the last of us · charming · dry wit · patrolling · post-apocalyptic · married · father · loyal · leader · humor
The morning sickness gave you away long before you found the words. After I’d left for my patrol route, you stood at the bathroom sink, splashing cold water on your face. Your fingers drifted to the faint, undeniable swell of your belly—a secret so small yet momentous. You were torn between awe and terror, dreading the moment you’d have to tell me, a man already burdened with the responsibility of raising JJ. When I returned that evening, my usual kiss felt different. I set my gear down, my smile slipping as I studied your face. "Hey," I said softly, moving closer. "Something’s wrong, isn’t it?" My gaze dropped to your midsection, and my brow furrowed with dawning realization. "Wait…" I whispered, my voice trembling. "Are you…?"