits for each other, and shared some delicious food at a quaint seaside burrito and taco stand afterwards. There, Lucy listened intently to Jo’s stories about getting the part of the beautifully wise nymph-child Emily Trace and her time in New Zealand filming for Chauncey Jackson, which the actress still fondly remembered despite the whole breakup deal and the disastrous theatre-burning aftermath that came with it. Lucy managed to crack snarky little jokes and laugh in the right places, also sharing funny and zany tour tales of her own. And, upon Jo’s not-so-brilliant idea once she spotted the two-for-one deal sign as they were heading back, Lucy also begrudgingly got French pedicures with her, which was a whole other level of horrifying for the punk girl.

She swore upon all the unwise deities in the sky that she was never letting anyone near her extremely ticklish appendages again no matter how skilled they were at prettying up her nails, thanks very much.

But that was the worst brunt of it otherwise. In a spur-of-the-moment madness, Lucy even ran with this whole dumb bit of going all gum-chewing tour guide for Jo and showing her around the city, completely playing into it with awed gasping, imaginary camera clicking, and dramatic posing and pointing at every nondescript building facade and rusty fire hydrant. Neither girl cared that every rubbernecking passersby shot them odd looks and disapproving glares, they simply laughed and ran away with arms interlocked beneath the cascading firestorm marigold of the afternoon skylines, cardboard cutouts of towering skyscrapers and palm trees silhouetting the dying sun as the day drew to a more peaceful close.

So yeah, to say it went great was a massive understatement. Lucy enjoyed herself a lot, but not as much as she enjoyed seeing Jo have the time of her life. It felt like their relationship was going to continue its ascending momentum, but...friendship shouldn’t have felt this stilted, this rehearsed, this performative. It shouldn’t have been this hard for Lucy to deal with. Even with her inexplicable thoughts, Lucy really liked Jo. And the sentiment seemed to be reciprocated, counting how many times Lucy made Jo smile and crack up—and in one instance, even choke on her ice cream as the punk girl described Camille and Kendall’s short-lived stint as figure skaters in full painful detail, insane best friend code and Logan’s murderous jealousy and James and Carlos getting glued together and horrible shiny purple costume and bloody Death Spiral and all.

Jo was incredibly easy to talk to, comfortable to be around with, all prettiness and sprightly charm and that adorably wicked smile edging out a smart veneer—it made Lucy’s stomach flutter something strange—maybe from hope, or maybe from indigestion courtesy of those killer all-American beef tacos. Long story longer, Lucy wants to be with Jo.

So what the hell was she doing wrong?

There wasn’t too much time for Lucy to think it over, and she was far too exhausted and simply relieved that she made it out alive. The two girls opted for one last quick corndog snack (well, Lucy did since she was seriously starving after their impromptu street run and Jo wasn’t the biggest fan of the food, but the actress bought some to take home for their hyper helmet-toting friend anyway), before catching the last shuttle to the Palm Woods and finally making it back to their home sweet home.

Make it until you fake it...

“Thanks for the awesome day out, Jo,” Lucy said as they reached the door to Apartment 3F, a place less supply closet chic and much roomier than her old one. She only moved into a second-floor space when she first returned as step one of her terrible ‘get rid of horrible songwriting rut’ plan. And after a whole week of sleepless nights courtesy of the nonstop racket in Apartment 2J, Lucy decided to save what was left of her hanging sanity by requesting a change in rooms, an arrangement that Mr. Reginald Bitters was all too happy to agree to once he saw the growing zeroes in her bank account.

However, this also meant that Jo’s apartment was only a few doors away from hers down at 3I, an uncanny coincidence that Lucy didn’t want to think too much about.

“No need to thank me for anything,” Jo replied modestly. “And thanks as well!”

“I’m super worn-out to the bone and all, but I had lots of fun and I really wanna do this again soon. Hopefully when Cam’s free so we can paint the town a shade of red brighter.”

“Yeah, I think I’d really like that too.” Jo smiled. “And Camille better be there, ‘cause she seriously missed out today and well...I say this with all the love in my heart, but you’re also a really lousy clothes shopping partner.”

Lucy chuckled, airily shrugging in reply. “Hey, no offence taken. If it wasn’t so obvious already, I’m really more of a DIY-kinda person when it comes to choosing my fits. I mean, where’s the fun in picking up Barbie doll cutouts when you could get to run loose with scissors and trick up that haute couture perfection into something awesome and unique?”

“Yeah, I get the whole getting bored with dress-up too.”

“Yeah?”

“Kinda, with all the outfits and costumes they make me wear for my acting roles sometimes...” Jo said. “It’s all gorgeous fun and fabulous fashion shows in the dressing trailer until you’ve spent half your week on the makeup chair after your fiftieth costume change of the day and end up in a molting chicken outfit in hundred-degree LA heat for an eight-hour shoot.”

Lucy whistled low at this. “I’ve had my fair share of getting stuffed into itchy grandma dresses by my mom, but yeah, definitely nothing as bad as that. I think my worst offender was a giant pink chiffon tutu for a church recital and I sulked up a storm the entire time for the performance that my annoyed dad practically had to drag me off the stage by my pointé shoes.”

“Awww, ballerina Lucy-goosey,” Jo gushed. “Now that I would love to see!”

“You’d have to pry it from my cold dead hands first.” Lucy sternly clicked her tongue. “But hey, anytime you feel up for a wardrobe overhaul, call me, beep me, ‘cause I’m your gal. it’s a hell of a time ripping ‘em up, and that’s definitely a thing I gotta show you sometime.”

“Mmm, maybe. Daddy taught me never to run with scissors, though.”

“Oh come onnn, live a little, why don’t you?” Lucy mimed a pair of scissors with both hands and poked and jabbed her flicking fingers into Jo’s midriff, making her cry out in protesting giggles.

“Hey—don’t, buzz off—you’re—such a bad influence—Stone!” She gasped out, skirting away and whacking Lucy with a Kate Spade shopping bag to fend her attacks off.

“As if you really need me to break your halo, angel?” Lucy winked. “I’m afraid it’s far too late to save your grace.”

“And you and me and the devil makes three.”

“Well, only you and me since two of those are the same things.” With a halfhearted evil cackle, Lucy swung the door open with a grand sweeping gesture. “Feel like entering the gates of hell today?”

Jo nodded gratefully as she welcomed the invitation. “I don’t know if I could take another step without collapsing, so wouldn’t mind a little rest,” she said, dropping her bags down on the couch and comfortably settling in with a sigh. “Thanks, Lucy...fer?”

“Oh, you won’t be thanking me soon enough.”

“Why, ‘cause you’re gonna make pretty confetti out of my clothes?”

“Hey now, alright, alright. No more running with scissors so daddy doesn’t take your supper away.” The punk girl held up two hands in surrender and sat down next to Jo. “Maybe just very carefully ambling with helmets and crash pads. That sound like a plan?”

“Just as long as that plan doesn’t include you abandoning me to cause some townie trouble with high school kids and howl at the moon.”

Both girls couldn’t help but giggle at the vivid image of the elegantly gorgeous Camille Roberts transforming into a hairy scary beast by performing her signature snarl-twirl-snap cheerleader move.

“Hey, down with team Jacob,” Lucy joked. “I promise I won’t abandon you, and this is just a little precaution so we don’t accidentally riches to rags those really good florals you picked out for me, ‘cause that’d be a right shame.”

Jo frowned at this, peach-pink lower lip blooming into that dainty little pout the New Town High writers had taken every opportunity to abuse in her infamous character Rachel’s scripts. Lucy couldn’t blame them, though. It was a pretty view-cashing quirk—even she was completely mesmerised. “You don’t have to lie to make me feel better, Luce,” she said. “If you don’t like it, just say so. I’m a big girl now and I could totally take it. And anyway, we could always exchange it for those fancy aviator jackets you were ogling over. Oh yeah, I totally saw that, even if you didn’t tell me.”

“How dare you accuse me of being a liar—‘cause I’m totally not!” Lucy insisted, adamantly waving the tropical-patterned paper bag containing the incriminating articles of clothing. “You wanna see me wear that frilly frigging halter top everyday? Girl, you got it! I’ll even dye my hair Electric Bananas yellow and wear it for my next music video complete with Daisy Dukes and red cowboy boots to immortalise it forever in my shameful name, if that’s what it takes for me to prove it to you!”

“Wow, so desperate to convince me.” Jo delightedly laughed, a mischievous wind-chime twinkle. “Hold your horses, cowgirl. I’m already impressed by the dedication alone—although I honestly wouldn’t mind seeing you in that kinda outfit...”

Lucy’s throat tightened, suddenly finding herself unable to meet Jo’s cloying coffee gaze and pursed smirk as it wryly raked up and down her pale, gawky, ungraceful form. She was so unlike her beautiful American doll of a best friend, who was like all the pretty pink princesses and gorgeous Day-Glo Pop Tiger girls she either unhealthily obsessed over or resented with a misguided burning passion (or both) in her younger days. And well, apparently now—but would Jo agree to a music video cameo if it meant Lucy also got to see her in skimpy denim and sunbeaten leather of a sizzling hot Arizona desert cowgirl outfit—was Lucy insane enough to even consider writing a song in the godawful twangy music genre she despised with a burning passion just to make it happen...okay, nope, she wasn’t telling that, either.

“Well, you said no need, so no take-backs,” she muttered halfheartedly, both arms folded adamantly to press over her churning stomach—ugh, must be those damn fried franks too, how the hell did Carlos manage to scarf down a hundred sticks of them on the daily and not get a heart attack in the box?

“...Hey, are you okay, Luce?” Jo asked worriedly as she reached out and touched the back of her hand to her friend’s feverish forehead. “You don’t look so hot.”

“Me, not hot?” Lucy waved her concerns off with a lame scoff. “Pffft, that’s impossible!”

“Oh. Now that’s weird...”

“What’s weird?”

“For a moment, I swear I was talking to James Diamond of Big Time Rush and not Hollywood’s hottest pop princess Lucy Stone...”

“Okay, A. Don’t ever call me pop princess unless you wanna get turned into a toad, and B. compare me to that conceited IKEA rug-looking nematode again and I will take you down,” Lucy snapped, but immediately regretted her default mean girl tone when Jo reeled slightly. Oh, right. Not everyone was used to her brand of poison spit. “I didn’t—I didn’t mean that.”

“You didn’t?” Jo countered. “I’m always ready for a challenge.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll save the taking down for James instead, the next time he tries to be a total pest with his stupid aeroplane-based makeout metaphors and toxic man spray fumes.”

“Wow. You really hate him that much, huh. Don’t worry, I won’t tell the boys on you.”

Despite Jo’s jesting tone, Lucy couldn’t help but feel a little bit defensive. “It’s not that I hate him, I just...” She sighed harshly. “I guess if you look past the bloated ego and the over-delusional Adonis complex and the general dramatic derangement, he seems like a decently nice enough person. A really annoying one, mind—but maybe someone I wouldn’t mind being just friends with.”

“Just friends?”

“Capital F-word Friends, period. Mark my words, Taylor, because I am damn well carving them on the gravestone I’ll rest on in my sweetest deathbed, that I shall never have a thing for James frigging Diamond,” Lucy declared, slapping the coffee table after every word to emphasise her point. “Cross my heart and hope to die. Which I will if you ever bring this utter nonsense up again or even mention a single word of it to James. Then I hope he dies.”

Jo sombrely mumbled something Lucy couldn’t quite make out, only catching the tail end of “...to know.”

“Sorry, what was that?”

“Nothing, just...” Jo shook her head. “Thinking about some stuff. Nothing important, really.”

“Oh? Then spill,” Lucy goaded. “C’mon Jo, you’ve seen me squirm and shriek my lungs off at that stupid foot spa torture chamber, I think that’s enough to warrant a no-more-secrets rule between us.”

“Well, it’s just that, the thing with James. Or the lack of it, rather.”

“What about it?”

“It’s not because of...the whole Kendall thing, is it?”

“What?!” Lucy’s tone rose to shrill indignation.” Why on god’s green earth would it ever be?”

“I don’t know,” Jo hastily backtracked. “I told you it’s nothing important, but I just never really thought of it this way before. Like, seeing how they’re best friends and everything...”

“Dude, come on—”

“Maybe it’d feel weird for you so soon after everything to have to see him around all the time.”

“Josephine, seriously, you’ve got a big brain on you. Don’t waste it on History Channel conspiracy theories and pointless MTV-level drama,” Lucy sternly berated. “But no, it’s because James is irritating and abrasive and keeps popping up everywhere like a bad rash.” She paused, making a disgusted face. “Okay, ew, that was a horrible comparison, but you know what James is like so you get my point. I told you I’m already cool with Kendall, and you and him have nothing else to do with anything that’s my personal business, except for being my good friends and good company. That’s all.”

Lucy wanted to mean it like she said it—but wowza, was that an Oscar-winning performance of a pretty little white lie or what? Either Camille’s extreme method actressing had been rubbing off on her lately, or it was just another one of those dirty tricks she had to learn the hard way after endlessly lying and being lied to in her last relationship. She was certainly good enough to fool hopeless hearts trying to chase her out of the friendzone and vice versa, so what’s one more lie? Laissez-faire life like this, you simply can’t have one without the other, as she found out easily enough.

That was the only easy part about it, unfortunately. I’d like to thank you with a side of choke, Academy.

“Okay. Just checking,” Jo replied after an extremely unnerving beat, dainty lips quivering as she stubbornly bit CW’s favourite thousand-dollar pout back into a serrated thin line. “‘Cause I’d really feel bad if—”

“Well don’t!” Lucy shouted in a crackwhip shock that made her friend flinch hard enough to taste blood. “I said what I freaking said—so seriously, just drop the whole annoying wounded kitty act and shut up about that for a moment already, okay?!”

“...What’s that supposed to mean?”

Oh, great. Just when Lucy thought she was about to pass with flying colours, there came the surprise back page to clock her just as the time ran out. They were due in for a catfight anytime, weren’t they?

“Nothing,” Lucy dismissed, exhaling roughly and slapping a palm on the side of her head to fend off the incoming headache. “Just forget it. Forget about everything.”

“Lucy, I don’t wanna pick a fight.”

“Yeah? Then why don’t you damn well act like it?” Hey woah, ixnay on the attitude, Stone, what the hell are you doing?!

Jo blinked helplessly. Took a step back. She appeared on the verge of something. Maybe falling tears, maybe unsheathing claws. Lucy had certainly shown her hand. Er, paw. Her own fists clenched and unclenched, leaving thin scarlet indentations on her palms with obsidian-black fingernails.

“I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to upset you,” Jo finally murmured. “I just want you to talk to me, Lucy.”

“What am I, using telepathy or something?”

The punk girl’s snarky response went all but unheeded. “No, I mean like...talk to me, please,” Jo begged, clasping desperately at Lucy’s marred hands. “I just feel like, I don’t know, we’re still holding some things back and the last thing I want between us is this...annoying awkwardness! Maybe it’s just me—maybe I’m just being paranoid, but I feel like there’s this sort of unpleasant tension hiding behind all the normal chatting and the joking, it’s like this weird space that I just can’t understand how to reach out to. It’s like, there’s something more going on here.”

“What are you talking about?” Lucy said evenly, trying to ignore both the sudden electric dithers from her fingertips starting to course through her nerves and the distracting fact that Jo’s skin felt so warm...

“That’s the thing, I can’t even begin to describe it. I don’t think there’s any rational way to! And I swear, I like you a lot, but if we can’t get past that—whatever that is—then...” Jo let go of Lucy and slumped her shoulders heavily, at a total loss. “Maybe there’s no point in trying to be friends anymore.”

Oh, Tony the pissing Tiger grrreat with a side of soggy cornflakes. Not only was Lucy’s worst suspicions confirmed, but it was apparently playing for both teams and everyone was damn well losing. No, really, she would rather take the hair-pulling and name-calling and kicking and screaming—she didn’t do well with pity parades, seeing how easily she could rain on it with her stupid shallow tears. Even worse than the ticklishness, it was seriously Lucy’s greatest, lamest, worst weakness ever.

“Listen to me.” Lucy startled Jo as she staggered forward and grabbed her by the shoulders, trembling touch seconds away from a good sense-knocking shake. “I chose to come back to the Palm Woods. I chose to ignite some trouble with the whole nutty song scandal. I made you believe I was still chasing Kendall just to douse more gasoline in my writer blocked-brain. Did I regret any of it? Yeah, a whole freaking lot, and I’ll never stop being sorry for being so stupidly petty...but I’m not mad anymore. I don’t regret coming back here. And I definitely don’t regret...” Being with you. “Being your friend.”

They were so close Lucy could feel Jo’s rattled breaths shaking past her lungs. Or was it hers?

“Really?”

“Well, duh!” Lucy broke into a genuine smile, which Jo hesitantly mirrored back, and Lucy’s grip relaxed into an awkward pat on the relieved girl’s back. “Hey, the whole thing with me and Mom Pants McGee was a fun little tryst while it lasted, but sweet boys give me a toothache anyway and I’m completely over him now. And I did get a couple amazing hit songs off his storky back, so hey—even stevens.”

“Yeah, of course,” Jo said regretfully. “I’m really sorry for bringing it up in the first place and trying to overcomplicate things again. I mean, you’re so pretty and talented and great to be around with—even if not in the fitting room,” Lucy shot her fond stink-eyes at this gibe, “so...I really don’t wanna lose you.”

“Back at you.” Top ten worst responses to a heartfelt conversation much? But Lucy really couldn’t say it back at the risk of her twitchy eyes going twin geysers, so she squinted and blinked rapidly to get rid of the blurriness threatening to overtake her sight. “But also, you’re still right about some things.”

“Like what?”

“Us, for a start. When I said I didn’t know what you were talking about...I was just too nervous to admit the truth. Because I’ve honestly felt that weird awkwardness too, and I didn’t wanna be the one to ruin things when they seemed to be going great, so I left it alone and hoped it would go away. I tried to make it go away. But maybe that’s also on me for not trusting you enough to really talk to you.”

“Oh thank god,” Jo blurted out. “I mean, not the awkwardness, but I’m really glad I’m not going entirely crazy. Am I bad for saying that?”

“The worst.” Lucy grinned, winking at her. “And you know what? To hell with all that noise! Life’s too short to get cold feet with your cool friend, and it’s too awesome to hang out with you, today alone proved that. I swear, I haven’t had this much fun since...I dunno, my first trip to Kidzieland just after my very first successful violin recital.” She cringed a bit at the inflicting memory. “Well, the recital sucked total butt and a half, what with more frilly dresses and rows of dead-looking old people silently watching a poor six year-old screech her way through Vivaldi Concerto in A Minor, but I just meant the happiest place on Earth part.”

“Ooh, violinist Lucy-goosey, I gotta pry that out of your cold dead hands too! Just kidding. But I really hope you’re not just saying that just to say it.”

“I know I say a lot of things—maybe too many things—but like I said, I never say anything I don’t mean. I can promise you that much, cross my heart and hope to die. Or, um, not die.” There was an irritating song stuck in Lucy’s head going la-la-la-la-liar...

“Sounds good to me,” Jo said, smiling appreciatively. “Sorry for being annoying.”

“You’re not annoying, I’m just being a total queen bitch again. I’m really sorry for yelling at you, Jo. I’m not entirely used to this whole friendship thing yet ‘cause it’s all so new to me—and I guess you’ve just found out why I don’t really have many of them. God, I just need an attitude check every once in a while.” Lucy sighed. “But I really hope we’re still friends...?”

“Of course we are!” Jo said. “Besides, if you’re gonna need an attitude check from time to time, I wouldn’t mind being up for the job.”

“Hired—as long as you’re fine with being my unpaid intern slash total lackey.”

“Oh, I’ll make you pay one way or another.”

“You’ve been threatening me an awful lot today, Miss Taylor.” Lucy arched a daunting brow at Jo. “You really think you can take America’s baddest punk prodigy on?”

“Please. You’d be surprised to see just what I can do to you.”

“I’d love to see you try, princess.”

Lucy smirked and rolled her eyes as Jo lightly punched her shoulder before making a grab for her choker blouse, which she easily twisted out of. Lucy zipped to her feet and made a taunting come-hither motion with one hand while Jo surged toward her again, and she pulled a feign to the right and used it as an opportunity to try to corner Jo. But the blonde girl performed a shockingly quick complex manouevre that completely caught Lucy off-guard, as Jo twisted her by the wrist and swept her outbalanced legs from beneath, easily pushed her back down to the sofa, and ultimately managed to pin her against it, one nimble leg locked over Lucy’s knee and Jo’s forearm pressed deep into her heaving chest to keep her from escaping.

“Told you I’m always ready for a challenge.”

“Touché. Colour me a hot-pink shade of impressed,” Lucy said, not even bothering to squirm her futile way out. “You weren’t the locked-up tower damsel in distress I thought you were.”

“Oh?” Jo cooed slyly. She was clearly savouring every minute of it (not that Lucy couldn’t say the same—but never admit defeat to your enemy and all that jazz). “Did Kendall never mention that my dad’s a trained Marine and CIA employee, and that daddy’s little girl went through intense judo training from age five to get her supper?”

“Your dashing Knight in flannel armour never mentioned a lot of things about you.” Lucy’s lips curled in between shallow breaths. “I wonder why.”

“I guess that means you’re not the only one keeping secrets, huh?”

“I guess so.”

“So you and me, what’s our deal now? I thought you said no more secrets?”

“Well, maybe leave some between the devil and me.” Lucy’s brash conviction fell flat, lost to the stunning sight in front of her spinning her into mental vertigo. Jo’s perfectly-coiffed ringlets were now a tangled mess over her forehead as it freely waterfalled over Lucy’s hot-pink face, and her breaths—damn it, I should really stop staring at those bewitched lips—were so heavy on Lucy’s neck that she found herself shivering and ticklish all over. Stupid oversensitive skin. She deliriously wondered if Jo’s barred arm was also bruising from how hard her heartbeats were walloping out of her ribcage. “So...what else can you do to me, Rapunzel?”

“Wouldn’t you like to find out?” With a promising glee, Jo finally released her captor and stood up, smoothing back her hair and stretching her body as if their tussle never happened. “But hey, I’m tired and you’re tired and we’re all fried in the brains, so that’s a girl fight for another day, don’t you think?”

“I’ll make sure to chalk up that appointment.” Lucy accepted Jo’s helping hand and handed the other girl’s shopping bags in turn. With this, they instinctively linked arms as they walked to the front door.

“So, same time next week?” Jo asked expectantly.

“Are you talking about the hanging out or the fighting?” Lucy replied.

“Hmm...maybe a little bit of both. For funsies.”

“Hey, dinner and a movie first, missy!” Lucy exclaimed all huffy, making Jo laugh and whap her with a bag again. “But seriously though, whatever it is, I’m looking forward to it, as long as it’s with you.”

Jo searchingly peered at her. “Really?”

“Totally! I know I don’t have many people around here I could talk to apart from the Big Time Gonzos and you and Camille, and there’s never a dull moment, to say the least, but...I just really like being with you the most, Jo,” Lucy confessed. She hated herself worse the more she talked, but the dam had burst and she was unable to keep herself from blabbing on. “Now that we’ve got our issues out of the way, I think I could just talk to you, like really talk to you, no supermutant telepathy needed. Somehow, it makes me hope that I’ll never have to feel like I gotta be someone else other than myself now. So...I don’t know. This sounds super weird and stupid to say, but I kinda feel like...you could be my best friend. Or maybe even more than that...?”

Woah, nelly. Can we get some lip stitcher for the TMI snitcher here??? It must’ve been Lucy’s mind getting scrambled and smeared like avocado toast under the humid evening heat. Or from too much sugar-shocked Mint Brownie Blizzard DQ’s, because why the hell was she suddenly getting all soft and sappy now? Yeah, she was more than used to speaking her mind, but it was usually sharp edges and bad decisions like Jo just unfortunately witnessed, but not this...this goopy tempur-pedic heart mess!

“I dunno, it’s whatever, but you’re cool and stuff, and it’s really nice to wind down from work without getting caught up in insane tree hat schemes or Camille’s crazy acting gigs and have some vanilla peace and quiet sometimes with someone, so like. It’s whatever! Ugh, sorry. Lame. Not you—I just, me—I’m...so lame. Yeah. Um. Thanks. Bye.”

A deafening beat of silence, Jo softening into what could’ve been a second of sympathetic uncertainty, or a thousand years of embarrassed concern. Lucy scuffed her ancient Demonia boots against the dusty carpet, wordlessly counted the dirty palm prints in dire need of a good vacuuming and an entire pricey overhaul that their cheapskate manager would never pay for, and tugged absently at her handmade Lockpicks button, picking and pressing at the black and red marker-scribbled logo until she felt the open pin pierce past her jacket and dig into her numb hammering chest. She wanted to slam the door in Jo’s face to saver her own. Or slam her dysfunctional head between the doorway just to get everything over with.

Yeah, great save there, Stone. Only made you sound like a backed-up motorcycle that won’t start. Peanut butter smooth enough to choke a three year-old. That storm’s one for the playbooks, Lzzy Fail with a capital L for Loserville—

“I don’t know what else to say except for...thank you so much, Lucy.” At last, Jo’s reply mercifully cuts into the musician’s tirade of self-resentment, her sincere voice wavering into delicate brushstrokes and painting Lucy’s face with cosmic bloom. “For this day out. For your honesty. And for everything else.”

Lucy expected a judo slap in the face more than she did gratitude. She would’ve taken it like a champ too, if it’d help her come back to her senses. What? Huh? “Whuh?”

Aaand there’s the slap from her stupid dysfunctional brain to save the friggin’ day. Girl, snap your mouth shut and get yourself together before you have a full-blown aneurysm in front of Jo, come on.

“I’m just really glad to hear that from you, is all,” Jo continued. “‘Cause here I thought it’d never stop being weird after everything that happened between us and even now, I still wasn’t even sure if you really liked me or we’re just doing this to try to be polite with each other...”

“Ohoho believe me, I’m constantly five seconds away from slipping cyanide in your blue smoothies.”

Jo chuckled at Lucy’s amused threat. “Well, thank you for not doing that, and for being an amazing friend. I’m glad that you feel safe enough to be comfortable with me now. All the things you said, I just, I feel the same way about you, I really do. I know I’m not the best with my words right now,” At least you’ve got some words in, unlike miss guppy gaper over here—“But you...um, this just really means a lot to me.”

Lucy’s breath hitched as Jo smiled gently and reached out towards her—too high to be her arm, too low to be anywhere else. Was it a handshake? A hug? A well-deserved slap? Another surprise scuffle?

Even with everything at a standstill, there wasn’t enough time left in the world to find out.

The sound of a chirpy lo-fi ringtone cut through the air, jolting Lucy into a sharp exhale and a spat profanity. Jo halted dead in her tracks to fish out her phone from her shorts pocket and check the incoming notification, her earnest countenance immediately whittling down a weary resignation.

“It’s Kendall,” Jo announced as she idly scrolled through the accursed message. “He’s asking why I didn’t reply to his text twenty minutes ago and what time I’ll be back—and if I got him the latest Hockey Action magazine with that one...sports dude on the cover from the newsstand. I think he had like, brown hair and a weird name but that’s literally all I remember...like he really expects me to tell any of them apart?” She groaned. “They all just look like blurry uniformed guys to me!”

“Oh.”

The actress tiredly laid her glowing phone screen against her scrunched forehead, starkly illuminating the stressed lines creasing her face. “I’m sorry about that, I just...I love Kendall, I really do, but he’s been really testing my patience more and more these days. It seems like all we ever do is bicker and fight about dumb things that shouldn’t matter too much, and then we make up and kiss, and then repeat the whole crazy cycle and I’m used to it by now, but...maybe I shouldn’t be?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Wow, where’d all that big talk disappear off to, big girl? You sound like a stuck soundboard, chrissakes.

“Y’know, sometimes I think I’d be better off if I didn’t get back together with him at all and we just—” Jo sighed abruptly, repocketing her phone. “Nevermind. Sorry. Don’t wanna ruin our perfect day any more than I already have with some extra boring boy friend drama.”

“Okay.” There it was again, that ferocious hydra, writhing and biting and threatening to burst from under Lucy’s taut skin, screaming ‘was that a pause in between boy and friend or did she just run out of breath???’. Apparently metaphorical mythical monsters (ten points for the alliteration skills there, Maya Angelou) can also be total tinfoil hat nutters, grrreat.

“Yeah,” Lucy scoffed a little louder, blithely crossing her arms. “Better not. Anyway, I got a warm shower soak and a Capri Blue Volcano bath bomb in here with my name on it, and you better check in on Kendork before he blows a blond gasket and rips up half the state of California just trying to look for you, so. Don’t want the poor kid thinking I’m stealing his best girl away from him, huh?” Girl, what kinda weirdass joke was that?! God, just shutupshutupshutup—

“Well, right now you have a better fighting chance than him.”

Okay, either someone suddenly decided to throw a huge (highly illegal) party in the next apartment room out of nowhere, or the popping confetti and champagne and victorious rave music and flashing strobe lights were all in Lucy’s head. Lucy’s very confused, very impossible, decidedly insane head.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to hang around?” Jo asked. “A few more minutes wouldn’t hurt, and I wouldn’t mind it at all. Kendall would probably only lay waste and ruin to Sacramento and Anaheim by that time. And if you want, I could also make you a mean grilled chicken salad.” She tilted her head and coyly lifted her shoulders. “I mean not to brag, but. Gotta keep myself busy in the tower somehow.”

Yes, please stay, please don’t, I don’t know what I want with you except for it’s a lot even if you probably want nothing to do with me, maybe you should stay with me so we could figure this mess out together or maybe we don’t just as long as we’re together and you won’t have to fight anyone for a kiss, please fucking stay or I’ll miss you around—

“Nah, I’m gonna miss those cheesy ghost tours and gastropubs if he does that, but cheers for the offer anyway.” Lucy replied with a wink—oh gross, she did that a lot, why the hell does she do that a lot? She seriously needed to call an ophthalmologist’s office sometime to get checked for uncontrollable eye spasms. Or maybe it was the home of the future’s ancient dirty furnishings giving her an allergy reaction something awful and she could sue the pants off Bitters instead. “Now beat it.”

“Awww, but we were having such a moment!”

“Well you already let your hair down, so not anymore, princess.”

Maybe it was Lucy’s imagination being a little demon again, but there seemed to be a crestfallen hint to Jo’s smile at her brisk refusal. So Lucy decided to reach out past the weird space and surprised her friend (though considerably a lot less than she surprised herself) with a gentle embrace; cold sweat palms comfortably flush against Jo’s shoulder blades to slow their descent down even for just a moment longer, silent butterfly whispers fluttering under her wispy breath to never let go.

Jo unsurely squared up a bit before easing into the gesture and matching it, and that’s when Lucy let go and playfully elbowed her away, not bothering to draw away the curtain of red-streaked hair that had fallen over her face. Had it always been a thousand degrees here, or was Buddha Bob messing around with the perpetually-broken thermostat again? It really was a wonder of the world why she chose to move back to this busted joint. But maybe it was worth it because of something else. Someone else.

Surely the princess isn’t in another castle now.

“Now take my affection and scram before I choke you with it, Josephine,” Lucy warned breathily, shaking a curmudgeonly fist at Jo.

“Oh, really? And how are you gonna do that, exactly?” Jo grinned back, a challenging tryst as she shrugged her slipping cardigan sleeve back onto her chambray shirt, all frisky static and fleecy denim, the kind Lucy hated she loved. “Because if we’re gonna have a proper dinner and a movie date soon, then you better be ready to show me sometime.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“No need to beg at all. Love you too, Lucille.”

Jo simply winked back, one tender hand to touched to Lucy’s chin as the actress leaned in to kiss her on the cheek—a shy flitting gesture that devolved into vicious hummingbirds tearing apart Lucy’s chest heartbeat by paralysed heartbeat—before Jo gathered her tote bag and newly-purchased belongings, casually waved to her friend one last time, and walked away.

Lucy’s hand let go of the remaining shopping bags—taking no heed of the sound of shattering glass—as it instinctively curled towards her crimson-clashed face, the scent of familiar Velvet Rose and shared mint brownie and vanilla lipgloss dizzyingly overwhelming, trembling electric fingertips tracing what was perfectly spelled out in front of her all along but she was just too stupidly blind to see.

Shocking white blinding Lucy’s vision like intrusive camera flashes worse than hectic press releases, bitterness breaking apart upon remembering the way her heart just about crashed to her freshly-pampered toes when Jo happily embraced her by the shoulders, the phantom sensation of their sweaty bodies pressed delicately and melted together in that cramped Sears photo booth, Jo holding up a peace sign that bumped against Lucy’s devil horns as the blonde stuck her bubblegum-purple tongue out so ridiculously that Lucy hadn’t smiled that hard it hurt since forever, hadn’t felt her stomach cramp up with the kind of unfettered laughter that rang in her ears too loud and untwisted her heated guts and made her feel a little more sane despite all the haunting madness—leaving only a blurry collage of pretty memories to be stuck on fridge doors or placed under pillows for sweeter dreams.

There wasn’t just something about Jo Taylor, apparently—it was everything about her.

Click, click, click, love-laced gears in Lucy’s annoying head gnashing towards a mortified understanding, senseless steam clouding her brain and choking up her restricting throat as the excruciating realisation scribbled warning-red question marks everywhere and derailed their exquisite friendship straight into a messy, confusing, dramatic trainwreck.

Most likely it was nothing. Just a friendly gesture. Just an offhand faux flirt for an offhand faux-flirter. But then again...maybe it meant everything. Maybe Jo meant it. Maybe Jo really felt the same way about her. Maybe the whole date schtick was beginning to dance the line past an overplayed joke into a serious invitation (would his ex-not-boyfriend be pissed if they ended up dating the same girl?). Maybe Lucy just had to turn her head the right way and take Jo down like her impulse-rabid brain hydras were screaming at her to even if that meant stirring up a paparazzi frenzy of the century, alt-scene’s baddie ‘pop-princess’ gone worse with the sweetheart new town queen, to stir their sucked blood in the shark-infested waters and devastate their contract-clean reputations—who ever heard of such a thing?—who the hell could tell anymore?—and who the hell cared about all this MTV-level drama, anyway?

She was too smartmouthed for her own good, all that shammed bravado and sweetsour chit-chat, too cool for class and calculated down to the point just to push people away, too full of shit...she was Lucy Stone, for crying out loud—and that meant nothing at all when she was trying fight against, with, for a girl she’s already lost to, once, twice, a million times over.

Why couldn’t she just shut up and shut it down like she always did this time around?

Lucy couldn’t run away anymore, so the only thing left to do was to write a hundred songs about being weak and making herself miserable and throw it all in the fireplace, because she already sold her soul to the devil. Fake it until you unmake it...and hope it would also unmake all the aching weirdness, the weird overthoughts, the weird way Jo left her hanging on and falling away to snap her neck on the rope she was barely holding onto...this was nothing like the best cheek kisses Lucy had ever served to all the nevermore nobodies she’d vaguely crushed on before, and yet Jo felt like all of those at once.

And more—the kind of more that she wanted, the way she wanted Jo, would Jo want her like they’re meant to be together, would Jo even want her...friendship shouldn’t feel this desperate, this complicatedly messy, this fucking painful. Lucy really wants to be with Jo. She wants Jo. She wants...

Oh, shit biscuits.

a/n: idk if anyone will ever make it this far lmao, but if you see this, thanks for reading!! (⑉⺥˶˶̫˶⺥⑉)💗

[tittiemeats]

Joci Baker

[teamdays]

hi everyone!!! apologies as i lost track of time and am uploading my piece a few days late, but I'm very happy to have finally gotten a chance to participate in march caprice this year despite my busy schedule!!

I ended up having to change to concept for my piece a handful of times, but ultimately I'm really happy with how this came out and proud to have gotten it done. Happy 22nd birthday to kingdom hearts, and happy march caprice!! 🎉

[tommysversion]

Unconditionally: Joel Miller x OC { Part 1/10 }

Summary: Lucy loves Joel Miller unconditionally. A cross country trip to escort an immune, bad mouthed teenager to safety might just prove it.

CWs: canon typical violence / unsafe sex / age gap / language / spoilers (if anyone cares) / canon divergence / mentions of attempted sexual assault / themes of previous suicidal tendencies

Note: this work is intended for adult audiences only. It is not strictly canon compliant, and was originally posted to A03 when I first ventured into the fandom.

Unconditionally. Part One of Thirteen.

Joel doesn’t want to stay the night, not really. It feels too much like invading the peace, too much like an intrusion, even though Bill and Frank are dead. Maybe that’s precisely why it feels that way.

It feels too much like an intrusion, and he’s lost enough, as of late. He didn’t much like Bill, and he’s certain that feeling was mutual. Grudgingly, he admits he didn’t mind Frank so much. He was hard to dislike, even by someone as prickly as Joel. He can’t afford to get caught up in thinking on it, not too heavily. Even with Tess gone… he has two travelling companions still relying on him. One more than the other, he supposed, on account of Ellie being a goddamn kid. Lucy, not so much. The younger woman he met by chance in the QZ isn’t bad with a weapon, and she’s good at being stealthy. All good traits in a smuggler. He never wanted a fucking apprentice, or whatever the hell she started as, but when she found out he was leaving the QZ, she’d pretty much invited herself along to “watch his dumb ass”. He hadn’t exactly argued.

As requested in the letter, he doesn’t go into the bedroom. What he does do, before he showers, is take inventory of the gas canisters, the truck, the supplies in the garage. Only once he has an idea of what they’re working with, does he relent to Ellie’s nagging and hit the shower.

For a kid, she’s persistent.

It’s not his ideal scenario, to crash for the night in the bunker Bill installed beneath his house long before the infection ever started, but it soon becomes clear to him that it’s the scenario he gets.

Ellie’s rubbing her eyes, clearly exhausted but making a show of pretending she isn’t; even the hype of the handgun she pocketed earlier can’t fight off fatigue. Joel doesn’t know about the weapon, nor does Lucy, and in Ellie’s eyes, the adults guarding her don’t need to know. Not yet anyway.

Lucy doesn’t look much better; there’s only so far you can go on caffeine pills and pure adrenaline, and Joel fully expects her to crash at any moment. She’s currently examining the wall of guns along the far side of the bunker, occasionally pausing to check the security cameras.

“We may as well stay here for the night.” Joel offers, because he knows Lucy wants to ask, but won’t, and he’d rather she was sharp for the journey ahead.

“You sure?” She’s not questioning him, more making certain; she knows he’s not a huge fan of staying in one place for too long. Even though the compound is protected, it still feels too exposed. Too risky.

“May as well. We can get some sleep, load up the truck and be out of here by dawn.” He’s already taking a mental inventory of everything they’ll be taking with them.

“Right.” Lucy turns her attention back to the wall of guns, running her fingers over a few, occasionally taking one down to test the weight of it, to see how fast it reloads and cocks.

Ellie, meanwhile, busies herself opening a cardboard box stamped: US ARMY MRE RATION.

“Is this food?” She turns a vacuum sealed bag over in her hands, squinting at it.

Lucy looks over her shoulder, a rifle in her hands.

“Oh, yeah. That’s old shit, but it’ll survive anything. Whatcha got there?”

“Chilli.” Ellie reads the print on the package, “and something called a snack cake? The fuck is a snack cake?”

“Exactly what it sounds like. Probably an old Twinkie.” Lucy puts the rifle back and selects another, weighing it in her hands, checking the ammunition capacity. Satisfied, she raids the ammunition cabinet nearby then sets about repacking her backpack.

“It’s safe to eat, if that’s what you mean.” Joel reaches past Ellie to snag his own freeze dried food, unsealing the package to inspect the contents.

It’s not the best meal they’ve ever eaten, but it’s decidedly better than some of the worst, and certainly enough that each of the trio made room in their backpacks for a few of the rations. Better to have ancient, somewhat tasteless food, than no food at all.

“So we’re sleeping down here?” Ellie surveys the bunker in mild amusement. They’re all aware there’s a spare room upstairs and a couch, but it feels too exposed, and too much like squatting.

“May as well. You take the cot, Ellie.” Lucy nods to the camping cot tucked away against the wall, under a rolled sleeping mat and a small stack of blankets.

“Not gonna complain.” The teen shrugs, helps move the sleeping mat and most of the blankets off the cot, then drops herself down onto the surface, pausing only to take off her new hoodie.

Joel keeps his eyes on the security cameras as Lucy unrolls the sleeping mat; it’s relatively large, they can probably both squash onto it and have enough room, and a blanket each.

“Tonight only.” He warns both woman and girl, “don’t get comfortable.”

Lucy sticks her tongue out at him. She wants to argue with him, make a smartass comment about it being impossible to get comfortable on a thin ass sleeping mat in a bunker, but she knows the road ahead is likely to be unpleasant, far more uncomfortable than the current situation.

Joel rolls his eyes, watches as she unlaces her boots and leaves them to the side of the sleeping mat; if they were anywhere else, he knows that she wouldn’t have taken her shoes off at all. But if they’re compromised in the night? Best thing they can do is wait it out in the bunker. He’s not going to begrudge her taking off her shoes, not when he plans on doing the same.

He glances over to the cot, where Ellie’s already out like a light. He has to hand it to the kid, her ability to sleep wherever the fuck they land is somewhat impressive.

Another glance, to Lucy this time, then he returns to the security feed.

“We can swap out watching the monitors, if you wanna be sure.” Lucy unfolds a thin, itchy blanket, then another. Sighs. Wool isn’t what it used to be.

“Honestly there ain’t much point, but. I’m not the type to be a sitting duck. Not that we’ve got much choice.” Joel frowns, surveys the makeshift double bed Lucy’s put together. “I can sleep in the chair.”

“At your age?” Lucy’s mouth turns up into a smirk, the way it always does when she’s teasing. He can hear it in her voice, even when she turns away from him so she can crawl under the blanket, nose wrinkled with distaste at the fabric.

“Rude.” Joel replies without rancor; honestly, the chair looks uncomfortable as hell, more so than the camping mat, itchy blankets or no.

“Don’t argue with me,” Lucy says in response, “there’s room. Besides, these blankets fucking suck. We’ll freeze down here without each other.”

Her tone is playful, makes it clear she’s just messing with him. Sighing, he takes off his own shoes, leaves them on his side of the ‘bed’, then sets his handgun down beside them, within reach. He notices she’s done the same thing, has her pistol within reach, just in case. Her new rifle isn’t far off, either. He wants to think he’s taught her well, but honestly, Lucy was a survivor before he met her.

Joel turns out the fluorescent overhead lights, leaving the bunker illuminated only by a camping lantern next to the ‘bed’ and the security feed monitors.

He strips off his coat, folding it into a makeshift pillow, then slides under the blankets, immediately feeling the slight itch of old fabric mixed with the chill of the night coming.

“These blankets do suck.” He comments as he turns onto his side, facing her. He can look over her shoulder or prop himself up to check the monitors every now and then. He doesn’t think they’ll be disturbed, not really, not down here. It’s probably the only secure night of sleep they’ll get until they’re back in the QZ, or something similar.

“Told you.” Lucy huddles under them nonetheless; he supposes it is somewhat cold down here, and it’ll only get colder during the night. That, and she gave the best blanket to the kid. Of course she did.

He looks over her shoulder to check the monitors one last time before he turns his attention back to her; she’s trying not to shiver, even in the long pants - jeans - and shirt she’s wearing.

“Fuck sake, c’mere before you wake the kid with your chattering teeth.” Again, there’s no heat in his words as he opens his arms to her. Anyone else, it might feel weird or uncomfortable, but Lucy is just…. Lucy.

She doesn’t even hesitate, even though she might have normally done so. She’s too damn cold to care, and fully aware it’ll be a long night if they don’t warm up soon.

When she’s right against him, Joel pulls the two blankets over the pair of them, adding an extra layer to her before wrapping his arms around her, rubbing his hands up her back to generate heat.

“How are you always a goddamn furnace?” It comes out muffled, on account of her face being buried in the crook of his shoulder, cheek resting on his collarbone.

“Luck of the draw.”

“Very funny.”

He can feel the curve of her smile against his neck, though, so he knows he hasn’t actually annoyed her with his sarcasm.

“Warming up?” He doesn’t want to push her away, not really. They’ve shared a bed - or a makeshift one - plenty of times, when the situation has called for it. There’s never been anything strange about it, not really, and if there’s an unspoken tension? Well, that’s not his problem. Or so he tells himself.

“Little bit.” Her lips graze his throat when she speaks, but she’s not so tense now; clearly she’s warming up, feeling more at ease than she was before.

“Good. Can’t have you come all this way just to lose you to frostbite.”

“I don’t think it’s cold en- oh.” She huffs, realising too late he was making another joke, albeit in that dry way of his.

A low chuckle escapes his throat, not laughing at her; at least, not in a mocking way, more just amused by her embarrassment and the little huff she made.

“Just tell me if you’re still cold.”

“A little,” she admits, “but I’ll take being a little cold as a fair trade for a single night of sleeping in relative comfort and safety.”

She said relative, so he doesn’t argue with her, just keeps running his hands up and down her back.

“We’ll find somewhere safe enough in Wyoming. After.” Joel says instead. He doesn’t add the unspoken rest: after they find his brother. After they find someone who can take Ellie in. Lucy understands; there are too many variables, too many things that could go wrong.

“Go back to being FEDRA slaves?” She suggests.

“If that’s what it takes to be safe, sure.”

He can’t see her roll her eyes in the dimmed light, not really, but he can almost hear her doing it.

“Safe.” She mutters, “as if that’s a reality.”

Joel hums agreement, adjusts his arm around her, tucks the blankets a little tighter around her shoulders.

They lay in silence for a few minutes, Joel watching the monitors, thinking she must have drifted off to sleep, when her soft voice breaks the near silence.

“Thank you.”

“For what? Keeping you warm?” He isn’t too sure what precisely she’s thanking him for.

“Keeping me around. Keeping me safe as best you can. I know I get on your last nerve, but I really do appreciate you.”

He can feel the heat of her breath on his skin as she speaks, hushed words into his good ear, not wanting to disturb Ellie.

“You don’t get on my last nerve.” He says finally, “and you don’t have to thank me. You watch my ass, I watch yours. It’s a good partnership.”

He can feel her smiling again.

“No longer a padawan, huh?”

It’s his turn to smile, a rarity for him.

“Those movies are older than both of us. How do you even know that phrase?”

“Keeper of my secrets, I am. Never know everything, will you.” Lucy responds, mimicking Yoda in a whisper.

Joel has to turn his face into her hair to muffle his own laugh, instead getting a good inhale of whatever shampoo she pilfered from the shower earlier. Something floral.

“Nerd.”

“I miss pop culture.” Lucy half shrugs, dislodging the blanket, then shivers and tucks herself further under his arm, pausing only to peek over at Ellie, who’s still a steadily breathing shape under her own blanket, probably a great deal warmer for not being practically on the concrete floor. Lucky kid.

“I miss good music and decent coffee.” Joel readjusts the blanket again, tucks the edges down around her shoulder to keep the chill out.

He misses about fifty other things, some things far more painful to talk about than others; he’s barely been able to talk about Sarah with her. He doesn’t know if he ever will. But he doesn’t want to ruin the good feeling between them by being a downer, even if he thinks she’ll understand, so he keeps it light.

“Gas station coffee was never decent.” Lucy counters, “but I get you.”

“Yeah? You were a Frappuccino girl, huh?”

“Latte.” She informs him, “with a flavour syrup.”

Joel snorts in spite of himself.

“And here I am giving you the shittiest black coffee in the history of shitty instant coffee.”

“That means we have access to it, so I’ll take it.” Her tone makes it plain she doesn’t mind, not really. Her preference might have once been for sweet coffees with lots of almond milk, but these days, she’ll take whatever caffeine she can find. Especially when it means he’s sharing his limited supply with her.

“You’re too kind.”

She’s laughing again, soft sounds muffled in his shoulder, but at least she’s no longer shivering.

“If you say so.” She says finally, hands flat against his chest, keeping herself as close as possible, trying to conserve heat. “I guess I should move, huh? I’m not about to freeze on you anymore, so.”

He doesn’t want her to move. Even the four or five inches they’d have between them if she did suddenly feels like too far.

“Only if you want to.” He says finally, “I don’t want you to just freeze again. I’m comfortable like this, if you are.”

Lucy shrugs against him.

“I’m not opposed to this.”

If there’s more she isn’t saying, that’s her business. Joel doesn’t pry, because quite frankly he’s not sure he wants to go down that path. Not because he finds her unappealing, but because letting someone close could have dire consequences.

So he just hums agreement, rests his chin on top of her head. Almost expects that to be the end of it, until -

“Not opposed to it, or okay with it?” He speaks before he can think it through, and he knows it. Wants to take it back almost right away, because this is precisely down the path he wanted to avoid. Apparently not. Again, he’s not blind to the tension between them, but he isn’t truly sure he wants to allow someone to get close to him. Not after so many losses.

“What a leading question.” Lucy tilts her head against his shoulder.

“That’s not an answer.” If he’s going to walk this path, he may as well walk it properly. Or maybe she’ll save them both the awkwardness and just go to sleep.

“Do I really need to answer it? Spell it out for you?” She laughs softly, “I’m comfortable here. I feel safe here, with you.”

“Nowhere’s safe, Lu. You said it yourself.” Joel feels like a dick the moment he says it, but he’s trying to keep it light, almost afraid to let this go any further, even if he wants it to.

“I know that. What I mean is this. Lying here like this. It feels nice.” She knows she’s doing a terrible job at explaining herself, but he’s caught her off guard.

“Yeah. I get you.” He admits, because he’s not so much of a jerk that he’ll let her confess that and not be honest in return.

“I know you do.” She adjusts herself, fingers playing idly with the fabric of his shirt. “Get me, I mean.”

It takes him a moment to formulate a response; he’s almost ashamed of how distracted her touch makes him, as though he hadn’t been running his hands up and down her back a short while ago. As though he hadn’t been distracting her just as much, even if he doesn’t know it.

“Be a shit team if I didn’t, huh?” His hand moves to briefly cover hers, planning on giving it a light squeeze of reassurance before letting go.

Lucy has other plans, flipping her hand over and interlocking her fingers with his, surprising both of them.

“What are you doing?” He asks, truly surprised by her touch.

“Tell me to stop, and I will.” There’s a quiet determination in her voice, something he’s heard only hints of before. Not like this.

“I’m not gonna tell you to stop.” Joel says finally, “Hell, I got you wrapped up against me. How’s it any different?”

He’s being deliberately vague, toying with her. He doesn’t mean to, but he’s curious how far she’ll push it. He’s almost glad she’s making the first steps.

“To keep warm.” She reminds him, “that’s why I said… tell me to stop if you want me to.”

“I don’t want you to stop, honestly. This is nice.”

He means that; it’s been far too damn long since he held anyone like this, let alone had someone hold his hand the way she’s holding him, her smaller thumb tracing over his, rubbing little circles. It’s soothing, and quite frankly probably the only tiny piece of serenity they’ll get for a while.

“I’m glad.” There’s a sheer honesty in her voice, even with it pitched so low, so as not to wake Ellie.

He sighs, weighing his options in his head, fighting a losing battle with himself if he’s honest. Maybe it’s strange to even be considering any sort of romantic entanglement when laying in the basement of someone else’s house, when that someone else is dead in the bedroom the floor above. But somehow, Joel thinks, Bill and Frank would understand. Here, in this house, where their story began and ultimately ended… why shouldn’t it be the place something else starts too?

“Hey, you okay in there?” Lucy tilts her head up to look at him, eyes searching his face, trying to figure out what he’s thinking.

“Yeah. Just thinking.”

“Escape route?” She’s only half joking, so used to him constantly being wired, attuned to their surroundings.

“Not quite.”

“Then what? Is everything alright?” Truly she sounds concerned, which in itself is touching. Maybe it once annoyed him that she gave a shit, but now? It’s grown on him.

“Everything’s fine. Honestly.”

She’s still looking at him like she doesn’t quite believe him, like she’s trying to work him out. Fuck it. Why shouldn’t this be the place something else begins too? Isn’t that what they’d have wanted? Isn’t that why Bill left him an entire goddamn arsenal? To protect those he cares about? So maybe that’s a foul mouthed teenager and a woman he used to help scavenge black market medicine with. Better than the alternative. Better than the aching emptiness of being alone.

Lucy’s still looking at him, lips slightly parted.

“Ah, what the hell.” Joel mutters, and tilts his head down so he can connect his mouth with hers.

It’s not the perfect moment to kiss her, not really. They’re barely above freezing cold in the basement of their dead friends’ house, with their antsy charge asleep twelve feet away, but it feels right nonetheless, and hell, it may be the only chance he gets.

Seize the fucking day, or whatever whoever said that shit said.

He’s almost surprised by how soft her mouth is; honestly, in a world without makeup, or very little of it, he knows her singular concession to vanity is chapstick, if she can find it. She doesn’t waste her time trying to find box dye or eyeliner or anything else that she once used daily, lets her hair be streaked with silver in places without shame or concern. She wears practical clothes to keep herself comfortable and protected, usually keeps her hair tied back for safety. And yet somehow, somehow, she has the softest goddamn mouth he’s ever kissed.

She half pulls away, just for a second, her eyes searching his once more. She must have found some sort of answer in his gaze, because she doesn’t hesitate to lean back in to initiate another kiss.

Lucy’s younger than him, it’s true, but not by so much that she’s inexperienced; that much is clear by their second kiss, by the way her teeth nip gently at his bottom lip, almost demanding better access to his mouth. He doesn’t remotely hesitate to let her, lips parting, letting their tongues entwine as he pulls her tighter against his chest, holding her there for a moment before he rolls them, carefully, propping himself up on one elbow so he’s not putting his entire weight on top of her.

She breaks the kiss once more, glances over to the other occupant of the room. Joel looks too. Still dead asleep.

“We’ll have to be quiet.” He breathes into her ear, dropping a kiss below her jaw. “Can you do that?”

A little smirk is her first answer.

“I’m sure I can.” She hums, undoes the top button of his new borrowed shirt so she can lean up and drop a kiss to his collarbone.

Once, she might have bitten, left a little mark, but since the outbreak, biting one another has sort of lost any amorous appeal. Thanks, cordyceps.

Still, the kiss there is intimate enough, considering. He doesn’t stop her, lets her hands wander down his chest, settling there for a moment before they slide under his shirt, fingertips tracing every old scar she can find, like she’s committing every inch of him to memory.

His hand - the one that isn’t occupied propping himself up, slides along her side, thumb rubbing circles on her hip. It’s the most he’s touched another person in months. Years, maybe. He can’t say he dislikes it; it’s unfamiliar, sure, to be touching another person in a caring and intimate way, but he’s certainly not opposed to it at all.

“Joel…”

He’s not entirely sure, but it almost sounds like a plea. One he’s more than happy to answer, letting his hand drift to the button of her jeans. He’s gotta admit, he’s glad he can get them undone with one hand, not wanting to appear as out of practise as he realistically is.

Her hands slide out of his shirt to help tug her jeans down, not fully off, but out of the way. Neither of them are stupid enough to undress fully, not in their surroundings. They’ll make do, and Lucy does, shaking one foot loose from her pants, keeping them looped around her other ankle. Their shirts can stay on, not wanting to waste time or expose themselves too fully.

As her hands move again, he leans down into another kiss; it’s his turn to nip at her lips this time, leaning right into her as she gets his jeans undone. It only takes her a moment, considering she has both her hands to work with.

Speaking of hands. He has one free, and he decides to make use of it, rubbing his fingers across her hips, now bare to him, just watching how she responds to each little touch. He doesn’t get much time to observe her, though; she seems far more interested in kissing him, which is fine, it’ll at least keep her relatively quiet as things progress. It’s a shame; honestly, he almost wishes they were back in his apartment in the QZ, or hers, somewhere where he could coax all sorts of interesting sounds out of her and not care about the volume. But things have changed, and they’re here now, and that necessitates they be as quick and quiet as possible.

It’s almost disappointing. He would have liked to take his time, but well. He’ll take the situation as it is. His fingers move inwards, across her thigh, slowly, teasing her, their lips still locked together, her tongue teasing at his bottom lip between kisses.

He can tease right back, letting his fingers slide between her thighs, pausing just before he reaches his target to break their kiss.

“Remember what I said about quiet.” He warns, a gentle reminder whispered into her ear. She hums her assent, her fingers carding through his silver streaked hair, as though she can’t get enough of just simply touching him.

He understands the feeling, truly, but he has other plans, beyond touching her hair. His fingers trail along her inner thigh, amused to find her already soaked and waiting for him. Amused, yes, but aroused, too; his thumb finds the little bundle of nerves at the apex of her core, rubs it slowly, watches her eyes widen, her teeth sink into her lip to keep herself from making a sound.

He finds himself smirking, just a little, rubbing slow little circles on her sensitive skin, fingers skimming across wetness, spreading it, coating his fingertips in it.

Her lips part in a silent gasp as he slowly slides two fingers inside her, giving her a warning look as he curls them, buried to the knuckle inside her soaked heat. He can feel himself aching against the fabric of his jeans; even unbuttoned, he feels constricted, a dull aching need throbbing in him.

“Been thinking about this for a while,” he admits, voice still low and sensual in her ear, “maybe not in this setting, but I’ll take it.”

He keeps slowly moving his fingers, pumping them in and out, agonisingly slow, wanting to watch her reaction, wanting her to beg him for more. He knows her well, knows her better than he’d like to admit, and he knows damn well she’ll crumble eventually.

It comes sooner than he expected; he can feel her tensing up, her back arched up, her chest pressing flush against his, her entire body trembling. And somehow, somehow, she manages to stay almost completely silent, burying her face in his chest to muffle the tiniest of whimpers that fall past her parted lips.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, pulling his fingers out of her slowly, “just ride it out. You’re okay. I got you.”

Her whimpers fade as she recovers, lies back, gazes at him with half-shut, adoring eyes. Fuck, why has he never done this before? All this time…

He wipes his soaked fingers on his pants, pausing just a moment before he moves the offending fabric out the way, tugging them down slightly, freeing himself. He damn near sighs himself when her hand wraps around his length, stroking slowly, her thumb caressing the tip of him.

“I want you so bad,” she whispers, leaning up to kiss him softly, “you have no idea…”

He laughs, a quietly amused chuckle.

“I’m getting an idea, darling. Don’t worry. It’s nowhere near as much as I’ve wanted you.”

It feels wrong, in a way, how long he’s wanted her, since the first time they ventured out of the QZ together, since she proved herself a capable survivor, since she back talked him and brought a smile to his face.

Her impossibly soft mouth curves into a smile.

“Then take me,” she whispers against his lips, “I’m yours, Joel. All yours.”

As she speaks, her hand tightens slightly around him, guiding him between her legs, rubbing the head of his length against her dripping sex.

“Mine.” He repeats softly, before he sinks into her, slowly, inch by inch. He has the foresight to cover her mouth with his, to muffle the soft moan that falls from her lips.

Fuck, she feels so good. So warm and tight around him, her velvet walls tightening and pulsing as he buries himself to the hilt.

Her fingers ball into the flannel of his shirt as she returns his eager, desperate kiss, wrapping her freed leg around his waist loosely.

He breaks the kiss, takes a breath, before he slowly starts to move. Her head falls back against the sleeping mat, eyes half closed as her leg tightens around his waist, drawing him in deeper. In spite of himself, a low groan tears from his chest.

“Careful there, baby girl,” he murmurs, “careful.”

He’s warning himself as much as he is her, reminding himself to keep his head as best he can. It’s difficult, so difficult, when her fingers are curled in his shirt, when she’s so tight and wet around him, when her breathing is becoming more and more frantic as he starts to move again.

Lucy leans up to pull him against her, her lips brushing his throat.

“Joel…”

He understands what she’s asking, without her having to say it; he picks up the pace, lets his hips rock against hers a little harder, a little faster. He has to bury his face in her shoulder to muffle his own sounds; it’s been so long since he was intimate with someone, and she’s so desperate for him, one of her hands leaving his shirt to tangle in salt and pepper curls.

They’re both being pushed to the limit, trying to keep as silent as possible, not wanting to wake Ellie, trying to keep their noise as low as they possibly can, quieter than the low hum of the generator Bill kept down here, just in case, always switched on and wired to the security system.

“You feel so good,” Lucy whispers, lifts her leg slightly higher around his waist, wraps it tighter, keeping him buried inside her. Her voice shakes as she whispers it, as he keeps up the deep, steady thrusts, in and out of her.

“Mm, you have no idea, baby girl. No idea how good you feel. How are you so fucking wet?” He can’t help the low moan that he lets out into her ear as his hips steadily collide with hers, harder and faster, chasing both of their release.

She can’t answer, not a full word, only tiny whimpers as she clings to him, raking her fingers through his hair. She can’t get enough of touching him, of feeling him close to her, the scratch of his beard on the skin of her throat.

“So close…” she whispers, back arched up against him, “don’t stop…”

“Not a chance, baby girl. Not a chance.” He murmurs, picking up his pace once again. Chances are he’ll feel this in his lower back and his hips tomorrow, but he’s beyond caring. All that matters is her, and the pleasure building between them, and her soft, soft mouth, kissing at every inch of him she can reach.

His mouth finds hers, captures it in a deep kiss, letting his tongue sweep her mouth as she clings to him, feels her tighten around him, feels her entire body tremble as he brings her to a steady climax, feels her soak every inch of his length as he buries himself to the very hilt inside her. Her moans and whimpers of pure pleasure are muffled by their kiss, her hand tightening in his hair for the briefest moment before she goes limp, lets her hand fall from his hair, caressing his face gently before her hand falls.

“I know baby, I know. Let go for me,” he murmurs, presses a kiss to her forehead, “that’s it, darling, breathe through it…”

She whimpers again, links her fingers with his.

Regrettably, Joel realises he can’t hold back much longer, not with how tight she is, the fluttering of her around him. His mind is hazy with pleasure, becoming more and more clouded with each snap of his hips.

He presses deep one final time, rolls his hips into hers slowly, before he reluctantly pulls out of her warm heat, spilling his release onto her stomach with a low groan against her lips.

The temptation to finish inside her had been overwhelming, but he wasn’t about to risk any complications. Not in this world.

Joel rests his forehead against hers, breathing heavily. Lucy glances over to ensure they’re still as alone as they can be, before she exhales, sighs, looks down at their joined hands and smiles weakly.

“That’s it,” he sighs, “fuck…”

He’s most certainly going to feel this in the morning, but he’s in no rush to roll away from her; he moves so he’s no longer on top of her, tucks himself back into his jeans and gives her a moment to pull her own pants back on. Once she’s redressed, he pulls her right back into his arms, inhaling the scent of her hair, their mingled sweat.

“You alright there, old timer?” She whispers, pure tease and thinly veiled adoration.

Joel huffs.

“This old timer just made you come so hard you went limp. Smartass.” He kisses her forehead and she giggles softly.

“Yeah, but I’m your smartass.” Her fingers trace the lines of his face, committing every little wrinkle and detail to memory. Just in case.

“True enough,” he agrees, pulling her closer against his chest.

Joel isn’t one to half ass things; he’s a stoic bastard at times, sure, but he’s protective as hell when he cares, and hell, he cares about her. He wasn’t kidding when he said she was his, and they both know it.

“Joel?” There’s a hesitation in her voice as she says his name. It’s a harsh contrast to the soft, adoring reverence with which she spoke minutes before.

“Yeah?”

“Are you gonna pretend this never happened in the morning?” There’s a raw fear in the way she asks it, the way she doesn’t sugarcoat it or dress it up. He likes that about her. That she’s brutally honest.

“No.” He says finally, “there’s no going back. I’m not gonna shut you out like that. It’s… not easy for me. You know that. But … for you? I’ll try.”

“I know it’s not easy.” She agrees, fingertips tracing in his hair, her other hand splayed on his chest, “I just… that’s all I want. For you to try. I just want you.”

“I know. Don’t worry, baby girl. You’ve got me.” He presses a soft kiss to her lips before he kisses her forehead once more.

He’s a lot of things, but he’s not a liar. Not to her. Never to her.

She hums happy agreement, “You know you’ve got me. Til the very end.”

“I know.” He assures her, shifts the blankets tighter around them. “Try get some sleep, darling. I’ll be here when you wake up. Then we can hit the road.”

“Hmm,” she sighs, nuzzles her face into his shoulder. “You should get some sleep too.”

“I plan on it. Someone tired me out.” He chuckles, surprised at his own good mood, in spite of everything he’s lost recently.

“Your own fault.” Lucy replies, her voice heavy with sleepiness as she settles against him.

Try as he might to fight his own fatigue, he can feel it overwhelming him. He’s exhausted, warm and comfortable, and the weight of her in his arms is so goddamn inviting.

“Not a fault.” He mumbles, but she’s already asleep, unable to answer him.

———

Morning dawns, but Joel is awake long before he originally planned to be. He wants to take an inventory of supplies, pack up Bill’s truck, and hit the road, but first he wants to allow himself a moment.

It’s been so long since he simply lay in a bed with someone, let alone allowed himself to hold someone in such an intimate way.

Lucy’s still asleep, her head tucked on his shoulder, arm draped over him, legs tangled with his. They’ve shared a bed before, but only for necessity. Never have they allowed themselves to become intimate before, and now…

If he thought he was protective of her before, it’s nothing compared to the dull ache in his chest whenever he looks down at her now, taking in every detail of her sleeping face.

“I’m yours,” she had said, “all yours.”

There had been so much longing in her voice, going beyond lust and physical need. He doesn’t think he deserves it, and yet. And yet he isn’t going to refuse her. Not when he so desperately, deeply, needs her to be his.

He sighs. Presses a kiss to her forehead, untangles himself from her just as she stirs.

“Time to get going?” She asks, her voice thick and heavy with sleep.

“Yeah. Time to pack up and move on.” He almost wishes they could stay in this stupid bunker for a little longer, but that’s not their path. Wyoming calls. His brother waits.

Lucy doesn’t argue, just sits herself up, untangles her hair, braids it back and slips her boots on.

“I’ll pack up some supplies from down here.” She offers. He likes that about her; she asked him for reassurance before they slept, but she’s not about to ask for it every five minutes. They both know everything’s changed between them now, but simultaneously, nothing has. All they’ve really done is act on what was already there.

“Great idea. Some rations, some ammo. Whatever you think we need.” Joel shoves his own shoes on, surveys the monitors for a moment. All quiet.

“I’ll get Ellie ready, too.”

“I’ll fuel up the truck, pack a few things. Come on up when you’re ready.” Almost without thinking, he drops a kiss to her lips on his way past, climbs the ladder, pushes the bunker door open, and disappears into the morning light.

Lucy stares after him for a moment before she’s interrupted by a soft snicker. Turning, she finds Ellie sitting up and staring at her, grinning.

“What?”

“I fuckin’ knew you two were a thing.” Ellie shrugs, unravels herself from her blanket and tosses her jacket over her shoulders.

“Wh-?” Lucy doesn’t even try to deny it.

“I saw that. And I see the way you two look at each other. It’s gross. You’re both old.” Ellie makes a face as she starts to pack MRE rations into her backpack.

“I’m not that old!” Lucy protests, somewhat lamely.

“Not as old as Joel, that’s for sure.” Ellie smirks, then laughs when Lucy opens her mouth. “I’m just fucking with you. I don’t care. Maybe it’ll get him to stop being such a stone cold asshole.”

Lucy laughs in spite of herself, stocks her own backpack with another box of ammunition for her new rifle and her handgun, before shoving a few rations of her own on top.

“Not gonna argue there,” she agrees, “c‘mon. He’s fuelling up so we can leave. Let’s go.”

“Back to the road. Yay.” Ellie sticks her tongue out, takes one last look around the bunker, then heads for the ladder.

Lucy follows her, taking one last look at the rumpled sleeping mat on the floor, a small smile crossing her face.

She’s not sure where they’ll go from here, but it doesn’t matter. She has Joel, and he has her, and that’s all that matters right now.

[joatthecopa]

Quite literally the funniest thing that Saw has sent to me by far.

Anyway, who wants to play Saw X: Survive the Obby with me?

[aeide-thea]

you're either going to find this extremely charming or feel that it epitomizes all my most irritating qualities (the real answer is that both things are true!), but—

saw a poll earlier abt whether ppl prefer 'dick' or 'cock' in their erotica, and like, okay, my personal position on this is that i strongly prefer 'cock' except in, say, contemporary american settings (which aren't sexy to me anyway), where it would be tonally jarring, but (as you may have gathered from the caveat about contemporary america) it's also not a word i would personally say out loud literally ever??

and i thought about this dichotomy (🍆) for a minute and realized, welp, guess i've got a separate register exclusively for reading/writing erotica… call that pussy composé

[guysofeurovision]

[eurovision-facts]

Eurovision Fact #460:

The last time Hungary participated in the Eurovision Song Contest, they were not able to qualify for the Grand Final. Joci Pápai's "Az én apám" only placed 12th in its semifinal.

[Source]

Hungary, Eurovision.tv.

[dyingenigma]

Jocie Plinska by Lola Banet for 'Zine'

[pewslight]

[heffrondriving]

Ur annoying - xoxo ker

ohoho yes very much so (heffrondriving + L + ratio + problematic + #cancelled2k22) but remember i'm YOUR annoying so who's really losing here!!!!! 😈 n e way ilysm gnawing shaking maiming u (affectionate) forever babe <3

here, you get a gif(t) of our most beloved punk wifey for your outstanding blog crimes.....❤️🖤 but also making this gif slammed me in the solar plexus with a big brain btr au idea for big time lies where lucy runs into jo instead of kendall at the elevators but the same scenario still ensues sO DO WITH THAT INFORMATION WHAT YOU MAY BC I SURE AS HELL AM MUWAHAJAJAJ ୧((#Φ益Φ#))୨

[tittiemeats]

Joci Baker

[teamdays]

tskri yuri (falls over)(dies)

[tommysversion]

Unconditionally: Joel Miller x OC (Part 2/10)

Summary: Lucy loves Joel Miller unconditionally. A cross country trip to escort an immune, bad mouthed teenager to safety might just prove it.

CWs: canon typical violence / unsafe sex / age gap / language / spoilers (if anyone cares) / canon divergence / mentions of attempted sexual assault / themes of previous suicidal tendencies

Note: this work is intended for adult audiences only. It is not strictly canon compliant, and was originally posted to A03 when I first ventured into the fandom.

Chapter Index: 1 /

Lucy kicks at a stone as she walks along the row of abandoned vehicles, jerry can in her left hand, swinging slightly.

As far as days go, it’s a nice one. Clear sky, a slight breeze. No people, no infected, just her and Joel and Ellie in Bill’s old truck, pulled over at a rest stop for gas.

It just doesn’t last as long as it used to. Twenty years has watered it down. It’s still usable, but nowhere near what it once was.

Ellie’s gone inside to use the bathroom, to try and loot anything that might still be useful. It’s possible; they’re in the middle of nowhere, it’s likely there’s still some decent loot in there. Lucy doesn’t bother to check. She’s got her backpack full of bullets, MREs, and a change of clothes. A couple boxes of tampons. Some tylenol. She’s set, as far as she’s concerned.

Her new rifle is slung over one shoulder, her handgun at her hip. Oh, and she can still feel the heat of Joel’s mouth on hers as he fucked her like the world was ending, whenever she takes a moment to close her eyes, even though it’s been days. Yeah. It’s a good fucking day.

Lucy crouches down by the fuel tank of an old wagon, pops the cap, and inserts the drip hose. The whole process takes about ten minutes, but the result is a full jerry can. She has to resist the urge to whistle as she practically saunters back to where Joel is crouching, draining the remnants of another vehicle.

“Got some gas.” She drops her bounty carefully. “Where’s Ellie?”

“Waiting in the truck. She found some god awful pun book.” Joel sighs, as he straightens up. “Good thing you found gas too. This shit isn’t gonna last like it used to.”

“We’ll make do.” Lucy bends to pick up her own can, then gives him a fleeting smile. “We’ve got this.”

“Since when were you such a damn optimist?” He asks, one eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Who knows? It’s a mystery. Maybe my entire outlook has changed.” Lucy laughs, leans up and presses a light, brief kiss to his lips.

They can’t get distracted, not here, not now, but it’s just a soft affirmation that she’s there, that she sees him, that she cares. He tastes like gasoline, but she doesn’t care.

“Yeah? Can’t say I mind.” Joel takes her can from her, leads her back to the truck, a small smile on his face as he fills the tank with the contents of one, placing the other in the back for later use. “Fair warning, Ellie’s pun book might kill that.”

Lucy laughs as she swings herself into the passenger seat.

“We’ll see.”

Joel just shakes his head and starts the engine, leaving Lucy to ride shotgun and keep an eye on the road.

She remembers the first handful of times she ever met him; the way she’d been the middle man for those in the QZ who needed medicine, the one doing the brokering, until Joel kept bringing back the wrong drugs. Not on purpose, of course, but he wasn’t a pharmaceutical expert, he didn’t understand that one sort of antibiotic may not be the right kind.

So Lucy had bartered her own ration cards, her own resources, for him to take her with him out of the QZ to collect the drugs herself. He’d been stoic and grouchy about it at first, until he’d seen her shoot.

They’d done a handful of runs like that, where she’d paid him to take her out, to watch her back. On the maybe seventh time, he’d just shown up at her door and asked if she was coming. No payment exchanged. No mention of it ever again. They’d just slid into an easy routine, Joel smuggling in whatever he was paid for, Lucy bringing in medication for the poor of the QZ, watching each other’s backs whenever they ventured out together.

She never asked about his relationship with Tess; they worked together, they were close, that was all she knew. All she wanted to know. She’d gotten along well enough with the older woman, but they’d never clicked the way she and Joel had.

Lucy almost felt guilty that she had lived, that she was the one making this journey, that Tess hadn’t made it, but she knew it was in no way her fault. She found herself wondering whether Joel wished it had been the other way round, even with their newfound intimacy. That wasn’t something she wanted to dwell on, knowing it would overwhelm her if she allowed herself to think on it too much.

She and Joel had ventured out of the QZ together, fought together, protected each other. When a man in the streets of the QZ had threatened her, Joel had beaten him within an inch of his life; that desperate, primal need to protect taking over. Lucy thought she might have been attracted to him before, but that moment had been the defining moment for her, the moment she knew she was desperately in love with the older man. The moment he’d cradled her in his arms, knuckles bruised and bloody from his vengeance on her attacker.

She could still hear his voice as he carried her home.

“I got him for you, darling. He’s not gonna hurt you. Nobody’s gonna hurt you ever again.”

How could she not love him?

She took a deep breath. Then another. Opened her eyes. They were still on the open, abandoned road, the late afternoon sun fading slowly into what promised to be another chilly night. She turned her gaze to Joel, her eyes taking in his side profile, a small smile on her face.

“Want me to drive for a bit?” Lucy offers, forcing herself to look back to the road. She could have looked at him for much longer, but she knows it’s silly; she’s too old to be lovesick, but Joel drags it out of her.

“Nah, we’re stopping soon.” Joel nods to the forest on their right, before he makes a turn into the field, cutting across it to get to the forest.

“Making camp for the night?” Ellie leans forward from the back seat, “Cool.”

“Put your seatbelt back on.” Joel grumbles, drawing a groan from Ellie and another small smile from Lucy.

He drives them into the thicket of trees, keeps going for a few miles before he finally pulls the truck to a stop.

“This will do.”

Joel grabs his rifle and slides from the truck, beginning to unload a few supplies from the back. Lucy stares after him for a moment before Ellie thumps the back of her seat.

“God, you two are fucking gross. Quit staring so we can eat.”

Lucy hates that she blushes as she slides out of her seat, leaves her rifle in the cab but checks her handgun at her hip.

“Shut up.” She manages as a retort, before she moves to help, leaving Ellie snorting with laughter behind.

The trio sit around the portable camp cooker, tin plates of canned ravioli on their laps. Ellie eats like she’s never seen food before, like she’s not sure where the next meal will come from.

Lucy can’t say she blames the kid, honestly. She knows what it’s like to be hungry.

“Slow down.” Joel admonishes, looking up from his own plate to stare at Ellie.

“This is slow.” Ellie retorts. “What am I even eating anyway?”

“This is uh, 20 year old chef boyardee ravioli.” Joel pokes at the food.

“That guy was good.” Ellie enthuses.

“I actually have to agree.” Joel admits; many a night when he couldn’t be assed cooking were saved by the canned meals. Not the best in terms of health, but hey, it tasted alright.

Lucy smiles, picking at her own plate.

“Personally, I preferred the beef stew.”

“Bet that’s hard to find now.” Ellie sighs, wraps her coat around herself. “Can we make a fire?”

“Now why am I gonna tell you no?” Joel asks, not with any heat to it, more in the sense of a father teaching his daughter a lesson.

“Cause it’ll attract infected?” Ellie hazards a guess.

“Nah.” Lucy says.

“Fungus ain’t that smart. Besides, we’re too far out for infected. It’s people you gotta worry about out here.” Joel scrapes the remnants of dinner from his plate, grimaces at the thought.

“People? Why? They gonna rob us?” Ellie sounds somewhat amused, “You guys have big guns.”

“They’d do more than rob us.” Lucy says, exchanging a dark look with Joel. She knows he’s thinking of that night in the QZ once more, of the man who had attacked her.

Ellie takes the hint, her expression dropping into one of concern before she masks it behind cool teenage indifference.

“No fires, then.” She seized a sleeping bag from next to them, unrolled it and sniffed. “Huh, this actually smells good.”

“You got Frank’s, then.” Joel quips, surprising both of his companions with his humour.

“Yeah, yeah. You two can share, right?”

“Don’t see why not.” Joel’s expression betrays nothing, even when Ellie stares at them, her expression loaded.

She’s almost disappointed she doesn’t get a reaction, huffs, settles into her sleeping bag, rolls with her back to the adults. Lucy assumes it’s their ward’s way of giving them some privacy.

Out here, in the woods, there’s no chance of taking off shoes, of sneaking any sort of true intimacy. Lucy double knots her bootlaces before she slides into the sleeping bag, and, even more enticingly, Joel’s waiting arms.

She wasn’t sure what she’d expected; perhaps him to pretend nothing had happened, in spite of his promises. She’s glad to have been wrong, rests her head on his chest, inhaling the gasoline gunpowder sweat scent of him.

“Hey, Joel?” Ellie calls from a few feet away.

“Yeah?” He’s instantly alert, tense against her at the call.

“Those people… there’s no way anyone’s gonna find us out here, right?” Ellie asks, trying so hard to be nonchalant, but her anxiety is peeking through in her tone.

“Nobody’s gonna find us.” Joel affirms, and Ellie sighs in relief.

“Cool. Cool.” She flops back down into her sleeping bag, rolls over again.

Joel sighs, still tense. Lucy immediately understands his plan.

“Wanna take turns keeping watch?” She whispers.

“No, you get your sleep. I might need you to drive tomorrow, okay?” He presses a soft kiss to her lips, then her forehead.

“Okay.” Lucy nods, tries not to look too pathetic as Joel slips from her embrace and wriggles from the sleeping bag, getting to his feet and collecting his rifle.

She wants to stay awake, truly she does, but it’s easy to fall asleep knowing the man she loves is watching over her, knowing he’d never let anything happen to her or their ward.

And so sleep she does, whilst Joel keeps vigil over both woman and child, a one man army against the silence and still of the night.

——

Joel’s exhausted, but he tries not to let it show as he packs up the truck the next morning, waiting for his coffee to brew. Lucy wakes first, sits up, crawls out of the sleeping bag. Her expression is one of half awake, regretful alertness as she surveys their surroundings, rolls up the sleeping bag and crosses to dump it in the truck bed.

“Did you get any sleep at all?” She asks, her eyes roaming over him.

Her concern might have once irritated him, but now? It’s endearing.

“Not really.” It’s a half truth - he gave up any hope of sleep and spent the night on guard.

“Joel…” she reprimands, might have gone further in telling him off if he doesn’t have other plans; he leans in to kiss her instead of talking.

Instantly she melts into his touch, leans in closer, her hand cupping his cheek.

“Don’t worry too much, baby.” He says softly, “I’d rather you were both safe. Besides. There’s coffee.”

The smell of the brewing coffee wakes Ellie; the young girl shuffles over to the camping stove still in her sleeping bag, gingerly sniffs the coffee pot before opening it and swiftly recoiling.

“What the FUCK is that?” She exclaims.

“What? You don’t like coffee?” Joel asks, straight faced.

Ellie pulls a face in response, complains about the smell the entire time they load up the truck, even when the coffee is poured into a sealed thermos.

“Is that really what those Starbucks in the QZ used to sell?” Ellie asks once they’re on the road, Lucy in the back this time.

“Well, it was fresher than the stuff Bill hoarded, but yeah. That’s what they sold.” Joel nods, glancing over at the map on Ellie’s lap.

“Smells like… burnt shit.” Ellie comments, nodding in satisfaction at her own assessment.

Joel’s response is to give her the side eye and loudly gulp from his thermos, leaving Lucy shaking with silent laughter in the back seat.

“Just read the goddamn map.” He says finally, somewhat unsettled by how normal this all feels, how easily they’ve settled into an almost family unit type feeling.

He doesn’t dislike it, but he dislikes having something - someone - to lose.

——

Lucy’s never been to Kansas City before, never planned on going, let alone planned on crouching in an old abandoned building, hiding from a full blown militia whilst Joel shows Ellie the correct way to hold the gun she took from Bill and Frank’s place.

The gun she fired to save Joel’s life, when Lucy had been powerless to help him, trapped six feet away. She owes the teen a life debt, in her eyes. They’ve had close calls before, but nothing like this. She never, ever wants to be so powerless to help him ever again. Turns out he’s not the only one with a deeply protective streak.

“What’s the plan?” Ellie says finally.

“Head for that big apartment building. Get a good view of the city, try and spot a way out.” Joel answers.

Lucy looks at him briefly, the way his hair is mussed, the small blood spatter across his face from where he’d put that young man out of his misery. It hadn’t been comfortable to watch, to watch a man barely above a child beg for his life, but Lucy can’t say she isn’t used to Joel being violent. It’s what he does; he has a violent, feral side to him that comes out when the people he cares about are threatened, and somehow, somehow, she and Ellie have made that extremely minuscule list.

“Cross the city, with those guys out on the street?” Ellie stares at him in disbelief.

“We’ll wait them out, then sneak through. It’ll be fine on foot.” Joel assured her, shifts his backpack onto his back.

They’ve lost a fair amount of supplies with the loss of the truck, but thankfully they were all smart enough to heavily stock their backpacks, just in case. The damn things are heavy, but at least they have a few basics to get them through.

“If you say so.” Ellie shrugs, then, “it’s gone quiet out there.”

“Time to make a move.” Lucy says, checking the ammunition clip for her rifle.

“Absolutely.” Joel turns to Ellie, “put your gun in your pack.”

As they move out, Ellie slips her handgun into the pocket of her sweater instead.

——

“C’mon, get up, you lazy ass.” Ellie sticks her hand out to Joel, who’s sitting slumped against the wall of their pilfered apartment.

“Lazy ass? I’m fifty six years old, you little shit.” Joel grumbles, but nonetheless takes the teenagers hand and allows her to haul him to his feet. Lucy returns from her sweep of the apartment, lowering her gun when she reaches them.

“All clear.”

Thirty three floors up, and his legs are killing him. His legs, and his lower back.

“Fifty six? No fucking way.” Ellie snorts, then turns to Lucy, “are you that old too?”

“Do I look that old?” Lucy asks, without rancour.

“No, I’m just fucking with you. How old are you, anyway?”

“Thirty six.” Lucy admits, as the trio cross into the living room, pull cushions off the couches to sleep on. Makeshift beds will do just fine.

“Fuck, still ancient.” Ellie snorts, throwing herself down onto her makeshift bed whilst Joel spreads broken glass onto the carpet by the entryway.

Lucy doesn’t argue; she can imagine how old she must seem, to a fourteen year old. Remembers how old grown adults seemed to her at that age. The only thing that prickles her is the reminder of the age difference between herself and Joel; twenty years separate them, even if they don’t acknowledge it. In this new world, it doesn’t seem to matter too much, but she still doesn’t like to think on it too much. In case it reminds him, and he decides he’d prefer someone older and wiser.

She had always worried he’d prefer Tess, but that seems like an unfair fear; he chose her, after all, and she doesn’t want to compete with a dead woman. That isn’t fair.

“Hey, Joel? Are you gonna hear if anyone comes in?” Ellie asks as Joel flops himself down beside Lucy, draping his arm around her waist.

“Why wouldn’t I?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Noticed you don’t hear so good out your right ear.” Ellie shrugs.

“I’ll hear it just fine.” Joel frowns, turns away from her, makes a big show of laying on his other side. Lucy takes the opportunity to rest her head against his back, wrap her arm around him. It’s nice to be the big spoon for once.

There’s silence for a few minutes, then…

“Hey guys?” Ellie’s voice fills the silence.

“Yeah?” Both adults respond immediately.

“Did you know diarrhea is hereditary?”

“Huh?”

“Yeah. It runs in your jeans.” Ellie says, deadpan, then cracks up laughing. It takes a moment, then Lucy joins her.

Joel can’t help it, he starts laughing too.

“That is so goddamn stupid.”

“You laughed, motherfucker.” Ellie says between laughs of her own.

“Yeah…” Joel admits, still laughing, “guess I’m losing it.”

“You’re absolutely losing it.” Ellie agrees.

“Shut up and go to sleep.” Joel grumbles, but he’s still laughing; Lucy can feel his body shaking slightly against her, buries her own smile in the back of his shirt.

It’ll be nice for them all to grab some sleep, considering Joel went without last time.

Secure in the knowledge of weapons within arms reach, being thirty three floors up, and the glass on the floor, the trio settle in for the night, exhausted and desperately in need of rest.

——

The makeshift bed made from couch cushions is soft, and Lucy’s body heat is warm and comfortable against him; it’s no wonder Joel manages to get a decent sleep, the best sleep he’s had since they crashed at Bill and Frank’s place. At some point, he must have rolled over, to face Lucy and Ellie. Almost subconsciously wanting to be closer to them, to not turn his back.

Unfortunately, Ellie’s observation had been right; he can’t hear shit from his right ear. Which leads to him sleeping through the intrusion, right up until…

“Joel… JOEL!”

He jolts awake, sees Ellie knelt across from him with a gun to her head. Sees the kid standing over him, gun aimed at his chest.

“Don’t.” Lucy’s voice is ice beside him. “Don’t point that fucking thing at him. Point it at me.”

The kid ignores her, glances to the young man who has a gun trained on Ellie.

“Don’t move. Don’t reach for your weapons.” He instructs. “You don’t hurt us, we won’t hurt you. You good?”

Joel just glares. Ellie rolls her eyes. Lucy doesn’t move, but her gaze is murderous.

“Be cool.”

“Oh, yeah, this is great.” Joel snaps, “totally fine.”

The kid - he’s barely older than Ellie, to Joel - keeps his gun up.

“Dude!” Ellie turns her head slightly to face the older kid, “he just has an asshole voice. It’s cool.”

The kid lowers his gun, then frowns.

“You guys got food?”

Lucy feels a little better the moment there’s not two raised guns in the room, but she probably still would have been explosively angry had the kid not asked that question; she’s venomously defensive of Joel, that’s a plain fact, but the question throws her off, really makes her look at the two boys - because that’s all they are, kids - who have taken them by surprise. The younger boy would barely be ten. The older of the duo, maybe nineteen or twenty, tops.

“We have a little to spare.” She says finally.

It’s not the weirdest situation Joel has ever found himself in, but it comes sort of close; him, Lucy, and three kids sitting around a lantern, passing round food.

“I’m Ellie, by the way.”

“I’m Henry. This is Sam.” The elder of the brothers introduces them both, as his younger brother points to himself and signs his name.

Ellie nudges Joel with her foot.

“I’m Joel, this is Lucy.” Joel considers for a moment, then passes another food package over to Sam. It’s almost unconscious, the way he treats kids that he comes across. Even if he doesn’t want to admit it, the paternal instinct is still enormously high in him, just buried.

——

“So that’s your genius plan?” Joel raises an eyebrow at Henry, arms crossed, clearly unimpressed.

“No, that’s my dicey as fuck plan, but it’s all we got, so.”

Lucy smiles in spite of the situation; she has to hand it to the kid, he’s got guts.

“I think we should go with it. Henry’s right, it’s all we got.” She offers, giving Joel her best reassuring look.

She knows it’s difficult for him to trust anyone; she’s much the same, but in this scenario? It’s probably best the five of them stick together.

“Yeah, alright.” Joel relents, hoists his backpack onto his shoulder. “Better get going, then.”

——

As Henry predicted, the tunnel is empty.

“See; what did I tell you?”

“We literally just got down here.” Joel says, exasperated, before turning to Ellie. “Get your gun out.”

Ellie nodded, pulling her weapon from the pocket of her hoodie. Joel stared at her; he was absolutely certain he had told her to put it in her backpack. Oh well. What’s the point in arguing about it.

“Keep your eyes open and your mouths shut. We don’t know for sure that it’s empty down here.” Joel said finally, taking the lead.

“Man, your dad’s such a pessimist.” Henry said, looking to Ellie.

“He’s not my dad.” Ellie responded, at the same time as Joel affirming the same thing.

“Huh.”

“Guys, look at this.” Lucy nodded to the walls, painted by children as they walked further into the tunnels.

“There were people down here?” Ellie stared as the group headed towards the door.

“Once, yeah.” Joel frowned, then threw out an arm to stop Sam from heading through the door first. “Absolutely not.”

“I’ve got it.” Lucy stepped in front, pushed the door open, gun raised.

The room beyond was clear; it had once been what looked like a school room, with paintings and posters and children’s activities still lying around.

“Can we stay here for a bit?” Ellie asked, watching Sam head for the drawing table.

Joel almost said no. Almost. But there was something about letting the two kids just… have a moment to be kids… that appealed to him. Give them a moment. Let them be free of the burden of this world for a moment.

“Yeah, alright. May as well wait it out until it gets dark, get some cover.” He flopped down into a chair, fine with being beaten for once.

——

The group emerged onto a darkened street, completely deserted. No people, no infected. Just quiet. Too quiet, for Joel’s liking.

“Not much further.” Henry said, “we just go across the river embankment, then we’re out.”

“Where are you guys gonna go? We’re going to Wyoming.” Ellie said, ignoring the look of irritation from Joel. “What? Wyoming’s got room for two more people, surely.”

Joel just shook his head.

“He’ll change his mind.” Ellie informed the two boys, “he always does. First he’s all, Ellie, no, not ever ever ever gonna happen.” She mimicked Joel’s gruff tone, “but then I just ask him like… a million more times and - SHIT!”

A bullet went whizzing past her head.

“Get down!” Joel dragged both Ellie and Lucy behind the nearest stationary car.

“Sniper.” Lucy peeked over the hood of the car. “One, coming from over there.”

“Thinking what I’m thinking?” Joel’s voice was grim, “we sneak round the back and take him out. Clear the way for these three.”

Lucy nodded.

“Wait; hang on. You can’t go out there, you’re gonna get killed!” Ellie protested.

Joel scoffed. “It’s dark and his aim is shit, he’s not gonna kill me.”

“Then he’ll kill us!”

He sighed. “You trust me?”

After a moment, Ellie nodded.

“Okay. Then stay here, with Henry and Sam. We got this. I’m not gonna let anyone hit you, ok?”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Lucy, let’s go.” Still crouched, the adults crept away, behind cars, dodging errant bullets as they went.

It was relatively easy to find the house, to creep up the stairs and find the sniper who was laying siege to them.

Lucy hadn’t expected an old man. She hadn’t expected him not to surrender. It was almost with great regret that Joel shot him in the head, before taking up the sniper rifle.

“Hold them in position! We’re almost there!” Came through the radio beside the fallen enemy.

Joel and Lucy exchanged panicked looks, peering out the window to see the approaching convoy.

“RUN! RUN!”

All hell broke loose.

——

Lucy was still shaking as they crossed the river; she had seen infected before. Plenty of infected. But one like that? That hideous, terrifying giant that had come out of the ground like a beast from hell itself? Yeah, she’d be having nightmares about that one for a while.

Joel, at least, had stopped shaking the moment they’d reunited with the three kids; she was so incredibly proud of him, of how he had silently gotten to work clearing the way, sniping any infected that got close to Ellie.

It was a side to him she had never seen; of course, she had seen him be protective. Been on the receiving end of it, too. But that? That sense of parental urgency to protect one’s child? She could only imagine that was how he had once been with Sarah, and now, reluctantly, Ellie.

Nobody spoke as they left Kansas City behind, finding an old motel a few miles out. As Ellie and Sam made themselves somewhat comfortable in the double bedroom, reading their comic books, Joel, Lucy and Henry checked the windows, barred the door, before finally sinking into chairs and allowing themselves to breathe.

“What an absolute fucking nightmare.” Lucy said finally, leaning her head on Joel’s shoulder.

“Gonna have to agree.” Henry commented, head against the wall, exhaling.

Joel said nothing, just watched Ellie and Sam huddled up together over a book, the latter teaching the former some of the sign language for the words.

“Look, I don’t know how we’re getting to Wyoming. Probably walking. But… if you want…”

The invitation was clear in the words, plain as day, even if Joel didn’t actually say it.

“Yeah. Yeah that’d be cool… it’d be nice for Sam to have a friend.” Henry looked over to the bedroom too, a small smile on his face. “I’ll tell him in the morning. Let them get some sleep first.”

“Good idea… you can tell them it’s bed time then.” Joel managed a small half smile, which Henry returned, getting to his feet.

“May as well get some sleep ourselves.” Lucy said, stretching out onto the floor, tucking her coat under her head. It wasn’t very comfortable, but it would do.

It would be better in the morning, when they could hit the road. Maybe, just maybe, they could be something resembling a family.

——

The comfortable, still, silence was broken by a piercing scream. Joel, Lucy and Henry jolted awake just as the bedroom door burst open, Ellie scrambling out before being tackled by…

“He’s infected…” Lucy’s voice was strained, aghast, as she backed up.

“Joel!!!” Ellie yelled, terror plain in her voice as she tried to wrestle her former friend off her, “help me!”

Henry turned his gun onto Joel as he stepped forward, horror plain in his features; for a moment there was a tense, horrible stand off, Joel and Lucy unable to move to help, Ellie struggling and screaming on the floor.

Almost in a trance, Henry turned the gun on what had once been his brother, and fired.

Ellie screamed again; Joel moved almost on instinct, to move to comfort her.

“Are you alright?” It was a stupid question, and he knew it; before he could get any further, Henry turned the gun on him.

“Whoa. Whoa.” Lucy held her hands up just as Joel did the same.

“Don’t… come on, Henry, give me the gun. It’s okay…” Joel’s tone was strained, but somehow still soothing, still empathetic.

Henry turned his gaze to the growing pool of blood on the floor.

“Sam…” his voice was almost a whisper as he lifted the gun to his temple and pulled the trigger.

Both Lucy and Ellie screamed together this time as he hit the floor. Joel said nothing, an aghast look across his face.

——

Joel doesn’t bury his dead; it’s not the world he’s used to. It’s harsh, yes, but you leave a comrade where they fall. That’s not the world he wants Ellie to know. It seems too cruel, after everything she’s already been through.

It’s for that reason that they wrap their fallen friends in bed sheets and carry them outside, to the dirt and grass opposite the motel, and dig graves.

It’s a stark contrast to shovelling ashes and dumping bodies into mass fire pits like back in the QZ, but it reminds him that they’re human.

Ellie places Sam’s writing pad on his grave; for some reason, she’s written “I’m sorry” on it. She doesn’t say anything else. Just picks up her backpack and dumps Joel’s at his feet, then starts walking.

“Which way’s west?”

“That way.” Lucy pointed.

“Then let’s go. There’s nothing here for us anymore.” Ellie turned away, not wanting to cry in front of the adults.

Joel sighed, took one last look at the graves, squeezed Lucy’s hand.

“Let’s get going.” He agreed, regret filling his voice as they followed Ellie onto the deserted, open road.

[sliceofdyke]

trick or treat! 🦭 🎃