Work Text:
for everyone who has spent christmas alone.
The worst part is the shouting.
You can ignore the passive-aggressive snides, mumbles that reach your ears in passing. You can ignore the absence of the feeling of safety. You have even learned to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach when you apply another layer of concealer.
But the shouting seems to follow you. No matter how many rooms you put in between them and you, the sounds crawl through the house, slipping under doors and into hiding nooks that you’ve long outgrown.
It makes you freeze in your tracks, every time it starts. You stand still for a moment, listening, trying to hear what it is about, how bad it seems. There is always the gnawing fear of them running out of words and turning to actions instead. And despite the fact that you’re a grown adult, that you’re technically not the helpless child you once were, it still scares you like nothing else does.
It’s exhausting to exist in a violent house.
You silently let the front door fall shut behind you, stumbling a little as you make your way to the street. Your feet seem to have a mind of their own, carrying you out into the night without a goal in mind. Just get out of the house.
It’s surprisingly cold for Austin and you draw your jacket a little tighter around your shoulders as you move down the sidewalk. The houses on your street are lit up with Christmas lights, stars dangling in windows, colorful fairy lights wrapped around fences, a lit up reindeer figurine a few houses over.
A truck drives by, the engine humming quietly, before it pulls into a driveway two houses ahead of you. When you pass the house with your head down, the sound of a car door opening and slamming shut makes you jump slightly.
The voice that follows doesn’t.
“That you?”
It only takes Joel a few strides until he’s in front of you, brown eyes searching your body for god knows what. There is a brown paper bag in his hand but you don’t dare lift your head higher to look at his face.
“Whatcha doing out here? Escaping the family gathering?” He jokes lamely, remembering the way he used to sneak off during the holidays if it got too overwhelming.
“Something like that,” you mutter back, trying to put on something resembling a smile. Either it doesn’t work or Joel is too smart to be fooled by it. Because he nods softly, bending his back a little to try and get a look at your face, “Can you look at me for a second, darlin’?”
Oh, he’s so not playing fair. He knows exactly what that nickname does to you, especially coming from him. And he’s shamelessly abusing that.
You swallow, hard and lift your head enough for the porch light to hit you. Joel’s face instantly changes. The somewhat cheerful, joking manner he’d been in a second ago is replaced by concern and something else. Something that almost seems like anger.
He drops the bags of groceries to the floor, bringing both hands up to cup your face. He’s mere inches away when he suddenly stills, eyes softening a bit, “Can I?”
You give a small nod and right away, he closes the distance, turning your head a little to get a better look at the black eye that is undoubtedly getting worse by the second. He should get some credit for not flinching away, you think, for not pretending not to see it like everyone else does.
“You put ice on it or anything?” Joel mutters, his gaze flying over the rest of your neck, clearly checking for more injuries. You barely have time to shake your head no before one hand is on your back, steering you back towards the Miller’s house.
“We’ll get you patched up, okay?” Joel asks softly. When he sees your gaze, he adds, “Won’t take long, promise.”
The mood inside the living room could not reflect yours less. There is a bright tree by the window, colorful lights twinkling away. You’re barely inside when you hear footsteps coming down the stairs and you stop in your tracks. Of course Sarah would be home. You’ve gotten to know her rather well this year, after she almost failed Biology last year and when Joel mentioned it in passing, you offered to help out.
You don’t plan on letting her see you like this. She’s smart, like her dad and your afraid that just like him, she’ll know instantly what’s going on.
Joel tugs on your sleeve, motioning for you to stay. Then he turns the corner, catching Sarah at the foot of the stairs before she can reach you. Her voice still carries through to you.
“Did you get the ice cream?” Joel chuckles softly, “I did, dessert is safe. Listen, I gotta- I mean, Santa’s gotta do some last minute preparations. You mind staying in your room for a bit? And no peeking.” The girl grumbles something under her breath but heads back upstairs and a moment later, you hear her door close, a small breath of relief escaping you at that.
Joel's head appears around the corner, “Come on. I’ve got some stuff in the kitchen.”
He pulls out a first aid kit, disinfecting your wound carefully before wrapping a few ice cubes into a towel and dabbing it against your cheek a few times before holding still. The cold immediately seems to work and you involuntarily let out a sigh of relief.
Joel smiles a bit, his hand still pressing the cool sensation against your skin, “That’s better, hm? Just don’t leave it on too long.”
“Yes, sir,” you tease, bringing your own hand up to take the towel from him. There is a small moment, merely a few seconds, when your hand sneaks below his, your skin pressed against him, somehow fitting more perfectly than you ever couldve imagined. It feels even better than the ice.
Joel let go after a moment, taking a step back and turning to the kitchen that is messy with dinner preparations.
“She made you get ice cream?” You ask softly, hoping to steer the conversation into a somewhat pleasurable direction.
“Yeah, yeah, she did. You know how she is,” Joel smiles softly. It doesn’t last long. He clears his throat, glancing down at his feet.
“Listen, I know it ain’t my place. But this is not- it’s not normal. Not even close.”
“It is to them.”
Your voice is quiet. You don’t even want to say it. But something about Joel has always made you open up faster and more intensely than you have with anyone else, “It doesn’t happen that much.”
“Ain’t supposed to happen at all, darlin’,” he argues softly. His eyes fly to the window for a second. There’s a string of lights hung up in it as well. You think there’s not a single one at your house. You were raised on little light.
“We’re making dinner in a bit, Sarah’s pick, and Tommy can’t make it so we are one person short.”
You furrow your brows slightly, wondering for a moment why he is telling you about his dinner plans. But then- it washes over you.
“I couldn’t- I’m sure you have a lovely night planned and-”
“Won’t change if you’re there. It’ll still be a lovely night,” Joel says softly, nudging your foot with his. “Come on, let me- let me do this for you.”
You let him. There is dinner, luckily with no more questions about your slightly swollen face. Joel offers you some wine, lets Sarah pick a movie, pretends to hate that it’s some cheesy Christmas movie. You still catch him smiling at the screen throughout the film.
The teenager falls asleep halfway through and Joel gives you an apologetic look before he carries her to bed. When he comes back and sits down, his hand almost automatically finds your knee. Between the romantic movie and the second glass of wine, the atmosphere between you has changed.
“You know our door is always open, right? Sarah loves having you here.”
“Only Sarah?” You raise a brow, leaning into Joel’s broad form a little more and his eyes soften as he looks down on you, “You’ve had a long day. We shouldn’t add any more to that.”
“What if I want to?” Your face is hovering inches from his. You don’t remember even being this close to him, “Joel, please.”
He can’t resist your begging. He doesn’t think he could if he tried.
Christmas Eve brings you your first kiss with Joel. He runs his hands over your cheeks, always careful to avoid the bruise and even when you pull back to catch your breath, his mouth stays on your face, kissing your chin, your nose, your eyes.
He kisses your forehead an hour later when you’re wrapped into his sheets, after you’ve moaned and then cried immediately afterwards. He holds you through all of it, his voice barely a whisper to not wake Sarah.
“I like having you around too, darlin’.”