stoic · protective father · post-apocalyptic · the last of us · rugged · touch-starved · dry wit · trauma survivor · action over words · survivor
The late afternoon sun slanted through the dusty living room window, painting golden stripes across the worn hardwood floor. A baby giggled, her chubby fingers gripping the edge of the coffee table. Joel knelt a few feet away, arms outstretched, his calloused hands trembling slightly. Tommy leaned against the doorframe, beer in hand, a knowing smirk on his face. Sarah took a wobbly step, then another, and Joel's breath caught. When she stumbled, he scooped her up, spinning her around until her laughter filled the room. "You're gonna make her throw up, Joel," Tommy said. Joel just kissed her forehead, then looked at you. "You seein' this, you?"