You didn’t rush back into Joel’s place or up the stairs. Instead, he followed you through the front door, holding the screen open for you before he carefully closed and locked both doors once you’d passed through. “You know what I just realized?” He was behind you again, one hand settled low on your back. “I never gave you a tour of my place. I know you’ve seen down here, but -”
“You can show me now?” Turning to face him, you tried to steady your breathing. “Bedroom’s upstairs, right?” He failed to conceal his smile and nodded in agreement, jerking his chin in the direction of the stairs.
“I’ll follow you.” You took the first few steps quickly, hand resting on the banister. They creaked beneath your feet, the sound slightly louder as Joel’s weight joined, but you only made it to the first landing before he stopped you, hands on your hips as he spun you to face him. “Wait a minute…” He mumbled the words, crowding your back into the corner and stepping closer. “I feel like I should be…” Should be what?
You waited only moments for your answer, Joel’s lips meeting yours with some force. Yeah, you should be doing this. We should be doing this. Fisting the material of his shirt and pulling him flush against you, you changed the angle of your kiss, lips dragging against Joel’s as you both got lost in it. He tasted faintly like beer - and as the kiss deepened, you tasted mint, too, almost like he’d - “You picking mint leaves from your yard again, Joel?” Laughing softly, you angled your head back, looking up at him. “Tastes like it.”
“Maybe.” He nipped at your lower lip and then stepped away, shoulders rising as he took a long breath. “Habit I picked up years ago, before everything happened.” Learning a lot about you tonight, Joel. Rolling your shoulders back, you moved out of the corner and past him, continuing up the steps. “Workshop’s right in front of you. I spend a lot of time there.” One hand on the door frame, you peeked inside, eyes moving over the table, which was littered with woodworking tools and curls of wood scraps along with paints, glue and books. Joel stood behind you again, casually winding an arm around your waist as he leaned in. “Thinkin’ about trying to making a guitar, too. I know there’s plenty of em, but it’ll keep me busy.”
“You should.” Turning your head to the right, you nodded. “I bet people here would love that.” His arm tightened around you.
“I’m teachin’ Ellie to play. She’s pickin’ it up fast.”Good. Gives her something to look forward to. “Main bathroom’s next. But there’s a smaller one in my room. You can use either, but -”
“No hot water.” With a sigh, you backed away from the doorway, Joel letting you go after a few more seconds. “I remember.” You didn’t know if it was something that he was denying himself as a reminder of the situation that you all were still in, or if the man had simply just not gotten around to fixing the water heater in his basement. But the fact of the matter was that all of the water streaming from the faucets in Joel’s house were ice cold - and it had been since he and Ellie moved in. “You should fix that, Joel. You’re going to want hot water in the winter, and it’s coming.”
“I know. You ain’t the first to tell me that.” He cleared his throat. “Bedroom’s right here.” He didn’t touch you as you paused in the doorway, eyes immediately going to the shelf beneath the window across the small entryway, two framed photos resting on the top of it. Wonder what those are. You wanted to ask, but didn’t - instead crossing the threshold and finding the bathroom and a walk-in closet to the right, and another entryway leading to the actual bedroomto the left.
It was cozy - shelves with books and vinyls hanging on the wall, a large rug covering a lot of the floor. There was even an overstuffed armchair in the corner beneath the partially opened window, a small table with a coffee mug resting next to it. This is his. All of this is here because he wanted it to be.
You understood what taking the first step into it meant, and so after giving yourself a few seconds to prepare, you did just that, entering the man’s private space and eyeing the bed. It was large - only one side of it distubed despite the fact that there were matching nightstands and lamps on either side, the wood made of the same dark color as the bed frame and headboard. “Bed’s definitely bigger than mine, Joel.” Grinning, you looked back in his direction. “Looks more comfortable, too.” You’d expected that he would have followed close behind as you walked into his room, but Joel was hovering in the doorway, both arms crossed over his chest and a worried look on his face. What’s wrong? “Joel?”
“Weird seein’ someone else in here.” Drawing his lip back and between his teeth, Joel closed his eyes. “Weird havin’ a house and a nice bedroom and lights, and -”
“Hey.” Closing the distance between the two of you, you shook your head back and forth. “You’ll get used to it. If this is too much, we can -”
“No.” The tone he used was final, the man’s eyes opening to reveal that the deep brown was blazing, nearly glowing in the light from overhead. “No, I just needed a minute. I like seeing you here.” Taking it slow was important - and you were in no rush. And he doesn’t need to be either. “I should…” He frowned stepping closer and lowering his hands. “I gotta warn you about somethin’.” What?Suddenly worried, you took a step back, waiting. “After … after me an’ Ellie left Jackson last year? When she saved me? She saved me from bleedin’ to death.” You’d known it was bad, but not the exact cause of his injury, but his admission still confused you. “I… I got impaled.”
He lifted the bottom of his shirt as he spoke and your eyes were drawn to the movement, a loud gasp falling from your mouth when you saw the remnants of his injury. A long scar - at least the length of your hand - had healed poorly, slicing diagonally up the right side of his abdomen. And that’s just what I can see. He was wearing jeans, and though they were low on his waist, the end of the scar was hidden by the waistband. “Jesus, Joel. Ellie took care of this?”
“Yep.” Your eyes moved over his skin - the golden tan of the rest of his body, the coarse, dark that that was scattered over the center of his belly and then down, also disappearing beneath his pants. “I shoulda died. But I’m too damn stubborn. Don’t hurt anymore, but I didn’t want you to …” Cautiously, you reached out, letting the tips of your fingers trail over the raised, puckered skin. Ellie had done the best she could - and you assumed that since he said he’d been impaled, the man’s back didn’t look much better - but there was still evidence of her clumsy stitching, of the fear the little girl had likely felt as she literally held the man’s life in her hands. “Didn’t want it to surprise you.”
“Thank you for the warning.” Raising your eyes to look back at his face, you didn’t pull your hand away. “But you didn’t need to give me one. I guess… I never realized how bad it was when she took care of you.” He had to have lost so much blood. And then … “I know you said it doesn’t hurt, Joel, but if I’m ever touching you, and it’s … just tell me, alright? I don’t want to cause you any pain.”
He let go of the shirt then, the material sliding back down his body and gathering atop your hand. Joel lifted both of his, using them to cradle your chin, his eyes locked with yours. “You won’t.” His thumbs swept over your jaw - gently - and you flattened your hand against his body, palm pressed against the scar beneath it. “Also got somethin’ else to tell you, if that’s alright.”
“Of course.” You closed your eyes as he inched closer, the man’s lips barely touching yours before he pulled away and then returned full force, parting them enough so that you could feel the way his tongue teased along the seam of yours, Joel’s quiet grunt coming with a warm exhale. His grip changed, one hand sliding around to the back of your neck, the other hand settling on your shoulder. “Fuck, Joel. I wan-”
“Remember when I mentioned a while back, over at Tommy’s that Sarah was more than enough for me to handle when she was a kid? That I knew at 26 that I didn’t want another onea her?” He was breathing hard as he spoke, the man’s lips next to your ear. You remembered his words - the conversation coming up when Ellie asked if Tommy and Maria wanted to have kids of their own, or if a lot of people had them in Jackson. And he brought up Sarah on his own. He joked about it, even in passing. That had shocked you, especially with what you’d known about Sarah’s loss and what came after it, but you weren’t surprised that he stillfelt the same way, especially since he’d formed such a bond with another girl like his daughter in Ellie. “I wasn’t just sayin’ that because I wanted to wait ‘til found the right girl, I was serious.”
“What?” You’d closed your eyes, leaning into his chest as Joel held you, but when he said your name, asking you to look up and at him, you did it immediately.
“I don’t know if you remember anything about college basketball, but…” Joel wet his lips. “Fuck, I haven’t told anyone this in years.” Basketball? What? “Used to be this thing called March Madness, it was a bunch of games in the middle of the month that determined who won the -”
“Joel.” You rolled your eyes. “I went to Illinois. We were in the Big Ten. I am aware of college sports.” I haven’t thought of this in forever either, how the fuck did I remember that? He grinned at you, mouthing the word “ok” under his breath. “But what does basketball have to -”
“Tommy an’ me liked college sports. Football. Basketball. Even watched some soccer because of my daughter. But we loved basketball.” The hand on your shoulder moved down, the man stroking slowly over your back. “Sarah’s mom was gone already, had been for a couple years, and as much as I loved bein’ her dad, it was exhausting. Worked a full time job, did construction on the side, raised my little girl. Had help from Tommy and my parents, but …”
“But it was hard.” He nodded, still focused on you. “And that doesn’t even take dating into account, either, which I’m sure you were doing, because -”
“I was.” He looked up at the ceiling and then back down at you. “And I was fuckin’ terrified that I’d get someone pregnant again by accident, so one year, just a couple before the world fuckin’ went to shit, I…” He laughed. “Sounds funny sayin’ it now, but … I did what a bunch of other guys did and I scheduled a vasectomy for the day before the tournament started so I could stay home an’ recover during the first round instead of going to work and missing it.”
You couldn’t help it - the sound of your laughter burst from your mouth at his admission, but even as you reacted, you were running through the meaning behind it in your mind. It means he’s safe. If means that even if my device isn’t good, that we wouldn’t have to worry. It means … “Did your team win, Joel?” He groaned, dropping his head toward your shoulder briefly. “Did you watch them from your couch with a bag of frozen peas on your -”
“Fuck you. No, they didn’t.” He was smiling, though, bringing his gaze back to yours. “And my parents were pissed, even though they sorta understood. Always told me that I’d regret takin’ away the chance to give Sarah a little brother or sister, but after everything happened? I’m glad I did it. This world isn’t a good place for any kid. I wouldn’t wish gettin’ pregnant now on anyone, and I know damn well I’d be half crazy trying to protect somethin’ that was my own flesh and blood.”
You knew it to be true, because of the things that Ellie and Joel had revealed about their cross country trip, and what Tommy had said about his time with Joel before Wyoming. You’d seen firsthand how fiercely they cared for each other, how much Joel loved his brother, and you didn’t know if you wanted to imagine the way he’d be trying to protect a child of his own. “You did what you thought was best for you at the time. And look… no one could have predicted this, but you’re right. People need to repopulate, but at the same time… with as much as people were fucking each other at every opportunity at the beginning of all of this, and how chaotic everything was? It scares me to think about how many -”
“Right.” Joel bit down on the corner of his lower lip. “But I’m not tryin’ to drag all this shit up right now, I was just letting you know that I’m… about as safe as it gets when it comes to -” It was your turn to kiss him in the middle of a sentence, lips sealing over his and preventing him from finishing his story. His grip on the back of your neck changed - tightening further, the man’s fingertips digging into your skin You returned the favor by biting down on his lip, the edges of your teeth tugging it out as you pulled away, despite the fact that you were careful not to curl your fingers against his stomach the way you wanted to. “That mean you’re alright with -”
“More than alright.” You kissed him again, eyes closed. “Thank you for telling me that. It would have been just as easy to warn me and then pull -”
“Told you. I’m tryin’ not to be an asshole with you.” His thumb swiped over the nape of your neck slowly, Joel’s voice low. “And if I can be completely honest right now?” He leaned closer, his beard lightly scraping over the soft skin of your cheek. “I ain’t gonna last long enough to give you much of a warning the first time.” Your knees went weak at his words, an involuntary gasp your only other reaction, but Joel was quick to act, steadying you with both hands.
“Well that is fucking honest.” When you recovered, your words were spoken breathlessly, the hand on his abdomen pushing to put space between you. “And I appreciate it.” He can’t say things like that. No man had ever spoken to you with such candor, and the fact that it was coming from Joelof all people was more than you’d ever hoped for. Get it together. Keep… keep going.
You’d dressed casually for the night - a pair of jeans and boots, a loose t-shirt that was clean but well worn, the neck a slightly stretched out V - and as you spoke, you used both hands to rid yourself of your top, letting it drop to the floor. His eyes were glued to your bared skin, the man’s gaze moving over your chest and then down before rising to settle at the center of your body, a slight tremble the only other indication of his response. “One of us has to start this, right?”
You gave him another second to look and then dropped to one knee, unlacing your boot and removing it before switching to the other, and by the time you stood back up, Joel was undoing his belt, the sound of metal on metal filling your ears. “You started but we’re both gonna finish.”
Joel’s belt joined your shirt on the floor, and when you reached out, hands closing around the fabric of his shirt - a long sleeved one with both sleeves pushed back to his elbows - he didn’t stop you, instead raising both arms over his head to ease the removal. You took your time with your assessment of Joel’s body - fit but not bulky, the man’s broad chest and shoulders finally on full display. There were other scars on his skin - smaller ones that were healed to a pale silver, dark ones that you figured had been inflicted early on into the outbreak or even before, healing under harsh conditions or the bright Texas sun. He’s fucking perfect.
You bit back the words, not wanting to say them and scare him off, but you couldn’t keep from stepping closer to the man again, giving him a smile before you reached out and ran your fingers down the center of his chest. “It’s nice to finally see you, Joel.” Stroking over his skin until you reached the waistband of his pants, you steadied yourself with a long, deep breath. “Can I -”
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat, reaching out and setting both hands on your hips, the man’s thumbs arcing over your abdomen. It was a light touch but grounding, Joel keeping you there in the moment with him as your fingers worked the button of his jeans open and his zipper down.
Aside from the sounds of your breathing, the room was totally silent - the wind lifting the curtains covering the windows just enough to move cool air over your skin. There was a rustling noise as he stepped out of his jeans, using one foot to kick them off to the side, and then Joel was wearing only underwear - a pair of boxer briefs in a faded gray, the material clinging to his thighs. Continuing the downward movement of your hand, you felt him jerk slightly as your fingers made contact with the front of the cotton - and what was beneath it. I want to see. I want to touch him.
He stopped you, though, just as your fingertips moved to part the slit and slide inside, Joel’s use of your name low but commanding. “Not yet. You’re still wearin’ too much.” Stopping immediately, you curled your fingers inward, raising your eyes to his face. “Let’s get these off, yeah?” He let go of you, Joel using two fingers to unbutton your pants, but then instead of sticking with just the one, both hands began to work the denim down, thumbs hooked over the waistband and moving as he helped you rid yourself of the clothing. Joel could have taken your underwear with it, but chose not to - and by the time you were repeating his move of kicking the pants to the side, your heart was racing, wondering what he thought of seeing so much of you.
You heard it all - the sharp intake of breath as his eyes raked over your skin, the murmur of your name as his hand came back up to rest on your hip, the audible click of the man’s hard swallow when his eyes met yours again. “Not gonna say anything?” Almost unrecognizable, your voice was quiet, nervous even, but you didn’t try to hide the emotion in it. He needs to hear it. “You -”
“Oh, I’ve got a lot to say, I just… can’t.” He tugged you toward him, lowering his head so that he could mouth at the top of your shoulder. “Can’t right now.” The drag of his beard over your exposed skin made you whine, both arms winding around his body as you urged him to press himself against you. Don’t tell me then, just show me. Like you… He bit you unexpectedly, the man’s teeth latching onto the skin at the base of your throat before he let go, followed by the press of his lips - which lingered.
You rubbed his back and nuzzled your face against the side of his, eyes closed, and for the first time in months, stopped thinking about anything but what was happening in the moment. Your entire mind was filled with Joel - the way he smelled and tasted, the way his skin felt beneath your palms, the firm press of him against your belly, the way you could feel your body reacting to his touch and presence, heat gathering in the pit of your stomach and lower, the soft material covering your lower body providing the tiniest bit of friction as you shifted against him. “Joel, I -” Crying out at another bite, you jerked forward, grip tightening for a few seconds before you released him, both hands traveling up the broad expanse of his back to tangle in the unruly locks at the back of his neck. “Kiss me, please. I just -”
It was almost like he’d been waiting for the invitation, Joel raising his head faster than you thought he would to meet your waiting mouth. He wasted no time in deepening the kiss, his tongue parting your pliant lips with ease in the same moment you realized he was stepping forward and urging you back, ever closer to the bed. Yes. Yes, that’s… I want that. He held you close, the hand on your hip sliding around to your back and down, fingers disappearing beneath the waistband of your underwear and curving to match the shape of your body, Joel grabbing a handful of you as he rocked his hips against yours. Fuck.
You wanted to devour him - would have gladly spent hours standing up and kissing the man, but the presence of the bed reminded you that it didn’t need to stop with kisses that night. It wouldn’t stop with touching - t was going to stop exactly when and how the two of you wanted it to. You let out a long, shuddering breath when you finally pulled back to breathe, and were happy to see that Joel’s eyes were wide, so dark that you almost couldn’t tell where the pupil ended and the iris began, both of them filled with need. “I like it when you look at me like that.” It slipped out, but that didn’t mean that you meant it any less, and he reacted almost immediately, spinning the two of you around so that his back was to the bed and you were facing it.
He sat, keeping his hands on you, and you heard something - likely his knee - crack as he moved, spreading his legs to give you a chance to stand closer. You were unable to keep the smile off of your lips at the sound, though you also caught the roll of Joel’s eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I know, I’m an old man, and -” Reaching for him, you pushed the fingers of one hand through his hair, head shaking back and forth.
“Being old means being alive, Joel. Being here.” Moving as you spoke, you reached around and unhooked your bra, shrugging the straps down over your arms and then pulling it completely off. “That’s a good thing.” You wanted to know what it felt like to have the man undress you - those long, thick fingers sliding beneath straps and elastic, palms gliding up your sides and down your legs, but you had a feeling that there’d be plenty of opportunities for that later - and in that moment, all you wanted to do was show him all of you. “I’m right here. What do you -”
“Tell me if I’m bein’ too rough.” His voice like gravel, Joel didn’t look into your eyes as he spoke, both of them focused on your chest instead. “You gotta tell me, because -”
“I will.” Soothing him, you continued to stroke the man’s hair, watching as he leaned in and let the ridge of his nose nudge against the swell of your breast before he kissed between them, head turned slightly to one side. “You don’t need to worry about that.” The reassurance was all he needed, and suddenly Joel was a different man, large hands roaming over your torso, mouth leaving wet trails over the entirety of your chest as he moved between breasts.
He hummed in appreciation as he mouthed at your nipples, flicking his tongue out and over them before drawing them between his lips and sucking, the sensation unexpected but entirely pleasant. Joel’s beard only added to the moment - the gentle scrape of it over both damp and dry skin making it impossible for you to concentrate on any one thing. But I haven’t touched him yet. That’s not fair, it… Crying out as he gripped your thighs from behind, you pulled on his hair, Joel growling at the sudden pain and backing off. “C’mere.” You didn’t know what he meant at first, but then you felt him tugging on your legs, urging you closer to the bed until you could raise one, kneeling on the edge of the mattress.
“Gonna get comfortable, hmm?” He squeezed again, nodding with his face buried between your breasts, but when you pushed on his shoulders and urged him to lay back, he did so without questioning you. Ok, now what? It only took you seconds to decide, bringing your other knee up so that you were straddling one leg, your weight balanced on the bed - and above him. Bracing yourself with a hand on each of his arms, you leaned forward, taking a deep breath. “Then get real comfortable, Joel.”
You kissed your way up his neck and over his cheek, Joel lazily stroking along the backs of your thighs while you moved, and when you made it back to his lips, the kiss was messy,open-mouthed and more tongue than anything else. You didn’t care, though, losing yourself in the way it felt to finally have his hands on you, to feel him beneath you and to hear the sounds he made in unison with yours.
But when he raised his thigh enough to apply pressure between your legs, you outright moaned, Joel swallowing the sound at the same time he slipped one hand to the inside of your thigh, his knuckle dragging along the soaked material of the only scrap of cotton that you still wore. Oh, he fucking … You moaned again as you rocked your hips forward, seeking more friction and Joel smiled against your lips, adding a second finger to the first, though he didn’t try to push them intoyou.Rusty my ass. We haven’t even done anything yet and this is already better than…
You could feel him, hard against the outside of your leg, and without giving him a chance to react, you reached down, running your palm over everything you could touch and feeling the man’s muscles seize while you did it, his hips lifting off of the bed enough to push against your hand. “Please.” It was quiet, but you heard it, Joel’s request one that you never would have expected simply from looking at him, and so you obliged, parting the fabric with your fingertips and then slipping your hand into the open space, the edges of your nails making first contact. He grunted out your name when your fingers first wrapped around him, and then again when you freed him, the sound hitting your ear and going straight to your belly. “Oh, fuck.”
Taking that as a good sign, you tentatively stroked him, only glancing down a few seconds later to get your first glimpse of what you held. He curved slightly in your hand, the tip flushed, and you could feel that he was relatively thick - hot and firm in your hand, though his skin was soft. You wanted to taste him - wanted to shift down his body and take his length into your mouth, wanted to know what kinds of sounds he’d make at that, but you were frozen in place when he did push the material of your underwear to the side, sliding one roughened fingertip against your bare skin.
It was your turn to cry out, eyes snapping back to Joel’s face only to find that he was staring at you, his lips twisted upward into a half-smile that was mostly a smirk. “Fuck you, Joel,” you forced out the words as you moved your hand again, gliding from base to tip and back in one smooth stroke, the motion of your wrist as measured as it could be with him still touching you. “You… fucking…” Grunting quietly, you screwed your eyes shut as he lowered his leg back onto the bed, giving his finger more room to move. “Oh Goddammit.”
“I can keep touchin’ you,” he started, the words forcing your attention back onto his face. “Get you off that way, because I think you want me to.” I do. Very much. “Or we can take the resta these clothes off and -”
“Yes. That.” You hated how desperate you sounded, but you wanted Joel - all of him - and wanted him to know it. “I want -” He removed his hands from you and then used both of them to shift you off to the side, both knees moving against the bedspread as you found your balance. Joel stood abruptly, and though you tried to force yourself to look away, you couldn’t - watching as he pulled the gray material off, the man using one large hand to fist himself as he stood in front of you. Perfect height, he’s at the -
“Don’t you look at me like that.” One brow raised, Joel stepped closer, hand lazily moving. That’s the hand he used on me, which means that it’s wet because of … Eyes going wide at the realization, you parted your lips, waiting. “Take those off.” You did as he asked, scooting back on the bed and sitting back on your elbows before lifting your hips. When you were bared to him, you expected Joel to climb back into the bed, but instead he just stared down at you, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. “Wanted this for months.” He exhaled, blinking a few times. “Tried to tell myself I couldn’t have you, because -”
“You can have me, Joel.” You do have me. “I’m right here.” I’m not going anywhere. He climbed back into the bed then, letting go of himself and using both arms for support as he hovered over you. He didn’t kiss his way up your body, instead opting for taking a straight path to your mouth, one hand slipping between the back of your head and the blanket, fingers curling into your hair. It was a different kind of kiss - an urgent one, almost as though Joel was trying to use it to tell you something. “Let me show you how much I want you.”
If that was what he was trying to show you with the kiss, he was doing a good job of it. It didn’t fully distract you, though, from the way his hips rocked into yours, the man’s length sliding against your slick skin and leaving a damp trail in its wake, or from the way the skin of his lower back felt under your hands, fingertips skating over the poorly healed wound there before dropping lower. He was solid in your hands - present in a way that you knew had more to do with his overall personality than anything else, and in that moment - right before he eased off and separated his mouth from yours - you realized that everything you’d done to try and protect yourself since September 26, 2013 was at risk because of Joel’s arrival in Jackson. Twenty years, you thought as he hovered over you, eyes scanning your features. Twenty years and it all goes to shit because of a guy from Texas and … You lifted one hand, stroking along his brow as you drew your lower lip back and between your teeth. And that’s fine with me. “You ready?”
He was just as affected as you, though he was hiding it better - but you still nodded, taking a deep breath. As you widened the spread of your legs, Joel repositioned himself above you, the hand that had been in your hair used to lift his upper body while the other one snaked between you, once again wrapping around himself as he aligned with your entrance. You were ready - giving him a tiny nod, and when you felt him notch against you, you moved first, rocking your hips upward and then bending one knee for leverage.
He reacted almost immediately, hips thrusting forward enough to bury himself in your warmth. There was a stretch and a small pinch of pain as you adjusted to the sudden fullness, but it felt good, and you gave Joel another nod of approval to let him know. Oh, fuck that’s… great. You couldn’t speak, breath caught in your throat, but as soon as the man started to move, that changed, each inhale shallow, your breath leaving your body just as quickly.
The pace he set was steady, the snap of his hips against yours audible in the quiet bedroom. Joel’s mouth was in front of your ear, the man alternating between groaning and sighing, and even though you hoped that you’d be lucky enough to hear the same sounds well into the future, you filed them away, just in case. Arching your back to press your chest against his, you repositioned your hips as he pulled away. When Joel’s thrust met your body the next time, it was at a different angle, both of your hands gripping his back without delay - and then you felt it, the telltale stuttering of his hips, Joel’s quiet vocalizations growing louder, followed by a flood of warmth between your legs, the man dropping his face against the pillow to muffle the sound of his cry. Wait, did he just …
You didn’t let go until he moved again, the man pulling off - and out - of you without speaking another word, flopping onto his back and covering his eyes with one arm. “Fucking bullshit.” What?His words caught you off guard, the man’s lip curling up and into a snarl. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t…” He’s mad at himself. He’s mad because it wasn’t… Rolling onto your side to face him, you wet your lips, unsure of what to say. “Like a fuckin’ teenager. Who -”
“Joel.” Clearing your throat, you reached for him, letting your hand rest at the center of his chest. “Joel, it’s fine.” It was - you were surprised that he’d come so quickly, but he had warned you, and if you were being truthful, you were sort of proud that it had only taken him minutes to finish, so lost in your bodies moving together that he hadn’t been able to contain himself. “Joel, I mean it.” You moved without thinking, leaning over to press your lips against the scar on his shoulder, running your fingers over it after you’d moved away. Next was the place on the right side of his chest, a long and twisting one that required two points of contact from your mouth to really drive home the point.
“What’re you -” He pushed up onto his elbows as you backed away, eyes scanning his body. Stomach. Ribs. You moved quickly down the bed and tilted your head to the side to angle it in between his hand and body, lips landing on the reminder of what looked like some sort of knife wound. “That ain’t -” You ignored him, eyes moving over to the thin lines that traveled up the length of one forearm. Those.Lightly tracing them with one finger, you followed that with multiple kisses, willing yourself not to cry. Old means alive. “Why are you -”
“I don’t care if it’s five minutes or ten or fifteen, Joel.” You leaned over, not hesitating before you kissed the length of the scar on his abdomen, lingering on the thickest part of it as you squeezed your eyes shut. “I don’t care if you finish on me or in me or before I even touch you.” Returning to your position next to him, you watched as Joel’s head turned, the man facing you. “Things happen. And you have no reason to be upset with yourself because that only lasted for a few -”
“But you didn’t f-” Rolling your eyes you finally leaned over and got closer to his face, puckering your lips and kissing the final scar you’d chosen - the one on the bridge of his nose.
“Then you owe me two next time.” Raising your head enough to look down at Joel, you tilted your head to one side, resting your ear against your bare shoulder. “Nothing wrong with that, right?” He looked like he wanted to argue but instead just rolled his eyes, sighing. “And if you really wanted to, we could lay here and rest for a few minutes before we give it another go.”
“Alright.” He agreed almost immediately, one hand positioned at the center of his chest as he stared at the ceiling. “I’ll prove to you that I know what -”
“No.” Swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, you turned at the waist to look over your shoulder at Joel. “If you’re just trying to prove something, I don’t want it.” That was the truth - you wanted Joel to want to get back into bed with you because he wanted to, not because he was trying to prove that he had stamina. “And I have to admit,” you continued as you stood, mindful of the fact that you were still completely nude as you headed for the bathroom. “The fact that you got off so fast is a pretty good boost to my ego.”
He snorted in reply and you were happy to hear it, the small noise proof that Joel’s mood wasn’t completely ruined. It’ll be fine. When the door shut behind you, you flipped the light on and stared into the mirror, thinking. Everything up until Joel’s disappointment had been perfect - the man doing exactly what he’d promised by showing you that he was into you, the way he’d treated every inch of your body that he’d touched as if it were sacred, the trust he’d given you to touch him and then later to kiss the memories of his painful past like you’d been doing it for years instead of for the first time.
But you understood why he’d been upset, even if you didn’t share the belief that he needed to be. A few more minutes of hip thrusts - some light pressure from your hands or his, extra seconds of him grunting into your ear; you wouldn’t have had any issues getting off, too. There was nothing wrong with Joel’s technique; it had simply been too little time to let your body relax to the extent that it needed to.
Wincing as you swiped the cold cloth between your legs to clean yourself up, you finished what you needed to do and then rinsed the rag, folding it neatly on the bathroom counter. Alright I can’t just walk back out there naked, so… The only thing available was a threadbare towel, and so you wrapped it around your body, making a mental note to bring him some of the unused ones that you’d had stashed in your apartment for years as replacements.
Joel was standing when you reentered the room, his long legs covered in a pair of drawstring pants, a t-shirt held in his hands. “Thought we were going to have another -”
“Habit.” He looked over his shoulder at you, lips curving upward into a tight smile. “Don’t like bein’ naked. Somethin’ happens, I’d rather have some clothes on than none.” It was fair - a good point, even, and you knew that over time he’d likely relax that mentality, but it wasn’t your place to question it, especially in his house. And I slept with boots next to my bed and a bag packed for years, so I can’t blame him. “I got a pair of pants out for you, too. And you can use onea my shirts if you want, that way yours stays clean.”
Thanking him, you quickly dressed, taking him up on his offer for a shirt, but not bothering with your bra or underwear. You kept your eyes on the way Joel’s muscles flexed when he lifted both arms to pull the shirt on, the material catching on his head for a few moments before it came free. “I’m going to get that drink now, do you want anything?”
“I’m comin’ with you.” He followed you toward the door, but before you stepped through it, you felt Joel’s fingers close around your wrist, halting your movement. “Wait.” You turned at the sound of his voice, staring into his eyes. “Are you … sure that you’re not -”
“I wouldn’t lie to you, Joel. Definitely not about something like that.” Sighing, you rose onto your toes, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Think of it as a challenge.” You bit your lip. “Every time, we try for a little longer until -”
“You’re gonna wish you hadn’t said that.” He squeezed your wrist once more and then let go, urging you forward with a hand pressed against your back. “When the sun’s coming up and we still haven’t gone to sleep.” No, I won’t.
You made your way back downstairs and into the kitchen, Joel digging through the refrigerator for a few seconds and asking if you wanted water or iced tea. Even though it was late, you both opted for tea, and while Joel poured it into cups, you hopped onto the island at the center of the room, heels knocking against the wooden cupboard doors. “I wish my kitchen was this open.” You spoke only when he handed you your cup, the man turning around to face you and leaning against the countertop next to your hip. “You have so much counter space and storage. And the light? Would be perfect in the daytime.”
“Tommy told me this place has been empty for years.” He swallowed a mouthful of tea, eyes on you. “You coulda moved in.”
“I like the privacy where I’m at.” Shrugging, you drank, too. “And I don’t need something like this, since it’s just me, but if you don’t have me over to cook something for you sometime, I’m going to be really upset.” He laughed, shifting his weight and leaning closer. “So…. Ellie seemed … excited that I was here tonight?” You lowered your cup, holding onto it with both hands and letting the bottom rest on one thigh. “What did you tell her?”
He was quiet for a few seconds but then laughed, swearing under his breath. Weird.“She was excited. She likes you. An’ I think she likes the idea of me an’ you, too.” You liked the sound of that - probably too much, but didn’t want to get too far ahead of yourself. “And I told her that I invited someone over for the night because I wanted to spend some time with ‘em.” But did you tell her who?She’d seemed a little shocked when she saw you, but he was right - she hadn’t seemed upset or annoyed, instead immediately teasing you. Hmm.“Didn’t tell her who, though. Told her to mind her own damn business, but she refused to leave ‘til you got here.”
“You’ve got a 16 year old screening your company, Joel?” He snorted, turning the sound into a cough. “I won’t tell anyone, but I mean that kind of thing might get you -”
“Think she was more makin’ surea who it wasn’t, you know?” He set his cup down and then reached over to take yours, too. “She knows about Penny.” The whole town does. “That little girl gives me more grief about shit than anyone else I know, so I guess I’m not really surprised, but still.”
“Well she left and went to Tommy and Maria’s, so I guess I got the Ellie stamp of approval, hmm?” Glancing down, you realized that you’d begun absently tracing your fingers over the back of his hand, his tanned skin much darker than the marbled surface beneath it. “I’m not going to make a big deal about this, Joel. Won’t tell people about you in the bar or the grocery store. That’s not -”
“Well if you do tell people about us?” He moved closer, the man’s breath warm on your skin as he closed the distance between you. “I’d really appreciate it if you tell ‘em all about what I’m gonna do with you when we go back upstairs and not -” Fuck.You didn’t need to hear the end of the sentence and so you cut him off with a hard kiss, nearly moaning into his mouth. He crushed his lips against yours, flipping the hand on the counter over to cover yours, and then it was his turn to step in front of you and between your legs, Joel unwilling to break the kiss.
It happened automatically - your legs winding around his waist as you scooted closer to the edge of the counter, and by the time he’d coaxed your lips apart with his tongue, there was no space between your upper bodies. He’d pulled his hand free, sliding both of them beneath the back of the shirt you wore to press his fingers into your skin and you were encircling his neck with both arms, eyes closed as you kissed him back. “You’re making it hard, Joel Miller.” Mumbling the words into the patchy hair of his beard when you both took a break to catch your breath, you didn’t pull away.
“Makin’ what hard?” It was a gamble and you knew it, but if there was ever a moment to take a risk, it was the opportunity to be honest with Joel - and so you did.
“Not getting ahead of myself when it comes to whatever this is and what I’d like it to be.” You wet your lips. “You said you have a bunch of shit to work through, and that’s fine. I get it. But you can’t just tell me that you’re going to try with me, and that you want to know me, and that you want people to know that you and I have -”
“What do you want outta this?” He backed off, gesturing between the two of you. “Most people just want -”
“I’m not most people.” You narrowed your eyes. “And for right now? Knowing that this can continue is about all I can hope for.” You looked away from him, letting your eyes wander around the kitchen for a few seconds while you thought. “I like being around you. And you said it yourself - that kiss the other night? The first one? It would have happened eventually, which means that tonight would have happened at some point, too. Because we both -”
“Wanted it.” He uttered the words at the same time you did, nodding his head. “Yeah. We did.” Joel said your name, stepping back between your legs and setting his hands on either side of your thighs, staring at you. “I’m not the guy that’s gonna fuck around on someone. End of the world or no, if I’m gettin’ to know you, that’s it.”You saw his jaw tic, the lines between his brows deepening. “You’reit.”
You couldn’t believe his words - that Joel was outright admitting that he wanted you and no one else, that getting to know you and sleeping with you would erase the time he spent with other women entirely. Is this really happening? “Ok.” You agreed, hearing the tremble in your voice. “Ok, Joel.” You didn’t know what was driving him to the admission - the talk of Tess from earlier, the things he’d wished that he’d had the opportunity to say to her or to Sarah or to any of the other people he’d known and lost, or just the fact that Joel was beginning to understand what Jackson meant,but you weren’t going to question it. Not now, anyway. “We should…” Closing your eyes briefly, you rolled your neck. “We should go back upstairs. It’s late.” The floor creaked as he shifted his feet, but Joel didn’t step away from you even when you opened your eyes and found his. “And you owe me a couple of -”
He pulled you off of the counter and then led you back down the hallway and to the stairs, his hands never leaving your body as he urged you up to the second floor in front of him, Joel’s quiet breaths filling the space around you. As soon as you made it to the upper floor, though, he spun you to face him and used one hand to tilt your head back, nodding. “This doesn’t have to be hard. Don’t want it to be.” He gave you a chance to speak but you chose not to, and so when he kissed you again, it felt final, like a decision had been made. And maybe it was.
You stepped backward and toward his bedroom as the two of you kissed, continuing to move with him until you felt the blunt edge of a piece of furniture against your lower back, the sound of something falling forcing the two of you apart. “Oh, shit!” Moving on autopilot, you reached for the picture frame, which was face down atop the dresser, flipping it upright and coming face to face with a much younger Joel, his arm around a child’s shoulders. Oh no.
“Thats my little girl.” He reached past you, fingers stroking over the smudged wooden frame. “Sarah. Scored two goals that day, they won the championship. Tommy brought this with him all the way from Texas, and it’s the only -”
“She has your eyes. Not the same color, but…” You saw the resemblance, even with Tommy. “Same shape. Same -”
“Took after her mother.” Joel’s right arm was still around you, and it tightened as he spoke. “Tommy always told her she was lucky causea that.” You couldn’t stifle your giggle, and even though you knew it wasn’t the right moment for it, you were relieved to hear Joel laugh along with you as he settled the picture back into its place. “She woulda liked you as much as I do.”
“Yeah?” You made eye contact with him again, the man’s expression slightly sad, though you could tell he was fighting through it. “Well if you were the one raising her, I’m sure I would have been a big fan of her, too.” He looked genuinely shocked at the comment, but didn’t say anything before he lowered his head again, kissing you softly, almost like he was thanking you for your words.
It was him that led you away from the dresser and back into the actual bedroom, Joel’s hands warm at your waist. And it was him, too, that pulled the shirt you wore over your head, dropping it before returning his hands to your body, sliding them down your arms and then over your stomach, fingers hooking into the elastic waistband before he eased your pants off, the man falling to his knees in front of you and only looking up when you’d stepped out of the flannel and he’d shoved it to the side. If someone had told you six months earlier that you’d have a man like Joel Miller kneeling in front of you and looking at you like he’d never seen anything he was more interested in, you would have told them that they were crazy. But I don’t want him on his knees.
Giving him a tiny shake of your head, you reached out, waiting for him to take your hand. “What’re… why?” It was time for another truth, and before you answered, you let your gaze fall from his face and to your joined hands.
“Wanna know what these hands can do.” Rubbing your thumb over his knuckles, you looked back up and winked. “You teased me earlier, and -”
He was on his feet before you finished, Joel ripping his shirt off and pushing you further into the room, your head turning to the side to gauge your position. You dropped onto the bed when you got there, scrambling back and to the center of the mattress as you watched him remove his pants, the man already half-hard again. At least I know he’s turned on. He crawled over your body as he got into the bed, Joel ducking his head down to kiss the inside of your knee and then higher, lips and beard moving slowly up the skin of your leg. When he made it to your thigh, he skipped a few inches, the next kiss aimed at your abdomen, just below your belly button.
You gasped at the sensation of his nose dragging against your sensitive skin, both hands going to his hair. When you tugged on it, Joel growled, speeding up his progress as he kissed his way up the center of your chest, your hands falling away from him and onto the blankets beneath you. Laying down next to you, Joel slid an arm beneath your body and urged you to rest against his chest. “You ready?” He nipped at your jaw and then kissed it tenderly, lips catching on your skin - but before you finished telling him that you were ready, Joel’s hand was between your legs, fingers flat as he touched you.
Crying out at the way it felt, you squeezed your eyes shut and inhaled through your nose, focused on the quiet murmur of Joel’s voice in your ear. He rubbed slowly, applying pressure on the backstroke of his fingers, and then after long moments, the man changed the angle of his hand, switching from three flat fingers to one - the slimmer digit gliding through you with no resistance. At the touch, you widened the spread of your legs and Joel hummed in approval, switching from broad strokes of his finger to tight circles. “More, Joel.” Your head lolled to one side, bumping against his shoulder and he did as you asked - adding another finger and a little more pressure.
You wanted to keep your eyes open, wanted to watch what he was doing to you, but you couldn’t, the feeling of him touching you too much, the words he spoke into your ear only adding to the overall stimulation. “Shoulda done this sooner.” He pressed a kiss to your temple, groaning. “Tell me what you need.” The circling stopped, replaced again with the pads of Joel’s fingers moving lower and then pressing lightly into you. “What you -”
“That.” Nearly gasping the word out, you nodded, hips jerking off of the mattress. “More of that, fuck,it feels -” He took the hint, fingers gliding into you deep enough that he could curl them before dragging them back out. “Keep doing that. Keep…” Your breaths turned into panting as he continued to talk into your ear, words blurring together as he alternated the movement of his fingers with the press and roll of the heel of his hand.
You had no idea how long he touched you for, but you knew that as time passed, you felt the pressure gathering in your lower body, heat building in your belly with every flex of his wrist. You were whimpering, hips rocking up and against his hand, but it was Joel’s words combined with the feeling of being filled with his thick fingers that did you in.
“C’mon. Let me feel you. Let me feel what it…” He paused. “Fuck, you feel good, you feel so… Goddamn…” That’s it. That’s… Toes curling and your entire body trembling, you sailed over the edge, Joel’s name spilling from your lips as one hand rose to grip his forearm, fingers tight around it even as he continued to guide you through your climax, the motion of his hand slowing but not stopping. “That’s it.” He was speaking into your skin again, lips moving along the crest of your cheek. “You’ve got another in you, I can tell.” Do I? He gave you a few moments to recover, but then Joel twisted his wrist, fingers finding a slow and steady rhythm as they pumped in and out of you, his thumb moving against the already sensitive spot beneath it, the added slick from your body decreasing any resistance that he might have found.
You wanted to be angry at him for being right, but you couldn’t be - especially when only a few minutes later, Joel’s nimble fingers coaxed another orgasm from your body, knees bending as your legs tensed up, head thrown back and your lips parted as you wordlessly reacted. How the fuck did he… The strength of it stole the breath from your lungs, and you were only dimly aware of the fact that you were digging your fingers into the meat of the man’s thigh, your other hand tangled in the blankets. Christ. He just … he…
Joel slowed the movement of his hand down and then when your body finally relaxed, he pulled it away entirely, though he didn’t make a move to reposition the rest of his body. “”Knew it.” He scoffed, nudging the side of your face. “Knew you could -” Finally gaining control over your body again, you rolled toward him, angling your head so that you could capture his lips in a kiss. It wasn’t that you were just thanking him, though that was part of it - you were anxious to have your hands on him, desperate to connect with him in another way, and so you pushed him onto his back, lifting one leg to straddle the man’s waist.
Bent in half at the waist as you knelt above him, you continued to kiss Joel, even as he tightened his grip on your hips, the man’s fingers spread wide. Your legs were still somewhat shaky, but you settled in, rolling your hips against his. Joel’s reaction was to meet that movement with one of his own, coating the length of him in what he’d just drawn from your body with his fingers. Breaking the kiss, you stared down at Joel, the man’s lips parted as he waited to see what you’d do next. “Feel real good from this angle, right?” Your hips moved again, Joel dragging them down so that they were as close to his as they could be. He didn’t reply, instead the man began to slowly rock his hips back and forth, the drag of him between your legs making you bite your lip.
“How’s that feel?” The sound of his voice was rough, Joel doing his best to keep it together, but you knew that he was close to breaking. “Feels fuckin’ incredible to me.” Yeah. It does. “Want my help?” He let go of your leg, raising the hand to your face and tracing over the full part of your lower lip with his thumb. “I need to -”
“I’ve got it.” You were still grinding against him, the feeling of him so close to where you wanted him most beginning to wear you down. “Gonna have to let me loose, though.” He immediately relaxed his grip and you let out a breath as you reached between you, rising up enough to lift him into place. “Go slow to start, Joel. Please. I want to get used to -” Assuring you that he would, you squeezed him once more, glancing down so that you could watch as he slipped into you.
There was no pain that time; the earlier encounter plus the slickness of your body made it easier for him to enter you. But you’d been right. The new angle allowed him to go much deeper, and you didn’t waste time sinking all the way down onto him, the backs of your thighs meeting the tops of his. He let you set the pace, eyes locked on your face, and you didn’t even try to hide your facial expressions as you moved, Joel filling you the exact way you’d hoped he would.
The hand near your face slipped down, Joel’s fingers trailing over the length of your arm until he could take your hand. What is he… But you figured it out quickly - the man lacing his fingers with yours and then urging you into an upright position with his other hand before he nodded. “Been thinkin’ about this all goddamn day.” You gasped at the admission, but still continued to move on top of him, rasing and lowering yourself slightly and circling your hips when you were fully seated. He squeezed both of your hands, wetting his lips as he looked up at you. “Do it. Know you want to.” You hadn’t expected Joel to be a talker in bed, but you had to admit that it was turning you on, the man’s deep, gravelly voice making you shiver, as was the intensity of his hooded gaze. Fuck it. I want to, and he wants me to.
You began to bounce up and down slowly, building up speed over time. The sounds of your bodies meeting mingled with your strained breaths, the glint in Joel’s eyes telling you that he was getting what he wanted, too. But after a few minutes, you realized that you’d leaned down again, sliding your joined hands up and toward his head, changing the angle back to one that gave you more leverage.
Letting go of his hands, you braced yourself with your forearms on his shoulders, and Joel surprised you with a single hard thrust, punching the breath from your lungs. That’s what he wants? Alright. You began moving in earnest after that, thrusting your body backward and then rolling your back and hips to find a rhythm. Fuck, yes. You hummed out in quiet approval, letting lost in the motion, but your eyes flew open at the sensation of his wet mouth on your chest, the man’s teeth and tongue working one nipple over.
He bit down at the same time his hands returned to your ass, but he wasn’t guiding you. Instead he was just holding on, Joel’s eyes rolling back in his head when he finally pulled his mouth away from you, head hitting the pillow. It was a marked change from the way he’d been with you earlier - the man still just as intense and focused, but able to control his body better, giving both of you a chance to enjoy what was happening instead of it ending too soon.
You felt the strength in him as you gripped his shoulders, speeding up the motion of your body. Joel was solid beneath you, the muscles in his thighs and lower body tight as he rocked up and into you, meeting each movement in perfect unison. You wondered if he could come that way, with you on top and maintaining the pace, and were suddenly overwhelmed with the need to find out, saying his name and waiting until he’d opened his eyes to continue. “Point proved.” Without breaking stride, you watched as his expression changed into one of confusion. “Fifteen seconds or fifteen minutes, remember?”
He got it immediately, nodding his head and letting go of you so that he could wind an arm around your lower back, the other hand moving to the nape of your neck, holding you in place. “Gonna give you what you want,” he grunted the words out, the snap of his hips more direct. “What you’re askin’ for.” Good.Closing your eyes at the feeling of him inside of you, you were dimly aware of the fact that he’d bent his legs to give himself more leverage, the man’s pace picking up while your own slowed, your body immediately giving him the go ahead to take control. “Still want me to come in-”
“Yes.” You gasped the reply, nodding even as his hold on you tightened. It was enough for him - the permission you gave him - and Joel’s thrusts came faster, though they weren’t any more shallow, the man’s angle hitting a spot inside of you that he hadn’t the the first time you’d been together. He’s going to make me come again. He’s going to… fuck. You cried out as you felt your body racing back to the edge, eyes opening again to find that Joel was staring at your face, though his expression was one that you weren’t expecting. The confusion had shifted into want, his lips parted and his eyes blazing. “Fuck, Joel -” Your nails dug into his skin and you were unable to look away, breath leaving you in quick, harsh pants that you knew he could feel over the skin of his cheeks.
With one final roll of your hips, the friction of your skin against his was too much, and you came with a cry of his name, your muscles constricting around him even as you fought to keep moving for his sake. Your entire body shook - knees wobbling with the effort of keeping yourself upright, and before your eyes slammed shut you saw the change in his expression again, the man hissing as his own eyes closed, the web of lines at the corners of them deepening. But Joel’s movement didn’t falter; he kept punching up into you without breaking stride. Even though your body was oversensitive, the evidence of your orgasm coating him - and the inside of your thighs - and making his motion smoother, you didn’t want him to stop.
But you did want him to come - and he didn’t keep you waiting.
You felt him tense beneath you after one particularly forceful thrust, Joel’s hips smacking against your thighs, and then he swore under his breath, the motion of his hips stopping briefly before he resumed. His strokes were short then, much quicker than they had been only moments earlier, and you lowered your head toward his, trailing your tongue over the side of his throat and feeling the tension of the muscle just beneath the skin. That was all it took and you felt him come again, his heat spilling deep inside of you, the motion of his hips momentarily stalled, though you could feel the pulsing of his muscles. Oh, fuck.
You went boneless a few seconds later, hands leaving his shoulders and your elbows hitting the mattress on either side of his head. You nuzzled against his neck as Joel’s hands fell away from your body and his lower half relaxed, too, both of you breathing hard. You could feel it - evidence of your releases leaking from your body where you were joined, and though you knew it was going to be an absolute mess, you weren’t concerned. Clean it up later. Right now I just wann
Rating: M There’s mention of what happened to Dieter, but not in detail. Language. Alcohol. Talk of sex.
Summary:Dieter has a gift for you less than two days before he’s set to leave England … what is it? And what does it mean? And after you find out - how will the two of you begin your last weekend together for months?
Author’s note:
This one has been a while coming - and I hope that all of you are just as excited to figure out what Dieter’s gift is *now* as you were before. Thank you for being patient with me - and thank you so much for the support on this story.
He led you out onto the balcony after you’d put a pair of shoes and your own robe on. Even though it was chilly, it made sense for the two of you to go outside and continue the conversation. This is where we first really talked. The two of you remained behind the short wall, blocking some of the breeze, but Dieter pulled the chairs back from the railing, arranging them to face each other. He’s nervous. You could see the look on his face - the man’s expression determined, and while you had a ton of questions for him, you decided not to ask, instead waiting for him to speak again and steer the conversation.
Rating: M - language, mentions of the events that occur within the TLOU universe, mentions of sex, talk of death, drinking
Warning: This gives away some of the plot points of TLOU. If you don’t want to know them, don’t read!
Summary: Accepting Joel’s invitation to come and visit - on your own - leads to some pretty deep thoughts. And after the two of you are alone in his house, those thoughts turn into conversation … and more admissions between you.
Author’s note:
This takes place immediately following Waiting For This Sky to Fall. I started writing and got carried away. As a whole, the thing sits at just under 20k with some left to write, and that’s entirely too long for a one shot, so I split it into 2. Like I said earlier - there’s plenty of intimacy, but no actual smut in this part… that comes next.
Song Suggestion: “Bonfire” by Third Eye Blind
The walk to Joel’s simultaneously felt like it took forever and no time at all.
You’d never gone straight there from your place before, and so you thought that that might have had something to do with it. You’d also never gone there alone, and you knew that that was the real issue.
But it’s not an issue, not really, because… He’d invited you. He’d explicitlyinvited you, only moments after he’d kissed you and warned you that he didn’t want to fuck anything up. You didn’t want to either, but in the day and a half that you’d had to think since you’d last seen Joel, you’d decided that the chances of that happening were slim to none.
Rating: M - language, mentions of the events that occur within the TLOU universe, mentions of sex, talk of death, drinking
Warning: This gives away some of the plot points of TLOU. If you don’t want to know them, don’t read!
Summary: Accepting Joel’s invitation to come and visit - on your own - leads to some pretty deep thoughts. And after the two of you are alone in his house, those thoughts turn into conversation … and more admissions between you.
Author’s note:
This takes place immediately following Waiting For This Sky to Fall. I started writing and got carried away. As a whole, the thing sits at just under 20k with some left to write, and that’s entirely too long for a one shot, so I split it into 2. Like I said earlier - there’s plenty of intimacy, but no actual smut in this part… that comes next.
Song Suggestion: “Bonfire” by Third Eye Blind
The walk to Joel’s simultaneously felt like it took forever and no time at all.
You’d never gone straight there from your place before, and so you thought that that might have had something to do with it. You’d also never gone there alone, and you knew that that was the real issue.
But it’s not an issue, not really, because… He’d invited you. He’d explicitlyinvited you, only moments after he’d kissed you and warned you that he didn’t want to fuck anything up. You didn’t want to either, but in the day and a half that you’d had to think since you’d last seen Joel, you’d decided that the chances of that happening were slim to none.
Hewas nothing if not practical, and after so long in Jackson, you understood the way things worked. Since very few people passed through the community and most that did chose to stay indefinitely, it was common for relationships to grow and shift before fizzling out, exes remaining in close contact with each other. Those connections were necessary to keep the town running at full strength, especially when people had met and grown close simply because they worked together.
There were outliers of course - a handful of people had chosen to leave rather than stay and be confronted with their pasts, and some couples that had gone their separate ways that made it a point to avoid each other at every opportunity. But that’s rare. As you turned down Joel’s street, a small bag containing DVDs tucked beneath one arm, you took a breath. And it won’t with him, even if … this goes nowhere.
You weren’t stupid - you knew that a few kisses and an admission of attraction weren’t a guarantee that you’d have any sort of non-platonic future with Joel. He seemed like the type of man that could engage in casual sex without getting emotional about it, scratching an itch and moving forward, business as usual. You’d done the same in the past, not wanting to deny yourself the necessary release, but at the same time, not allowing yourself to get emotionally involved with your partner of choice. That option had been your go-to after Charlie, preferring to keep yourself focused on routine and the day to day instead of letting yourself care so much about anyone that it altered your behavior and inevitably backfired on you.
And then Joel and Ellie came to Jackson. The more time you’d spent with the two of them, the more you realized that your resolve was being tested. The better you got to know them - together and separately, with Tommy and Maria and without, you knew that their arrival changed things. For me and for Jackson. They were assets in every way, and you counted yourself lucky to be welcomed into the inner circle, even before you’d realized that you were attracted to Joel. At the very least, you’d gained more people that you could count on, and if it went somewhere else? Even better.
Joel stopping over to check on you and everything that had ensued had flipped everything you knew upside down, though. You’d felt it before - the crackling, almost electric charge between the two of you when it was just the two of you, the easy way that you spoke to and joked with each other, the presence of something just beneath the surface that neither of you were willing to put a name to. Why then? Why did he … His house came into view, the steps and railing the first thing you saw, and without thinking, your footsteps quickened. It doesn’t matter. It happened, and now … I’m here.
Where things would go was an entirely different story, though. He’d invited you over to watch a movie, and you figured that you’d spend more time talking, a couple of hours exploring whatever the new phase of your friendship was before you headed home. He’ll offer to walk with me, you guessed as you rested your hand on the curved top of the railing. Because it’ll be dark.
But it wasn’t dark then, though the sun was on its way toward the horizon, and while the two of you hadn’t decided on an exact time for your arrival, you hadn’t wanted to head over too early. Or too late, because then people might think… You knew what people would think already, but you only cared about the opinions of a few of them. Very few of them. After taking and releasing a deep breath, you stepped up onto the porch, the wooden boards creaking slightly beneath your feet as you raised your hand to knock on the frame of the screen door that Joel had installed for the summer months. It’s just a movie.
You heard music - faint but audible, and you peeked inside, waiting for a response to your knock. “I’m in the kitchen!” At the sound of Joel’s voice, you sucked in a breath, hand freezing above the handle. He sounds … normal. For a moment, you were back in Illinois, and it was another Friday night of hanging out with friends, gathering at one person’s house until you could figure out what to do and where to go. But when Ellie peeked around the wall that led into the living room, her eyes lighting up, the illusion was broken. This will be interesting.
She stepped fully into the hallway as you entered, making sure the door was shut behind you before you spoke. “Hey, Ellie. I just came over to -”
“You’re here to hang out with Joel.” She was fighting back a smile, both arms crossed over her chest. “And you’re why I have to go to Tommy and Maria’s for the night so the two of you can be alone.”Here come the assumptions. Ellie was one of the people whose opinion you cased about, and so you immediately moved to diffuse the situation, wanting her to know that she didn’t need to go anywhere.
“You can stay.” Holding up the bag of movies, you moved your head back and forth. “You don’t need to go. We can all watch a movie, I brought -”
“Ew, no, and watch the two of you cuddle on the -”
“Ellie.” Joel’s voice was sharp, the man appearing in the doorway of the kitchen, a towel in his hands. “That is no way to talk to a guest.” Her eyes left your face and moved to his, but you saw the glint in them, realizing that if she’d been teasing before, it was only going to get worse with his intrusion. You’re in for it now.
“Sorry,Joel. Must have missed the day in school where we covered manners when we snuck out of Boston.” She shrugged her shoulders. “But am I wrong? Isn’t that what happens when you ‘watch a movie’ with someone? You -”
“Who you been watchin’ movies with to know that, hmm?” Joel raised an eyebrow. “You tell me so I know who I gotta talk to next time I see ‘em.” It was always a pleasure to watch the two of them interact, and it was impossible to contain your smile as they went back and forth with each other. If you didn’t know better, you would have assumed that they were actuallyfather and daughter, though Joel was quick to draw the line - and for good reason.
“Ugh.” Ellie rolled her eyes, dropping her arms and shaking her head back and forth. “Like I’d tell you, Joel.” Barely concealing your snort, you waited to see what she said next, but instead of speaking to Joel, she returned her attention to you. “I’m just fucking with both of you.” The girl winked, scratching the top of one forearm, a still healing chemical burn taking up a large portion of her skin. “And I’m spending the night over at Tommy’s, by the way. Won’t be back until tomorrow afternoon. That gives you plenty of -”
“Oh, Ellie. I’m just here to watch a movie. I’ll be gone in a couple hours. You don’t need to staythere.” Does that mean she assumes that I’m spending the night? Or… You didn’t know what to say to that, and so instead of speaking, you risked a glance at Joel, finding that he was staring at you, a curious look in his eyes. Does he want me to stay?
“Watch two movies then.” Ellie widened her smile, stepping past you and to the door. “I won’t know… or be here to stop you.” Before either you or Joel could reply, she was gone, the screen closing behind her and the two of you watching as she hurried down the stairs and toward the street.
“I don’t know where she gets it from.” He sighed at the end of his sentence, but you heard him step closer to you, stopping just behind where you were standing. “She likes givin’ me a hard time about every damn thing.”
“I have no idea where that might come from.” Slowly, you turned to face him, tilting your head back slightly so that you could look into his eyes. “She definitely doesn’t know anyone that -”
“Quiet.” His eyes were gleaming, bright with the laughter he was desperately trying to hold back. “I’m glad you came over.” Joel let out a breath, reaching for you with one hand. “Got a surprise for you, if you want it.”
“A surprise?” He nodded. “What is it?” You felt his fingers as they tightened against your shoulder, the hand holding the towel still down by his side. “You didn’t have to do anything. It’s just a movie, like I told Ellie.”
“Is it?” The man blinked, his eyes focused on your face. “Seems to me like this is a date.” Jerking his chin in the direction of the kitchen, Joel urged you to follow him. “C’mon.” A date? Ducking into the living room to set the bag down on the small table, you took a deep breath before making your way into the kitchen after Joel. You hadn’t even dared to entertain the thought that spending an evening at his house watching a movie would be anything more than friendly, but Joel had been the one to call it by a different name, filling you with hope.
“Does that mean that I have to wait til the end of the night to see if you’re going to kiss me, Joel?” You had no idea where it came from; your question far bolder than anything you’d ever said to anyone in the past. Oh, shit. He stopped between the island and the sink, his broad shoulders rising and falling before he turned to face you, movement slow.
“Hell no.”
He moved toward you with purpose, Joel closing the distance between your bodies in only a few steps, and when he reached for you that time, there was nothing tentative about it. One arm wound around your waist to pull you closer and the other hand settled against your shoulder, fingers curling over the top of it. He lowered his head while you tilted yours back slightly, eyes closing. I’ve been waiting to feel this again. His lips were warm, Joel humming quietly as your mouths met, and it took only seconds for you to relax into his hold. “You wanna touch me, touch me.” His words from the previous night on the mountain echoing in your ears, you did just that, running your hands up and over his lower back, the material of the shirt he wore soft against your palms.
Joel pulled away first, though he didn’t pull out of your arms, and you were surprised to see that he was flustered, the look in his eyes slightly off, even though he didn’t look away. “Six months.” Joel closed his eyes, head shaking back and forth slowly. “Six months ago, Ellie an’ me were still makin’ our way across the country, and we didn’t …” He trailed off. “And now I’m standin’ here in my kitchen, getting ready to watch a move with a woman I …”
“It’s a lot to take in, Joel. Especially for someone that was on the move as much … and for as long as you were.” You were familiar with the way people reacted to their first months in Jackson - the disbelief, the fear that it would all change at the drop of a hat, the discomfort at letting rigid rules and ways of life change enough to be comfortable.Joel was no different, and if what Tommy had told you over the years was true, it was going to take more than a few months to get Joel to a point where he was relaxed for longer than a few moments at a time. “There are still days where I think that this is too good to be true, but it’s not. We’ve been here for two decades, and we’re stillhere. I promise, the longer you’re in Jackson, the easier it gets.”
“Yeah.” He wet his lips, swearing under his breath. “Yeah, I know.” Distract him. It wasn’t the ideal situation, but you knew that it needed to be done, getting Joel out of his head and all the way back into the kitchen with you.
“You said you had a surprise for me?” He was still holding you, both hands tightening as you spoke. I like that. “What is it?”
“I do.” His eyes flicked to the right, toward the counter. “Probably not much of a surprise for you because you’ve been here, but…” You followed his line of sight and saw a bowl of dried corn, along with a small bottle of oil.
“Popcorn?” Unable to contain your smile, you rose onto your toes and kissed his cheek, and overwhelming feeling of appreciation for the man you were still getting to know surging through you. “Who’d you have to bribe to get that?”
“Maria.” Joel laughed, but the sound was affectionate. “And I didn’t bribe her, I offered a trade.” That made sense - there were plenty of things to trade including services and skills, and in the months that they’d been in Jackson, Joel had more than proven he was up to the task. “Got salt, too. But no butter. I -”
“Salt’s fine.” You didn’t know what else to say without getting overly sentimental. It was just supposed to be a movie, and if I keep talking, it’s going to … Joel was trying - very hard - to make the night special for you. You didn’t know if it was because he knew you were still upset about Josie, or if it was something else, but either way, you appreciated it. “And you’d be surprised, Joel, popcorn’s still kind of a luxury here. Most people don’t ration it the way Maria does.”
He busied himself with moving the kernels and oil and getting things out of the cupboards, pulling out a large cast-iron skillet and a pot lid, the man’s shoulders flexing beneath his t-shirt. Fuck, Look at him. “I haven’t ever cooked it like this before, so I hope I -
“I can help.” Tearing your eyes away from his back, you stepped next to him, taking a breath. “I don’t mind. I’ve been cooking in a cast iron for a lot longer than you.” He didn’t reply, and so you nudged him with an elbow. “You can do it next time.”
“Deal.” He stepped away, leaning against the counter beneath the wall shelves and crossed both arms over his chest. “Maybe next time it’ll be actual food.”
“I donno, Joel.” You twisted the knob to ignite the flame, positioning the skillet on top of it. “We’ll have to see how tonight goes first. A girl’s gotta keep her options open.” He snorted but didn’t speak as you poured the oil in, ears trained on the quiet sizzle. “Do you want me to make all of this?” He told you yes and so you poured everything into the pan, shaking it so that they spread into an even layer. Towel. I need a towel. Reaching for the one hanging from the cabinet handle, you covered your hand with it, holding the lid over the pot. The two of you fell into an easy silence, the sound of a dog barking reaching your ears through an open window.
It was comfortable in his house - with Joel - and you tried not to let yourself think about it too much. “I know you brought movies with you, but…” He shifted on his feet, scratching one arm without uncrossing them. “This house had a bunch of DVDs when we moved in, so -”
“I brought all comedies.” Shaking the pan lightly, the end of the towel wrapped around the handle, you looked over at him. “Wanted to laugh this week.” The kernels were starting to pop, the smell filling the kitchen. “Brought The Hangover 1 and 2, the newer Jump Street movie,Horrible Bosses…” You shook the pan faster, glancing over at Joel only to find that he was watching you intently. “Wedding Crashers andAnchormanare…” Trailing off, you frowned. “I don’t even know if you remember any of those, but I saw them on the shelf, and all kinds of memories came back, so -”
“I saw the first Hangovermove in a theater.” He cleared his throat. “Was on a date. Tommy offered to babysit for me. I can’t… remember her name, but she didn’t laugh as much as I did.” You recognized the tone of voice there, too - the man recalling things from before that he wouldn’t have had he not been in a position like Jackson offered. It still happened to you occasionally, so you knew how jarring it could be. He’s not alone.
“I think I did, too.” You continued to shake the pan, even though the popping had slowed. “Not with a guy, though. Friends.” Carefully, you lifted the pan off of the heat and set it on a cold burner, fully turning your head to look at him. “Got a big bowl?” He pushed away from the counter and bent over, reaching in to get one for you. “I’ll let you salt it, Joel.”
It felt normal, moving around the man’s kitchen with him, and you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching over one of his arms and snagging a few pieces of the popcorn before he’d had a chance to fully season them. “How’s it taste?” It was an opportunity - one that you weren’t going to pass up on, and so you lifted your hand to his lips, a few pieces between your fingers.
It was a gamble - you didn’t know if Joel would react - but only moments later, he did, leaning forward slightly to let you push the popcorn between his lips and into his waiting mouth. It was easily the most intimate thing you’d done with anyone in years, and as he began to chew, you pressed yourself against his back, chin on his shoulder.
It hadn’t been more than a half hour since you’d stepped foot into his house, but every minute that passed reconfirmed what you already knew: when it came to Joel, you were in trouble. It was more than attraction, more than interest - the level of comfort and ease you felt when you were with him was unfamiliar to you, and you could only wonder if he felt similar. He wouldn’t be letting this happen if he didn’t. “It’s real good.” He reached for your wrist with one of his hands, bringing your fingers back up to his mouth and pressing his lips against the pads of them, the tip of his tongue darting out to remove the salt there. “Guess I gotta keep you around, hmm?”
“Guess so.” I want you to. “I’ve got some very useful skills, Joel.” He laughed quietly, the man’s shoulder’s shaking. “Ready to go into the other room?” He agreed, waiting until you straightened up to hand you the bowl.
“Want a beer?” He gestured to the fridge, eyes on you. “Tommy said this batch is good, but -”
“Popcorn, a movie and a beer?” Widening your eyes and holding your free hand to your chest, you gasped. “Joel, you’re going to spoil me.”
“Guess that’s a yes, then.” While he reached for those, you headed back into the living room. Setting the bowl down next to the bag you’d brought, you spread the DVD cases out on the table, figuring that you’d let Joel choose. “Here.” He appeared moments later, holding out two cups. “Take these an’ I’ll get the movie goin’.”
You wanted to take a drink from one of the containers, but held off, instead settling back against the cushions and watching as he eyed the movies on the table. “You pick. I honestly don’t care what we watch.” His hand hovered over the cases, for long moments before he chose - The Hangover - and stepped toward the TV, turning everything on. Good choice.
“Mind if I sit with you?” He had one hand on his hip and his head cocked to the side as the DVD load screen popped up. “Know there’s a chair, but - “
“Plenty of room right next to me.” Giving him a smile, you shifted so that there was more room between you and the arm of the couch, staring up at him. “But only if you don’t mind me leaning up against you.” He didn’t speak, instead dropping onto the cushion and immediately throwing an arm around your shoulders, the remote held in that hand. Guess he doesn’t mind. You waited until he pushed play and set the remote down before you handed him one drink and then grabbed for the popcorn bowl, settling it into your lap.
The first part of the movie played without the two of you speaking - though you both laughed a few times, eyes focused on the screen while you periodically reached for the popcorn and sipped your drinks. You felt yourself relaxing, the apprehension about your visit disappearing as the movie went on. He kept his arm around you as you watched, Joel’s laugh rumbling through his whole body.
You felt a pang in your chest at the first sight of the brightly lit Vegas skyline, the streets crowded with people and cars, and for the first time since the movie began you spoke. “Did you ever go to Vegas, Joel?” He took a deep breath before he answered, his arm tightening around your shoulders briefly before it loosened.
“Once. Me an’ Tommy rented some Harleys on a birthday trip, rode across the country. Drove up north from Austin to Oklahoma City an’ then went west. Hit a bunch of places in New Mexico an’ Arizona, and then decided to spend a night in Vegas before we kept goin’ to LA.” It didn’t surprise you - you’d seen Tommy on a motorcycle more than once, and he’d mentioned riding out west when he was younger, but the thought of Joel on the back of a bike, carefree and enjoying a few weeks of adventure with his brother made your chest tighten further. “It was … busy. Loud. Lotta fun.”
“Wonder what it looks like now.” You cleared your throat, chewing on your lower lip. “Wonder if any of the hotels are still -”
“Probably. It was a QZ for a while, at least. We used to hear about ‘em in Boston. Good place to hide, y’know? Lots of beds and rooms for people to stay in. Easy enough to cut the rooms off from street level, keep people safe.” It made sense, and hearing the matter of fact way he spoke about one of the world’s former most popular places to visit was yet another reminder of everything that you’d lost - of everything that had ceased. “Gotta be hard, though. There’s not much water. Be hard to grow crops or keep animals alive there.”
“I didn’t even think of that.” Your eyes were back on the screen, watching as the group started trying to piece the previous night together. “You’d think it would be saferbecause it’s in the middle of nowhere, and nothing could survive outside of the walls, but then … surviving inside could be just as hard.” You realized it then - how lucky you were to have made it to and stayed in Jackson. It got cold in the winter, sure, but there were plenty of natural resources, the opportunity to grow and raise your food in the wild, and the mountains shielded much of the city from danger in at least one direction. “Still, though … would be fucking cool to see, right? Even without the lights. All those machines and the money? Chicago had some really tall buildings, but I think after so long, seeing so many would…”
You trailed off, thinking. Idaho Falls and Salt Lake City were the two largest cities you’d laid eyes on since your arrival in Wyoming, and none of them compared in scope or scale to ChicagoorVegas. “It would.” He shifted next to you, sliding lower on the cushions, his face closer to level with yours. “We’d be rich after about ten minutes. Breakin’ into one of the casinos for more money’n we could carry.” It would be worthless, but you aren’t wrong. Turning your head toward his, you laughed, meeting his eyes. “Be as rich as all these actors used to be. Millions of dollars just for showin’ up to work and readin’ a script.”
“Some of them were really good, Joel!” Clicking your tongue at him, you waited while he rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on. Bradley Cooper was funny.And he’s not in this one, but Charlie whatever his name was, the one from Horrible Bosses that was in that comedy show, too? He was great.And then you had people like Hugh Jackman, and Brad Pitt and Nicolas Cage, and -” Holy shit I haven’t thought of any of these names in a long fucking time.
“Jennifer Aniston was real good looking.” He raised an eyebrow. ‘You been namin’ a lot of guys, but -”
“Not the ones that I think are … were attractive, Joel, just…” Taking a moment to think, you wrinkled your nose. “Yeah, alright. A lot of them were pretty good looking, but -”
“What was that one’s name? She…” He frowned, thinking. “She was in those superhero movies? Normally blonde, but I think she had red hair, and -” He wet his lips, glancing down at your body and then back up. “Big chest, and -”
“You definitely did not like her for her acting, Joel.” Rolling your eyes, you scoffed. “I can’t remember her name, but I know who you’re talking about.” He hummed in agreement and the two of you went back to watching the movie, but after a few minutes, you interrupted the silence again. “Do … you think any of them made it? The ones from Hollywood, I mean. The famous people from before?”
You didn’t know why you were asking. In the grand scheme of things, it didn’t matter. If celebrities or other public figures had survived, you’d probably know nothing about it, especially after the collapse of communications across the world. There was no more phone, no more Internet. You had no news broadcasts on TV, and there certainly weren’t blockbuster movie releases. They would have just been surviving… like us. “I’ve never come across any.” His hand was moving slowly over the top of your arm, fingers massaging the meat of your shoulder. “Not on the way from Texas east, or even in Boston.” He paused. “Not on the way here with Ellie, either.”
“Me either.” Shifting, you tilted your head to one side, letting it rest against his arm, your right hand settled on his knee. “We didn’t leave Illinois til almost a year after the outbreak, though. So by then… by then most people were …” Turned. Changed. Gone into hiding. “And we tried to avoid people on the way here.”
“Smart. You said you went north first, right? Wanted to go around Kansas?” He remembered. It made your heart pound that he’d remembered the detail of your trip west and why, and you told him as much after confirming that he was right. “Middle of the country’s no fun no matter what route you take. Was impressed when you told me ‘bout your trip.” Yeah?“Bet some of ‘em made it. The ones that had places to go and hide, away from everyone? Might not have made it to now, but they probably survived a while before they had to come outta their safe houses an’ try to find food and all that.”
It was a sobering thought - that people like you and Joel and Tommy and Maria had outlasted so many others, including the ones that had formally been considered untouchable. “Maybe they’re all still in places like New York and California, or on those little private islands off the coasts of bigger countries.” He shrugged.
“New York City’s gone.” Joel’s tone was flat, and you knew that he wouldn’t say much about it. “Me an’ Ellie… we passed it. And … there’s no people there. Not anymore.” It was chilling, but you trusted that he was telling you the truth - because he had no reason to lie to you about it. “Lots of shit’s gone, right?”
“We’re not.” You tightened your fingers against his leg. “But I didn’t mean to make this sad, Joel. I just started thinking about all of this because of the movie.”
“Why are you apologizing?” He said your name, waiting until you’d angled your head so that you could look at him, to continue. “I’m the one that brought up my date, so I opened the door.” You opened the door to your past, not world history. “And besides, we’re all from different places, seen different things in the last 20 years. I know shit you don’t, so…” He was right, but you still stayed quiet, even though you didn’t lift your head from his shoulder until the movie ended, Joel laughing as the credits rolled. “That the kind of stuff you have on yourcamera?”
“Absolutely not. Not even before the outbreak, when I was in college. My friends and I had fun, but not that much fun.” You were sitting straight up, Joel’s arm removed from your shoulders for the first time in nearly two hours. “And I never got a chance to make it to Vegas, so … no, Joel. No strippers, professional boxers, zoo animals or drugs on my camera. Sorry to disappoint you.” He looked like he wanted to say something in response, but instead the man only stood up, holding his hand out to you. What?
“Come on, let’s sit outside. Got a porch, and it’d be a shame not to use it.” You had doubts, but still stood, stretching your arms out above your head. “Need anything?” No, not right now.
“I’m good for right now, thanks. Maybe before I leave.” You didn’t know when that would be, but figured it wouldn’t be late, and since the movie was already over you didn’t want him to think you were overstaying your welcome. He led you out the front door and onto the porch, gesturing for you to take a seat at the small table - much like the two of you had done on your balcony earlier in the week.
It was still nice out, and even though the sun was completely down, the dark gathering around the town, you could feelthe calm around you. Joel sat first, the porch light behind his head, but the man didn’t look at you, instead staring out and into the darkness of the street. “You know you don’t have to leave.” He slowly turned toward you, lips pushed out into an expression that was half scowl, half frown, the lines between his brows deep. “If Ellie’s gonna be gone all night, there’s not a -”
“The neighbors will talk Joel.” Gesturing with one hand, you rolled your eyes. “A woman staying the night?” You were trying to lighten the mood, winking at the end of your sentence. “I’m sure they’d all have a -”
“Let ‘em talk.” He wet his lips.”Ain’t like you an’ me are gonna put on a show on this porch, so … they’ll have to make up anything they say.” Biting back a smile at that, you eyed him, waiting to see if he’d say anything else. “I wasn’t kiddin’ the other night when I said that I didn’t plan on this.” He used one large hand to indicate the space between you, and all you could do was nod. “We’ve only been here a couple months, and I’ve just been … tryin’ to get settled. Get to know some people, figure out if we can -”
“You and Ellie can have a life here, Joel.” You interrupted, though it wasn’t unkind. “Even if this goes nowhere, or… if it does and it doesn’t work out. As long as the two of you want to be here, Jackson can and will be your home. I told you that when I gave you guys the tour, and I meant it.” He watched you silently, dark eyes fixed on your face. “You found your brother again. Anything else that comes from this is just …” You paused, wanting to get the expression right, even though you hadn’t used it in years. “Frosting on the cake. Wait, that’s not… icing on the cake.”
“This is already goin’ somewhere, though.” He looked torn, and as he continued to speak, you realized it was because he wasn’t used to being so honest with his emotions. “You’re here, in my house. We’re friends. This isn’t… it’s not just …”
“Things are different now.” You knew that you didn’t need to tell him that, that the man knew that sex and friendship and everything that came with it were vastly changed from the way they’d been before. But he needs to know. He needs to hear it from someone that’s lived it the way people here have. “It’s not … yes. I feel differently about you than I do about the other people that have come to Jackson throughout the years. I’d like it to be more, to see what happens between us over time. And we could do that here. We could get to know each other, have nights like tonight, or go and have a drink at the bar, or even go out on rides and patrols together. But we don’t haveto.”
“What are you sayin’?” He leaned in, twisting in his seat so that both elbows were on the table between you. “Because I don’t -”
“Jackson’s safe, Joel. Probably one of the safest places in the country, to be honest, but shit still happens. People still get sick, or bitten or lost. People still get angry and hurt. And a lot of people use those things as excuses not to get close. It makes sense. Why get close to someone if the chance that you’re gonna lose them somehow is high?” Pushing your tongue into your cheek, you thought for a few seconds. “It’s easier to be with someone if the stakes aren’t raised. Take emotions out of the equation. It’s just sex. It’s just physical. It’s just … a transaction that meets a basic human need. People here do it all the time. Tommy and Maria are an exception. They fell in love and got married, but they know the risks of going that far, just like we all do.”
“You sound like you’ve been on both sides of this.” He blinked. “Am I right?” You thought of Charlie then, the way that the man’s eyes hadn’t given anything away when he’d told you he was leaving, his voice firm but resigned as he explained what the next part of his life would involve.
“Yeah.” Covering your mouth with one hand, you averted your eyes, looking down at the uneven boards beneath your feet. “Yeah, I have.”
“Do you wanna tell me about it?” It was uncharted territory for you, and you knew it. Joel asking about your previous relationships was personal, just as him telling you anything about his in more than passing mention would be. “You don’t have to, but -”
“I’ve been with a handful of guys since I got here.” Rip the bandaid off. Just do it. “Most of them just like you and Penny - just because we both needed it and it was convenient. It was… I was a little reckless when I first got here, still reeling from losing my sister, and feeling like Jackson wouldn’t last, or that my time was limited. There were still people coming in and out then, people that would stay a few weeks or months on their way to wherever, and …” You shrugged. “There were still condoms then, too. Birth control. Plan B. Stuff like that was easy to find, especially in a place like this because it never … Jackson wasn’t ever vacant or looted, and it was easy enough to go out into the hospitals and stuff around here and get the extras. No one was stealing birth control implants or morning after pills or condoms, because they were focused on actual medical supplies.”
“Makes sense. Whenever we were goin’ through stores and buildings, there was always the same stuff left, the shit that wasn’t useful to people except in a handful of situations.” Nodding in reply, you took a deep breath.
“Yeah. But eventually that all expired. Condoms first. Then the pills. People started having to be more careful with what they did and who they did it with.” You grinned at Joel. “I was one of the lucky ones that had gotten a copper IUD a few months before the outbreak. I knew that I was good for years, but I was always extra careful, you know?” You wrinkled your nose. “The last thing I wanted to do was put myself or anyone else in danger because I got myself pregnant while we were trying to fortify this place.” He nodded, still studying you. “And, just as an FYI, Joel, I do still have an implant in. It’s newer, the third one, actually, and even though it was technically expired, since it’s non-hormonal, there’s nothing to gobad. It’s sort of an untested theory, but the doctors here, with everything they’ve read? It should still be effective to a degree.”
“You tellin’ me you want to test that out?” He smirked at you, one eyebrow raised. “Seems kind of dangerous.”
“It is. But, I’m not the only one that’s chosen to keep replacing them like this. So far, none of us have gotten pregnant, and some of them are having a ton more sex than I am. We’re doing our own clinical trials in Jackson, I guess. A few women have gotten their tubes tied since the world went to shit, but we don’t like doing unnecessary procedures here, so… it is what it is, and it’s … good to have some peace of mind in case of accidents.” The time for jokes had ended, and you knew that it was time to bring Charlie up by name - getting into the difficult part of the conversation. “And as for testing it?” Using one knuckle, you rubbed at the bottom of your nose, taking a breath. “It’s been years since I’ve done that, because it’s been years since I was with anyone that I’d take a chance like that with.”
You didn’t know how he’d respond to that, but Joel let out a quiet “oh”, his eyes going wide. It hadn’t been that long since you’d been with anyone, which you were quick to tell him, but none of the men since had meant as much to you as the man you’d been with for nearly two years, the dark-haired charmer just a little younger than you that had shown up with a small group a decade after you’d gotten to Jackson. The first man that I think I loved.
“Charlie was from Erie, Pennsylvania. He and a bunch of other people managed to survive for years without leaving the area because they were able to fortify a state park. It… It was like a peninsula, and they isolated themselves from the mainland, kept infected and dangerous humans from crossing. They built houses, got food from the lake, and were able to go back and forth when they needed for supplies by boat and by car.” Joel nodded, listening intently. “They traded with another group that had done the same thing on the other end of the lake, the western part of Ohio? I guess there’s some small islands out there, so they had a good thing going between them for a long time.”
“Why’d they leave? Seems safe and pretty convenient.” It was.
“There was a really bad storm one winter, and a lot of what they built got destroyed. They tried to rebuild, and couldn’t, so they made the decision to leave, to try and see if the people on the other islands had room for them. It was only about fifty people, but… they couldn’t take everyone in. And so Charlie and some others kept moving west. They didn’t want big cities, and they were trying to make it all the way to the west coast, because there’s no ice storms there. But when they got to Jackson, they … they decided to stay.”
“And that’s when you met ‘em.” You nodded. “Had to be a hard trip. Especially so late on.” Joel frowned. “But you’re not with -”
“Everything was good. It was nice to have new people around again. More help. It doesn’t seem like a lot, but ten new people coming in changed so much for us. We had the room, we had the supplies, and we finally had another real doctor. It was … a good few years.” It had been. For the first time, you’d found true happiness, a reason to get up each day that wasn’t just survival. “I met Charlie the same way I met you - giving them a tour of the city, but I didn’t even try to hide how interested I was in him from the beginning. We hit it off. I lived closer to downtown then, and he was in the same building as I was, so we saw each other all the time. I thought … for a while, that we’d end up like Tommy and Maria, but … it didn’t get to that point.”
“What happened?” He reached out, taking your hand and running his thumb slowly over the back of it. “He get -”
“He left Jackson.” You swallowed the lump in your throat, though it was smaller than you’d thought it would be. “We were together for two years, and then he just … left.”
“Left?” Joel’s confusion was nearly tangible. “Why?”
“He never gave up on heading west. Never gave up on getting to the coast. He asked me to go with him, said that we’d be happier in a place where it never got cold, that there was no snow, that we could wake up every morning and see the ocean.” You wet your lips before they twisted into a sarcastic smile. “Said that we’d only have to fend off attacks from one direction instead of every direction, and that he was leaving Jackson with a small group that wanted the same thing.”
“But you didn’t go.” I didn’t. “Why?”
“This is my home. Maria is my family. I loved Charlie, but not … not enough to try my luck for another thousand miles without knowing what was waiting for me there.” You often wondered what had happened to the man and the group - wondered if they’d made it to California, wondered what they’d found there. “It’s safe here. We have a community. I have a life. I gave that up once because I had to, to survive, and I didn’t want to do it again. Ever.” You didn’t blame the man for leaving. You couldn’t, because you understood the appeal, understood what it meant to see the ocean again, to go as far as you could across the country and make a home in a place where there wouldn’t be snow or ice or as many people or threats. “But he was the last person that I really let myself get attached to, Joel. And now I don’t know what happened to him. I watched him walk out of the main gates and he didn’t even look back.”
“Well, you and I know it’s possible that they made it to where they were goin’.” Joel squeezed your hand. “We both made it all the way across this damn country, so there’s no reason to think they didn’t make it the rest of the way.” You liked to think that - liked to picture Charlie waking up every day and looking out at the Pacific with some of the others nearby. “I’m sorry that he left you here.”
“I didn’t think he would. I guess I really…” You frowned. “No, I hoped he wouldn’t. It was nice not being alone, knowing that someone cared about me. But it’s been years since they set out, and I’m still here, never had any interest in heading out after them, so…” So I guess I didn’t want to be with him as much as I thought.
“There was a woman, after the outbreak?” Joel pulled his hand from yours, running his fingers through his hair and then gripping the back of his neck. “I tried not to let myself get attached to anyone becausea what happened to my daughter and how much that fuckin’ hurt.” He’d mentioned Sarah by name to you previously, and Tommy had also spoken about her, but you knew not to press. “And for a while, I didn’t. Did the same as you. Sex was sex and it didn’t last, most people were gone after a few days or weeks, but when we got to Boston? Met her and everything … it was all different.” Boston? A woman? Does he mean - “Tess an’ I worked well together. We got along. She understood my sense of humor, and didn’t take shit from anyone. I liked her. Before we even got anywhere near a bed, I liked her.”
Joel was staring out into the darkness, one thumb rubbing at the knuckle of the other as he held his hands together. It was a difficult subject for him, and you knew that whatever he told you came at a price for the man. Ellie liked Tess. They started out together, they… You knew that she’d died before the trio had even left Boston, but hadn’t gotten all of the details. Might get them now.
“She called me Texas. Donno when that started, but I remember she called me Texas one day while we were out on a supply run, and it … I kissed her. Came outta her mouth and I just went for it, and after that that’s just the way it was between us. We never called it anything, and it didn’t change how we worked together, but I think she loved me, and I loved her… and I think we shoulda said it but we never did.” Shit. I called him that same thing when we first met, but it was just because that’s what I called Tommy in the beginning, too.
“I’m sure she knew.” It was your turn to reach out, one hand settling on the man’s arm. “Even if you didn’t ever say it, I’m sure she knew.” How could she not? You could see the pain etched into his features as he spoke about the woman. Even though you’d only known him for a little while, and you were certain that things had been different when he was in Boston, there was no way he’d been able to keep everything from a woman that he’d had an extended relationship of any sort with. Because he can’t do it with me now and he’s only known me for months.
“I wanted to tell her. Was going to right before me an’ Ellie … when she said she’d stay behind to give us a chance to get out, but she …” He curled his lip, drumming his fingers on the table. “She asked me to make it easy for her because she knew she was already done, and so I didn’t. Because if I’d said it, she would have said it back and then -” Then you never would have left her, and you might not have made it here.
“That’s love, Joel. She did something selfless for you and Ellie. She knew. If she said that to you, she knew exactly what she was asking you not to say.” The man’s feelings for the woman were still raw, and you knew it would be that way for a long time. It’s barely been a year. “I’m sorry you lost her. I think she would have liked it here. She would have fit right in the same way you and Ellie have.”
He stared at you for a few moments, the man’s eyes focused, brow furrowed deeply. What? What did I say? It was the truth - and if he’d shown up with a woman, you would have simply done your job and introduced them to the community, helping them to get settled and start their new lives together. You would have found him attractive, of course, but you wouldn’t have acted on it, which would have put the two of you into a very different set of circumstances. “She would have. Would have been real different for her here than in Boston, though.” That was also true, but over time, they would have both adjusted, falling into the daily routine with relative ease. “She woulda liked you. You would have gotten along real well.”
“Maybe.” Raising both brows and blowing out a breath, you crossed one leg over your knee, pulling the hand that was on his arm back. “Maybe not. Women have a 6th sense, Joel. And It’s no secret that I’m attracted to you, so even if I wouldn’t have done anything about it, she might not have been too happy to know.” He laughed then, the sound carrying away from you and into the darkness. It was a good sound, loosening the tightness in your chest that had been slowly growing over the course of the conversation. “Thank you for telling me about her, though. I feel like … I know you a little better now.”
“Yeah.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, letting out a quiet cough. “Guess you do.” The two of you sat on the porch, a slight breeze blowing through the dangling pieces of his wind chimes and creating a gentle tinkling noise. It was peaceful, even though you didn’t know what to say next, and as you replayed the conversation in your head, you lifted one hand to the side of your neck, gripping it.
You’d both shared something deeply intimate about yourselves that night, blurring the last line of defense that you had up between the two of you further. Tess and Charlie. Me telling him about the people I’ve been with. Talking about how we see relationships and attachments. “You’ve got no plans of leaving Jackson, do you.” It wasn’t a question, but you still answered it as though it was. “You said you loved Charlie and you still -”
“If I had to leave, yeah. I want to live, Joel. So if it was a matter of life and death, yes. I’d be out of here as fast as possible. But for something uncertain? For a chance of something different somewhere else? No. Going to California isn’t as simple as getting on a plane and then coming back after a couple days at Disneyland. That’s a commitment. Going that far from here means never coming back. And all of the people and things that I love are right here in Jackson, so why would I go anywhere else?”
“You said you loved him, and he’s not here anymore.” Joel wasn’t pulling any punches, and you respected him for it, though it didn’t make the man’s statement any easier to answer.
“He’s not. And I did. I won’t lie, Joel, it hurt for a long time, but I got over it, and now it’s just … another leaning experience in a long, long line of them. I hope they made it. And I hope he found someone out there that he can spend the rest of his time with, no matter how long that time is.” Too much. You stood, raising a hand to point at the front door. “If it’s alright, I’m going to in and get something to drink real quick before I go home. This whole conversation changed the -”
“You can get whatever you want to drink, but I meant it - you don’t need to leave. You can stay. We’ve got plenty of movies to pick from if you want to watch another one, or there’s a couple board games in the closet. I even think there’s a full deck of cards in one of the kitchen drawers.” He wants me to stay. Even after all that. He wants me to stay here with him.
“Joel…” Closing your eyes, you inhaled, holding your breath. “This is all new for both of us, right?”
“Yeah, I haven’t had much time to date over the past couple years, especially with bringin’ Ellie from Boston, so…” He looked up at you, head cocked sharply to the side. “Sorry if I’m a little rusty when it comes to makin’ small talk.” It was a good sign - he was still trying to joke with you, to lighten the overall tone of the situation, especially after both of you had dredged up difficult parts of your past in a relatively short period of time. This isn’t going to happen overnight. He needs time to get used to being here. He needs time to figure out how he feels about the idea of… trying to live normally.
You leaned against the door frame, letting your eyes wander to the road and then back to him, one arm crossed over your belly, hand holding onto your opposite elbow. “This is a good thing, you know.” You saw the confusion on his face, nodding as you continued. “Joking. Flirting. Having a movie night -”
“Me an’ Ellie have movie nights all the time. She didn’t get to see a lot of them in Boston, so I’m showing her the ones I can, somea my favorites.” Good.“But… yeah. I know what you mean.” He stood then, taking a few cautious steps toward you and running one hand through the hair at the back of his head. “I want … to believe that this can last. That this place is going to be better than Boston or Texas or anywhere else I’ve been in the last 20 years.” He closed his eyes, frowning. “I want to be like you, like Tommy an’ Maria. I want to give Ellie a place to grow up where she can be a kid for a couple more years at least.”
“This is that place, Joel. This is the best chance that I know of for that. It happens for all of us eventually. The danger isn’t gone, but it’s… less. Jackson isn’t perfect, and neither are the people, but if you stay here long enough, you… you’ll wake up one day and just feel… better. About everything.” That was true, too, and you needed him to know it. “I’ve been here, I’ve seen it. And I’ve seen the way you and Ellie are now compared to the way you were before, and there’s already a difference.”
“You helped. Both of us.” He moved again, closing the distance and partially blocking the light from behind him. “Showin’ us around. Being at Tommy an’ Maria’s. All those times we talked in town or at your place.” Joel wet his lips. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been around anyone for long enough to start trustin’ them, but you have no reason to lie to us, so… I trust you. And that means Ellietrusts you, too.” Good.“I understand if I crossed a line today, when I took a crack at your -”
“You didn’t. It’s the truth. He’s not in Jackson anymore, and it doesn’t do me any good to worry about where he is now or how he’s doing.” That was something that had taken you months to admit to - and even longer to be okwith. “I loved him, but we didn’t love each other enough to figure out a way to make it work. He moved on - so I had to, too. We made our choices, same as everyone else.” And now… “And now I’m here, and you’re here, and we’re standing on this porch together.”
“We are.” You realized with some surprise that while you’d been speaking, you’d reached out, linking your fingers with his, the man’s palm dwarfing yours as they pressed together. “And I’ve got nowhere else I plan on goin’.” You didn’t know what he was angling for with his final comment, but it still filled you with hope. He’s telling me he’s staying just like I told him I planned to. If Joel was talking about staying in Jackson permanently, that was a good thing. He wants Ellie to grow up here. He wants her to have a life. He doesn’t want to be on the move anymore. “Well… except for the places I’m told to go, y’know? Supply runs and patrols, and -”
“We’re all at the mercy of Tommy and Maria Miller’s instructions.” You rolled your eyes, leaning closer. “Especially when it comes to Jackson.” His lips curved upward into a smirk, Joel winking at you as he tightened his fingers around yours. “But that’s good to know. I’d hate to see you ride out of here again not knowing if you planned on coming back.”
“Why’s that?” His voice dropped slightly, the sound thick and slow, his accent more pronounced and reminding you of the way that Tommy’s had been when he’d first arrived. I hope he never loses that.
“I’d like it if you stayed here for a long time, Joel. You and Ellie, but…” You raised your free hand, pressing it to the center of his chest. “Definitely you.” He stared down at you, chest rising and falling beneath your hand. “I want to stay here tonight. And I’m happy to do that even if it’s just watching another movie and falling asleep on the couch with you.” Here goes nothing. “But I’d prefer your bed, because…” He surprised you, pulling his hand free from yours and sliding it along your hip, his fingertips resting just inside the top of your back pocket. “Because we’d both enjoy it. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned through all of this, it’s that if you wait for things to happen, they sometimes don’t.” You flexed your fingers, gathering the material of his shirt between them. “So I’m being direct with you and telling you that if you want to go to bed with me tonight, I won’t turn you down.”
It was quite the shift in conversation, but it was something that you felt needed to be said. You’d been interested in Joel for months, the kisses you’d shared on the mountain doing nothing but stoking the flames and making your desire burn hotter, especially with the man right in front of you.”I’m no good at this.” He sighed out the words, lowering his head slightly so that he could speak into your ear. “Wasn’t lyin’ when I said that I was rusty. With Penny, it -”
“I’m not Penny. You don’t need to compare us.” It stung, even though you knew that it shouldn’t have. “And she didn’t complain. Talked all about you at the bar, seemed more than happy to go back a second time, and definitely wanted a third, too.” Swallowing hard, you forced a smile. “So whatever it was you did, it was something righ-”
“I ain’t comparing you to her. And just because I showed her a good time doesn’t mean that it was right.” He said your name, his fingers curled against your skin. “Don’t know her. Didn’t really want to, or try to. And if that makes me an asshole, it is what it is.” You felt for the woman at his admission, but at the same time didn’t,because she’d gotten a Joel that you never would: the man raw and needy from months on the road, desperate for the comfort of someone’s arms just to relieve the tension, even a little. “I’m trying with this. I want to. With … you.”
That froze you - the man’s voice strong, words earnest - the slight inhale before he said the final one cutting straight into your heart, where it had no business being so easily. I know you are. I can tell. And I appreciate it. “Say the word, Joel.” Your heart pounding against the back of your ribs, you focused on his face, the man’s eyes boring into you. “Tell me that you -”
“No.” It was sharp, his voice raised slightly as he pulled you even closer. “Not gonna tell you. Let me show you how much I want you.”
First of all: I did not write this story. @the-blind-assassin-12 did, and it’s not showing up in the tags - and that’s UNACCEPTABLE.
Everyone needs to read this. It’s heavy in terms of the things that happen within the story, but the descriptions of said things aren’t detailed. There is smut. There is language. Dieter’s drug use is mentioned.
A couple other warnings, straight from Alyssa herself:
Sex, filming sexual interactions (consensually) language, mention of drug use, mention of discrimination based on sexual orientation, divorce, panic attacks, having intimate videos stolen and shared without permission. ** If you are at all unsure or uncomfortable about the content feel free to message her for more detail *
Check the story out here (A Bad Idea), and check out my thoughts below the cut because I have so many incredible things to say about this story that just leaving a short comment is NOT the best course of action.
This story is about so much more than making a sex tape. It’s about the connection that people make when they really let themselves fall in love with each other. It’s about trust. It’s about compassion. It’s about finding a circle of people that you know you can count on. It’s about the things we learn about each other and what we want as time passes.
This uses a character like Dieter’s most basic qualities and habits and gives him a chance to grow and learn and become something else over time.
I was so happy when you told me you were writing for Dieter, because I knew your take on him would be more than just a typical scenario. You’d look at him and give him something - and someone - and a situation that he truly deserves. (Not that he deserves to have his privacy invated, but you know what I mean)
And you do it in a way that’s smart. It’s clear that both of them know that this tape’s creation isn’t the best idea, but they overlook that. They know there’s a risk. They know that there could be consequences - but this is important to them, because even though they don’t need to show that they connect on this level, it’s something for them to have in the lonely times. It’s (like Dieter said) something for him to listen to on his headphones in his trailer, or while he’s trying to get himself off quick. It’s proof that someone trusts and loves him enough to create physical evidence of their pairing. It’s showing him that someone else believes he’s good enough and worth doing this with - and that wants to be able to see themselves and hear themselves on the tape, too.
Even though the smut in this is in the beginning, it’s very clear that they know each other and love each other and that when it comes to what they feel and how they act, there’s nothing in question. in the moment, it’s not a bad idea. (And I don’t even think that in the future, it’s a bad idea, either … because it’s supposed to stay private. It’s supposed to just be for them.)
But of course, the best laid plans always go to shit. It doesn’t really matter in the moment how or why the video got out. It doesn’t matter who leaked it or who saw it or where it was hosted, because the fact is that it DID get out - and now it has to be dealt with.
I’m so glad Reader’s got these two with her, because they can keep her safe and get her to somewhere away from the prying eyes. They can make sure that the fallout from this is initially as minimal as possible. They can help to keep her focused and keep her moving even though the first instinct is to freeze. These people that are staring and smirking and judging when they have no right to can all go to hell, because they don’t matter, and they never will.
I love the headlines, though. I LOVE them. They are perfectly click-baity and just catchy enough to garner attention and just fucking SMARMY. Perfect.
But I really don’t think Dieter’s gonna leave her because of this. She didn’t leak it. She didn’t put it out there - this isn’t her fault. (I don’t think she really believes he will, either, but I understand why her mind went there.)
The way you weave in their story throughout is so well done. It establishes their history. It establishes that she’s never had any need to ‘use’ him for anything. She has her own career and her own talent and her own friends and her own interests. They met because their friends thought that they would be a good match, and it turned out to be the truth. I also love that he was interested in her art before he was interested in her - because I’m sure that meeting her was just a cherry on top of that cupcake, and the fact that she LIKED him was extra fucking sprinkles.
Of course he’s gonna drop everything and come to her. Why wouldn’t he? A photo shoot means nothing when all of this is going on, and he has somewhere he needs to be.
And again - this moment between them where he agrees that none of this is typical and that he does in fact want more? It’s showing just how much he’s already grown and changed. It’s showing just how self aware he is. It’s giving us more of the Dieter we met in The Bubble at the same time as it’s giving us a totally DIFFERENT Dieter, too. That circle of trust about the first marriage and what ended it is so fucking small, and now she’s in it - and if that’s not proof that he’s serious about wanting this, I don’t know what is. (I love this detail about Anika knowing, too, because it means that Dieter was serious with her, even if it ended up not working out how he wanted it to!)
The details in this section? STUNNINGLY WELL DONE. the color of his eyes. the new tattoo of the butterfly. the honest way he speaks. the admission that for him, it’s already too late to not TRY?? oof. we needed this and you delivered.
Seeing things from his perspective is really interesting to me, too. It backs up that his thoughts match his actions. He doesn’t care what happens with him - this isn’t going to fuck everything up the same way it could for her. This isn’t even a huge deal when compared to other Hollywood scandals … but the two of them have to treat it like it is, because it has the potential to ruin her career and her life and to permanently destroy her privacy. The relationship itself cannot be easy for her - just because of who and what Dieter is, but with this added? It’s not going to get any easier for a very long time.
Also, I NEED someone to illustrate this Dieter calendar page. Mr. October posing for the camera in almost nothing? I’m drooling over here imagining the hairstyle and beard and the earring. SOMEONE ASSIST.
Also, sorry about that, Dieter. It was me that hacked the CB 6 email. I was just trying to save you from that BS. I tried. I did my best. (The detail about the pay cuts is peak Good Guy Dieter, too. I am so happy you included that)
I think I just blacked out at the thought of watching a sex tape of myself with Dieter Bravo while reenacting the contents of it. Fuck.
And then he gets to where she’s at and it’s not EASY but he makes it all better, because as soon as they’re in the same room, no matter how horrible this is and is going to be, they have each other. She’s not leaving. He’s not leaving. And him telling her that he’d give everything up at the drop of a hat if it meant making sure she was OK? He understands what’s important and it’s not the awards or the recognition. It’s not the popularity or the money. He’s doing the right thing here, and I love him for it. He knows where he needs to be, and I don’t know that if you’d asked him a few years earlier, he would have given the same answer - BUT THAT’S CHARACTER GROWTH AND WE LOVE IT.
And you know what? Finding out that the fallout of this wasn’t as bad as it could have been - that it sucked and it was an invasion of privacy and it did cost them some things - but ultimately led to them growing closer? That they gained more from it than they lost? That’s not quite worth the invasion of privacy, but it helps to soothe the sting. They made the most out of a horrible situation. They weathered the storm together, and while it’ll never be truly behind them, they can still move forward and that’s all that matters.
This was perfectly written. Perfectly handled. Perfectly presented. You could feel how much they love and respect each other in every word of it. You can feel exactly what they feel about the violation of their privacy. You know that it’s eating up both of them - but that it’s going to pass. It’s only natural to question everything when your entire world is shattered, but they don’t have to question each other anymore, and that’s important.
I’m sure I’ll find other things to screech about in the near future, but you nailed this, and I cannot wait to read more of your Dieter - whether it’s this one or a different one. Please don’t ever doubt your writing abilities again, Alyssa. This did not feel like 8k. This smut was great. The characterization was on point without stunting his growth. You got this right.
Placement within the story: Meant to be red post chapter 13 - because that’s where it leaves off.
Rating: M. Mentions of drug use and Dieter’s OD, the aftermath of that night, talk of death, language, sex, adult themes … par for this story, but there’s nothing too graphic in here.
Trigger Warnings: Drugs and drug use, alcohol, an overdose, needles
Summary:Dieter’s got a lot of thoughts about what happened to him the night of The Incident, but even those pale in comparison to what goes on in his head after.
Author’s note:
So, since a lot has changed and ramped up in the last few chapters of Locked Down, I thought that it would be nice to take a peek into Dieter’s head and see exactly where he’s coming from with this new behavior - and what pushes him to be so honest and open with the people in his life that he cares about: in this case, you.
This got very long, but I hope you enjoy it. (Side note, every single word I write about this man makes me love him even more.)
He felt the muscles in his back and chest tighten, and Dieter’s eyes flew open.
What the fuck? He registered himself taking in a deep, wheezing breath, but his eyes wouldn’t focus. Not at first, anyway - and then he saw you, the man blinking as your features became clear. She wasn’t here before. But now she … she is.
Word Count: 11.9K. LISTEN. This installment contains a large portion of what originally would’ve been a one-shot when I was in the early planning stages of this fic. And then, as per usual, I couldn’t control myself, and well, here we all are.
Rating:E | Semi-explicit PiV smut; drug & alcohol use; references to canon-related drug OD; language. My blog is 18+ only!
Warnings: PiV sex & sexual situations, alcohol & drug use, food mentions, pining & yearning, self-doubt, a little angst, feelings, some fluff… honestly, this has a little bit of everything.
A/N: All my love to @radiowalletand@astroboots who both allowed me to throw several tantrums while writing this. Sometimes it takes a village, and I’m so blessed to have you both with me on this ride.
———
Redding, California | May 2022
Without fail, the first day of filming always made her nervous.
It didn’t matter how much she prepared, how many deep breathing exercises she did, or how long she spent reviewing her lines—nerves bubbled in her belly like a pot simmering on a stove, creating a thick haze she had to act through.
As expected, Dieter appeared unbothered. He walked into hair and makeup (his call time an hour later than hers, she noted, with only a hint of jealousy) with an extra-large latte in one hand, phone in the other, and a smudge of charcoal pencil rubbed into his scruffy chin.
Of course he’d been drawing beforehand. He never reviewed lines the day of.
He’s always had more confidence than her.
It’s why he has an Academy Award, and you don’t, she thinks bitterly.
The director calls ‘action’, and Dieter slips into character as easily as taking his next breath, delivering his lines flawlessly. He’s an incredible force to witness—focused, comfortable, natural—he could’ve done months of prep or none; it’s impossible to tell.
She suddenly feels woefully inferior, and it only worsens when she misses the dialogue cue he feeds her.
“Shit, sorry–”
“Cut! Let’s try that again.”
She thinks maybe the director already regrets their talent choices for the film, and it sends her head spinning with thoughts of inadequacy. They should’ve picked someone who could take up as much of a scene as Dieter can, someone who has actually had decent work in the last few years, someone who won’t drag the whole thing down–
“Cut!”
Shit, she missed the line again.
The crew around her murmurs—imagined harsh whispers of doubt in her abilities, like they’re just now finding out she’s a fraud—she feels exposed, stark naked in front of a crowd. She sucks in a shaky breath, the world narrowing in, and two warm palms land on her shoulders.
“Hey, take a breath.”
It’s the lifeline she needs to stop her spiral dead in its tracks.
Dieter dips his head, eyes meeting hers, and he’s all warm encouragement and gentle smile in one short sentence.
“You’ve got this,” he reassures, the tenor similar to how it sounded two decades ago, with a hint of smokey age at the edges. On a shuddery exhale, she cracks a quiet inside joke.
“Pay isn’t shit this time around.”
A laugh breaks from his chest, lifting her spirits and giving her the confidence boost she needs.
“Even less of a reason for them to be pissed off,” he responds with a grin, and they both find their marks.
“Ready to try again?” the director asks, and she notices that they don’t seem annoyed at all. She nods, and the director calls ‘action’ once more.
They get the scene in the very next take.
———
The first few weeks of filming had been hectic. Some sets were half-built, wardrobe required constant adjustments and alterations, and a few filming locations had yet to be finalized. It was the nature of the beast, particularly with a project that leaned more independent, but he liked that about it. It made him feel young again, like he was just starting out.
It kept him on his toes.
And so did she.
Aside from her brief stumble on the opening take, she’d been the brilliant thespian he’s witnessed through her career. She was professional, engaging—the ebb to his flow at each of his winding curves. They played off each other perfectly; his relief was palpable when they picked up their natural chemistry as if it were shiny and new; something solid, sturdy, and unbroken despite years of dormancy.
She was cordial, lukewarm, and sometimes even friendly with him between takes. He savored every smile that stretched beyond her carefully crafted shell; felt the warm imprint of her palm on his forearm for hours after he made her laugh at a stupid joke. She had even pressed herself into his side during a night shoot, teeth chattering from the evening chill, seeking the body heat he willingly shared.
He wondered if she was always like this with her co-stars—friendly touches were a great, safe way to build up a little intimacy before filming scenes—or if (perhaps a little too hopeful) she couldn’t keep herself from touching him.
She kept her distance outside of filming hours, though.
She thwarted his attempts at rekindling their friendship—not cold or unkind, but also not filled with platitudes of another timeorsorry, not tonight. Each invite to dinner, coffee, a drink, or even a fuckinghike had been met with a polite but firm no thank you. It stung, more than he’d like to admit, but he supposed it was his penance, his cross to bear after abandoning her.
Maybe karma had finally come for him, putting her just on the other side of a wall and somehow more unavailable now than she’d ever been with an ocean between them.
They’d been set up in apartments by the studio—a duplex with a shared yard, two units side by side in a quiet, secluded part of town—and he rarely saw her aside from her morning dashes out the door for a quick jog, or if they had the same call time.
So, he soldiered on, content enough to make a great movie, pulling their careers back from the brink of death.
She had set boundaries. He was going to respect them.
Funny, he thinks, maybe therapy doeshelp.
Healthy coping mechanisms, he echoes in his head. He’d discussed them with his therapist, things to keep him occupied outside of work so he doesn’t spiral into unhealthy escapism so hard. Except that there wasn’t much of interest to him in Redding unless he wanted to hike or look at nature or drive the two hours to the tiny hometown he hadn’t visited in ages. He’d never been much of an outdoorsy type. He knew it was unfair to write the place off, but everywhere felt too small and dull after twenty years in LA.
Thankfully, filming kept him busy, long hours punctuated by small windows of sleep, and he was grateful because boredom was dangerous for him. It led to stupid choices and heavy consequences, and he was trying to be smarter.
On their first filming break—a long weekend for Memorial Day—he spent Friday pacing his apartment, listening to a Jamiroquai album, drawing more mountain ranges than he could get his eyeballs on (landscapes were his mortal enemy), and perusing the nearby grocery store for something for dinner.
Still a hopeless cook, he moseyed down the snack aisle, his gaze landing on a familiar white can with a blue cap.
He grinned, eyes lighting up behind his sunglasses, and quickly filled his basket with the essentials. The idea formed in his mind, maybe from boredom, possibly from his burning desire to spend more time with her and mend their friendship; he didn’t care to dwell on his reasoning, only to hang onto a glimmer of hope.
When he gets into his car, he taps out a text to her, quietly thankful she’d slipped him her number in case of emergencies.
Don’t make me regret giving it to you, she’d also said, though her lips curled into a playful smirk he recognized from their youth.
His thumb hovers over ‘send’ for only a moment before he taps it.
Picnic lunch in the backyard tomorrow?
He watches her type, then pause, then type, then pause. He prepares for rejection, a bitter thought clawing into his mind that she would need to run his invite by her PR team first, calculate if her reputation could handle his.
He silently scolds himself for being an ass.
Just when he thinks she’s chosen to ‘leave him on read,’ as the kids say, her response appears.
You know what? Sure, why not?
———
Perhaps against her better judgment, she agreed to lunch.
She was tired of doing everything everyone expected of her.
She knew he was lonely; she could practically feel it through the wall between them; she heard him pacing in the evenings, music playing in the background. She saw he’d been trying, in all senses of the word, and she continued to cold-shoulder him into oblivion over… what, exactly?
Something so old she no longer carried a fiery torch of anger, just the grief and regret of things she didn’t say.
She could use a real friend, at least. They both could.
She’d been lonely, too. She’s been lonely for ages now.
Her answer to his text had been met with a million and one follow-ups:
Are you sure?
Yes.
You’re not going back to LA for the long weekend?
No.
(To who? she thought)
Wine preference?
Something cheap, for old time’s sake.
It unleashed a flurry of texts—she would’ve never guessed he could carry on conversations via various blue and white bubbles, but they messaged back and forth for most of the evening. It was harmless fun, catching up while still avoiding the glaring elephant in the room; a bit of friendly banter back and forth as she giggled into her bed covers. He still had his delightfully weird sense of humor she adored, sharpened to precision over the last twenty-plus years. He sent her photos of paintings he had recently completed, and she responded with pictures of meals she finally learned to cook during the pandemic.
It was nearing midnight when she ended the stream of chatter with a simple I’ll see you tomorrow, D.
And now, tomorrow has arrived.
Dieter’s in their shared backyard, blanket tucked under one arm, canvas bag looped around the other, his signature sunglasses perched low on his nose. She spots him through the sliding glass door, nearly bouncing on the balls of his bare feet, a giddy swoop flowing through her lower belly. In the glitter of sunshine, he looks so much like a grown-up version of the boy who used to wait for her outside the diner in the early mornings while she wrapped up shift change.
She steps out into the yard; it’s sunny and warm but not sweltering, the perfect day to be outside. He greets her with a smile, his thumb hooking into the handle of the canvas bag perched on his shoulder as if to prevent himself from reaching out to her.
She wants to hate how she wishes he would.
“So, what’s the occasion?” she asks quietly, biting the inside of her cheek against a pulse of awkwardness. It’s so easy for her to drop her polished guard around him, and it makes her feel more exposed than she’s been in a long time.
He bites his lip, tipping his head back, afraid to admit the truth.
He gives it to her anyway.
“Yeah, uh… If I stay in that apartment by myself any longer, I’m gonna go fuckin’ crazy… ier.” His brows thread, tongue poked and pressed between his teeth, all awkward limbs and soft vulnerability. A pang of guilt collects in her chest—she’d let it grow and fester if he didn’t also look so incredibly endearing.
And if he wasn’t so god damn relatable.
“Yeah,” she huffs a soft laugh, pressing her sunglasses up her nose to hide her eyes, “same.”
He visibly relaxes.
She steps forward, feet swishing through the grass, and gestures to the ground. He snaps into action, unfurling the blanket with a flick of his wrists, spreading it out across the grass. He settles atop it, one long, toned arm motioning for her to join him.
“It’s no Echo Lake, but it’ll do.”
She laughs, the tension between them loosening, and takes her spot next to him, tucking her legs into a neat criss-cross. “God, I haven’t been there in years.”
“Me either. Don’t think we could get away with it now.”
She hums, watching as he pulls items from the canvas bag—pepperoni in suspicious packaging, a can of Easy Cheese, butter crackers. Her belly flutters when, for just a moment, he’s twenty years younger with a lot less weight perched on his broad shoulders.
“Really?” She points to the questionable culinary display between them, failing to hide her grin. He quirks a brow in her direction—half playful, all hope.
“I still can’t cook,” he admits with a shrug. She tips her head back, an unladylike guffaw bursting from her chest, catching the final curve of his broad smile when she looks back at him.
“And here I was thinking you were being nostalgic.”
His eyebrows raise, and he tilts toward her, dropping his voice into a stage whisper. “Hmm, just like that gift basket was simply congratulatory?”
She feigns innocence, pretending to be more interested in her nailbeds than his words. “That could’ve been anyone; it was sent anonymously.”
She holds back another smile for as long as possible in a sudden game of chicken as their eyes lock in a silent, playful challenge. One of his eyebrows wings up knowingly before he chuckles and shakes his head, accepting defeat. He reaches back into the bag, revealing an aluminum can, and presents it with theatrical flair.
“For the lady.”
“Wow, wine from a can. That’s fancy,” she teases gently.
Dieter only shrugs and pulls a can of seltzer from the bag. He catches her eyeing it curiously and sweeps his lip with his tongue.
“I’m…trying to take it easy,” he says by way of explanation, eyes flitting to the can in her grasp.
It takes her by surprise—he’d been trying in even more ways than she knew.
“Oh,” her tongue trips, inelegant and clunky in her mouth when she doesn’t know what else to say. A snarky quip would be cruel, but sickly-sweet sympathy feels hollow.
She settles for curiosity.
“Witheverything, or…?”
He huffs an ironic laugh, opening the can of seltzer to take a long pull before setting it down and stretching his long legs across the blanket with a sigh. Tilting back on his hands, he tips his head toward the sun, squinting against the warm rays even under the protection of his sunglasses.
A drop of carbonated water sits nestled in the crease of his bottom lip, begging to be brushed off with a featherlight thumb or even her own bottom lip—a memory she usually keeps tucked away until she’s alone late at night. It figures, she thinks, with the first cautious tendril of rekindled friendship, she’s already thinking about kissing him.
Maybe she never stopped thinking about kissing him.
Among other things.
It’s been too long. Dating was hard when you still carried a torch for someone else.
She’s always wanted to write off his past behavior as foolish when, in reality, she’s no better herself. The only difference between them is that he acted on his impulses. She was always too afraid.
She’s still too afraid.
“All of them, I suppose,” he finally answers, a few breaths after she assumes he wouldn’t. “In the beginning, it made it a little easier to handle… everything,” he gestures vaguely, and she knows exactly what he means by everything. Their world is not normal; money and fame, an existence that often feels so devoid of anything genuine it borders on insanity. There are days she feels like a zoo animal, something to be gawked at by the masses whenever they please.
Entertainment, existing only to be consumed and then disposed of.
Nothing more.
She doesn’t expect sympathy, would never dream of asking for it, knows how fucking unhinged it would make her sound to complain about her life and what kind of access to the world it provides.
It doesn’t stop her from feeling hollowed out and sucked dry.
She knows Dieter understands, too.
“It’s hard to slow down, you know?” He says it like an apology, a quiet acknowledgment that he’s used the perks of fame to cope with its emptiness while she rejected them, suffering alone and in silence.
She bites her lip and shrugs. “I never indulged much.”
He eyes her suspiciously. “We used to smoke weed in my bathtub all the time.”
She nods, wrestling with a dreamy smile. She wasn’t sure he remembered much of anything from their summer together.
“I’m surprised you remember.”
The remark has too much bite, and she presses her tongue to the roof of her mouth against a bitter wave of guilt. There’s still so much unsaid between them, and it oozes out through the cracks in her veneer whenever she’s around him because he’s always been the only one she can speak to freely. His stare is heavy, forcing her to busy her hands with opening the can of wine and taking a sip.
It tastes like shit—over fermented and syrupy sweet, a hangover in the making—but she doesn’t mind.
“I remember everything from that summer,” he admits with a low rasp, drawing her attention. When she meets his eyes, they’re laced with memories and wrapped in pain from her insinuation.
Fuck, maybe she is an ice queen.
Setting her drink down, she reaches for the spread between them. She offers him a salty, buttery cracker covered in the cheese-like substance, topped with an over-processed pepperoni, just the way he liked it all those years ago—her silent apology. He takes it with the delicate dexterity of an artist’s fingertips, popping the questionable concoction into his mouth with little preamble.
“Me, too,” she replies softly. He wipes a hand across his worn tee, the collar stretched, golden skin glowing in the sunshine. His gaze shifts, staring at the opening of his drink. He remains quiet, even though she can hear his gears turning.
She makes herself the same stack of over-processed, nostalgic bliss. She can’t hide her groan when it passes her lips, bursts of salt and cheese and a hint of spice melding together. She washes it all down with the shitty wine, and suddenly, it’s the summer of 2001 again. He hums, agreeing, setting out to make another. She assumes it’s for himself, but he presents it to her instead. She takes it with a grin and a playful wink, watching the corners of his mouth form into a smile.
Sighing contentedly, he leans back until he’s propped up on one elbow. She sneaks a glance at the plane of his torso; it’s more filled out now, but she can still recognize all the dips in his formerly lanky frame she used to explore with her lips. His shirt rides up as he adjusts his legs, exposing a sliver of tan skin that lures her eye line to the trail of wiry hairs leading into the waistband of his shorts.
She tries to hide her pavlovian response.
She presses her sunglasses back up her face, taking another sip of wine, blaming it for the flood of heat in her cheeks.
Silence falls around them, similar to the ones they used to foster together routinely—him with his sketchbook, her with a novel. While still tinted with awkwardness, there’s far less pressure for them to maintain appearances than they’re used to. They polish off the sleeve of crackers, snack sets made and passed back and forth, fingertips occasionally brushing, sparks of electricity on each pass.
Dieter breaks first. Silence always drove him crazy long before it ever got to her.
“So… why the goody-two-shoes bit?”
She didn’t expect the question, but it didn’t surprise her either. He asked it like he’s been dying to know, the much-needed answer to a riddle he’s tried to solve for two decades.
She licks at a salt crystal stuck to the corner of her lips; it reminds her of seawater-laced kisses and a smile more gorgeous than an oceanside sunset. Finishing her wine, she tucks her knees up, resting folded arms across them, and heaves a sigh.
“On my first big movie, I got some advice about public image and privacy from a few veterans. It seemed like the best way to handle things at the time,” she starts, ignoring how right they’d been with the never-fuck-your-male-costaradvice.
The rest had been a bit of a crapshoot.
“You always were smarter than me with that stuff. It must be nice, not having what everyone thinks is your life splashed everywhere.” His jaw ticks with the statement, annoyed but not jealous.
“It must be nice, having the freedom not to care what people think.”
Dieter laughs bitterly at that. “Freedom? A fishbowl is still a cage.”
She never thought about it that way, but he’s right. Their opposing publicity choices still landed them in similar places—two sides of the same coin.
“I always thought it would protect me. This perfect shell to keep the real me safe,” she pauses, emotion choking her. “But it just isolated me.”
He nods, pointing a finger in her direction. “Now that, I can relate to.”
“Oh, come on, everyone wants to be around you,” she teases, wine-warm fingertips pressing into his shoulder.
“Yeah, for a good time and a chance at their fifteen minutes. They want to party, do some drugs, have some sex,” he says that part quietly, an apology inscribed within the words as he speaks them. “No one wants to watch movies from the 40s, eat a box of mac ‘n’ cheese, or look at weird art.”
She twists onto her hip to face him, knees barely brushing his shorts-clad thigh. His hand twitches, moving to touch her leg before he pulls back, pressing his sunglasses up the curve of his nose.
“I do,” she admits with a grin. Through his sunglasses, he looks optimistic. She ignores how it causes her heartbeat to knock against her sternum.
“Still?” It’s a hushed question, like he’s afraid she’s merely appeasing him.
“Of course I do. I love those things.”
“We should do them sometime.” He says it casually, like it wouldn’t crush him if she said no, even though they both know it would.
“Yeah, we should.” Simple, honest, direct. She means it, and he knows it.
He settles onto his back, linked hands cradling his head, eyes squeezing shut behind tinted lenses. His cheeks sit high on his face, an etched smile keeping them there. She pushes away their lunch scraps, mirroring him on the blanket—back flat, hands behind her head, wine-filled smile warming her features.
Silence washes over them again, sunshine soaking into their pores and making them both feel lighter in their chests—the sacred act of merely existing together, under no pressure to perform anything other than breathing. It’s nice, she thinks, not to worry about looking sloppyortoo tired or any of the other insults the media machine loves to say about women for daring to exist in the world.
When she’s with Dieter, none of that matters. It never did.
Eventually, a cloud passes overhead and temporarily breaks the sunshine. She cracks open one eye to catch a glimpse of the moon, making itself known even in daylight. She smiles and laughs to herself.
“Hey, D?”
He hums, sounding like he’s on the precipice of sleep, quickly clearing his throat before responding, “Yeah?”
“How’s the stargazing here?”
His grin tells her everything she needs to know.
———
Redding, California | June 2022
That lunch had been like opening a door they both previously considered nailed shut.
As summer warmed the air, they fell back into something resembling their old easy friendship, making up for lost time—sometimes with chatter, sometimes silence—but always comfortable.
They were careful, Dieter mindful of tarnishing her good reputation despite her reassurances, and stayed within their temporary homes. They kept their back doors unlocked, tiptoeing through the shared yard to slip in and out unseen by potential prying eyes. It was thrilling in its own way, like teenagers sneaking out to break curfew, though instead of getting up to no good, they watched old movies and ate pints of ice cream.
Sometimes they’d order take out, deliberately avoiding that same order they’d shared the night that began their end. Sometimes, she would cook, showing off the new skill she’d picked up in quarantine. Over dinner, he would make her laugh between sips of wine with a joke or a story from one of his many previous projects. He found he could enjoy a drink or two in her presence, never experiencing the nagging desire to overindulge to fuel his front of the fun-loving party boy.
It was refreshing not to be switched on all the time.
When they had later call times, they would share quiet morning coffees in the backyard, her nose in a book or her script, his hands smudged in black charcoal while he drew, the soft scribble of pencil on thick paper filling gaps between morning bird song.
He would coax her into that same backyard on clear nights, pointing out his favorite constellations. He’d been right all those years ago—the stargazing in NorCal was leagues better than anything they could’ve ever seen in LA.
One evening, they split an edible—giggle-dry mouths and warm, tingly limbs sprawled out on a blanket under the star-dappled sky, trading old and new banter back and forth. He teased her for her firm stance on social media (‘it’s rotting our brains, D’), and she shot right back with clever quips about his concerns over Bluetooth and brain waves.
Their laughs slowed into hushed whispers, quiet confessions told across weighted puffs of soft breath, vulnerabilities dangled out for the taking in small, measured acts of trust. They shared failed experiences in dating, brushes with the ugly power-hungry types in Hollywood, the roles they didn’t get, and how it still gutted them.
She admitted how devastatingly lonely she’d been during the pandemic.
He admitted how insanely bored he’d been and where it led. What it almost led to.
Through the choke of held-back tears, the rumors she had heard confirmed, she asked only one question—why?
“I went from one trap to another; guess I was trying to get free,” he answered truthfully, eyes full of remorse.
“You never did like a cage.”
“How’d you know?”
She huffed a dry laugh, lifting one eyebrow best she could through the syrupy warmth of THC. “No strings attached? That’s a classic.”
He grimaced. “I’m sorry. Back then, I thought every relationship would be a cage.”
She curled into his side with a flimsy excuse of warding off the non-existent nighttime chill, draping weed-heavy limbs across his body. He pressed his nose to her crown, breathing her in, wondering what fancy shampoo she switched for the cheap coconut one from his memories.
“It’s funny,” she whispered, her breath tickling his neck, “I think the last time I felt free was with you.”
Without a second thought, his lips landed on her forehead; an old reflex resurrected to bring her comfort.
“Me, too,” he confided, pulling her close and listening to her breaths as they slowed into sleep.
A sense of peace washed over him, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. He knew it was foolish to let himself sink into it; he couldn’t shake the quiet dread at the back of his mind that it might be fleeting, that it was all one long dream, despite the tangible proof of her body curled into his. He blinked against a sting of tears, eyes focusing on the pinpricks of light mottled into the inky canvas above—a perfect backdrop for a dream—and let himself drift slowly into slumber.
They woke the following morning to sunrise and songbirds, wrapped around each other, dawn-fuzzy gazes and shy smiles shared between them before ordering breakfast and showing up to set ten minutes late—no LA traffic to blame.
They walked into the hair and makeup trailer together to curious glances, extra coffees for the crew in tow as an apology. Dieter cracked a joke; laughs erupted from everyone in the trailer, and all was forgiven.
———
Redding, California | July 2022
Summer rolled on, and with it, filming progressed.
Their mended friendship had only improved their on-screen chemistry. They captured several scenes on the first take, her desire for perfection driving him to strive for the same. She enjoyed his improv moments, pivoting with him flawlessly as if the new words had been the ones written in the script all along.
They didn’t stray far from one another between takes, excitedly examining their character motivations or why they chose a particular intonation in the last take. Sometimes their voices would dip lower, discussions of which movie to watch or where to order food from when the day wrapped, careful conversations had when others were out of earshot. When no one was watching, she would lean into his side and link her fingers with his, and he’d toss an exaggerated wink her way, drawing a laugh from her lips.
She couldn’t remember the last time she had so much fun on a set.
Some script adjustments came in ahead of the fourth of July holiday weekend. She didn’t bother to finish reading them before slipping through the back door of his apartment to talk shop, the faint scent of patchouli incense greeting her.
She smiles to herself.
Some things never change.
She finds him sitting at the kitchen island, his nose in his sketchbook, a beer on his right, a manila envelope with his script changes on his left—still unopened. He’d showered recently, hair mussed and damp, with no attempts to tame his wild locks; it’s endearing that he still didn’t care for maintaining appearances or keeping up with fashion trends, despite several brands chasing him with lucrative offers of a full closet for a photoshoot.
He always did clean up nice, she had noted through the years, images of past photoshoots and red carpet looks floating in her mind.
A song switches over, and she immediately recognizes the music pouring from his phone, the small, tinny speaker doing a disservice to Coldplay’s sophomore album.
“This album was the only thing I listened to for six weeks when it first came out,” she tells him in place of a greeting, throwing her newest script copy on top of his. He sits up, reaching for his beer, pointing the neck of the bottle toward the fridge—a silent offer to help herself.
“It’s a good album,” he agrees as she grabs a beer from the fridge, handing it to him to open even though it’s a twist-off cap. He makes quick work of it, pressing the cold bottle back into her hand, fingertips brushing hers with a warm spark that settles in the base of her spine.
That’s been happening a lot recently.
She attempts to quell her quiet desire, keeping the conversation flowing.
“It’s a great album. It came out when I was shooting my first big film. I’d get back from a long day of filming and just lay on my apartment floor and listen to it. It always reminds me of that time in my life.” She sighs wistfully, taking a sip of beer. It borders on the edge of too hoppy for her tastes, the bitter hit making her tongue curl against her teeth, but she doesn’t care enough to complain.
“I listened to it a lot when it first came out, too. It’s always reminded me of you.”
She waits for the inevitable joke or cheeky grin to accompany the admission with bated breath, something to cut the tension between them whenever things start feeling like more than just friendship, but it never comes, sending her heartbeat into her ears.
His casual confession—that he’d thought of her beyond their summer together—turns her insides loose and liquid. It’s not the first time he’s insinuated he thinks about her, but it is the first time he’s admitted it so boldly.
She reaches for her drink, hoping the liquid courage will soothe her suddenly parched throat.
He shrugs after a beat—perhaps the only explanation she’ll get tonight.
She’s too cowardly to admit the same. The album makes her think of him, too; in another imagined life where they stayed friends, stayed together, lying on the floor of his old apartment and listening to the album together. Even now, she can picture how they would’ve stayed up until 3 AM with his old AIWA stereo pumping the music into the small, cozy space. They’d analyze lyrical nuances between sips of cheap wine, listening and relistening to get them right; the ubiquity of iPhones and Google still ages away.
She blinks the dreamy fantasy away, takes another sip of beer, and taps the manila envelope on the island between them.
“Have you looked at your script changes yet?” It’s a skilled conversation move back into safer topics, but she knows it’s futile as soon as she sees the look on his face.
“Youknow the answer to that,” he says with a grin, eyes tracking down to his half-finished sketch. “I’ll look at them later. We’ve got a few days off anyway.”
Her eyes follow his, curiosity getting the best of her. “What’re you working on?”
He shrugs, setting the pencil down.
“I suck at landscapes, so I’m trying to practice. I’ll never understand how Bob Ross did it and made it look so easy.”
“He used paint, for one,” she jests, biting back a grin that spreads wide when he rolls his eyes. She points her beer bottle at him. “It’s possible he was also an alien.”
“Now you’re speaking my language.”
“Well, I’ll believe Bob Ross was an alien before I believe you ‘suck’ at drawing landscapes,” she replies, padding around to his side of the island to peer over his shoulder. “Could’ve fooled me.”
He shifts in the chair, making space for her next to him, and she wordlessly steps into it. Her side grazes his, a brief tingle of electricity running up her spine; she ignores it by asking him a question.
“May I?”
He nods, sliding the sketchbook toward her, his silent permission granted. A thrill runs through her—for how much of Dieter’s life he lives in loud, bold color for everyone with a shark-like camera lens to see, his art might be one of the few things where his privacy rivals hers.
“This sketchbook is pretty old. I’ve had a lot of long drawing breaks in the last decade.”
She flips to the start, paging through a decade’s worth of work; full to the brim of charcoal and graphite, subjects of all sorts—a creepy graveyard landscape, abstract shapes, light streaming through a window with a surprising amount of warmth from just the stroke of a pencil.
He’s just as talented with pencil and paper as he is in front of a camera.
She turns the page, a surprised ‘oh’ dropping from her mouth.
“Shit, I forgot that was in there–” Dieter moves to pull the book away, but she reaches for his wrist, halting him.
She leans closer, brows threading together as she takes in the life-like drawing on the page, her own eyes staring back at her.
It’s a stunning display of his skill, how beautifully he captured her on paper. She looks ethereal, like he drew her through the blurred haze of a dream, and it immediately feels like she’s reading the pages of his journal—private thoughts for his eyes only.
He stills, his breath locked in his chest, but she can feel the intensity of his eyes on her. Her thumb strokes the inside of his wrist as she appreciates the amount of detail he used to capture her on paper. She turns toward him, meeting his eyes.
“You prettied me up, thank you.”
He makes an awkward noise, his jaw shifting with confusion.
“I draw what I see,” he whispers, gaze dropping to her lips for half a breath. His eyes dart back down at the page, and she follows.
She spots the date in the bottom right corner, next to the messy scrawl of his initials—his very own maker’s mark. Warmth blooms in her stomach, spreading into her chest as she puts all the pieces together.
“You drew this 10 years ago?”
“I told you, I took a lot of breaks–”
“This was the day after you won your Oscar–”
“You looked so pretty that night, and I–”
Words fall away, his heated eyes drifting back to her lips, and the warmth in her belly slides down into her hips, her blood immediately spiked with arousal.
She swears the air sparks between them, thick like ozone before a thunderstorm.
Shewantshim.
It sits there now in the center of her belly, louder than it’s been in years. He’s all she’s ever wanted; desire sharpened to a pinpoint; it would be unbearable if she didn’t welcome it so willingly.
In one quick move, her hand twists into the front of his tee, pulling him in to meld her lips to his. It’s messy, a little clumsy, the angle awkward from his perch in the chair. He stiffens, a noise of surprise catching in his throat, and she pulls away just enough for her mouth to hover over his, their foreheads pressed together.
“What is this?” he asks breathlessly, hands floating over her hips, a tremor running through them. Her laugh breezes across his full bottom lip.
“A kiss, you idiot.” It’s affectionate, her fingers twirling in his collar to tug him even closer, but his eyes go wide and wild like he’s locked in a dream. She draws back, wondering if she’s made a mistake and read the moment wrong. “Unless you don’t want–”
“No,” he says with conviction, finally allowing his palms to rest on her sides, “I definitely do. I never thought you’d want–”
“Well,I do, so come here and kiss me, Mr. Bravo.”
She pulls on his collar again, and this time, he goes willingly, lips meeting hers. It’s shy, tentative at first; the soft brush of plush lips, a set of shaky exhales, a shared, warm gaze under hooded eyes, his thick fingers curling into her shorts. She brings one hand to his stubbled jawline, encouraging his mouth to slant over hers. He breathes into her open mouth—a raspy, shuddery whisper of oh my god against her lips—before cradling her face in his palms and seeking her tongue with his own.
Her only thoughts are him—the hoppy hit of beer on his lips, the cheap green apple shampoo he’s always used mixed with an expensive-smelling cologne she can’t place but has savored more than she’d like to admit the past few weeks, the warmth of his palms seeping into her cheeks. It’s a heady rush that would set her off balance if they weren’t clinging to each other so desperately.
He whimpers, and it goes right through her, every nerve-ending lighting up with buzzing electricity. It’s nothing like the kiss they shared for the camera a few weeks ago—awkward, uncomfortable angles that look good on film, people shouting directions, an intimacy coordinator with firm instructions on how to kiss as if they were clueless—this one is real, familiar, like knowing the way through one’s hometown no matter how long it’s been between visits.
Refusing to break the kiss, he stands, and the stool kicks out behind him, clattering against the floor. Startled, she pulls away.
“Wha–”
“Don’t worry about it,” he growls, recapturing her lips and deepening the kiss. His hands cup her face again, fingertips cheating into her hairline, and he uses his solid body to cage her against the island’s edge. The counter digs into her back, but she doesn’t care, fingers spearing into his shower-damp hair to pull him flush against her.
He’s everywhere, invading her senses—inhaling her exhales, swallowing her breathy pants, chasing the taste of beer and summer on her tongue—his hips press to hers, and then she feels him, hard beneath the thin material of his shorts.
Her blood sings, and she clenches around nothing.
The kiss becomes smooth and fluid; it’s a dance they both know by heart, stuck in their memories from twenty years worth of quiet longing. It’s soft puffs of warm breath and desperate whines and rediscovery, a return to each other, a return home.
Eager for him, she lets one of her hands slip under the hem of his tee, her fingertips dancing along the top edge of his shorts, and he breaks the kiss with a gasp.
“Should we… talk?” he asks, dotting her face in sweet pecks, his scraggly beard dragging against her soft skin.
“Later,” she breathes, craning her neck to allow him access to it, arousal gathering at the apex of her thighs, soaking into her underwear, “after.”
“After?” It’s less a question and more a confirmation that they want the same thing; he sucks a kiss into the spot where her shoulder and neck meet while waiting for her response. She moans, feeling him twitch against her belly in response, and nods, her fingertips hooking into the band of his boxer briefs.
“Please,” she begs, unwilling to ask again.
“Fuck,” he utters, finding the hem of her shirt and guiding it over her head. His lust-dark eyes drop to the swell of her breasts, and she watches as his tongue nestles in the crease of his bottom lip, contemplating his next move while he catches his breath.
She shoots him a sultry smile, sex-kitten eyes, and pouty lips, arching her back just so, and it has the desired effect. With a pleasured sigh, his mouth drops to her chest, groans planted on the curve of her breasts as he presses hungry kisses into her skin.
His hands move to the button on her shorts, and she temporarily halts his progress.
“Your bed? We’re not young anymore.”
He nods, scooping her up with a soft grunt, his back giving a small protest as he walks toward his bedroom. She laughs into his shoulder, repeating they aren’t young anymore, but she loses all words as her back hits the mattress and he crawls over her, the weight of his hips pressing into where she wants him most.
He wastes no time, hips grinding against hers, providing a delicious weight and friction where she’s soaked and throbbing. He kisses her again, and she could drown it in, in him—the slow roll of his hips as it blooms pleasure up her spine, his hands roving her exposed skin, leaving tingles in their wake. Even the soundshe’s making pull her deeper into his current, whispered adorations (baby, gorgeous, beautiful), pants and grunts and groans, expressions of awe (oh my god andoh, fuck); it’s been so long, she thinks she could come from listening to him alone.
They strip each other bare, muted apologies for rounder, aging bodies met with enthusiastic compliments and desirous kisses across planes of skin. They let themselves get lost in it, in each other; the discovery and rediscovery of mapped sensitive spots paired with loud, sloppy kisses; sighs and gasps and moans filling the room, the rustle of the sheets as he slides her firmly under him, her throaty laugh when a pillow he haphazardly shoved away flops onto her face.
He shushes her with his mouth and uses his hand to draw different noises from her lips, sliding two fingers through her center. His head falls to her chest when he feels how wet she is—how wet he’s made her. She cants her hips up, seeking friction, and he delivers, fingertips expertly circling her clit until she’s crying out against the wall of his chest, and he’s grinning like the cat who got the canary.
Through the blissed fog of her orgasm, she kisses him until he’s breathless; when she breaks it, she begs for him, fingertips wrapping around his hard cock and lining him up at her entrance.
His first slip inside her is everything, weighty and full with a stretch that sends sparks to her toes; he cradles her head in his hands and weaves a pleasured groan onto her tongue when his hips nestle within hers.
“Fuck, I missed this,” he murmurs against her temple like he might tattoo the words there if she allowed it. “I missed you,” he adds, a golden thread of emotion stitching them tightly together.
Her palms press into his shoulders, encouraging him to move, and words fall away.
Their bodies used to snap tightly together like pieces of a brand new puzzle—edges clean, sharp, and unmarred. Now, their edges are softer, a bit frayed, but still made to lock in place, a perfect fit even after the passage of so much time.
He tries to draw it out, wants to make it good for her, for both of them, but she hooks her heels over his thighs, and he loses the last drops of brain power he possesses.
They quickly find the easy rhythm they once knew so well, buzzing electric and fiery warmth with each desperate, eager thrust of his hips. Her nails claw into his back, hushed pleas of please, baby spurring him on as they breeze over his ear, words he’d only heard in his dreams and fantasies.
The world drops away, time measured in heavy breaths and quickened heartbeats, kisses exchanged like a secret currency only for them. She comes first with a bitten-off gasp of his name, squeezing and pulsing around him until she pulls him over the edge with her, his face buried in her neck as he fills her with a choked cry.
They melt together on the mattress, sweet adorations and soft kisses shared in a post-orgasm euphoria—curved smiles, breathy laughs, the brushing back of hair—each movement is simultaneously newly exciting and achingly familiar.
She thinks she should feel worried that they let things get messy once more, but everything feels so right in the moment, just like it’s always felt when she’s with him; she doesn’t have the presence of mind to care.
She’s gotten pretty good at handling messes, anyway.
———
They spend the remainder of the evening in his bed, rediscovering each other as the sun dipped well below the horizon. While the stamina of their early twenties was gone, their passion for each other was not, fueled by two decades worth of desire.
He couldn’t remember the last time he wanted someone to stay in his bed (it was her, it’s always been her, only her), but he kept her there, pulling orgasm after orgasm from her until she begged him for a break, in the same tone etched across his eardrums—exhausted, but completely satisfied, sending a wave of pride through him.
In the afterglow, they tackle one of the final hurdles of their past.
He didn’t mean for it to happen like this, their bodies pressed together under the too-warm duvet, unwilling to separate long enough to kick it away, choosing to enjoy the prickling waves of heat flowing between them.
“I meant it earlier. I’ve missed you,” he confesses, repeating the words without the easy excuse of the heat of the moment. They’d sat on the tip of his tongue since she glared at him during the table read, a rare show of her true feelings under her carefully crafted mask; it had served as a beacon of hope that this hollow industry hadn’t stripped away her entire personality, the one he knew and secretly cherished.
She’s gone so quiet that he wonders if she’s asleep. He’d almost believe it if not for the way she’s holding her breath, and he realizes why a moment too late.
“Then why didn’t you call?” The question carries no heat, and still, it burns him.
It’s his turn to hold his breath.
She tilts her head, looking at him from where she’s nestled into the crook of his arm, silently pleading for an answer. There’s no anger in her eyes, but he almost wishes there was—it would be easier to bear than her raw, honest display of heartache.
“I did,” he starts, tongue thick with guilt. “When the towers fell. You didn’t answer.”
Her brows knit together, eyes narrowing as her mind drifts back to then,twisting through time and weaving the unknown pieces together before she heaves a bone-tired sigh.
“I went out for a run to clear my head.”
Dieter’s blood runs cold. “Oh.”
Shit.
“I– I thought you were screening your calls.”
“I was, but I would’ve picked up for you,idiot.” She taps his nose, all tender affection, but he’s already on the precipice of a spiral, groaning as the realization sinks in.
He’s been a colossal fucking idiot.
Her fingers dance along his jawline, drawing his eyes to hers. He wants to bask in the intimacy of her touch, press his cheek into her palm and let the warmth of her skin seep into his, but her eyes reveal she has more to say.
“You could’ve left a message, Dieter,” she whispers, all the hurt she’s held onto bleeding into her tone. The way her sharp tongue curls around his name nearly shatters him.
She’s right. He could’ve. He should’ve. The fact that he didn’t has haunted him for an eternity.
“Yeah, you’re right. I don’t know why I didn’t…”
Silence fills the small space on the pillow between them. It’s uncomfortable—heavy and suffocating—making him want to crawl out of his skin. Go find a fifth of whiskey and some white powder, stumble home with a nameless, good-looking stranger, and get lost in them, no tricky conversations to be had besides kicking them out afterward.
Hecan’t go back to that life. Not now, when they’re this close to something that feels like reconciliation, like coming home.
He shakes his head, willing the truth to form on his tongue.
“Actually, that’s a lie. I knew I fucked up. I should’ve called when I landed in Berlin, and I could give you a million reasons why I didn’t, but they’d just be tired old excuses. The truth is, if I had heard your voice… I would’ve been on the next flight back to LA.”
His exhale is heavy, breathing away the weight of guilt he’s carried as penance for the last twenty years. Her hand strokes a delicate pattern across his bare chest—he tries not to think about how it hadn’t been that long ago when someone else’s hands carved the same path in his skin after saving his life.
After giving him a chance to make amends, giving him the chance to be here, like this, with her—somewhere he never thought he’d be again.
He’s been such a fucking dumbass for far too long.
“You wouldn’t have come back to LA. There’s no way I would’ve let you no matter how much I missed you,” she murmurs.
“You missed me?” He knows the question is silly; the signs are there when he reels back through his memories. Her quiet support through the years—their eyes locking across every crowded room they shared, the one and only after party she ever attended, the gift basket, the longing in her eyes as she fixed his bowtie backstage—he wants to choke on how fucking foolish he’s been.
“Of course I’ve missed you. You were my best friend,” she pauses, a tear glittering in her eye. His thumb catches it before it can slide into her hairline. “You still are.”
That admission breaks him, because he feels the same way.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” his voice breaks into a dry sob, and she shushes him, coaxing him to nestle over her. Wordlessly, he rests his head on her chest, ear pressed over her heart, counting the steady beats that used to lull him into a peaceful sleep. Her fingers card through his sex-wild hair, and he can’t think of a single high that’s ever felt better.
“I forgive you. I already did a long time ago; I just didn’t realize it until recently,” she whispers, nails running over his scalp, sending a wave of chills across his back. “I hope you forgive me. I didn’t need to be such a cold bitch for so long.”
He laughs in disbelief. She would think she had something to apologize for. “No, I deserved it, and then some.”
He props up onto his elbows to kiss her properly, something deep but slow and unhurried, savoring it after spending so much time dreaming about whether or not he’d ever kiss her again.
“Hey, D?” she asks, breaking the kiss. He hums, his lips mapping a path across her jaw and neck. “What’re we gonna do now?”
He wants to laugh again. She’s always been worried about what comes next instead of living in the moment. Though he supposes it comes with the territory—both this life they live and whatever fucking miracle happening between them.
“I don’t know,” he tells her honestly, and she cracks a silly grin.
“Me either.”
They fall into laughter, and she tucks herself along his side, nestling deep into the sheets.
“Sleep on it?” he asks quietly, kissing the crown of her head. She nods, pressing her face into his neck. It’s nearly the same position he’d held her in the night he told her he was leaving—like she was trying to become part of him so she’d never have to lose him—and it carves right through him. He tries not to think about how they’re only a few weeks from returning to LA to wrap up shots in the studio and what that might mean for them.
Now who’s getting ahead of themselves?
Her breathing evens out, the sound of his most cherished lullaby, and he allows it to pull him under the veil of sleep alongside her.
———
In the muted grey light of pre-dawn, her phone chimes. Dieter groans, shoving his face into his pillow, as she squirms away to silence the alarm.
“Whyyyy?” he whines, reaching across the bed for her. She props up on one elbow, sleepy eyes studying his face.
“Yoga,” she offers in a sleep-thick voice as her only explanation.
“Fuck that. Let me sleep another hour, and I promise to bend you into as many positions as you’d like.”
She hums, something that sounds like a low, amused laugh, but still hesitates, legs creeping toward the edge of the bed like she might actually leave it. He reaches for her, one arm wrapping around her torso, and pulls her close, a gasp falling from her lips. Through the fog of his sleep-addled mind, he whispers the words he’s never said to anyone. The words he sometimes wishes she would’ve said, back when he was too terrified to admit he wanted to hear them.
“Please stay?” It’s a weighty request, all his vulnerability perched out onto a limb for her to take and either crush or cradle.
She’d been understandably cold toward him in the past, but never cruel.
Thankfully, he’s only met with affection, one palm curling over his jaw, her thumb stroking his cheek as she smiles, pillow lines still imprinted across her face.
“I’ll stay,” she breathes with conviction, and he lets himself believe she means it beyond that moment. She brushes her lips to his. “But you’d better make good on that promise.”
He chuckles darkly, encouraging her to turn in his arms and press her back to his front. He wraps one arm around her, nestling his lips over her ear, a low rasp poised to devastate her in the best way.
“Oh,I will.”
———
Redding, California | August 2022
The end of summer and on-location filming was near the horizon, but that didn’t stop them.
For the most part, they maintained professionalism on set, Dieter honoring her desire for privacy. He learned a few things from her, like striving to be more subtle and biting his tongue against every thought that filtered through his mind instead of just spitting it out for anyone to hear.
But she learned from him, too. She was a little less tight-lipped, more friendly, and less worried about a cloudy spot or two on her polished finish. She found it made things… easier, freeing almost, not to be so concerned with her public reputation all the time.
She still valued privacy above all else, but Dieter made convincing arguments for occasionally bending the rules.
It’s probably the only reason she let him pull her into her trailer for a quickie when a set repair required a delay in filming for part of the day. Even then, he still took care to be discreet—one large hand clamped over her mouth while the other pumped two fingers into her wet core, begging her to come for him before anyone noticed their absence. After they finished, he checked for curious onlookers, sneakily slipping from her trailer back to his own, everyone none the wiser.
When the days wrapped, they eagerly made their way home, slipping into a routine: a shared shower, filled with soft kisses and sudsy shampoo; food, eith
summary: There’s a particular diner Javier goes to before work. Is it because of the food? Well yes, their food is tasty. But something, perhaps someone, keeps drawing him back.
word count: 562
warnings: none? slight fluff. just first meeting stuff
comments: Haven’t written anything in so long, im kinda rusty so spare me :,D Also, i have a series idea with this so if this gets enough notes/people like it i might continue it hehe. (also, no gendered specific terms in this one!)
The diner’s bell jingles, signaling Javier’s arrival. The diner had only been open for two hours, so there were few customers. Javier takes a seat at the bar, his preferred spot. You emerge from the kitchen with another customer’s meal in your hands, which you hand over to them before approaching him.
“G’morning Javi, what would you like today? The usual?”
“Always.”
With a slight nod followed with a soft smile, you return to the kitchen to prepare his meal. He’s perplexed as to why he’s so drawn to you. You’re gentle and quiet, the type that he wouldn’t usually go for. This fascination began with his first meeting with you, when a little gesture you made caused him to alter his daily routine starting that day.
“Sunlight’s Diner is delighted to welcome you! How about we get started with a drink while you browse the menu.”
"Coffee black.” he says, not looking up from the menu.
"Great, i’ll be right back.”
It takes a minute for you to return with his coffee.
"Alright, are you all set?”
That’s when he raises his eyes from the menu for the first time, his deep brown gaze fixed on yours. Mesmerized, words fail to come out of your mouth. You think the man said something, but there was no sound. “You okay there?” he asks, puzzled by your rigid stillness.
You avoid his gaze, staring down at your fidgeting hands, embarrassed. Your flush is pretty noticeable, he notices it and discreetly chuckles, “I’ll take the Sunlight Special.”
“A-ah, that’s wonderful! Coming right up!” You smile as you hurriedly walk to the kitchen. “Damn, what’s with you?” exclaimed the cook, taken aback by your abrupt appearance.
“Nothing! Here you go! "You give the chef his order. While waiting for the meal, you steal a glimpse at him; he appears to be preoccupied with the newspaper he’s reading, so you take the opportunity to study his features. Attractively disheveled hair, broad shoulders, and a well-kept stache over his seemingly soft lips, ‘what a man’
The man looks up directly into their direction, as if he had heard their thoughts. You rush behind the wall, fixating on the chef’s cooking.
‘I wonder if he has someone, he seems like he does. Looking like that? theres no way he doesn’t. If anything, he’s probably secured a wife-’ The ding of the call bell jolted you out of your trance, and you thanked the chef before delivering the food to the broodingly gorgeous man.
"Here’s your order! I hope you enjoy it!” Before you proceeded to the kitchen, you gave him a smile. “Wait,” you hear him say. Turning around, you see the identical stare he gave you the first time he peered at you, sending shivers up your spine. Shaking your head from your rising thoughts, you approach him, “Yes? Is there anything else you need?”
"What’s your name?” You open your mouth, expecting to say something in response to his surprising question, but nothing comes out. It’s incredible what such a handsome man can do to you. “Would you give me your name if I told you mine?” He spoke through your daze, and when you realized what he was saying, you nodded.
“Javier Pena, It’s great to meet you.” He extends his hand to you. You tell him your name while snaking your hand into his. “Great to meet you too, Javier.”
Warnings: sweet moments, some dirty thoughts here and there
A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who is reading and commenting! It’s so amazing for @the-purity-pen and I to know that people are enjoying what we are writing! We have been having a blast writing it together!!
The individual pizzas had been a huge hit. The kids had loved deciding what toppings went on their own crusts. And the twins, Fast Forward and Rewind, had especially liked the fact that they didn’t have to share with one another. Everyone had finished eating and you were packing up the leftover food while Marcus put popcorn kernels into the air popper.
You carried a short stack of tupperware to the refrigerator and placed the items inside. Once the door was closed, you turned and leaned against it, releasing a small sigh of relief that the chaos of dinner was over. The kids were pretty active inside the classroom, but that was nothing compared to what they were like on their own time. Your ears rang with the laughter and happy shouts from earlier.
Turning your head, you watched Marcus load the air popper, his biceps moving just below the short sleeves of his shirt. Your eyes started to drink in the rest of him, but you stopped yourself. You were afraid to let your body react to him again like it had earlier. Suddenly thirsty again, you pushed away from the fridge door so you could open it. The cold air felt good on your warm skin. “So, that was a success,” you commented as your eyes searched the chilly space without seeing anything inside.
Marcus finished popping the corn and turned his head towards you before placing the popped kernels into separate little brown paper bags for the kids. He nodded with a soft smile on his face. “It was. I’m glad you were here to help,” he commented quietly, feeling himself having to turn away from staring at your body.
He focused on the popcorn and scooping an approximately even amount of popcorn into each bag. He moved slowly and carefully so as to not waste a single kernel. He knew that if Missy’s friends were anything like her, they would be devouring the popcorn and would definitely want more. He was thankful for the concentration because the more time you were closer to him, the more he felt the need to explain his feelings for you.
You sighed quietly and shook your head and when Marcus heard you, he swiped his hands on his jeans of butter and salt and came over. “What are you looking for? Can I help you find something?” he asked as he tried to lean into the fridge to look with you but the sudden closeness of him had you holding your breath. Marcus turned his head and realized he’d made a mistake. He could smell your shampoo and it made his head swim.
“Uhh… just trying to figure out what I could have to drink…” you stammered the words out and turned your eyes back to the fridge contents.
Clearing his throat, Marcus did the same, “Help yourself to anything… Do you want a beer? I think I’ll have a beer.” He reached back behind the orange juice and retrieved an IPA. When you nodded, he handed it to you and felt the immediate absence of your body next to his when you backed away from the refrigerator to find the bottle opener. When he closed the door he had his own beer in his hand.
You popped the top off yours and held the bottle opener out to him, which he took, careful not to let his fingers graze yours in the process. Trying not to stare at him, you took a long swallow of the cold beverage. Just then Missy burst through the door from the living room, “Is the popcorn done yet?”
You startled slightly as Marcus smiled, focusing on his daughter, “Yes, hija.” The three of you made yourselves busy as you took the bags into the living room to hand them out. You followed Marcus and Missy and finished handing out the bags to which all of the children said thank you. You smiled at each of them but you gave Wheels a little wink which he reciprocated.
The kids all started to dig into their popcorn and get back to watching their little movie marathon that Missy had turned on. You had no idea what the movies were about but they all seemed to be very excited about it.
Marcus left the living room with you, the two of you nearly walking side by side down the hall. Your shoulders just grazed each other as he took a few steps faster and you felt your breath hitch for a moment before you were clearing your throat and walking over to where you had set your beer down. Marcus grabbed his and walked over to the table and you opted to follow him to sit at the table beside him.
At first there was a silence between you and Marcus as you focused on the beer bottle label which had become loosened with condensation. You began to pick at it, peeling it bit by bit. Suddenly, Marcus cleared his throat, “So… tell me about you. Is your family local?”
Family was an interesting subject for you. You knew you didn’t fit in with them, so even though you all lived in the same town and you saw your older brother quite regularly, you still felt as if you were hundreds of miles apart. You let a small smile lift your features, “Ummm… yeah… but, we aren’t very close unfortunately.” You wondered if he would push the subject. You knew a lot about Marcus Moreno. You heard many stories about him over the years. Some of them you knew were true. Others you wondered about. “It must be nice having your mom around to help you with Missy.”
You went back to peeling at the label on the bottle. Half of it had come loose now. You paused in your hyper focused activity to take a drink, startled when Marcus met your eyes. You swallowed hard and set the bottle down, feeling incapable of looking away as his dark eyes searched your face.
Marcus couldn’t help his staring, that’s just how he listened. And when the conversation turned back to him, he sat up a bit straighter and swallowed a lump that had formed when hearing how you weren’t close with your family. He couldn’t imagine that and how lonely it might be.
“My mom certainly is great,” he said with a small nod. It was true though. Anita had been around much more after his wife died and was more than willing to help train Missy and her friends during the first alien attack last year. Marcus had a brief moment of wondering if you were a mother because seeing how you were with the kids made him think you’d make a great one.
But that comment was lost on his lips as he watched you, his eyes dancing over your features. He swallowed hard again and your own eyes couldn’t help but follow the movement of his throat. Your heart was racing and your nose flaring, which Marcus would later admit was very cute, as the two of you had a moment of intensity.
The moment seemed to draw itself out but neither of you looked away. Instead it seemed as if the space between you was closing. You inhaled sharply as his hand came up to your shoulder, stroking it lightly with his thumb, making you shiver. All the reasons you shouldn’t do this, right now, flooded your thoughts. The kids, his daughter, your students were in the next room. He was a Heroic and … your history with Heroics had not been good.
A protest formed on your lips as you whispered his name just before his lips found yours. The kiss was gentle but firm. There was yearning there, but no demands. Your mouth opened, inviting him to deepen things and your tongue pressed against his, sweetly. A soft moan escaped your throat as your hands reached for him, finding purchase on either side of his torso. You could feel the way his ribs expanded with his own labored breathing.
Marcus leaned in closer, if he could even manage that, when he felt your hand on his torso. Your touch was electric in ways he would have never imagined. He had been pining after you for so long and it was finally the moment he had thought of for so long.
His mind whirled with emotions as he kissed you deeper, slowly pressing his lips and tongue against you and into you, like a slow motion dance. The hand on your shoulder came up to cup your face, holding you to him as you kissed him with emotions you didn’t know you were capable of. It was a silent message between the two of you, a love letter written in the dark of night with whispers spoken into the ink.
Marcus pulled away in what felt like a too soon moment and you couldn’t help the soft whine that escaped you. Both of you were breathing hard, trying to catch your breath. Marcus rested his forehead against yours for a moment, his thumb tracing over your jaw before he pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes.
You licked your lips and treasured the taste of him for a moment longer as you tried to catch your breath. Your eyes searched his face, yearning for more, but wondering if you should even want that. Hesitantly, you pulled your hands away from his body, letting them rest a moment on his knees only for a moment, like a butterfly searching for a place to land.
Finally, you reached for the bottle again, taking a drink trying to quench the rampant thirst Marcus had brought out of you. Nervously, your hands moved to the label once more, peeling the last of it off in one swift pull. You laid it flat on the table, letting your eyes wander to the shiny paper, then returning to his immediately. He had a pull on you that you couldn’t seem to resist. With a shaky breath, you finally voiced one of the many thoughts you were having, “What, uhhh …. What does this mean?”
Marcus felt you shift back and he let his hand drop from your face but not before sliding it down to your arm slowly. His heart wouldn’t calm down as he watched you pull the label off but his eyes were only watching the movement in his peripherals. He was watching your face, watching your eyes, your lips and he could feel the way his own still tingled from the contact.
Your voice broke his stares and he cleared his throat. His lower lip quivered a moment, unsure of how to answer it without feeling too forward. Hell, you had just kissed in his kitchen with kids in the other room. Was there really such a thing as being too forward at this point?
“It uh-” he paused, his other hand coming to the label you had peeled off and picking at it slightly. A momentary distraction to try to gather his racing thoughts, ”I guess it’s me telling you that I like you. Ha- have liked you. For a while now,” his words stammered out. He let his gaze fall upon the label as he nervously picked at the corners, feeling the plastic coated paper peel away from itself as he touched it.
You couldn’t help but smile at his words, his shy movements. This was the great Marcus Moreno, leader of the Heroics, confessing that he liked you. “For a while?” You wondered aloud. You’d had no idea. A warmth filled your chest at this new knowledge and Marcus finally looked at you from the corner of his eyes, smiling shyly. Your heart hitched at the adorableness of that look.
But, then reality came roaring back to the forefront of your thoughts, forcing you to look away again. You thought of the kids in the other room. Of the way your family had always looked down at you, when they were the ones who were supposed to love you. The way you’d rebelled as a teenager, lashing out and getting into trouble. “I … uhhh, I like you too… but…” you didn’t want to tell him this wouldn’t work between you. But, some part of you wondered if that was true. Were you just getting in your own way? Letting your past affect your future.
Marcus waited patiently for you to gather your thoughts, even though he was dying to know what came after that “but”. He couldn’t imagine what it could possibly be. He hadn’t felt anything like this in years.
Finally, you shook your head and finished your thought, “why me? I’m nothing special.” You’d heard that enough times to know it was the truth. Marcus’s face dropped. That wasn’t the end of the sentence he was expecting. He thought it would be one of the other numerous excuses he had heard from others he had shown interest in. “Too busy.” “Too focused on work.” “Not good at relationships.”
He wasn’t expecting this but when he saw your own face change he reached over and held the underside of your chin gingerly. He slowly lifted your face to look him in the eyes. “You are though. So special,” he reminded you quietly as he leaned in and let his lips press against yours softly.
Rating | Warning: Explicit - 18+ ONLY | Smut - Oral sex (f receiving). Vaginal sex. Mentions of trauma. Angst. Yearning. Smoking.
Word Count:3,232
A/N: I wanted to expand on a little memoirs piece I had posted some months back, feeling like I needed to see this moment in it’s entirety. For all those craving an angsty man like I do.
The air was suddenly heavy and quiet, the sound of your combined breathing filled the space between you. You stood still, silently waiting for him to catch his breath as he leaned against your door. You look him over, your eyes wide with concern. His shirt was unbuttoned halfway down his chest, hair disheveled, and smelling of whiskey and smoke.
“It’s late. Are you okay?” You asked as your adrenaline started to pulse in your veins. He licked and bit his bottom lip, desperately trying to find his words. Placing his hands on his hips, his eyes fell to the floor. You stepped closer to him and placed your hands on his shoulders, anxiety building within you.
“What happened?” You urgently pleaded, ducking your head to try and catch his gaze.
His eyes meet yours, lingering for a moment – the warm, deep pools were an overwhelming comfort to him. Why he aimlessly arrived at your door so late at night, had suddenly become clear to him. Reaching a hand to the back of your neck, he quickly pulled your lips to his. His other hand moving to your hip, tugging your body crushingly close.
For you, this was foreign territory with Javier, but you sense a level of urgency in his kiss. For over a year you’ve watched him from across the makeshift office at the embassy. You always knew he was at a constant battle with his demons; disappearing at the end of each day, into the shadows of the night to meet with even shadowier individuals.
Some nights you would hear the clink of his keys echoing in the hall, as he would arrive back to his apartment door in the late hours of the night. It filled you with dread knowing he was struggling, wishing you could help sooth him in any way, as you knew the feeling all too well.
That’s what life in the DEA would do to you, but for Javier it was much more than that. And while you’ve learned to deal with your stress in therapy, it was no secret of Javier’s many liaisons with informants. Mixing business with pleasure.
Secretly, you had imagined it before. What he would taste like on your lips. What he would feel like pressed against your body. But deep down you knew; you told yourself that you would be no different than the rest. That you are no different. “Javi.” You chided, breaking away from his lips.
When your eyes met his again, they were glassy and threatening to break the man standing in front of you. This man who had always seemed so steady and indestructible, was replaced by a completely different person within a frame of a kiss. Now, he could have been mistaken for a lost child.
You knew. This facet was something he did not let others see.
You reached your hands to either side of his face, gently brushing his cheekbones with the pads of your thumbs. Your eyes desperately searching his for an answer. “I’m…fucking tired.” He sighed, almost a whisper.
“I know.” Your voice cracked, sweeping his hair behind his ear. He closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. “I…” He whispered into your palm, gently planting a kiss.
Wishing to hold his pieces together, you wrapped your arms around him, resting his head on your shoulder and brushing the hair at the nape of his neck.
He paused momentarily, uncomfortable with this moment of vulnerability, but your warmth was irresistibly soothing. His arms snaked around your waist, holding you tight. “Por favor…”He pleaded to himself, whispering into the nape of your neck. You met his gaze once more, but his words again failed him.
No matter how much he struggled, you understood. You saw it in his eyes. You heard it in his voice.
You gently held his face and slowly leaned into him, softly kissed him once and hovered above his lips.
“No eres sólo tú. Yo también necesito esto.”You whispered, brushing your lips against his. [It’s not just you. I need this too.]
Javier stilled, mentally registering every word, his only movement is a slight tightened grip on your waist. You brushed your nose against his, looking into his eyes and searching for any sign that you misread the situation. All you find in his eyes is residual pain.
You slowly kissed him again, trying desperately to shake your own insecurities. His kiss began hesitantly, but quickly he lost himself in you; your tenderness pulling him in deeper.
The tip of his tongue glided along your bottom lip, desperately seeking more of you and you met him with matched fervor. He sighed into your mouth, sending a jolt through your body and straight to your core. Javier began to trail kisses along your jaw, slowly coming to a pause at your pulse point.
You gasped at the sensation - his mustache brushing against your skin, the gentle suction of his lips, his soft panting against your ear. Sliding one hand down your waist, your breath hitched as he grabbed your ass, pushing you against his growing erection. A moan escaped your lips.
Your back against the wall, you made quick work of the remaining buttons of his shirt, sliding your hands across his shoulders underneath and gently pushing his shirt to the floor.
You couldn’t help but take in the sight before you - the broadness of this shoulders; the definition of his arms; how the ruggedness of this hands were now gentle, tugging at the hem of your shirt.
You raised your arms above your head as he lifted the hem, pulling the shirt from your body. He stepped closer to you, slowly dipping his head to place a kiss on your shoulder and then your neck.
Javier’s hands fell on your rib cage, his fingertips ghosting over your side, trailing the delicate lace that covered your breasts. He circled his thumb over your pebbled nipples, his tongue dancing with yours. You arched into his touch, every inch of your skin begging for more.
He could taste your eagerness on your tongue, loving watching these new ways your body moved. He had often caught himself watching you while at the office and how poised you were in your environment.
You moved with confidence; your presence commanded a room. Your mind was always laser-focused, sure of the decisions you made for your team. He had found your quick wit a worthy opponent, often leading him to find any opportunity to talk to you.
Over the years, you two had become close, and yet…he still didn’t know much about you. You were passionate and driven, and somewhere he sensed vulnerability, but it was never something you seem to let slip.
Typically, it was what he preferred of everyone in his life, but oh how the curiosity burned within him. You were sexy in every way and now, you were pressed yourself against him.
This sight before him, the little sounds you made, your coaxing touch - he dared himself to believe that only a select few have had the privilege of experiencing. And you were choosing him.
Lost in thought, he was brought back to the moment at your sure hands sliding down his chest to cup the bulge in his jeans. A small groan escaped his lips while a sly smile played on yours. “Come…” You whispered against his lips, your finger hooked in his belt loop, leading him to your bedroom.
—
“What do you need, Javi?” You whispered, meeting his gaze in the darkened room. Your fingers already working to undo his belt and unbutton his jeans, as you slipped your palm around him. His eyes closed and he sighed at your touch. When he opened his eyes again, they were searching yours.
Where your brief flash of confidence danced, was now silenced by his penetrating gaze, shattering your veneer. Instantly, you are brought back to the reality of the man standing in front of you…and how long you’ve wanted him.
Your heart stuttered and you tried to count how many breaths had passed as you waited for him to respond. He simply pressed his lips to yours, and resting his hand on the small of your back, walking you backward to your bed.
You felt the gentle glow of heat radiating off of his body as he hovered above you. It was irresistible. On their own volition, your legs hooked onto his hips, pressing your own heat against his dick. The slight pressure sent a jolt through your body, whimpering into his mouth.
“Easy, hermosa.” He purred, pressing your arm above your head, trailing kisses down the length of your body, his fingertips delicately tracing in the wake. His kiss lingered on the waist band of your pants, slowly hooking his capable fingers and pulling them off your legs along with your panties.
You closed your eyes and bit your lip. The anticipation was beautifully agonizing. Your body writhing, knowing he was watching every inch of you in the dim room.
The feeling of his arms snaking around your legs, spreading you open, jolted you from your fantasy. His tongue dragged along the length of your sex, the hum of his moan reverberating on your clit. “Oh, fuck. Javi, yes.” You hiss beneath him.
Flicking his tongue over your clit rhythmically, his fingers gently stroking your folds and pressing through your slick heat. Your hands tangled in his dark locks, gently tugging and caressing; finding any opportunity to rock against his mouth. Met with resistance, his arm anchored you to the bed. You were completely at his mercy.
You felt the intensity build within you, flexing your hips as his tongue moved within you. “You’re gonna cum for me, huh? Cum for me, baby.” He panted against you, suctioning his lips to your clit, as he curled is fingers, adding pressure to the sweet spot within you.
This combined movement was enough, but it was his command that sent you over the edge. That baritone voice you’d heard every day, speaking monotonously about work, you had committed to memory.
So often you had heard it echoing in the late hours of the night with your hand between your thighs, but there was something so surreal about this moment as this new tone touched your ears.
Your body began shaking beneath him, flashing lights filling your vision behind your eyes, as you cried out your release. “That’s it, baby.” He cooed as he continued to drag his fingers within you, enjoying the feeling of you fluttering around his fingers. Imaging you soaking his cock.
He watched your writhe in the faint moonlight filtering through the slatted window. Eyes closed, back arched, every muscle in your body tensed - you were absolutely breathtaking. From somewhere deep within him, something craved more.
You laid your hand on your chest, feeling the erratic beat of your heart, as you tried to calm your breathing. From somewhere in the room, you heard a rip and crinkling of the packet he brought with him. It sounded so far away against the faintness of your conscious. Before long, you felt movement on the bed. Javier’s lips melded to yours, hovering above you, coaxing your tongue to meet his.
“Fuck me.” You whispered against his lips, “Please fuck me, Javi.” Hearing the need in your voice, seeing the way your lips moved around the words, feeling the grip of your hands on his back - his cock twitched at the request, feeling a primal urge take over his mind.
He took himself in his hand and notched against your folds, gently pressing into you. The stretch was irresistible, you couldn’t help but gasp against his lips, pulling your body as close to his as possible. “Fuck. You’re so tight.” He hissed against your mouth.
Slowly pushing, small grunts filling your ears until he bottomed out, taking in your enveloped warmth. You hooked your legs around his hips, your fingers tangling in his hair. “Move. Ah! Please move.” You pled, a slight smile playing in the corner of your lips.
He gently pulled out, never fully leaving you and surged forward, hitting the soft spongey deep within you. “Yes!” You cried out, as you slowly rocked your hips. A smile played on his lips at your movement against him, as he began to find pace with you, picking up speed as he snapped his hips into you. His free hand caressing your body. His normally rough, calloused hands sent shivers along your skin.
Brushing his lips against your neck as he drove into you, you felt his breath against your skin as he whispered his seduction in his mother tongue. Your overstimulated mind finding it difficult to hear his words. “Dime cómo lo quieres. Tell me.” [“Tell me how you want it.”]
You tilted your hips, changing the angle until you felt him brush up against the spot within you, sending another jolt through your body. Javier felt you, the way your hips made you feel tighter around him, moaning as he moved above you.
“There. Ah! Just like that.” You urged him.
Javier slid his hand under you, holding the small of your back and drove into you. “Touch yourself. C’mon, baby. Give it to me again.” He groaned.
You slid your hand between you, circling your bundle of nerves in time with him. “Javi!” You cried, as the slightest pressure sent a shock that rippled through your body, clutching onto his body and gushing around him. Javier stuttered, feeling you clamp around his cock he quickly continued his pace, fucking you through your high and chasing his own.
You felt him still above you, moaning your name. You grabbed on to his ass, pulling him deeper within you as you rocked your hips against him, humming in contentment against his ear.
Javier placed a kiss at the hollow of your neck, panting out the anxiety from his body. Bringing his lips to yours, he kissed you - deep and slow - before gently pulling out of you and laying on his back.
He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this, though he couldn’t really pin point what he was feeling. Even with his regular trysts, he couldn’t recall this. Javier could only attribute it to wanting you for so long, but never being able to have you.
You sat yourself up, pressing your back against your headboard, clutching the sheet over your chest. You chewed the inside of your cheek, staring blankly at the foot of the bed as you tried to sort through your battling thoughts.
Javier seemed to be lost in thought as well, staring at the ceiling and rubbing the tip of his thumb over his eyebrow. You felt the impending dread of your decision starting to creep in.
You had thought you were merely attracted to this man, but after tonight you were confident you deeply cared for him. You had always been so diligent at keeping your personal life and work separate. You had worked too hard to have your reputation compromised by a rash decision.
But the truth was, in Colombia, you didn’t have much of a life. The job was your life for two years. Everything that seemed personal was all back home in the states and it was all wearing on you. Were you capable of putting feelings aside?
So here you were. Full circle. That’s all that this was. Stress relief. A fleeting moment of comfort to keep your sanity intact. And Javier’s too.
At that moment, Javier shifted off the bed and pulled off the condom, carefully tying it off as he made his way into your bathroom.
“We should just keep tonight between us.” You sighed.
“You think I would tell the office?” His question echoed off the tile.
His naked figure walked across your room, retrieving his jeans from the floor and pulled them on, leaving them unbuttoned. He pulled out the box of cigarettes hidden in his back pocket, holding one up - a silent request to smoke it.
“In your own way.” You replied with a glint of humor and nodding, “Subtly isn’t one of your strong suits when it comes to the ladies.”
Javier knew you were right. After tonight, he knew there was no way he could look at you the same way again. After hearing you moan his name. Now that he’s tasted you. Feeling how you reacted to his body. Wondering what else he could do to you.
Lighting the cigarette between his lips, he took a deep pull, the amber tip vaguely illuminating the structure of his face. He also knew that his partner, Steve, would pick up on the change in his mood. That last part gave him a moment of doubt - how good of a liar was he?
“Between us” He promised, sitting next to you on the edge of the bed, his hand slowly gliding up your thigh and toward the crease of your hip. “…but it’s going to be even more difficult concentrating on anything with you around.”
His honeyed words hit your core, filling your mind with visions of you pressed against shelving in the various records room. Slipping his hand in your panties. His thick fingers rubbing gentle circles over your clit. Or you pulling him out of his slacks and kneeling in front of him.
And just like that, your pulse started to race. You shook your head in an effort to clear your mind.
“I’m sure finding another distraction won’t be difficult.” You replied as cooly as you could. Javier chuckled low and dark, taking another drag. He watch the plume smoke delicately dance and dissipate into the air between you.
You watched him in his silent thought, imagining what he looked like before all of this.
Wishing you could bring the light back.
Maybe you could.
With a small sigh, you sat next to him on the edge of your bed. His eyes met yours, both of you searching for something you hoped to see. You carded your fingers through his hair, brushing it behind his ear once more. Ignoring deep ache in your heart, trying to convince yourself it would be the last time. His eyes seeming to soften at your touch.
Instead you smirked, pushed back your tousled hair from your face and reached for the cigarette between his fingers. You brought it to your lips and inhaled deep. The heat filled your lungs in the vain hope it would burn away your doubt. Exhaling through your nose, you replaced the cigarette between his fingers, your eyes falling back to his.
But he never stopped watching you, taking in the way your tongue moved against your bottom lip and how your downcast eyes never gave away a single thing.
You leaned forward, ghosting your lips over his and placing a soft kiss in the center of his lower lip that held the pout you loved so much. You ran the pad of your thumb over your kiss, his lips slacked under your touch.
“But maybe I just want to be yours.” You spoke, just above a whisper.
Standing, you walked into your bathroom, closing the door behind you. You knew he wouldn’t stay.
And as much as you didn’t want to admit it to yourself, you couldn’t bare to watch him go.
A/N:I have been wanting to challenge myself to write a drabble a day for a whole month for quite some time now, and I finally decided to just go for it. The goal is to fill every prompt on this listby@creativepromptsforwriting with a short one shot (500 - 2k words) by the end of June. Can I do it? I do not know. But let’s find out! Kicking it off with a flashback for Ezra and Clara from the PoNR universe, because no one else comes to mind so quickly when I hear “fairytale”.
Word Count: 1,816
Warnings: slight hint at smut but nothing explicit - Ezra is one charming little shit and he knows it.
Summary: Clara tells Ezra another one of Kamrea’s constellation myths about Kevva and the depth of her love.
Ezra’s thumb swept slowly over the base of Clara’s wrist as she spoke, his fingers laced through hers and latched over her knuckles.
“…Hixeo thought that he had finally found a way to punish her for the crime of loving Kamrea more than she loved him. He had his loyal jata bahlu dig up a hundred boulders from the rocky terrain of the moon -” Clara raised the hand that was not joined with Ezra’s to point out divots on the lunar surface - “and then as the sand bear slept, he threw them down, bombarding Kevva’s beloved planet with them, trying to destroy all the beauty that she had created here.”
The deep purple sky was clearest at the tail end of the Harvest season. On those nights, when Ezra was home with her instead of spending his cycles on Bahkroma’s Green Moon, the two of them would sprawl themselves out in the clearing between the Thulian fields, backs to the ground and their eyes on the stars while Clara used the constellations to teach him the folktales and myths that she grew up hearing. It was a tradition that started the very first season that he spent there on Kamrea, and while Ezra always listened intently, enraptured with the stories about deities in the stars and the way that Clara told them, he also always found a way to connect the magic and the legends back to the two of them and his love for her.
A/N: I have been wanting to challenge myself to write a drabble a day for a whole month for quite some time now, and I finally decided to just go for it. The goal is to fill every prompt on this listby@creativepromptsforwriting with a short one shot (500 - 2k words) by the end of June. Can I do it? I do not know. But let’s find out! - Today’s prompt goes to a character who I desperately need to get back to, Pedro Across the Street… or in this case Gabe, because this flashback one shot is related to The Long Con (part one here). Pats talking to Patrick about the “pig blankets” in Calls stuck with me, I guess.
Summary: A flashback to a different job a few years before your current one, when you and Gabe were playing different roles, before either of you had been honest with each other about how you felt, neither of you ready to suggest taking your criminal professional relationship to a more personal level.
No one really knows their neighbors. Not allof them, anyway. And the ones that they think they know? Like Jeff two doors down who mows his lawn every weekend, Charlotte with her political bumper stickers from four election cycles ago or the Hendersons and their picture perfect holiday display that goes up every December? All they really know about those people starts and ends with the superficial basics - the things that they want you to see, that they decide to let you in on or try to fool you into believing.
Jeff could have ties to the deep web. Charlotte might be stealing from the PTA. And who knows what the Hendersons and all their lights, wreaths and tinsel were trying to hide.
Most suburbanites were happy to toss half-hearted waves and nods at one another from their porches and mailboxes. They were satisfied with recognizing the cars that inhabited the driveways on either side of their own, somehow equating knowing what their neighbors drove to knowing anything real about them. The illusion of conversation and camaraderie was far more palatable than actually achieving those things.
Pairing:Frankie Morales x Female Reader x Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia
Word Count: 7,705
Rating: Explicit. (language, sexual acts, sexual contact with two separate men)
Summary:This is it: the moment when things change between you and Pope … what happens between the two of you - and how do you handle it? But just as importantly, how do Pope and Frankie handle it?
Author’s note:
I am so damn sorry that this has taken so long to get out. I didn’t forget about them, I just got really sidetracked with other things. But we’re back! Thank you all for being so patient with me.
He would have stopped if he’d wanted to. You knew that - you knew exactlyhow he would have reacted - freezing and then straightening all the way up, pulling himself away from you and out of your hold, hands leaving your body without hesitation as he turned away and spluttered out an excuse. But Pope didn’t do any of those things, and before you knew it, he was kissing you, the man’s lips soft and warm against yours.
I appreciate how you didn’t have Pope and the reader immediately have sex. It felt real that they shared a couple of kisses and are now taking some time to process how they feel and how they’re going to move forward. I also admire Frankie because I don’t know how he’s not feeling jealous. I know I couldn’t do it!
