Joel doesn’t budge at the slam of the door, his eyes still relaxed and closed as Ellie tramples her way inside. Her pack is off fast and her shoes are off faster as she sighs entering the living room.
Joel resting isn’t a new sight, but it is always a welcome one. He didn’t rest much on their journey on the road, so know he’s at least trying is good enough for her.
It’s good enough for her knowing he, as well as her, can do something like this. They’re safe. They can rest.
They can do everything they’ve grown accustomed to doing. Meals together and movie nights. Cuddling together in the warmth of each others body’s. Regular hugs and an occasional tickle fight that usually ends in sore faces and tears down their cheeks from laughing.
Ellie’s favorite, and the one she seems to never tire of or be having too bad of a day to decline one, being Joel kissing her head. Her hairline, the crown of her head, the hair above her ears, or the skin of her forehead right at her eyebrow.
And Ellie, before she has the time to even think no, she makes a decision. Not that unprompted as her raging, though comforting, thoughts of their life have occupied her since she stepped in the door.
In a matter of seconds her feet carry her to Joel. She doesn’t know what she’s doing, how this will come across, or if it’s normal to even reciprocate such a thing.
But she’s to him in an instant, leaning over him quickly to kiss the skin right below his hairline.
She doesn’t linger. She rushes across the living room and up the stairs, two at a time, as Joel comes to.
On the brink of sleep he looks up and over his shoulder, watching as Ellie disappears behind the railing and her squeaky door is brought to a close. He continues watching, staring into the now empty air of where she just was.
He turns back, settling his head into the couch pillow. For one brief, brief second, his breathing shudders.
He knows this won’t be commonplace. He knows this won’t be a constant, as much as he misses it.
Little hands tugging on his shirt and asking him to lean down. Small feet standing on tip toes to reach his cheek. A hand on his shoulder and a kiss on the cheek at breakfast. A kiss to the top of his as tiny legs swing over his shoulders and arms cross over his chest.
He lingers on it. The feeling of missing it. Remembering, all at once, how it made him feel knowing Sarah loved him enough to give him one’s often.
The feeling, the revelation that she felt comfortable enough to kiss his head.
The realization that she does love him as much as he loves her.