Pedro Pascal/Character

Joel 1 (Last of Us)

In which you stumble across a lone man, making his way across your land that clearly states no trespassing. You wonder how he was able to get past your traps, and he stays the night.

~

It was safe to say you never let your guard down. Whether you were asleep, or walking the perimeter of your home, checking over the traps in the morning, your hand was always straying to the pistol on your hip, or the knife in your waistband. Your eyes constantly darting over the ground, the horizon, behind you, in front of you. The only time you ever fully relaxed was while you slept. Even then, your hand was resting on the handle of your knife, tucked under your pillow. 

You hadn't seen another human being in months. A few infected here and there, but they didn't exactly stop to chat. It was more of grunts and groans before you put a bullet in their skull. It bothered you at first, the idea of taking a human life, even if they wanted to take yours. But you soon became desensitised to it, realising it was you or them, and you'd much prefer it was them getting brutally forced into the clutches of death, rather than you stumbling amongst them for weeks, if not months, before the fungus finally consumed you.

Striding along a dirt path, made by the repetitive thudding of your boots against it as you took the same trail every day, your fingers tapping nervously on the handle of your blade. Something felt different today. You couldn't place it, but you could sense the change in the very air you sucked into your lungs. The birds chirped a warning as you slowed your pace, drawing your weapon. The hairs on the back of your neck rose, fear spiking your chest. You hadn't felt fear since the first time you'd put an infected down. It left a bitter taste in your throat, threatening to overwhelm you. You hated it. You forced yourself to take a breath, hearing something moving just over your left shoulder. 

Swinging round, you brought your weapon up, halting when you saw an apparently human face in front of you. His eyes were brown, expressing his own fear, yet full of a warmth at the same time. His hair hung in messy, slight curls around his tanned face, a slight scuff of stubble along his jaw, and above his lips. You grit your teeth, aiming for the centre of his chest. 

"I'm not sick." His voice was deep, and slightly raspy, as if he hadn't spoken for a long while. You couldn't help raking your eyes over his figure. His broad shoulders, rounded slightly with exhaustion, the slight tilt of his head as he watched you, his large hands raised to shoulder height. 

"How can you be sure?" You tightened your grip, ashamed at how your voice trembled. He noticed, and lowered his hands, stepping closer. "That's close enough." Your voice was stronger, your eyes meeting his. 

"I'm sorry. I've been travelling for the past few weeks, trying to find somewhere safe." He explained, eyes drilling into you, making you feel as if he knew every thought that was running through your head. 

"The nearest QZ is that way." You gestured to your left. His eyes never left your face, it was unnerving. "You'll make it in three hours if you leave now." 

"I can't." He stepped forwards again. "Please. I just need to rest." 

You knew that if you let him in, you'd probably never want him to leave. You'd been going a little stir-crazy all alone in the small cabin. You'd cleaned everything until you could see your reflection wherever you looked, and had reorganised everything several times. The company would be appreciated, and it wasn't like you'd run out of food. You had enough tinned stuff to last a hundred lifetimes, with chickens and goats for eggs and milk. Goats milk was creamier than cows, and richer, with more of a tang to it. You'd grown used to it though, and had come to love the little goats you had hunted, then decided to keep. 

He had stood silently while you let your thoughts swirl around, his eyes barely wavering from yours, except to glance around, just as you did. Both of you had the instincts of prey, aware they were being hunted. He leaned against a tree, seeing on your face that a decision had been reached. 

"One night." 

~

What a load of shit that was. Two weeks later, and here he was, still with you. The house was alive again, with conversation, which was new to both of you. Things grew awkward easily, but it was just as easy to change the subject, talk about cooking, or something like that. 

It was his turn to cook that night, and you were surprised to be graced with a strange blend of flavours, all from tins. He'd made one of your favourites, and you wolfed it down, grabbing your rifle to get up and walk the fence before heading to sleep. 

"How about taking a break tonight, Angel?" The nicknames had started three days into his residence with you. You ignored them for the most part, they were obviously friendly, and you were glad for the friendship, no need to complicate things.

"How about letting infected get in and tear us apart?" You mimicked his casual tone, rolling your eyes. "Sometimes I wonder how you managed to survive, Joel." 

"The fence was fine this morning, wasn't it?" 

Not knowing where he was going with the question, you nodded.

"Is it a weak fence?" 

You shook your head. 

"Would it be broken in the space of eight hours?" 

You shook your head again, laying your rifle across the table with a sigh. "Fine, so what do we do with the extra two hours of time?" 

His mouth kicked into a smile, and you felt your chest go warm. That was normal, for friends, you told yourself. You're happy that he's happy. "I was thinking, we could sit down, read a book, something normal." 

"Joel, there is no normal anymore." You knew you sounded forlorn, that was the point, but normal could never happen, there was no use pining for things you couldn't have. 

"We can make a new normal, me and you." Before you knew it, he was in front of you, his hands on your cheeks, tilting your face to meet his. You forced yourself to meet his gaze, not even looking once at the soft lips right there. Maybe you looked once. More likely twice. Your teeth chewed on the corner of your own lip. 

"What are you saying?" You whispered, scared that it was all a dream, if you spoke too loudly, you might wake up and be forced into the harsh cold of reality. 

"You know I'm no good with words." He mumbled, his face inching closer to yours. 

You knew he was going to kiss you, before he did just that. And you found that you were kissing him back, hands fisted in the material of his shirt, pulling him closer to you. His hands moved to the back of your neck, drawing you up, running his tongue across your lips, tasting you. Your eyes stayed closed as you broke apart, cursing the necessity of oxygen, your foreheads resting against each other. You knew your cheeks were flushed, just as his were, and you looped your arms around his torso, hugging him. He relaxed against you, and you knew he was smiling, his head moving to rest on your shoulder. 

"I think I love you." You hummed, afraid he'd hear you.

"I know I love you." You were glad he did. 

~ 

1291 words. 

This originally was only going to be about 400 words, but what can I say? I'm making up for lost time, because I'm just that amazing. 

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