warm bread & honey.

“The teapot is hot!” You warned when you heard the familiar drag of one of the kitchen chairs being pulled out against the worn wooden floor. The ceramic pot, not long filled with hot water and tea, was made in anticipation of the completion of your morning's baking you had started in the early hours, unable to sleep for tossing and turning.

You had both hands gloved and inside the oven pulling out a loaf of bread, but your forewarning hadn’t been enough to prevent the hissed curse that sounded from behind you.

Carefully placing the fresh loaf atop the stove, its smell filled the kitchen and enveloped you in a comforting embrace, though it could be easily argued that feeling had more to do with the house's new arrival than anything else.

“I told you it was hot,” you admonished as you pulled off the oven gloves turning around to find a sheepish Joel sitting at the kitchen table, you gave him a warm smile, “Hi.”

Joel, his jacket already shrugged off and in the process of rolling up his sleeves gave you an equally comforting smile, one that said he was pleased to see you after days apart, “Hi,” he replied.

Throwing the gloves to the counter you took the three wide steps to close the distance between the two of you. Just the knowledge of him being home, seeing him in one piece, was enough to release the tension that sunk into your bones every time he went on patrol or for anything that required leaving the safety of Jackson’s confines.

As you took that final step, watching him turn in his seat to throw his jacket over the back of the chair beside him, the early morning light filtered through the window, casting a soft glow over the kitchen and highlighting the subtle signs of weariness on his face. Despite the tired weathered lines and the shadows beneath his eyes, his smile when he looked back up at you was genuine, a silent testament to the comfort he found in simply being back home, back with you.

“You look like you’ve been through it,” you observed, your voice a gentle blend of concern and welcome.

Joel shrugged, a low chuckle escaping him as he subconsciously ran his fingers down to his side, the subtle movement betraying the discomfort he tried to dismiss, “It’s nothin’ darlin’. Just the cold reminding me I’m not as young as I used to be,” he said, attempting to downplay the lingering pain from the old jagged scar at his side.

His attempt to brush off his discomfort didn't fool you; you knew him too well to deny the nuance of his movements as something else, his attempts to hide the silent hiss under his breath. You reached out, your fingers tracing the air just shy of the old wound, a silent acknowledgment of the battles he'd weathered, both external and internal.

Joel's gaze held yours, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes before he masked it with a lopsided smile.

The morning light, now brighter, spilled into the kitchen, casting long shadows and highlighting the fine dust particles dancing in the air. It was serene, a quiet moment shared between the two of you. Your hip propped against the heavy farmhouse table your hand reached out instinctively to touch his arm, feeling the cold that he’d carried in through the front door seeping from his skin through his now rolled-up sleeves.

“How about,” your fingers toyed with the buttons that did up the front of his shirt, “you let me run you a warm shower,” you suggested, knowing all too well he wouldn’t admit to the true discomfort of the aches the cold weather brought to his old wounds.

Joel’s eyes, a mix of fatigue and the warmth of finally being home met yours. For a moment he seemed to weigh the offer, the stubborn part of him that disliked admitting any form of weakness at war with his need to sink into you. Finally, his resolve melted away, a soft smile escaping him as he gave into the warmth of your proposition.

A smirk appeared on his lips, “Only if you’re joining me.”

You laughed, it was light and genuine with the heaviness of Joel’s absence lifted, his return sweeping out the heavy air that always settled in with each departure.

“I suppose, that can be arranged,” you teased, a knowing look passing between the two of you.

Joel’s smile widened as he leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking as if welcoming back an old friend, “Is that right darlin’?”

“Fresh sheets on the bed too.”

He raised an eyebrow, a silent question lingering in that simple gesture. You’d been together for quite some time and yet still he was touched with disbelief that this was life, that anticipation of the domesticity you brought him, something he had believed he’d ever get to indulge in again.

“Well, don’t you know how to welcome a man home,” his smirk deepening into an expression of gratitude.

He stood from the chair, his movements still carrying evidence of his fatigue and the hollow ache in his bones. The faintest grimace crossed his face, quickly replaced by a lazy grin as he caught your disapproving look. He shooed you through the kitchen door to avoid any potential fussing, a light touch to your lower back, guiding you to the stairs.

The house was still, the only sound was the soft creak of the floorboards underfoot and the distant whistle of the wind outside, a stark contrast to the warmth inside.

The shower’s sound filled the bathroom, echoing off the tiled walls within the shower stall. Steam filled the room as you helped Joel out of his clothes, finally resigned to giving in to your care and attention. With each piece of clothing shed, dropped to the floor, revealed more of the toll the patrol had taken on his body.

He let out a hiss as your fingers grazed over new dark bruises, shadows under his skin in a mottled watercolour display in purple and blue. Despite his attempts to downplay it, the patrol had clearly been a tough one.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he said gruffly, catching the concern on your face, swiftly replaced with a roll of your eyes in response.

Joel stepped into the shower, and let out a soft groan as the hot water cascaded over his sore body. He bowed his head under the stream as he braced one hand against the shower wall. Stripped of your own clothes, you stepped in behind him, hands coming to rest on his hips. Slowly, your fingers began to knead the tense muscles along his back, feeling him quickly relax into your touch.

“Rough one out there this time,” he muttered, a tinge of bitterness in his tone as his eyes closed at your touch.

In the safety of the intimate space of the shower, the water releasing the tension from his shoulders, there was a vulnerability that Joel seldom showed.

You reached for the soap, lathering it between your hands before gently applying it to his shoulders. Carefully you worked the soap over his body in a meticulous order, paying extra attention to the areas marred by bruises. When you reached the back of his head you massaged your fingers into his hair with a gentleness that was born out of years of shared moments just like that one.

Joel tilted his head back into your touch, a deep moan escaped his throat as your nails scratched at his scalp, fingers tangling in the curls that had grown longer with the winter weather and his reluctance to stay on top of trimming it. After a moment or two, begrudgingly, you took your fingers from his hair. He bowed his head under the shower head once again to allow the hot water to rinse out the suds.

Your eyes traced the scars that adorned his back and shoulders like constellations. You could shut your eyes and still map out each one without any hesitation. Many a night, you had traced the lines of his back as he lay on his stomach with you lying next to him. Your fingers brushed strokes over its curves as you talked, sometimes of life before Jackson, life before everything stopped. You would talk about those you missed, who didn’t make it, left behind in a world that was no longer recognizable. Other times, silence was enough, a gentle shroud draped over the two of you.

With the suds long rinsed out, he turned to face you. His eyes softened as he took in the sight of you. There was a time when this look made you feel vulnerable and far too exposed, with your own scars, those both visible and not, on full display. But now it brought you comfort, that familiarity between the two of you had grown into something precious.

“You look after me too well, darlin’,” Joel’s voice was a low rumble, barely audible over the shower’s spray.

“Who else is going to?” you replied, a hint of amusement to your tone as you pushed back an errant curl from his forehead.

Leaning in, he captured your lips in a slow, tender kiss. The familiar scratch of his beard against your skin felt like home. His breath hitched as you moved your hands around his hips and up the curve of his back, your nails a light scratch against his skin. A sigh of contentment passed between you both, carried away by the steam rising around you.

Pulling back for a moment, his need to pause in the moment, to take it all in, his eyes met yours and you couldn’t help but notice the affection they held, a far contrast from when you’d first laid eyes on Joel Miller. The man you had first met was skittish, kept quiet in his new arrival in Jackson. You’d met him that night at the Tipsy Bison, Eugene regaling the room with a story of your day's misfortune and you’d made your way to the bar to avoid the heckles.

What started as casual conversations at the bar on more than one occasion turned into shared meals in the main hall, Joel too polite to leave when you joined him, then the odd patrols together, and eventually late nights spent in each other's company neither wanting the night to end.

His thumbs gently caressed your cheeks, and you leaned into his touch, your eyes closed at the sweet gesture. He pressed his lips to yours once more. The hot water continued to cascade over you both, creating a warm cocoon you didn’t ever want to leave. Your hands returned to his hips, taking their time as they moved from the curve of his broad shoulders down to his narrow waist.

“Feels good,” Joel murmured against your lips, his voice husky and thick with gratitude, his eyes half closed as he rocked into the movement of your fingers as they pressed into the tight muscle once again. “But if you keep that up honey, I fear one of us is going to put their back out tryin’ something in this shower we have no business trying. Anyway,” he continued, “didn’t you say something about clean sheets?”

You laughed, as you continued to knead his hips, “I might have mentioned it,” you replied as you gave him a playful pinch.

Joel’s laughter joined yours, a deep, comforting sound that resonated against the tiled walls. Amidst the steam and cascading water it felt precious, a rare moment of lightness that felt almost sacred in its intimacy.

The two of you finished your shower with a comfortable efficiency in a silent communication that spoke of the years and experiences you’d shared.

Once dried and wrapped in freshly laundered towels you led Joel by the hand to the bedroom where the promise of fresh sheets awaited, The morning sun had begun to fill the room with a soft golden light that made everything feel a lot more peaceful than the days gone by in Joel’s absence. The bed, freshly made in the early hours when you’d given up on any attempts of sleep, beckoned the two of you to rest and to find solace in each other now both its inhabitants were home.

Joel sat on the edge, his movements slow, a mixture of exhaustion and lingering discomfort. You watched him for a moment, his face bathed in the winter’s sun the lines of his face were softened and for a moment you felt like you were getting a small glimpse of a younger Joel as he closed his eyes and lifted his head to soak in the scant warmth it brought. You felt a surge of gratitude for his safe return, to the quiet life the two of you had managed to carve out together in a world that offered no guarantees.

Joel cracked open an eye to look at you at the end of the bed, “You can come on over honey, don’t have to watch from the cheap seats.”

You shook your head as you laughed, no hesitation in following his invitation. You positioned yourself in front of him as he spread his knees to make room for you to nestle between them, bringing your chest flush with his. Carefully he began to peel the towel from around you, his fingers grazing your skin with a gentleness that belied the strength within them.

As the towel dropped to the floor at your feet, you reached up to touch his face, tracing the lines that time had etched into his skin, each one a testament to the life he had lived. He caught your hand in his, pressing a kiss to the palm before guiding you down to follow him as he lay on the bed.

The sheets, cool and inviting, contrasted with the warmth that radiated from Joel as he pulled you closer. The world outside the window seemed to hold its breath, the light that fell across the room created a haven from the chaos that lay beyond. There with him beside you, for the briefest of moments you could just pretend that it was a regular Saturday morning, just like the ones before the world had changed, where the two of you could have simply been another regular couple.

You closed the space between you, your fingers tangling in his damp locks while his lips met yours. The kiss was soft but held an air of a fight of urgency against the need to savour the moment. Your fingers tangled in his hair, his teeth nipped at your bottom lip, swollen in response to both his kisses and his three-day beard.

A soft moan escaped your mouth, causing a growl to rumble in Joel’s chest in response. His arms wrapped tighter around you. It was always the way when he returned, he never rushed, took every moment in slowly, savouring every touch, every sound that he pulled from you. His lips found your neck, his beard scraping the sensitive skin, sending shivers down your spine as his lips continued to graze a path from your earlobe to your collarbone.

He nuzzled at your jaw, his kisses light and teasing causing you to squirm in delight as you tried to pull his mouth to yours. His laughter was low and husky in your ear as instead he pulled back to look at you. His eyes were alight despite the tiredness that framed them and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as your hand found his cheek and he leaned into your embrace.

The tiny bit of warmth of the morning sun framed the two of you, amplified by the heat that had built between you both, wrapped around you like a blanket, comfortable and familiar. His lips found yours again, unable to be parted for too long. His hand cupped your hip, his fingers pressing into you as if testing if you were really there, if the moment was real between the two of you. Confident he had a hold of you, he rolled over onto this back, bringing you with him so that you were straddling him.

Both hands now at your waist his thumbs stroked absent-minded circles against your skin. You glanced down at him, taking in the sight of his now closed eyes and relaxed features. His exhaustion was apparent more than ever. But the sight of pure contentment on his face made your heart flutter.

The air between you was charged with static, which only seemed to grow in intensity with each breath, each touch, and each whispered word. The worries you’d had during his absence, tied up alongside the knot in your stomach were now coming undone with the soothing balm of his presence.

You leant forward again, this time your lips met his in a simple chaste kiss that had him humming appreciatively beneath you as he moved his hands to the small of your back. Just as you were about to deepen the kiss, a sudden slam of what sounded like the back kitchen door punctuated the serene atmosphere, startling the two of you and Joel to grip onto you a little tighter. The muffled sounds of footsteps and voices drifted up the stairs bursting what was left of the bubble of intimacy you and Joel had carefully cultivated.

“Ah, sweet! Honey made bread!” Ellie’s voice, unmistakable and filled with loud delight echoed up through the house, followed by another voice that you had to strain to hear, Dina, a lot more soft-spoken than Ellie.

“Looks like they left in a rush,” Dina said as you heard cupboards being opened and closed with such ferocity that it could only be Ellie. Joel shook his head beneath you as the two of you waited to hear more of what was happening downstairs, “Ellie, didn’t Joel just get home from patrol?”

A brief silence passed, you could’ve sworn you could have heard a pin drop as the whole house seemed to hold its breath. Then came a flurry of whispered curses from Ellie, her realization finally dawning on her.

“Oh shit,” she exclaimed, before raising her voice, a mixture of haste and apology in one, “Welcome home Joel! Sorry Honey! You two, keep doing your thing—ouch!” you could only assume Dina had stopped Ellie in her tracks before she said something she shouldn’t, “Any3way, we’re leaving! But we’re taking the bread!”

Joel rolled his eyes as Ellie and Dina continued to bicker as they left the kitchen. It wasn’t until you both heard the satisfying click of the kitchen lock that you both let out a laugh. The interruption had shattered the tension between the two of you, leaving you both in a fit of laughter.

As the laughter subsided, you brushed a thumb over his rough cheek as he stifled a yawn, closing his eyes and leaning into your touch once more. Another kiss to his lips before you rolled yourself off of him to lay down beside him, but still just as close. He pulled you in against his chest, your head finding a home in the crook of his neck, his arms holding you tight, his fingers tracing imagined patterns on your bare skin.

He was home, you could hear the steady sound of his heartbeat in your ear. Outside the wind picked up in spite of the early peaceful sun that rose over Jackson. A reminder that despite the peace Joel’s return had brought, there still was a looming threat outside its boundaries, its frozen breath seeping through wooden walls. You held onto him a little tighter, knowing that despite wishing that you both could be a normal couple in a life full of normalities, the time you had together was tenuous at best.