Chapter Text
February 2010
Joel squeezes his eyes closed against the cold, and hunches his shoulders up, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. Even out of the wind it's fucking freezing, and they've been waiting in an empty, crumbling restaurant for over an hour.
Tess is sitting in the booth sideways, back against the wall and legs stretched out on the seat in front of her. She's got her hands tucked under her arms. Her purple stocking hat is pulled low on her head, the fabric doubled over her ears, and her breath puffs out in white clouds. "This is bullshit," she mutters from behind clenched teeth. She ducks her head down into the scarf that lines the neck of her green puffy jacket, and she looks like an angry little turtle, the kind that can easily take a finger off you in one bite.
"He's not showing," Joel says, shifting in the booth, trying to pull his jacket tighter around him. He'd layered up before they headed out, but the cold is relentless.
"How the fuck is everyone so fucking unreliable?"
There's no real answer for that. Their supplier could be writhing around in a ditch somewhere, infected, or he could have decided it just wasn't worth going out in a fucking blizzard. It didn't matter much in the short term.
He gives her another ten minutes before he says, "We're gonna freeze to death out here, Tess." Asking outright to go home will just make her dig her heels in, so he opts for irritating her instead.
"Is it seriously too much to ask that people show up on time to sell their fucking drugs?" Her teeth are chattering a little and he's pretty sure she's close to caving.
The snow was whipping around in the street, wind shaking what was left of the windows. "Seriously, Tessa, my balls are gonna freeze off."
She throws an empty salt shaker at him and he smiles, utterly pleased with himself.
"Come on. I got food at my place and sitting here isn't gonna make him show up."
She's rolling the pepper shaker back and forth on the table, and she asks, "Is your heat on?"
"Yeah, not strong, but it's on. Your place got any?"
She laughs. "Of fucking course not." She looks out into the street, glaring at the worsening weather. "Yeah, fine, fuck it. Let's go."
He scoots out to the end of the booth slowly, wincing at the soreness from sitting still for so long. The bruises have faded to yellowy green splashes on his skin and the cuts are healing well, but there's a lingering ache in his back. The bruise on Tess's face is fading too, a just shadow under her eye. He knows the cuts on her knuckles were ugly and infected, but she's been trying to hide it from him for the last week or so and he's not sure how well they're healing. There's a clenching in his chest thinking about that, her cut up hand and bruised face, and he closes his eyes and calms his breathing.
She pushes herself out of the booth and stomps her feet. "We're stopping by my place so I can get some clothes."
"Yeah, 'kay." His eyes are still closed, and his breath is stuttering in his chest.
"Joel," she says, and it's in that tone that can't be ignored. He blinks his eyes open and she's standing close, not touching him but just right there. "You okay?"
He swallows hard and nods. She reaches her hand out and pulls him out of the booth when he grabs it. She holds onto his fingers until his breathing evens out and he nods again. She squeezes his hand, and turns on her heel, heading out the door.
She's never asked him about it, never made any snarky comments either. She just waits with him until it passes, a steady presence at his side. She'd put her hand on his shoulder once, and he'd flinched away from her so now she just waits it out standing near to him.
Joel follows her out into the storm.
The wind is whipping around outside, and the streets are thick with snow. Even when they get away from the waterfront back to the QZ proper there's hardly anyone out. Tess's place is a freezer and he offers his backpack so she can double-up on the clothing she's hauling over to his apartment. She grabs some food, too, and a couple books, and they're back out in the wind. The checkpoint lines are non-existent, and the guards look miserable and edgy, a dangerous combination, but they get through okay.
He's pleasantly surprised when the lights come on, and is happy to be out of the cold in his sad little apartment.
He's got blankets hung over the windows, and another hung across the opening to where his bed is. Between the blankets and the radiators, it's not bad, down right warm compared to Tess's place. They unload her stuff and the food, and he says "I'm gonna heat some water for cleaning up. Then maybe some food?"
She peels off the outer layers of her clothing and her boots, and sits at the table, head propped up on one hand. She looks deceptively relaxed, but there's an angry set to her jaw. "Yeah, fine."
He glances over at her. "It was just the weather. We'll catch up with him next time."
She nods. She's watching him from half-closed eyes, and it seems like she's not really paying attention, but he knows she is. It's a little unnerving to be honest, and he takes his time in the kitchen, tidying up and setting things away. He can feel her eyes burning into his back She's been watching him like that since he'd gotten the shit kicked out of him.
When the pot of water is warm enough he looks over his shoulder at her and says, "You wanna go first?"
She stares for far too long before she says, "Sure," and takes it into the bathroom with her. He frowns after her, unable to get a read on her mood. He sinks into a chair at the table, staring into space while he waits.
She barely looks at him when she gets out of the bathroom, just throws her dirty clothes at her backpack and flops onto the couch.
The water's lukewarm, and he stands in the bathtub, scrubbing himself clean. He soaps up his hair and then sticks his head under the freezing water of shower, rinsing as fast as he can. His hair's getting long and he combs it back from his eyes when he's toweled himself dry. He pulls on a pair of thin flannel pants and a t-shirt from the cleanish pile on the tank of the toilet.
She's sorted the food she brought and put it on the shelves with his, and there's something about that sharing that twists in his stomach. She's stretched out on the couch now, reading. Ignoring him, apparently, and he huffs to himself and sets about making as decent a meal as he can. He's frying up some mystery meat from a tin when she leans against him, peering into the pan. He startles, and gets a little laugh from her.
"You cook?"
"Not really, but I can make stuff hot without burning it." He can smell her damp hair and clean skin, and he's acutely aware of the softness of her breasts through her thin shirt as she leans into him.
"That's basically cooking, right?"
"Here," he says, handing her the spatula. "Stir that." He points at the pan and moves away from her.
He's got a few eggs left, and whisks them in a bowl, adding some dried herbs that he got from Stefania. He watches Tess poke at the pan with the spatula until the meat's nice and crispy before he pours the eggs in.
"Stop stirring. Wait a bit."
They're both staring at the pan, then she leans over it a little, eyes closed and inhaling deeply.
"Make it cook faster."
He chuckles. "Patience, Tess."
He takes the spatula from her and drags it through the eggs, mixing the with the meat.
"Get a couple plates, would ya?"
They both eat fast, near to shoveling the food into their mouths. She stops halfway through, mouth full and says, "Really good," and he's absurdly pleased at that.
They clean up the dishes, and she's still cutting glances his way, outright staring when she thinks he isn't looking. He wishes she'd just come out with whatever is circling around that clever head of hers.
They settle on the couch and he's feeling like he's ready to shake it out of her. She's twirling an unlit cigarette between her fingers and asks, "You got anything else to smoke?"
He reaches behind the couch, fishing a tin from the shelves and handing it to her. There's two joints left, and they're getting stale so he puffs greedily when she passes one back to him. She sits the ashtray on the couch between them and drops that flashy lighter of hers beside it.
They finish the first one fast, businesslike even. They sit in silence, and it's nice to have her there even if she's being weird. Comfortable. She stretches out her legs, resting her bare feet on the coffee table.
His skin is warm and his body is humming pleasantly when they start on the second, and they take this one as slow as the first was fast. Tess rolls her head on the back of the couch to look at him. She turns sideways on the couch the next time she passes him the joint, eyes smoldering like green fires.
He draws hard on it, closing his eyes just to get away from the intensity of her stare. He can hear her breathing, he can fucking feel her watching him. There's an ache low in his belly, spreading lower by the second. It's too hot in the room, and too cold at the same time.
When he looks at her he feels like he can't breathe.
She takes the joint from him, and her fingers linger on his. She stares into his eyes when she drags and exhales, smoke curling from her mouth. She holds his gaze when she reaches over and stubs the joint out in the ashtray. She doesn't break her stare when she shifts, lightning fast, and swings herself onto his lap.
Her lips are on his then, sweet and hot and hungry. He licks into her mouth, splays his fingers over her hips and pulls her closer to him, until there's no space between them at all. The weight of her on him is its own delicious drug, and he pushes his hips up to feel more of her.
They're both panting for air when she pulls back a little, and he whines at the separation. She presses her forehead to his, fingers stroking over his cheekbones, and her breath is hot on his face. Her fingers curl over his ears, feather light touches that make him shiver, then around the back of his neck. She slides her fingers up and through his hair. She sighs, and mutters, "So soft."
She strokes his head, scratching her blunt nails along his scalp, pulling gently at his hair. He groans and shifts against her, fingers clenching on her hips.
"You like that," she says.
He leans up and catches her mouth, and her tongue slips over his. He nips at her lips and says, "Very much like that."
She tangles her fingers in his hair, stroking through it, tugging lightly, then petting down over the sides of his head. She scratches her nails back up and says, "I know you do, kitten."
It's like a body blow, in the best possible way, knocking the wind from his chest and leaving him gasping. He kisses her hungrily, greedily, and she's grinning into his mouth. He runs his hands up her back, tangling in her hair.
She raises up on her knees, pushing her pants down, wiggling them off. He groans at the heat of her when she presses back down on him. He grinds up in that heat and buries his face in her neck. She's pushing one hand under his shirt, scratching at his skin. She runs her thumb over one of his nipples, then pinches him, hard, and he growls into her skin "Tessa. Fuck." He licks at her neck, dragging his stubbly chin across her soft skin and she shivers violently under him.
She pulls his head up by his hair and kisses him. She's grinding against him in a steady rhythm, and he can feel her slickness soaking through the thin fabric between them. He untangles his hand from her hair, and slides it down her body, palming her breast, stroking down her side. He pushes her back, fingers on her hip, before getting his hand into the waistband of his pants.
She shifts back as he shoves his pants down just enough to pull himself free. Tess groans, "Damn, Texas," and wraps her fingers around his on the shaft of his cock. She strokes up, pushing his hand aside, and rubs her thumb in little circles just under the head of his dick and his fingers clench on her hips.
"Tess, god, you need to stop that."
"Oh yeah?" she laughs and slides her thumb up over the head of his cock, rubbing through the slippery precum there, and it's just too much. It's been so long, and it's her and he wants this to last.
"Please, pretty please with sugar on top don't make me come all over your hand, Tessa," he says, voice sweet, looking up at her from half-closed eyes.
"Oh, jesus fuck," she whispers and seals her mouth against his, teeth clacking together, tongue buried deep. He feels like she's trying to lick her way right through him, and he goes slack and willing under her. She's lifting up, and pulls off of his mouth with a wet pop, saliva stringing between their lips. She's angling him into her, and her eyes black and huge.
She goes slow, inching down his length, her breath hitching as she does. He rubs his fingers on the sharp bones of her hips, the strong muscles of her thighs, then runs his hands up her back. She squeezes her eyes shut, and he angles up to kiss her slack mouth. He keeps one arm around her back and brings the other between them.
Her skin where they're joined is slick, so slick and wet and he wants so badly to taste her. He circles his thumb lightly over her clit, and her hips jerk, driving her further onto his cock. It's so much, so good, and he whispers her name like a litany when she's fully buried in him.
She drops her head and buries her face in his neck. He can feel her clenching around him, tight and hot and he can't remember how to breathe. She's rocking her hips just a little, and he moves his thumb in time with her. He nuzzles his face down into her, kissing her ear, her jaw, her mouth. He presses his thumb more firmly against her, steadily pushing harder, and she's bucking into his hand. Then she yelps, a small, bitten off sound, and she's arching and quivering in his arms, clenching around his cock. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep from coming, and he tastes blood in his mouth.
She sucks in a ragged gasp, then giggles against his neck. When she lifts her head she's grinning, eyes bright and glassy. He's grinning too, and breathes, "So fucking gorgeous, Tessa."
That sets her moving, thighs flexing to lift her as she rides him. He slides a hand under her shirt cupping her breast, pinching the stiff point of her nipple. His other hand grabs her ass urging her on.
She's got her hands on his shoulders now, bracing as she lifts herself up then sinks back down on him. She rolls her hips and he drops his head back against the couch. She's keeping a steady rhythm of up, down, roll, and he's pushing up into her at each roll, harder each time. She's kissing his throat, fingers clawing at his shoulders, and he's so, so close.
The last bit of his brain flickers to life and he grates out, "Tess. Gonna... I can't..."
She grinds down hard on him and brushes her lips against his ear. "Safe. Come on Texas, give it to me," and that's all it takes for him to roar her name as he comes.
He pulls her closer as they both come down, shivering at each twitch of her body. She's giggling softly, kissing his neck. He's too boneless and languid to move save for stroking the damp skin of her back through her thin shirt. She moans when his softening cock slips from her body, and he kisses her face, littering kisses across her freckled cheeks.
She locks her hands behind his neck and leans back, a slanted smile on her face and her eyes bright and playful.
He brushes his fingers over her cheeks. "This was what's been eating at ya for the last week?"
She laughs. "Last week? Christ, Joel, since we met. Since Waco."
"Took ya long enough."
She leans in and kisses him, slow and thorough. "Worth the wait, kitten," she says, and he can only moan helplessly in reply.