Archive of Our Own ^beta

"Sometimes, home has a heartbeat."

~ Beau Taplin

…

It all started with a doodle clipped to the fridge with a fragment of an old magnet. A mindless little scribble she’d done over breakfast when she was supposed to be listening to Joel relay the plan for the day. Instead, she’d messily drawn a rather shitty rendition of his grumpy face.

“Kiddo, are you even listenin’ to me?” Joel had asked, leaning over the table to see what had her so preoccupied, her head bent low over a scrap of paper, an elbow propped up on the table in a way he often scolded her for. Manners and all.

“Uhuh.” Tongue in cheek, she’d put her finishing touches on her masterpiece.

He'd given her said grumpy face when he saw what she was drawing. “See? Looks just like you,” she’d quipped, grinning as she held it up.

“Yeah, uncanny,” he’d replied deadpan, but his dumb lips were fucking twitching and the crinkles by his eyes told her he was definitely amused even as he flicked her gently on the nose.

“Little shit.” Unbelievably fond for a supposed insult.

“Motherfucker,” Ellie had returned, grinning wider as she swatted at his hand.

Joel had heaved his heavy old man sigh and got up to put their dishes in the sink then, and she darted up the stairs to snag her favorite hat off her dresser, the doodle forgotten almost immediately on the table.

…

It’s not until the next day when she’s leaving early for school, apple in her mouth and hands full of her shit that she sees that dumbass doodle hanging up on the fridge.

She nearly spits the fruit out in shock, and the backpack that’s barely hanging off one shoulder slips down to her forearm before she can stop it.

Before Ellie can question it further, Joel raps his knuckles on the screen door. “Kiddo, let’s go or you’re gonna be late!”

Shrugging it off for now, she sinks her teeth fully into the apple, and slings the backpack back onto her shoulder. “M’ coming!” she yells, but her mouth is full, so it comes out as fucking gibberish. Then she’s racing out the door with Joel helpfully holding it open, so she doesn’t get ahead of herself and collide with it face first. As funny as that’d be, Joel would fuss something fierce and probably keep her home just to make sure that she’s okay because he’s anal like that.

Ellie leaps from the porch, clearing the four steps down with ease in a way that always makes Joel nervous. She waits until she’s firmly planted on the ground before taking another bite of apple, turning to wave her goodbye at Joel who’s standing on the porch still, with hands on his hips and a fondly exasperated smile on his face as he shakes his head at her.

“Jesus, kiddo, watch yourself, and don’t run with apple in your mouth,” Joel chides, using his grumpy face again. “Have fun at school and come get me if you need me.”

Ellie rolls her eyes, but affection blooms wide in her chest at how earnest he is. “You worry too much, old man. I’m a fucking amazing multitasker.”

For emphasis she bites into the apple again and waves it at him. Of course, she takes three steps and trips, only barely righting herself before she tumbles all the way to the ground. She turns a grin on Joel and waves him off when she sees that he’s already halfway down the steps, his face pinched in concern and his arms partially outstretched like he could actually reach her.

“I’m fine! Okseeyalaterbye!” Ellie rushes the last part of it out as she runs off, swearing she can hear his exasperated grunt from there.

“Be safe, brat!” Joel calls out one last time like she’s a source of constant stress for him, but it holds so much warmth, like the honey he puts in her tea when she doesn’t feel well that it makes that same warmth pool in her stomach.

It feels nice having someone give a shit about her. Like what she imagines family would be like if she had any experience with that. Joel is a little worry wart, constantly fretting after her, but it’s sort of sweet in an annoying as hell way. He takes care of her, even in ways that don’t make any fucking sense. Which also apparently includes hanging her shitty drawings on the fridge for some reason.

Ellie wants to ask what the deal is with that, but she figures it’s probably some weird as fuck old world thing that she wouldn’t get anyway.

Besides, Joel is just fucking weird. He does a ton of strange shit she’ll never understand. She should give up trying to figure him out.

…

Of course, Joel continues to do weird shit like bake her a fucking pie with fresh berries when she aces her math test, and he hangs that paper on the fridge too. He wears the bracelet she made for him without shame, never takes the fucking thing off, in fact. Puts the shitty wooden carving she’d done on his bedside table even though she’d told him to toss it in the garbage because it was an awful first try, but he won’t hear of it. He displays the damn deformed thing like it’s the coolest art piece ever.

They go hunting with Tommy, and Joel let’s her shoot with the rifle just like he taught her, and she nails a huge fucking buck nearly right between the eyes. Tommy whistles long and high in admiration, shifting in his saddle and slapping a hand on his leg. Joel grins so wide that he almost splits his face in half.

“Damn, kiddo, that’s a mighty fine shot,” Joel says, and his eyes are so bright, and his hair is windblown crazy, and his skin has all happy crinkles instead of the frowny ones he usually has. He seems lighter. And smug for some reason, as he gives a sidelong glance to Tommy that Ellie doesn’t really understand.

“Your kid’s a regular Annie Oakley,” Tommy adds appreciatively. “Finest shot in the West.”

Your kid.

Her face heats under the complement even though she doesn’t fully know who the fuck Annie Oakley is. She ducks her head and drops the rifle so it rests in her lap. “Fuck off, Tommy.”

It sticks with her that Joel didn’t even blink when his brother had referred to her as his kid.

“I’m fucking serious, Ellie girl. You’re like a master hunter. Sure as hell out shot me and this old fucker here,” Tommy insists, flashing his pearly whites at her. “Badass, ya know, for a munchkin.” He side eyes her, looking for a reaction and she flips him off and sticks her tongue out.

Joel, honest to God, belly laughs in a way she rarely ever hears from him, and it hits her in the chest. The sunlight gleams off his bed head that she makes fun of him for, (do you even own a fucking brush, dude?) and he looks so damn happy. Relaxed and at ease, and it makes him look a decade younger.

“Very badass, kiddo,” Joel says agreeably and if anything, he softens even further, his smile is bright as the fucking sun before he cuts his eyes at Tommy playfully. “And who you calling old, runt?”

Tommy scoffs, playing into it with fervor. “Runt? I’m bigger than you, big brother.”

“Wouldn’t stop me from kicking your ass, little brother,” Joel warns good-naturedly.

“Fuck off,” Tommy repeats her words with a dumb smile.

Joel looks to her then as he sidles up his horse beside her own. “You did good,” he murmurs, lower like it’s just for her as he gently takes the rifle back and slings it over his shoulder. He leans forward in the saddle and flicks the bill of her cowboy hat. “Proud of ya, baby girl.”

She smiles until her face hurts.

Once they’ve collected the buck, Tommy and Joel continue their chat as they argue about who would actually win in a fight, but Ellie mostly tunes them out as she replays what Joel just said to her.

It’s on constant repeat for countless minutes as she chews on it with an intensity that makes her chest seize up. She doesn’t think anyone has ever said those words to her. Ever. Joel is proud of her. He fucking said it, and he sounded like he meant it too. It’s insane to think about, considering she doesn’t think anyone has ever been proud of her. People don’t stick around long enough for that.

Of course, Ellie gets so lost in her head that she doesn’t see the low hanging branch. Not until it collides with her face and sends her sprawling off the horse and onto the ground. Her world shudders violently, and then her vision goes frighteningly dark.

Fuck.

…

Ellie comes to with a familiar calloused, warm hand tapping her cheek, and an equally familiar gruff voice, panicked and trembling. “Baby, can you hear me?” A voice that has no business sounding so upset, and it makes her want to respond so badly. “Hey, c’mon, Ellie, baby? Open your eyes for me. Please, kiddo. Let me see those pretty brown eyes of yours.”

The hand shakes harder against her cheek, and her eyelids are fucking lead. “Wake up for me, baby. C’mon, you can do it.” Her eyelids flutter, and she hears his breath exhale sharply.

A moan slips past her lips, and then miraculously, Ellie gets her eyes open even though her head feels like a sledgehammer slammed against it. “There ya are,” Joel murmurs, voice quaking. “You’re okay, baby. Just take it easy. You’re okay.”

Joel is on his knees next to her in the grass, Tommy crouched just past his shoulder. Joel’s got a bandana pressed to her aching head, and he’s being careful not to crowd her, but the hand that had been tapping her face incessantly is now cradling her jaw, a large thumb strokes along her the apple of her cheek. Joel and Tommy have matching worry lines pulling their faces tight. Brown irises blown wide and bloodshot as they watch her intensely.

She tries to sit up, and Joel quickly slips a hand behind her upper back, the other keeps the cloth against what must be a decent sized cut on her forehead. “Slow, baby, slow,” he cautions, biting hard into his cheek as he supports her.

“Fuck,” Ellie mumbles, as the shift in movement makes her dizzy. Her vision swims dangerously, and the ringing in her ears increases until Joel’s frantic fretting is nearly inaudible. She breathes through the spell until her chest loosens enough to let her take in air, and finally her senses clear enough to notice that she’s freaking Joel the fuck out right now.

“I’m good,” she says, laying a hand on his forearm and squeezing even as he shifts them so she’s leaning most of her weight against him. His hand on her back quivers violently and then his lips are pressing fiercely into her hair and lingering there. “I swear.”

Tommy is the one to respond. “You just bludgeoned yourself on a fucking tree branch, Ellie girl. Wouldn’t call that good.” She winces when his words make Joel flinch against her. “We gotta getcha back to the clinic. Make sure that noggin of yours is okay.”

That sounds like a fucking solid plan. Whatever gets her head to quit feeling like it got shredded to pieces, even though she despises the clinic astronomically. The only issue is Joel who doesn’t seem to have heard anything Tommy just said. It’s obvious that he’s having some sort of moment. The hand on her back is gripping tightly to her shirt, but not enough to hurt. Never to hurt. The other is back to dabbing at the blood she can feel drying on her forehead. He wipes with a tenderness that makes her heart swell.

“Joel?” Tommy says, concern etching higher.

This close to Joel, Ellie can feel him trying to get his breathing under control, can feel him struggling to keep it deep and even. Shit, this is gonna give him a fucking panic attack if she doesn’t get it the fuck together and show him that she’s okay.

He needs her to be okay, and she hates seeing him so upset. Ellie puts a hand on his chest, feels the way his heart is pounding against his ribcage. “Joel, look at me,” she whispers, because his eyes have slipped shut under deeply furrowed brows. He does open his eyes and look at her. There are fucking tears caught in his lashes. “I’m okay,” she says firmly, fingers pressing harder against his chest. “That fucking tree is an asshole, but I promise I’m okay.”

Tommy snorts and shakes his head slightly from where he’s still hovering just beyond them but doesn’t comment on her downplaying. Joel, thankfully, snaps out of it then, and suddenly he’s as intense and urgent as ever as he fumbles around until he has the bandana tied around her head. He tilts her chin back so he can get a look at her eyes, and he’s frowning deeply as he examines her. “We need to get you back to Jackson. You might have a concussion, and that cut will probably need stitches.”

“Can you stand?” Joel asks gruffly, but before she can answer, he has already made a decision, and his arms are slipping underneath her legs, and behind her back to lift her up. Ellie already knows that she’ll be riding double with him, and that Tommy will make sure her own horse doesn’t get left behind.

“I got ya, baby. I gotcha.” His lips touch her head again, and it’s then that Ellie realizes what’s missing.

“Is my hat okay?” Because it’s her favorite, and Joel gave it to her for her birthday and it has her blue jay feather tucked into it.

Tommy shakes his head at her from his place walking next to Joel. “Worried about the damn hat.”

Joel ignores him. “We got the hat, kiddo,” he says gently because he knows what that hat means to her. “Now, let’s take care of you.”

…

They ride back to Jackson, heading straight for the clinic, and she’s quickly cleared of any lasting damage. Goes home with fresh stitches, a bottle of old Ibuprofen, and a mild concussion. Joel totes her all the way even though she insists that her legs work just fine. He seems to need the contact, and so she doesn’t put up much of a fight.

Joel frets and fusses over her the rest of the night, and over the following week, practically glues himself to her side. He chides her for not taking more time to rest, and he hovers more than she thinks is fucking necessary. But Joel also teaches her more songs on guitar, and she draws him a fuck ton more, and really shouldn’t be surprised when one of the best ones of him ends up on the fireplace mantle. They watch movies every night, and he lets her pick the film no matter what it is, even when she wears out Jurassic Park, and he tosses a pillow at her face when she won’t stop making dinosaur related puns.

Ellie can admit that she went a little overboard. Still, she thinks that Joel has a rather shitty rating scale because he doesn’t go over a solid four for every single one of them. The fucker.

What do you call a sleeping dinosaur? … A dino-snore! That’s basically, you, old man.

What do you call dinosaur farts? … An exstinktion!

Why can’t you hear a Pterodactyl go to the bathroom? … Because the pee is silent.

Joel won’t admit it under pain of death, but Ellie knows his favorite one was when she told him, “I want my arms raptor-ound you,” and proceeded to hug the fuck out of him.

Her favorite will forever be his response grumbled into the top of her head. “If you don’t knock it off, you’re gonna get your jurassikicked.”

“Did you just make an actual pun? Like non ironically?”

She feels him shrug underneath her. “I dino what you mean, kiddo.”

“Dude.”

Still, his smile is easy, and his body is warm, and his arms are securely holding her against his chest, and her head is resting over his heart, and she can feel it’s reassuring thump against her ear. Ellie has a feeling as much as he bitches about it, he’d let her tell him a million more shitty puns.

Even if his rating game is severely fucked up.

...

Joel keeps her home from school for three days after her lost fight with the fucking tree branch of Hell, and he stays with her, shirking his usual duties as well. She had to talk him out of making it a whole week, knowing it was more for his own peace of mind than her physically needing to stay home for that long. Ellie doesn’t complain, instead takes full advantage of it just being the two of them all day, soaking up the fact that he never seems to grow tired of her.

And when they eat in the dining hall for the first time in a week, Ellie overhears Joel and Tommy bragging that she was the one to take down that buck they brought back, conveniently skipping over the part where a tree fucking took her out.

Joel, who doesn’t like small talk or crowds or being the center of any kind of attention, has his fucking chest puffed out and a smirk on his face she recognizes as the one he uses when he’s beaten her at something (usually Monopoly because he's a greedy motherfucker). His arm wraps around her shoulders and tugs her against his side when a few people close in on them in their enthusiasm, silently reinforcing her personal space with his own body, making sure people keep their hands to themselves. She doesn’t know what to do with all the attention herself, but Joel won’t stop looking down at her with this weird fucking twinkle in his eye, and so for him she sucks it up and lets people fawn over her just a bit.

Tommy shoos the crowd away after a while, noticing they’re both getting a little claustrophobic about it. Joel leads her over to their usual spot, a corner table where they can keep their backs to the wall and eyes on all the exits. It’s a comfort for them both.

“You okay, kiddo?” Joel wonders when they’re alone again, and his voice is so fucking gentle that she doesn’t know what to do with it. Or the care that exudes from the palm that’s touching her upper back. Or the dark eyes that are filled with such warmth, and it seems to be aimed at her because it's her he’s always looking at.

He’d gotten plates of food for them both, getting all her favorites and a few vegetables because he insists those are important too no matter how much she grumbles about stupid fucking green beans. They’ve settled beside each other at the table. As Ellie watches Joel bite into the chicken first, showing her that it’s safe to eat without thinking much about it, she considers his question genuinely.

Biting her lip, she releases a breath and nods. “Yeah, I’m good,” Ellie murmurs, and the words feel truer than they have in a while.

Joel doesn’t drop his hand from her back until she tentatively takes a bite of her own chicken and gives him a sarcastic thumbs up.

...

The school in Jackson is putting on a talent show of sorts, and Joel makes it obvious that he thinks Ellie should do it. It’s less of a competition and more of a way for the kids to showcase their skills and creativity. She doesn’t really understand the point of it, and in all honesty, the whole thing seems sort of dumb, but it’s got Joel excited for some reason. Well, as excited as he ever gets.

He brings it up one evening while they’re out on the porch swing, him with the guitar and her with a sketch book in her lap, feet tucked under the heat of his thigh against the chill of the incoming night fall.

“You don’t gotta do it if you really don’t wanna,” Joel says carefully, pausing in his strumming. “I just think you got some damn good talents, kiddo, and it’d be a crying shame if the world never got to see ‘em.”

Ellie furrows her brow. “No offense, Joel, but I don’t think the world gives a fuck about my supposed talents. Few as they are.”

The only thing she was good for turned out to be for nothing. But that’s a sore subject for them both.

A wrinkle forms between his own brows, and then he’s setting the guitar aside, and she knows that she’s probably about to get a talking to about this. Unsure what to do with his hands, they fidget where they lay against his legs, fingers flexing.

“What do you mean, supposed? Kiddo, you are talented. Real fucking talented,” Joel says, reaching out a warm palm that lands on her ankle and squeezes gently. “And I might just be an old dinosaur, but trust me when I tell ya your artwork is amazing. Not saying you need to do anything you don’t wanna do, but if the only thing that’s stopping you is getting it in your head that you ain’t good enough, that’s the farthest thing from the truth. You’re amazing, baby girl.”

Joel is being so damn sweet, which is not something she’s used to from anyone. But Joel is different. Always has been, even when he was calling her cargo and grunting at her as a form of conversation. But now, he’s super different here in Jackson. He smiles, and he socializes, mostly with her or his brother, or his nephew and Maria, by extension, but she knows he goes to the cantina sometimes and has drinks with the people he patrols with on Saturday nights. He’s recognized in the town already as a fixer, and they constantly get knocks on their door and requests to fix faulty shit in the old houses they live in. When he’s not out on patrol or doing contractor work, he’s woodcarving in the garage that’s become his makeshift shop of sorts, the place where he keeps his tools and old man shit.

And he’s been trying out this whole let’s talk about our feelings bullshit. It’s odd for him to wanna talk anything out instead of being an asshole with pent up rage and a fuck ton of emotional baggage, but she knows that this is his way of turning over a new leaf or whatever. Joel is trying to be better for her, for his brother and for the town they now live in. But it involves a vulnerability that leaves both of them feeling awkward more times than not as they try to figure out the aspects and boundaries of their relationship.

It’s weird to see him take to this life like a fish to fucking water, but he has experience with this sort of thing. Ellie, on the other hand, is still very much figuring it out, and seeing where she fits into it all.

She can take a guess as to why this showcase is so important to him, why he constantly asks if she’s made any friends at school yet or when he makes not so subtle hints about doing teenager shit instead of hanging around his boring ass all day. He worries that she isn’t happy here, and she doesn’t know how to tell him that she is, it’s just such a foreign feeling that she’s still getting used to it. She’s not used to someone caring about her happiness, not like Joel does.

“Kiddo?” His hand rubs soothingly at her leg, and her eyes flick up to meet his own, and Ellie realizes that she must have zoned out for a minute. “If I'm pushing ya too hard on this, please say so, and I’ll back off. I just want ya to–” Joel cuts himself off, and sighs heavily, shaking his head. She can see it in his eyes though, what he wants for her.

“I want people to see you the way I do,” Joel says quietly, in that solemnly intense way he gets sometimes when he’s being dead fucking serious. It looks a whole lot like love, and it makes her chest constrict with the ferociousness of it. “You’re – you’re the best fucking kid, and I want people to know it.” His voice is thick, and his face is brimming with so much emotion that she nearly looks away. It’s perhaps one of the most vulnerably honest things he’s ever said.

Go fucking figure. He’s getting better at this.

“No one sees me like you do, Joel,” Ellie replies, voice breaking, because it’s true, but what she really means is that no one has loved her like he has, and she’s not sure she wants anyone else to because that is something that belongs only to them. But she gets what he’s trying to say, and it’s probably the nicest thing anyone has ever said to her. “And I don’t know if I want anyone to because you’re my – my person, man. What we have is–” she gestures wildly between them, feeling so out of sorts here.

“– special,” Joel concludes softly, and his eyes are liquid pools, and it has her shifting around so she can fall against his side, his arms already open and ready and surrounding her fully as she tucks herself into the space he always provides. “You are so fucking special, kiddo, and it ain’t got nothing to do with your immunity or your numerous talents.”

He presses her tighter to his side and rests his chin atop her head. “You're my person too, baby girl. I need you to – I need you to know that.”

For a man that’s supposedly sucky at expressing how he feels, he’s doing a pretty decent job of turning her into a fucking crybaby. Ellie sniffles and puts her face in his flannel, wiping her nose a bit like the little shit she is, taking a moment to breathe this, him, in and waiting until her face isn’t so damn heated before pulling back a little so she can look Joel in the eye.

“The, uh, theme or whatever for the showcase is home,” she says, fighting the urge to fidget under his full attention because of course there's a theme, and of course it's something she has no personal experience with. “Which really fucking stumped me cuz I’ve never really had one of those.” She’s not looking for fucking pity or anything, just stating a simple fact.

Her fingers give in and begin picking at the fabric of his shirt. “It’s one of the reasons I didn’t really wanna do it, besides, you know, thinking it was sorta lame as fuck to begin with anyway.” His mouth tics upwards at that, but his eyes are sad in that way he gets whenever she mentions her shitty past, and she’s aware that she’s rambling and needs to get to the fucking point like right now.

“I’m warning you, dude, that I’m probably about to say the corniest shit ever and you’re not gonna fucking laugh and be a dick about it or I’ll fucking swap your sugar for salt or something equally awful, got it?” she says, poking his ribs for good measure, which only makes him laugh and lean forward to brush a kiss to her head.

“I promise not to be a dick,” he says with false solemnity “I pinky swear it.”

Ellie rolls her eyes, but decides not to point out this time what a fucking dork he is because this is the really sappy shit part of their conversation where she admits that even though she had no plans whatsoever to do the stupid showcase, she still might have accidentally drawn something that fit the criteria all the same. She’s nervous to tell him, show him what she did.

What if he hates it? What if he doesn’t understand? Doesn’t feel the same way? She’ll probably crawl into a hole and die.

Still, they’re here, and he brought it up, so she might as well show him. Ellie reaches for her sketchbook that had fallen behind her at some point and starts thumbing through it, looking for a particular drawing.

“I, uh, drew the only thing that made sense to me,” she explains as a precursor before dropping the open sketchbook on her lap so he can see the page too. “…when I think of home.”

It's a collage of them, scenes from their life that take up space in her head every day, the ones she never wants to forget. She’s filled the page with everything home means to her. From the hat and mixtape he got her for her birthday to his favorite chipped coffee mug to them tangled up on the sofa watching a movie and him teaching her how to play guitar on the front porch. The two of them by a fire outside while she points out constellations in the night sky. The space shuttle they sat in on her birthday. Their sheep ranch on the moon. When he’d shown her how to whittle for the first time, his hands over her own, guiding and gentle. And the first time he ever told her he was proud of her, that damn twinkle in his eye. Her head resting against his back when they ride double on horseback, the softness in her shoulders and in his barely there Joel smile. When he kisses her forehead goodnight and braids her hair so it's off her neck.

The drawing is a jumbled up mess of puzzle pieces, but it represents who they are and how they fit together. Who Joel is to her, and she hopes desperately that he gets it.

His extended silence makes her even more nervous, and she says shakily, “I told you it was corny as fuck.”

His eyes finally slide over to meet her own, and there are fucking tears streaming silently down his cheeks, and suddenly his warm, large palms are reaching forward and bracketing her face and it’s all so much. It’s everything.

“It’s not corny,” he chokes out, overcome. “It’s perfect, baby. So fucking beautiful.” Joel touches his forehead to hers, and he laughs, a wet and happy sound that has her heart swelling.

“You should send this in, it would win,” he adds, tugging gently at her ponytail, probably in an attempt to release the emotional tension even as he makes no move to wipe the tears away.

“Dude, it’s not a competition,” Ellie says, feigning exasperation, but she’s smiling, perhaps a little dumbly, relief coursing through her at the evidence of his clear approval.

He shrugs, knocking his forehead again into her own before pulling away slightly. “Still,” Joel says, and that damn twinkle is back as his finger brushes a stray lock of hair off her face.

For the first time, Ellie recognizes the look for what it is. She has a name for it now. His expression. The natural light that turns his brown eyes golden. He’s proud. Of her. It hits just as hard now as it did the first time he ever said it. And it’s not just any pride. It’s the pride of a parent. Something she’d only read about in books and caught in a film or two.

But now it’s something that’s hers. It feels amazing.

“Maybe I will send it in,” Ellie says, maneuvering them both until she’s leaning against his side once more, closing her sketchbook and sliding it underneath a thigh. “But not unless you play me that song you promised.”

“Joel, you swore, man,” she adds when he pretends to seem confused.

“So demanding,” Joel murmurs, but he’s grinning like an idiot as he reaches down for the guitar.

“Don’t forget you said you’d sing.” Her chin presses into his shoulder for emphasis after they’ve settled again.

Joel squints. “I reckon I did say that, but don’t you dare laugh or be a dick,” he says, purposely repeating her earlier words.

She arches a brow, smirking. “Or what, you’ll trade my sugar for salt too?”

He situates the guitar so it’s across both of their laps. “Something like that, brat. Now you gonna help me strum or what?”

“You even have to ask? Scooch over, man, your big ass is taking up all the space on this swing.” Ellie playfully hip bumps him, and Joel belly laughs, exactly what she’d wanted him to do.

It's the best feeling in the world, making him laugh. It’s contagious and she laughs too.

They play the song like they do everything – together. And while most likely bickering.

…

Ellie does end up turning in her collage drawing, and even though there aren’t any awards or anything, the town’s people are all ecstatic by how the school’s showcase turned out. The town hall is filled with the varying kinds of projects the kids worked on. What home means to each and every one of them.

Like what she imagines an old world art exhibit would’ve been like.

Privately, she can admit just how fucking cool it is, and maybe not so dumb after all. Especially when she sees her drawing hung up conveniently at the epicenter of it all. Joel puts his hand on top of her head and tugs her into a hug that she pretends to be annoyed at even as she buries her face in his chest and wraps her arms around his waist tightly.

Glancing back up at him and his fucking bright eyes and warm smile saved just for her, Ellie realizes what it means to finally feel like she’s home. To finally know what’s it like to have one.

And she’s gotta fucking proud dad.

Who would’ve thought?

…