Wee Hours
Rating: PG-13/T
Genre: Angst/Hurt/Comfort
Summary: To say that the city's method of heating buildings is sub-par nowadays is like saying that water is wet and fire is hot. Implied Joel/Tess (to some extent). Warning: Strong Language.
Author's Note: I have wanted to write for this fandom for so long. SO LONG.
Disclaimer: I don't own The Last of Us. It belongs to Naughty Dog.
[-]
Tick. Tick.
Tick. Tick.
Joel's broken the clock before, and so he knows how Tess will react if he does it again. Besides, he's learned his lesson: Breaking the clock solves nothing, only gives him the temporary thrill of having shut up an unthinking, unfeeling inanimate object for a little while with the knowledge that he'll have to get another one later.
To say that the city's method of heating buildings is sub-par nowadays is like saying that water is wet and fire is hot. The heating is shit, the air conditioning is shit, partly because maintenance is shit, partly because resources are scarce and can't always afford to be maintained, and partly because when there are problems with the heating or cooling systems in their rooms and buildings people aren't always keen to let people inside to fic them.
Joel and Tess fall under that third reason occasionally, because civilians aren't supposed to have guns (among other things).
The only reason anyone wastes time on heating or cooling systems at all nowadays is survival: Too cold, you get frostbite and lose a finger, or you get sick and die; too hot, and you overheat and die. Too much strain on an already strained medical system in this city is undesirable, and so the powers that be try to put at least some effort into keeping people warm in the winter and cool in the summer when temperatures get unmanageable through other means.
Tonight, however, is an exception.
Joel knew it would be an exception when the pipes froze that morning, knew it would be an exception when the beer can he'd left on the windowsill with a small amount of liquid left in it was found frozen around noon, and he'd really known it when tough-as-nails, I-don't-care-if-it's-ten-below-and-I'm-in-a-t-shirt-I'm-hungry-and-I'm-going-for-food Tess came knocking on his bedroom door, looking sullen.
That's why they're here, why they've got every blanket available to them piled onto the bed on top of them, and why Joel had his arms wrapped around her waist and his chin resting on top of her head. She's asleep; he isn't.
They've slept in the same bed before. They don't usually talk about it afterwards- because what's there to talk about? And if they tried, it would only make things complicated between them. Words are complicated. Why make it complicated when it's not? Joel didn't date much before this hell broke out, too busy with work and Sarah, but he knows how quickly easy relationships can become complex and has too much appreciation for how simple things are between himself and Tess to ruin it. He assumes she feels the same way.
Once she actually gets to sleep, she sleeps like the dead. Occasionally they talk, chat about banal things or semi-important things (never really important things, because if they disagree it's not going to end well) until a significant lull comes and Tess drifts off. Joel doesn't find it quite so easy, and usually ends up wide awake for hours after she manages to fall asleep.
He hates it. He hates being awake. Being asleep isn't too much better (it's better than it was but nightmares still happen), but at least then everything is jumbled and confusing instead of clear-headed; anything that allows a temporary escape from the miserable world that they currently inhabit is good. The early hours of the morning when one can't sleep are when those musings are at their worst, and without Tess to talk to him and distract him his mind goes to all kinds of bad places that he tries to avoid.
He tries not to move too much, because however restless Joel is he doesn't want to risk waking her, however difficult a task that might be on most nights. Tess is not a pleasant woman to be around when she's woken out of a dead sleep without a good reason (but then, who is?). He counts the seconds until he can shift or turn and direct his attention to some other part of the room, and tries not to adjust his grip on her too much.
The only place he doesn't look is at the clock. In Joel's experience, staring at a clock when you can't sleep is one of the most maddening things in existence, and not being able to sleep is maddening enough.
So all he does is listen to the clock. Listens to it tick, counts the cracks in the ceiling (there are plenty), tries to shut his eyes and match his breathing with Tess's in the hopes that it might soothe him into sleep, but it never happens when he tries. He tries because he's desperate, but even then Joel knows that when (if) sleep comes, it will come like a sneak attack to get him when he least expects it.
Tonight he is fortunate, and sleep comes.
Tonight he is less fortunate, and so do the nightmares.
Some nights they are clearer than others. Some nights he doesn't remember them once he's awake. Sometimes he knows it's a dream, sometimes he only realizes that after Sometimes he awakes with a little start, and sometimes he wakes up with a scream. But most of the time he wakes up alone, because he and Tess don't do this often enough that she's been present for any kind of nightmare of his before.
Joel only half remembers it tonight: People frothing at the mouth, fire and screaming, a little bit of Sarah and Tommy but not the focus of the dream (thank God, even though he can't honestly say he believes anymore), but he also doesn't realize that it's a dream until he's awake and truly thinks he's in danger of being bitten until he's had his eyes open for a few seconds and knows he's in his room, not on a street surrounded by the infected.
And by that time, he's already jerked up and off the bed and made a few unpleasant noises, both disturbing enough that Tess is roused out of an otherwise sound sleep. Joel hears rather than sees her fumbling for her gun on the side-table.
"What? What?" Tess's voice is urgent, sharp but composed, never panicked. He can't remember the last time he'd heard her panic. Joel tries to calm down, tries to regulate his still uneven breathing. It works- a little, anyways. And in that time, Tess has figured out that they are not in any danger and has returned her gun to the table. He hears her sigh. "Bad dream?"
"Bad reality," Joel says quietly, more to himself than to her. "I'm fine."
"I'll believe that when you stop hyperventilating." She doesn't touch him and doesn't say anything more until his breathing has returned to normal. She's never experienced one of his nightmare episodes before, but he knows she knows what he does and doesn't like people saying or doing when his blood-pressure's up.
"Sorry I woke you." He says, voice low and rough and making it very clear to both of them that the episode is just short of humiliating (it would be more so if it wasn't Tess, who is probably the only living person aside from Tommy who knows him well).
"It's fine. There's still plenty of time to sleep. Is it just me, or is it warmer in here now?" Tess muttered, pulling off the sweatshirt she'd worn to bed and revealing the flannel button-down she had on beneath. And she's right- it is warmer.
"They probably got to fixing the heat." Joel responded, rubbing his eyes and leaning back against the pillows again.
"Hm." He has no idea if Tess intends to stay or go back to her own room until she tosses the sweatshirt into the chair near the door and settles back into bed, turning and setting her head down on his chest. The gesture is intimate, more than just friendly or familial, and they've slept this way before- but again, they don't talk about it. They don't talk about a lot of things.
Joel curls an arm around her back and considers, grimly, the task of falling asleep again that's now before him. It's rare that he ever gets back to sleep on nights like these, and that he has to go the extra mile required to not disturb Tess means it's going to be even worse. Still, he does not regret that she stays.
"Plenty of time to sleep," He grumbles. "Four hours at best."
"You've survived on less." She remarks without lifting her head. She's quiet for another few minutes, and Joel assumes that she's asleep until Tess dryly says, "So are you actually gonna sleep now, or do I have to sing you a lullaby so that you're not awake for half the night? Again?"
Joel rolls his eyes. "If the point's to get me to sleep, you should probably avoid anything like singing."
"Hilarious. I could always choke you until you pass out."
"Be my guest."
But all she does is move a little closer and rest a hand on his chest, and Joel considers that things could be much, much worse.
-End
