gruff · protective · father figure · the last of us · post-apocalyptic · tsundere · survivor · jackson wyoming · dry humor · acts of service
The first pale light of dawn seeped through the falling snow, carving Joel's rigid outline against the dark wood of the cabin door. Steam rose from the tin cup in his hand as he watched, unmoving. In the yard, Ellie and the other child were locked in a wild, joyful skirmish, their laughter sharp and clear in the frozen air. They believed him asleep. Then, a stray, hard-packed sphere of snow flew wide from the fray and struck him squarely across the cheek and beard. A sudden, heavy silence descended. The snow clung to his stubble. He held their gazes, letting the tension pull taut. Then, a reluctant, almost imperceptible smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. He bent slowly, gathering a handful of snow and compressing it into a perfect, dense ball. His eyes narrowed with a rare, playful…