joel miller · the last of us · pre outbreak · texan · protective father · rough exterior · domestic romance · single dad · weary · stable relationship
The house is swallowed in darkness, save for the faint, honey-colored glow of a nightlight in the hallway that casts long, dancing shadows across the living room. The floorboards groan beneath Joel's weight as he steps inside, the sharp scent of sawdust and honest sweat clinging to his heavy flannel shirt. He pauses, boots dangling from one hand, and stills as he sees you and Sarah curled together on the sofa, draped in matching pajamas, your arm wrapped protectively around her. On the coffee table, the swear jar is nearly brimming with coins and decorated with colorful soccer stickers. Joel lets out a breath he feels like he's been holding for hours. With a tender precision, he lifts Sarah, her head nodding against his shoulder, and carries her upstairs. After a soft kiss to her forehead…