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Snow falls in soft, lazy flakes, muting the crunch of your boots as you trudge through the patrol route. Joel’s leading, of course, his broad shoulders set in a way that screams don’t talk to me. You’ve seen that look scare off full-grown men, but it just makes you roll your eyes. Behind you, Eric and Nina walk close enough that their awkward tension might as well be a third member of the group.
Joel glances over his shoulder, his sharp gaze sweeping over you and the others. “Keep it down,” he grunts. “Sound carries out here.”
“Relax,” you say lightly, jogging a little to catch up to his side. “I think the snowdrifts are the only ones eavesdropping.”
Joel just grunts again, but you swear there’s something in his expression that softens when his eyes linger on you. Maybe it’s the way the faint sunlight catches in your smile, or maybe it’s just that he doesn’t have the energy to bark at you the way he does with everyone else. Either way, you’re pretty sure you’re the exception, and you don’t intend to let him forget it.
Behind you, Nina laughs at something Eric says—a soft, breathy sound that’s out of place in the quiet wilderness. Joel stops dead, turning to glare at them like he’s personally offended. “What’s so damn funny?”
Nina freezes mid-step, her cheeks flushing. “Nothing,” she stammers. “Just—uh, Eric said—”
“I don’t care,” Joel snaps. “You’re supposed to be keepin’ watch, not chattin’ like we’re on a Sunday stroll.”
“Oh, come on, Joel,” you say, falling into step beside him as he stalks forward. “They’re just kids. Did you never laugh when you were younger?”
“Not out here,” he mutters, his eyes scanning the treeline. “Laughter don’t stop clickers.”
“Neither does that brooding charm,” you quip with a grin.
Joel doesn’t respond, but the muscle in his jaw ticks. You don’t push him, knowing he’s already closer to bending than he’d like to admit. Instead, you flash him a warm smile, nudging his arm with your elbow as you walk. “Besides, these kids can’t all be perfect like you, Joel.”
The corners of his mouth twitch, though he quickly smothers it with a scowl. “Keep talkin’, and you’ll find yourself on stable duty for a week.”
About an hour later, the group stops at an old barn near the patrol’s edge. Joel, ever the diligent one, insists on checking the perimeter himself, leaving you to watch the younger pair. Nina and Eric volunteer to check inside the barn, eager to prove themselves.
“Be quick,” Joel says sharply. “And thorough.”
You watch them disappear inside, leaning against the barn’s weathered wall as Joel circles the area like a restless dog. His footsteps crunch through the snow, and every so often, his gaze flickers toward you. You feel it, even when you’re not looking. Protective, steady, Joel.
“I’m fine, you know,” you say when he passes close again. “You don’t have to keep checking on me.”
“Wasn’t checkin’,” he mutters, though you catch the faintest pink on his ears. “You’re shiverin’. You even wearin’ enough layers?”
You hold up your gloved hands in mock surrender. “I’m plenty warm. But thanks for your concern.”
He mutters something under his breath, pulling his jacket tighter as he stalks away. You can’t help but smile. Softy.
Then you hear it—a giggle from inside the barn, muffled but unmistakable. Your brow furrows as you glance toward the doorway. Another giggle follows, louder this time, and you catch the way Joel’s head snaps toward the sound. His expression darkens immediately.
“Oh no,” you say, stepping forward. “Joel, maybe—”
But he’s already moving, throwing the barn door open with a force that makes it creak loudly. You follow close behind, biting back a grimace at what you know is coming.
Sure enough, there they are. Nina and Eric, flushed and awkward, pressed together like magnets against a hay bale. Their eyes go wide as saucers when they see Joel.
“What in the goddamn hell are you two doin’?” Joel growls, his voice sharp enough to cut steel. Nina jumps back, her face turning bright red, while Eric stammers something unintelligible.
“We were just—uh—keeping warm,” Nina blurts out, her words tumbling over each other.
“Keepin’ warm?” Joel repeats, his tone incredulous. “You’re supposed to be keepin’ watch. If I wanted dead weight, I’d’ve left you at the gate.”
“Okay, Joel, we get it. They’ve been caught! No need to turn it into a full-blown lecture. Let’s move on,” you chirp, standing firmly between Joel and the pair of blushing, awkward patrol members. He gives you a look that could probably melt glaciers, but you stand your ground, your hands on your hips like you’ve won the moral high ground.
“You’re lucky she’s here,” Joel grumbles at Nina and Eric before stomping out of the barn.
“Pro tip,” you whisper to the mortified pair. “Joel has a soft spot for baked goods. You bake him a muffin, and he’ll probably forgive you by spring.”
Outside, Joel is already halfway down the trail, muttering under his breath. You jog to catch up, smiling as you fall into step beside him. “So, Joel. Be honest. Was catching those two the highlight of your day, or the highlight of your week?”
“They’re lucky I didn’t send ‘em back to Jackson,” he grunts.
“You’re such a softie,” you say brightly, grinning at him. “A big grumpy teddy bear.”
“Keep it up, and you’ll find out just how soft I ain’t,” he warns, but there’s no real heat in his voice. If anything, he sounds resigned.
As the snow continues falling, blanketing the world in a pristine hush, Joel’s pace is relentless, his sharp eyes scanning every shadow as if the forest itself might lunge at you. Behind you, Nina and Eric follow in mortified silence, no doubt still reeling from Joel’s earlier outburst.
You sigh, the tension hanging in the air like a cloud. You know better than to try and talk Joel out of his perpetual grumpiness—he’s as stubborn as they come—but you can’t help yourself. The sight of the untouched snow piling up around you gives you an idea.
You glance at Joel, who’s a few steps ahead, his broad shoulders hunched against the wind. The perfect target.
Scooping up a handful of snow, you pack it quickly and carefully, your heart skipping a beat as you take aim. “Hey, Joel!”
He half-turns, his brow furrowing. “What—”
The snowball hits him square in the chest, a puff of white exploding against his jacket. For a second, there’s only stunned silence. Then Joel looks down at the splatter of snow, then back at you, his expression somewhere between disbelief and irritation.
“What the hell was that?” he growls, his voice low and incredulous.
You grin, already scooping up another handful of snow. “You looked like you needed it.”
“You think this is funny?” He takes a step toward you, his scowl deepening, but there’s a flicker of something else in his eyes—something that isn’t quite as severe.
“Yeah,” you say, hurling another snowball, this one just grazing his shoulder. “I think it’s hilarious.”
Joel stands there for a moment, clearly torn between chewing you out and walking away. But then, to your surprise, he bends down, scooping up his own handful of snow. “You wanna play games?” he mutters, packing the snow with deliberate care. “Fine. Let’s play.”
You barely have time to react before his snowball flies, smacking into the tree beside you. “Oh, you’re in trouble now,” you declare, diving behind a snowbank and retaliating with a flurry of snowballs.
The snowball fight begins in earnest. You throw everything you have at him, but Joel is infuriatingly good—his aim is perfect, his reflexes too quick. You’re laughing so hard you can barely keep your balance, dodging behind a tree only to peek out and get hit square in the chest.
Behind you, Nina and Eric pause, their earlier awkwardness forgotten as they watch in disbelief. “Is… is Joel playing?” Nina whispers.
“I think so,” Eric says, grinning. “This is the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Don’t just stand there!” you call to them, ducking another snowball. “Help me out!”
That’s all the encouragement they need. Nina grabs a handful of snow and launches it at Joel, catching him on the arm. Eric follows suit, laughing as Joel whirls around to face them, his expression caught somewhere between mock outrage and actual disbelief.
“Oh, you think you’re funny, huh?” Joel says, his tone gruff but undeniably playful.
The three of you gang up on him, pelting him with snowballs while he does his best to retaliate. He nails Eric in the shoulder, sends Nina scrambling with a perfect shot to the leg, and even manages to land another hit on you, though he lets out a faint huff of laughter when you yelp dramatically.
For a few minutes, it’s pure chaos. Snow flies in every direction, laughter echoing through the trees, the weight of the world momentarily forgotten. Your banter is constant and ridiculous, ranging from “Nice aim, grandpa!” when Joel misses to “I bet you’re the reigning snowball champ of Jackson!” when he doesn’t.
At one point, Joel corners you behind a tree, his gloved hand full of snow and his eyes narrowed in mock warning. “You got anything left to say?” he asks.
“Just one thing,” you say, grinning as you hurl a pre-packed snowball directly at his chest. “You’re it!”
Joel’s growl is pure theater, but when he hits you with a snowball in return, it’s followed by a huff of laughter he doesn’t even bother hiding.
Eventually, Joel straightens up, brushing snow off his jacket. “Alright,” he says, his voice returning to its usual gruffness. “Enough. We’re burnin’ daylight.”
Nina and Eric groan, reluctantly falling back into line, but you stay where you are, catching your breath. Snow clings to your jacket, your hair, even your face, but you can’t stop smiling. Joel notices, of course.
“You’re a damn mess,” he mutters, stepping closer.
“Thanks to you,” you reply, grinning.
“Didn’t mean for you to get buried in it,” he says, brushing the snow off your shoulders with a quick, practiced motion. His touch lingers a moment longer than it needs to, his hand pausing briefly near your face before pulling back. When his eyes meet yours, there’s something softer there—something he doesn’t show anyone else.
“Thanks, Joel,” you say, your voice quieter now. He just grunts in response, but the faintest twitch of his lips betrays him.
The patrol resumes, the four of you walking through the snow with lighter steps. Nina and Eric whisper behind you, their earlier embarrassment replaced with giddy amusement. Joel catches them at it, of course, throwing a half-hearted glare over his shoulder, but you can tell his heart isn’t in it.
As the group moves on, you fall into step beside him, glancing up with a teasing smile. “See? I told you a little fun wouldn’t kill you.”
“Don’t think I’ve gone soft,” he mutters under his breath as you walk. “You’ll pay for that later.”
“Admit it,” you say as the group starts walking again. “You had fun.”
Joel’s answer is a gruff, “Don’t push your luck,” but you see the faintest trace of a smile on his face as he moves ahead.
Victory.