Ellie is sitting on the kitchen counter. She's been there for awhile now, actually. Legs crossed at the ankles, swaying to-and-fro. Heels lightly tapping against the cabinet door behind them when those little feet, hiding in a pair of white ankle socks like usual, swing backwards. It's a bit weird being in a house other than theirs for such an extended period of time, too. What's even weirder is being away from home and away from him for so long. Hours, well if she were being honest with herself even minutes, of separation aren't easy, despite having been "safe" in Jackson for a few years now.
She glances around the kitchen, for about the one-hundredth time, takes note of everything again like a goldfish with a ten second memory. The fridge. The sink. The stove. The oven. Because, well, right now what the fuck else is there to do? Tommy gave up trying to entertain her a good hour ago.
Regardless, it all has a familiar layout, like theirs, but the living room it flows into appears to be flipped, everything opposite of what she's used to. Really the only recognizable thing about the current scene is the way Tommy is sitting in his chair at the small, four person dining table no more than five feet away. He's slouched down, legs extended and taking up as much space as possible, looking quite relaxed. And it looks just like his older brother.
She smirks at the sight, quietly emits a half-second chuckle, realizes the two Millers even sit the same way. Who knew?
Despite the subtlety, Tommy hears her and looks up in reaction, fingernails finally getting a reprieve from his constant picking. It's become a habit of his, especially during long and awkward bouts of silence like this.
"Somethin' funny?" he asks, an eyebrow arched.
She lightly shakes her head, nervously bites her lower lip because she's never exactly sure what to say to... anyone really, aside from Joel. "Nnnnnope," she drawls. "Nothin'." She takes a deep breath. It comes out more like an exasperated sigh than anything else. "Juuuuust laughin' I guess," she says, heels tapping against the cabinet door beneath her once again.
"Alright then," Tommy says, and he's already back to his fingernails.
This is maybe only the third time Joel has asked him to keep her company, keep her occupied and entertained. But this one is by far the longest. And each of them have always ended up exactly the same way. Just like this. Awkward silence. Not much to talk about. Because there's nothing in common between the two other than some burly, dark-haired, reserved, ornery Texan that binds them all together like glue. And the day has fucking crawled, as if time itself has been trudging through thick tar since she arrived in the morning.
He leans back in his chair, kicks both feet up onto the table and sighs.
She watches the rear legs of the wooden, cheap looking chair bow a bit under his weight, wonders if the flimsy thing will break and he'll fall on his ass. Maybe even wishes that it would. At least then they'd have something to talk about, and she could give him a real reason as to why she'd be laughing.
Much to her chagrin though, it doesn't, and instead she just examines him, takes note of his posture, because wow he totally looks like Joel right now. That's okay to think, right? Joel this. Joel that. Joel does this. Joel says this. That Joel. This Joel... fucking everything Joel...
She slumps a bit, plants both palms against the counter, fingers curling over its rounded edge, shoulders shrugging up to her ears. Those slender denim-clad legs are still swinging back and forth because she just can't sit still when he's not here to help tame her nerves. And the silence is getting too awkward, so she opens her mouth to speak, give Tommy the truth.
"You just... I dunno. You even sit like him," she says, albeit with a hint of hesitation behind her voice.
Tommy's eyes pull up again, meet hers, and he snorts. "Is this what I have to do to keep you entertained? Talk about my damn brother all day?" he says. And there's a pretty thick layer of humor slathered on top of it that lets her know he's at least half-joking. Well, maybe, since they both know his statement is the fucking truth of the day if there ever was one.
It manages to pull out a laugh from her. It's full-bodied, genuine, trails off at the end with an exhale like usual. A typical Ellie laugh. And she slowly nods, purses her lips, clicks her tongue against her cheek. "Yyyyup," she drawls again. "Guess so."
Tommy snorts again. "Tssht - you guess? Girl, you know."
She smiles, wide, can't help it, shoulders relax as her elbows bend, palms still clasped around the edge of the counter top. "Yeah, so? What the fuck's it to you?"
He cocks his head back and laughs, flowing locks of dirty-blond hair dangling from his scalp as he does so. He finally responds after clearing his throat. "Nothin'. Just funny."
And she's reminded of at least one big difference between the two men. One has dirty-blond hair. The other dark, dark, brown. Almost black as coal, even, and with some graying strands. Weird. I wonder what the mechanics behind those genes were like. Miller senior must have been quite... She tilts her head to the side, eyes emptily gazing up at the ceiling, the girl already lost inside her noggin... something... I reckon.
She goes a bit red in the face, chuckles to herself again at the "reckon" now playing on a loop inside her head. Despite it being her conscience, the word is still in Joel's voice, not hers. For some reason that's just the way it always is. Besides, she's tried her hand at the whole accent thing, and it never works. It's always bad. So bad. It never, ever comes out right, and he just ends up laughing hysterically at it, at her. Though, sometimes she does it on purpose just so he will laugh. Getting the man to even crack a smile is difficult. And, my god, laughs are a whole different beast, and actually when was the last time I got his grumpy ass to -
Tommy, along with his chair, abruptly falls forward, towards the table, and he goes upright. The startling motion gets her attention, and she watches him get up, grab an empty glass and head to the sink for water.
She huffs, throws her head back and tips forward, nearly toppling off the counter. "Uuuggghhhh, when will he get back?" she groans, blowing a raspberry at the end.
Tommy hears her over the running water while he fills his glass, responds loud enough for his voice to carry over the sound of the faucet. "Told me I wasn't supposed to bring you home until eigh- "
He cuts himself off. Immediately. His eyes grow in width and he freezes like a statue, hands getting soaked from the water now overflowing out of his glass, because he realizes he's just given away a little too much. Knows this girl and her damn persistent ways will take a mile if you give her just an inch.
And... shit. He's right, because it only takes half a second at most before he hears the balls of her feet plop onto the linoleum floor as she hops off the counter, already hears her scampering across kitchen towards him.
He preps himself, though he's not sure anything can prepare him for what's coming next, and slowly turns around, bringing the glass to his lips to take a sip as he does so. The pint-sized redhead who's now standing only a foot away with her arms crossed and eyes narrowed, causes him to freeze once more, water spilling over the edge of the glass and dribbling down his chin.
He blinks, gives her a blank stare. "Yesh?" he asks, mumbling into the water. And he just can't help but smirk like a buffoon even though he knows it'll only get him into more trouble.
It does.
Her eyes narrow some more and she stares him down, levels him with a glare.
"Tommy..." she says, voice stern, gradually rising in volume like she's caught him and is ready to pounce on the slightest slip up.
With a gulp, he finally swallows the mouthful of water he's been holding onto. It's loud, audible, crystal clear in the silence between them, and he slowly lowers the glass to his waist. He clears his throat. "Yes'm?"
She turns her head slightly, makes a face, eyes still narrow like a crack in concrete, shifts her weight to her a back foot. "What do you know?" she asks, brow furrowed, curiosity aplenty and looking serious as ever.
He snickers, drops his head and rubs his brow, because he knows she's gonna pry it out of him eventually. No matter what. This is a battle he lost the moment he slipped up seconds earlier. Winning this game against Ellie Williams is the fucking definition of impossible. Doesn't mean he won't try though.
The lack of a verbal response provokes her again. "Tommy," she declares once more, sterner than before, taking a step forward, the distance between them now mere inches. She raises an eyebrow, arms still crossed. "You know something. What?"
He lifts his head, leans back against the edge of the counter top bordering the sink, and crosses his arms, makes some dumb, innocent face. "Maybe I do. Maybe I don't," he says with a shrug.
"Bullshit you don't."
He puckers his face, nervously wipes his brow once again. "I - I swear it missy," he says over a shallow chuckle.
The stutter in his response obviously doesn't have her convinced. "Tommy..."
He throws both hands in the air, shakes his head. "Alright alright alright! Christ sake girl. Goddamn," he says, bursting into a combination of groans and laughs, can't help it. And he walks past her, struts his way across the kitchen floor to lean against the fridge.
There's something so... intimidating about an intrigued Ellie that has him backed into a corner. She never lets anyone, even Joel for that matter, get away with shit like this. Always keeps at it until she wins. Like a damn snarling, growling dog playing tug-a-war that refuses to drop the stick clamped in its mouth even if a thousand hands are trying to yank it free.
She turns around, takes his place against the counter in front of the sink. And she's got this smile, more of an arrogant smirk than anything, plastered across her face, knowing she's already broken him down. "Well, c'mon dude. Spit it out!" she says, voice high, and even playful, like she's known this has all just been some silly game. At least she's entertained now, though. Too bad it only took close to twelve hours...
Her sudden lighthearted tone throws him off some, but he doesn't show it, simply crosses his arms again and opens his mouth to respond, only to pause at the realization that his older brother will probably be having a talk with him later.
She doesn't say a word. Just waits. Stares at him with a smile, tilts her head to the side all happy and innocent-like, ponytail swaying behind her. The girl knows she's already won. Doesn't need to give an ounce more of effort.
"Fine," he tersely says through an exhale, looking to the floor as he scratches his scalp with a thumbnail.
He pretty much sounds like he's fed up with the whole thing anyways. Not that she cares, though.
He raises his eyes, meets hers. "What is happenin' this month?"
Her face twists into an expression of confusion, and she fidgets a little, shifts both feet beneath her, seems taken aback. "Uhhhh..." she drawls. "I have no idea. What?" she asks, hands flopping against her thighs as she drops them.
"This month. July. What is gonna happen?"
"I just said! I don't know!"
"Ellie..."
That makes her smirk, and laugh too, because he totally sounds like Joel when he does that! When she's done chuckling to herself she sighs, crosses her arms and gives him a leer. "I don't know. C'mon just tell me you asshole!"
Tommy rolls his eyes, snorts. "Your birthday dammit."
She sucks in a short, quick breath, eyes suddenly widening. Oh!
It's no surprise she didn't think of it. It wasn't until Joel came along that anyone actually ever cared about it or made a whole thing of it. The past two were great, wonderful in fact, no doubt about that. But even now, the idea of having a day all about... her, a day all about Ellie, still seems weird. All the attention is quite strange, uncomfortable at times even, though as long as it's Joel who's paying attention to her all is well. And of course he was, since the previous two were all his doing. Clearly.
Regardless, she arches an eyebrow again, tilts her head, still clearly confused. "But... wait. I thought..." She pauses, starts counting the days on her fingers, then looks back up at Tommy. "That's not until next week."
Another pause. More silence as Tommy simply returns her stare with his and a face of "are you kidding me? Think about it!" He leans forward a tad, expectantly, head slightly dipping, like he's just eagerly waiting for her to have a light-bulb moment.
It takes a good five seconds at least, but it's blatantly obvious when it hits her. Her eyebrows rise, jaw drops in an expression of shock, those greenish-blue marbles of hers going big and round. "Ohhhhhhhhh!" she says, voice airy, full of a tone that doesn't remotely hide how surprised she is at the realization.
"There it is!" Tommy shouts, relieved that noodle of hers finally stumbled upon it.
And her posture suddenly looks quite different. She's fidgeting a bit more, hugging her elbows tighter, face blushing with reddish heat because is he actually giving me a surprise for my birthday!? That certainly would be something new. No one's ever done that for her before, and the thought of Joel doing it for her has her insides tingling in all sorts of ways. Although, there's a small part of her that doesn't want to know the answer to that question, wants to let the rest of the evening happen naturally so she will be surprised.
But that's not her. Prying is inevitable.
So her face scrunches, nose crinkling some. "Is he... is it... like a surprise... or something?" she sheepishly asks, voice hesitant.
Tommy lifts himself off the fridge. "You said it. Not me," he says, slowly backing away with both hands raised to shoulder height as if to say he's innocent and guilty of nothing. He sits down again, same chair as before, and takes another sip of water, watches the girl's reaction and body language.
"But why a week early?" she asks.
He shrugs. "Reckon he figured it'd be too obvious if it were day of."
She shrugs too and slowly nods, accepts Tommy's response since it makes some sense. "Fair enough."
And she's smiling, all bright-eyed, stupid and happy, and she walks to the table to join him so she can ask... just a few more questions. But only a few. That's it. No more. Joel would be pissed if he discovered his carefully laid plans were ruined. Although, she could just blame it all on Tommy, blame him for giving up so easily. But Joel wouldn't fall for that. The man does know her all too well, after all. Knows she'd be just as responsible since he's well aware of her mind-numbing, annoying persistent tactics.
She takes a seat at the table, across from Tommy, brings both thighs into her chest and wraps her arms around them, interlocking her hands across her shins. "So, what does a Joel Miller surprise gift usually entail?" she asks, still visibly touched by the very thought. She even looks a bit starstruck, awed like she can't believe someone would actually do such a thing for her. It's something Tommy hasn't really seen from her. A rare moment of emotional expression outside the safe confines of Joel's presence.
Tommy sips his water again. "You mean back in the day?"
Her face falls and she rolls her eyes, huffs. "No. I mean while you two were on the road killing fucking hunters and infected." She pauses, gives him a deadpan stare. "No shit that's what I mean. Duh!"
It's a pretty typical response from the girl. Quite sharp tongued she is when she wants to be. And he simply chuckles at it, because as much as Joel hates him for doing it, getting her all riled up and flustered is pretty damn entertaining.
He lets this one go, though. Just sighs, wipes a hand down his face. "Well, it all depends on who it's for."
Her smile returns. She's obviously intrigued, giving him her full, undivided attention.
"I remember for Sarah, he called the mother of one of her friends early in the mornin', told her to come pick her up for the day." He shifts, leans back, crosses both legs at the ankles as they extend beneath the table. "While she was gone, I came over an' he put me right to work."
"Like what?"
He shrugs. "I dunno, helpin' out with the food? Just random little things here an' there. We cooked up her favorite meal, an' he even baked her a damn cake."
Ellie bursts out laughing, snorts and all, can't restrain it. "Wha - what!? Joel baked a cake!?" she struggles to say, the words pushing through a thick layer of giggles.
"'S true. Swear it."
Her chuckles wane, and she takes a deep breath, collects herself. "Oh man. That's awesome. I just can't picture it though." She pauses, eyes narrow like she's thinking of something. Suddenly they pop back open, go round. "Oh! Did he wear an apron? Please tell me he wore a fucking apron!?"
Tommy cocks his head back and laughs, although he knows he's only arming her with ammunition to torture his brother with later. Finally he collects himself, clears his throat and shakes his head. "No. No apron."
"Awww man. Way to ruin it for me," Ellie says, face scrunched, visibly disappointment. "Sooo... was that it?"
Tommy takes a deep breath, runs a hand through his hair. "Well, he called all the parents of her friends, had 'em come over so when Sarah got home she'd be all surprised." He shrugs again, leans forward and rests an elbow on the table, chin in his palm. "I dunno, I thought it was actually pretty good. Girl seemed to love it."
Ellie nods in agreement, smiles at the mental picture he's painted for her. She takes it in for a couple seconds, only for her curiosity to resume control once again. "Anything else?" she asks, voice all playful and kittenish, since she knows she's asking more than one too many questions.
Tommy looks down at the table, scratches his scalp, clearly digging through his memories. "Well there was that one he did for Vivian..." he mumbles, voice trailing off.
Ellie jolts forward, eyes wide, curiosity filling her to the brim, the legs of her chair dragging across the floor from the sudden motion. "Wait. Stop. Who - what? Who's Vivian?"
Tommy leans back again, a dumbfounded expression across his face like he's got no idea what the fuck to say next. "Uhhh..."
"Tommy! Who's Vivian?"
"He's never told you her name?" he asks, head leaning forward a bit, intonation aplenty.
She just stares at him, expressionless, blinks and makes some strange gesture with her hands as if to say "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about."
Tommy mumbles something under his breath, some halfhearted prayer to god or something, she can't really tell.
"Sarah's mother. But you did not hear it from me. Understand?" he says.
She gulps, already lost in thought. Ohhhhh...
"Ellie? You understand?"
That shakes her out of it, and she nods. "Uh-huh. Sure." But the gears are already turning in her head because she has so many questions right now, even though nothing has really changed other than the newly acquired knowledge of someone's name. An avalanche of thoughts are tumbling around in her mind, but she knows she really shouldn't be asking anything more about... all of that. So a few seconds of silence pass, and she decides to let the laundry list of queries lie until... well, forever maybe.
She clears her throat. "Okay, so, what'd he do for Sarah's Mom?" Referring to her that way, instead of Vivian, is far more natural, far easier. It's the way Joel always refers to her.
"Well, he built her something."
Her eyes go round again, jaw dropping some, and she lurches forward in her chair a bit. "He fucking built her something?"
"Yes ma'am. She was a writer, always wanted a fancy new desk or some crap. So he told me to take her shoppin' for the day, keep her entertained, while he put it all together."
Ellie can't help but smile again. Fucking wide too, like a clown. Face blushing with an intense heat, a strange flutter of butterflies in her gut. It's warming, even a little scary, but it's new and it feels... good. She's lost in her head at this point, Tommy's voice becoming nothing but background noise, because all sorts of things are running through her mind and if there's one thing she's sure about it's that she's confused as fuck.
Tommy stands up, the action roping her out of her thoughts, pulling her attention back to him. He points to the clock, nods his head to the right, towards the front door. "C'mon, it's almost eight. He'll kill me if I keep you longer than he said."
She gulps, looks up at him and nods, face still a bit red, nerves lively with some combination of angst and excitement. "Uh-huh, okay."
"There she is," Joel says, loud enough for them to hear him as they approach the front porch. His arms are crossed, and he's leaning against one of the support beams at the top of the steps. He looks like he's been waiting there, for (her)them, for awhile now. And his eyes are already scanning her up and down, head to toe, making sure everything is okay and she's exactly as she was when he left her with Tommy.
"Joel!" she shouts, and her pace immediately quickens to a hasty jog, leaving Tommy way behind. She darts up the steps, bounds up them all quick and graceful, like a cat. And she's grinning like a fool, looking up at him every step of the way, eyes sparkling and stomach already tingling in anticipation.
"Hey you," she says softly, voice on the verge of cracking as she shuffles up to him, crossing her arms to mimic his.
"Hey there sweet pea," he responds, just as soft.
His voice is deep, rough like sandpaper, like always, but holy fuck after being away from him since early morning it's the greatest thing she's experienced all day. And he's actually smiling, too, like her, and doesn't glance away from her eyes, not for a millisecond, even as he acknowledges Tommy.
"Still in one piece brother?" he says with more volume, Tommy just now reaching the bottom step of the porch.
Tommy snorts, snickers. "Barely."
Neither of the two damaged-but-not-broken souls pay him any mind, their eyes lost in the other's.
She wants to lean in and hug him, feel his arms wrap around her, because being away from him for this long has been about as painful as a dagger through the heart. But she also can't wait to find out what awaits her on the other side of the front door, inside the house.
He seems to sense her indecisiveness, like he always can, and places both hands on her shoulders as he pivots behind her, makes the decision for them. "C'mere. Got somethin' for ya," he says.
She goes a bit limp under his strong hands, just a tad, leaning into his touch more than usual. "Oh yeah?" she asks, tilting her head back, batting her eyes at him.
"Mmhm. Now close your eyes," he instructs.
She obeys, does as he says. It only makes her more anxious than before, because she's almost too hot now. Her heart is pounding and the entirety of her skin is shifting to a shade of red she didn't think was possible. That butterfly thing is happening in her gut again, only this time it's with an unbounded fury. Well, as much as butterflies can have a fury, she thinks. It's quite weird, uncomfortable, but also fucking... awesome. Exciting.
She feels him guide her into the house, knows they've walked through the front door at this point. They come to a stop. I think we're in the living room now? And he wraps both arms around her waist, pulls her into him and lowers his head, rests the side of it against hers. "Open 'em up," he whispers, the heat of his breath brushing against her earlobe.
She does so. And in an instant she's getting teary-eyed, the sparkling greenish-blues dancing in their sockets as she scans her surroundings, the room, takes everything in.
Maria is sitting at the kitchen table and ohhh that's where you've been all day! The house is clean, and every inch of the table is covered with freshly prepared food. Like. Tons of food. So much food she wonders if the rest of the population of Jackson will have anything to eat tonight. It's okay, though, good in fact, because he does know how much she can put away, despite her petite form. An appetite like no other when she's hungry. Ravenous little creature she is. And there's even a fucking cake. And for some damn reason there are lit candles sticking out of it, a bunch of them, just short of twenty if she had to guess. But who the fuck puts candles into baked goods? And where in the hell are they gonna eat? Because there's clearly no space left on the table. And are Tommy and Maria gonna -
"What you think?" he asks, stepping beside her, letting an arm fall across her shoulders.
She looks up at him with stars in her eyes, face beaming like the goddamn sun. "It's - I don't - "
"I know," he says, voice deep, raspy as usual, thick with a southern drawl.
It's familiar, like coming home, and sends a quavering breath through her because she's feeling so many things right now she's not sure what to do or say.
She sniffles, wipes both eyes with a sleeve, refuses to cry like some dumb, overly emotional teenage girl from before the outbreak. Although, it'd probably be okay if she did. Tommy wouldn't dare make fun of her, not with Joel standing a few feet away. If the past three-ish years have taught her one thing, it's Joel breaks the fucking neck of anyone who dares to cause her harm, no matter how insignificant it may seem. She's gotten used to it, though, has learned to love it too. Loves how safe she feels when he's by her side.
Regardless, she collects herself, clears her throat, then looks to Maria. "So this is where you've been all day huh?" she says, somewhat nasal, addressing the woman's presence.
Maria laughs, shrugs like she's okay with it all. "Yep."
Tommy, leaning against the wall adjacent to the front door, speaks up. "Your old man here said he needed ahh... what was it you said Joel?"
Joel hardly acknowledges him, simply gives him the finger while he gazes into those perfect, glistening, melt-you-into-a-puddle eyes that are decorated by an endearing pattern of dimpled cheeks and freckles.
"A woman's touch? Right?" Tommy finishes, voice louder than before, smirking like a bastard.
Maria chuckles again. "That's what he told me."
Joel scans Ellie's face, notices there's a thinly veiled smirk across her lips. His eyes narrow. "Hold up. Did you know?" he asks, eyebrow arched, voice a bit stern and... annoyed.
Tommy snorts in the background, quickly breaks into spitting laughter.
Ellie scrunches her face, leans into his chest a bit. "Yeah... I kinda did. Just a little though!"
Joel shoots Tommy a glare, face tense. "Dammit Tommy!"
Tommy splutters. "She pulled it outta me! Girl's like a damn interrogation wizard I tell ya!"
They all laugh at that. All of them except for Joel, who just grunts, because he's apparently quite displeased with the whole ruining of the surprise thing. But his smile returns when he looks down at her, because she's still just gazing up at him as if he were a starry sky, a mystical, awed wonder filling every inch of her face.
He grabs her by the hand. "C'mere."
"Huh? What? Where - "
"Just c'mere." He gently tugs her forward as he nods towards the back of the house. "C'mon, got one more thing."
Her heart skips a few beats, next breath catching in her throat, skin flushing once more, and she can hardly force her feet to step forward she's so lost in all of... this, him. But she does so, lets him drag her down the short hallway to the small room at the rear of the house. It's empty, which is strange, because there used to be a twin bed and a small desk. And the window is open too, a summer breeze blowing through it that's refreshing and inviting all at the same time.
He lets go of her hand, struts towards the window, leans against the wall, motions to beckon her over. "C'mere, look," he says.
She follows, leans out the window, and her jaw. Fucking. Drops. A bolt of lighting might as well have shot through her gut it's tingling so much, and her heart is pounding away behind her rib cage, eyes wide and round. She's not scared, though, more just... in shock and disbelief that someone on this planet has actually done something like this for her. Done something that makes her feel... special. Wanted. Important. And... loved?
It's hard to hold back the tears, but she gives it her all to do so, sniffles again. "Oh my god. Joel it's... how did you?"
"Remember that big ol' shed in the back yard?" he says, stepping beside her, pulling her close.
She picks her head up, scans for the shed he's referring to, comes up empty, notices its absence. "Holy shit," she declares, voice light, lacking body, brimming with disbelief.
"Reckon we never used it. Figured I'd just reuse the wood from that an' see how far it got me."
It's nothing spectacular, just a deck to lounge on, another porch he's built attached to the rear of the house. But it's much bigger than the small one out front. It looks sturdy, even safe enough for them to sleep on at night during the summer when it's hot. Like tonight. Under the stars. Just them and nothing but the moon and vast expanse of the Wyoming wilderness. There isn't a typical sliding glass door leading out to it, like she's imagined and seen in old magazines, but they've hurdled enough windows in their time that this make-shift exit will do just fine. There's no railing either, nothing to keep them from toppling over the edge if they aren't careful, but the overgrowth lining its perimeter is tall enough to act as some sort of thin, visual barrier. There's a small table in the center as well, clearly for two, evidenced by the fact there are only two chairs. In the center of it stands a tall candle, already lit, along with two place settings on either side. And there's a fine, exquisite, white linen draped over its surface too. She wonders where in the hell they found something like that, but it's hardly important at this point.
She turns to face him, practically falls forward and tumbles into his arms. He catches her, instinctively, won't let her think she's falling, even for a second. And she looks up at him, still teary-eyed and almost... broken, but in a good way. Like he's broken her outer shell and is accessing the real Ellie that lives within, the Ellie only he ever gets to see.
She swallows hard, blinks. "You did this all for me?" she asks in a delicate tone. It even sounds a bit wounded.
He doesn't say a word. Just smiles and leans down to give her a peck on the forehead.
"You - you made me a cake. You made me a fucking cake!" she shouts, smiling, hardly able to believe it. "And you built this for me!?"
He smirks, looking quite pleased with himself. "Just a day's work," he says. But the way he's smirking, peering through her, that face he makes when there's obviously so much more bubbling under the surface, tells her it means a hell of a lot more than just that.
She laughs, gasps, chokes, does some weird combination of all three. It's airy, audibly bumping over the lump forming in her throat. And she stretches both arms up to wrap them around his neck, the bottom of her shirt rising up to unveil a belt of soft pale skin around her waist. She's grown some; most of her clothing doesn't fit exactly right anymore. Her legs and hips are more formed, more shapely. Shoulders a tad broader. Arms a little thicker, though not by much. Regardless, the way he's looking at her right now tells her she'll always be his little girl, which is... something? She thinks? And even though she's maybe an inch or two taller than a few years ago, she hasn't grown all that much. She's still just a tiny little thing, especially when next to him and wrapped up in his arms.
She interlocks her arms around the back of his neck, stands on the tip of her toes to do so, rests the side of her head against his chest. "Thank you," she mumbles into his shirt, eyes closed as she sucks in a breath, takes in his scent, only to let it out with a happy sigh, full of content.
He buries his nose into her hair, pulls in her scent as well as he wraps both arms around her waist, encases her in his embrace, rough callused hands and fingers sinking into her bare, exposed skin, though neither mention it or seem to notice. "Happy seventeenth baby girl," he coos, all sincere, fucking sappy and sweet as syrup.
They're blindly lost in the other. And for once in a blue moon, he's at ease, happy, relieved to have her back in his arms, safe and sound. And she's still smiling all googly-eyed up at him like everything is right with the world, even knowing its current, shattered state. Though at the moment her brain is moving a million miles a minute, isn't sure what to make of all... this.
Tommy and Maria are standing in the doorway, watching them, but it's obvious they've become nothing but flies on the wall. Any words that leave their lips would be nothing but white noise at this point.
Tommy clears his throat, loudly, forcefully, "ahem."
Nothing. Neither of the two codependent beings even turn a head.
He rolls his eyes, shoots his wife a glance then looks back at the two bumbling idiots before him. "Guess we'll just uhh... head home now," he says, slowly backing away and out of the room as he drags Maria along with him.
Neither of them give any sort of response, haven't noticed the room now only contains two people instead of four.
Joel glances out the window, smiles at his handiwork, still seems quite proud of himself. He returns his gaze to her, squeezes her a bit tighter. "Ready to dine like a princess?"
She guffaws. "A princess!?" She drops her head, laughs a little, looks back up at him. "I don't know where you get your facts big guy, but I am no fucking princess," she says as she gently pats him on the chest, as if to say "nice try."
He snorts at that, and shakes his head because he doesn't entirely agree. He lets her go, motions for her to climb through the window and take a seat at the table on their new deck. And just before he turns to leave the room and return with food, he stops. Maybe it's the current circumstances, or maybe because he knows she'll give him a free pass on this one since he didn't bother to mention the tears clearly pooling at the base of her eyes earlier. So he speaks his mind, can't help but feel the skin on his face beneath his beard blush regardless.
"For what it's worth missy, you're my princess."
She's halfway through the window when he says it, legs straddling either side, and she freezes, darts her head around to look back at him. She gives him a sly, cheeky grin, bounces both eyebrows. "That's what you think."
That makes him uncork a laugh, and he walks away, goes to the kitchen to fetch the first course of many. When he returns he sees her sitting out there at the table, looking onto the sunset, her dainty form and auburn hair basking in its orange glow, the flame of the lone candle fluttering in the warm, gentle summer breeze. And he stops, pauses for a moment to take the image in, to engrave it in his mind, implores himself to never forget it.
Her voice pulls him out of it.
"The fuck's the hold up!? You're gonna miss the sunset dude! C'mon!" she shouts from outside, head turned slightly, but eyes not breaking from the orange and pinkish sky.
He chuckles to himself. Yeah, she's right. She's no princess. She's just his Ellie. Even better.