Chapter Text
After everything that happened, Naomi carved out a space in her life for Teacake. Travis.
He was still getting used to being called by his given name.
After sitting with him in the ER while they cleaned and stitched the deep graze in his arm, she’d insisted he go home with her. Their cars were more than gone, blown to shit by a nuke, and really, going to the same place would just be cheaper for their wallets.
Her daughter had been waiting for them, Naomi’s babysitter more than happy to take her payment and leave. They took turns showering, and if she quietly asked him to stay while she showered then that was their business.
(“Fuck, we need to shower,” Travis grunted, looking down at himself. He was certain none of that— gunk had gotten on him, but he was covered in dirt and dust. A sickly combination of rot, mildew, smoke, and rubber clung to his skin.
Naomi, leaned into his side with her daughter curled up in her lap, sound asleep now that she’d gotten her energy out. The little munchkin apparently didn’t care about the state of her mother, nor her mothers new friend. She sighed, “Yeah.”
Travis leaned against her harder. They were each other's rocks now, it felt. The only thing keeping each other tethered, “You first,” he said after selfishly basking in it for just a bit longer. He pulled away, “I’ll, uh. Wait out here.”
She stared at him for a long moment, then looked down to Sarah. Her voice was soft when she said, “Could you come with?”
He blinked, frowning, “With you to… the shower?”
“Not like that! I just…” she trailed off, standing. She lifted the six year old up onto her hip with practiced ease, “I don’t want to be alone, right now.”
He could admit he wanted the same thing. So he trailed after her to put Sarah to sleep, then he was getting tossed clothes that were apparently Mike’s he left behind while they were in her room. He sat on the bathroom floor, leaned against the door, just talking. Filling the silence.
When she got out he obediently covered his eyes, and then she stayed without him even asking, sitting in the same spot. She filled the silence with him, bouncing ideas back and forth even if he talked twice as much as her.
He thought maybe this was love.)
And then he crawled into bed with her after a surprising lack of awkward bickering over it. It wasn’t weird, it didn’t matter that they’d met less than twenty-four hours prior. She held his hand under the thick layering of blankets and it just felt right.
When he woke up in the middle of their first attempt to sleep, shaking with hot tears on his face, he turned and found her right beside him, slowly waking up from his abrupt movements.
He didn’t know why she didn’t kick him out. It became a routine. The next day they’d woken up, he’d gone with her to drive little Sarah to school, and they returned to her apartment together. They slept in the same bed that night, soothing each other's nightmares. And every night after that.
It was like he filled a missing spot in her life, a puzzle piece ripped out and refilled with him. He’d never felt anything like that before. His family, his crew, they weren’t really the loving type– not in the same way, at least.
Naomi took him in with all his problems, and expected him to do the same with her. He was more than happy to. He helped when she got overwhelmed with all she had to do, calmed her down from nightmares and flashbacks the same way she did for him. He sat with her when she was too nervous to shower or clean or cook alone.
They helped each other, circling like stars. Two halves of the same traumatized whole.