joel miller · the last of us · mlm salesman · cynical · dry humor · dad's best friend · mundane au · reluctant warmth · middle aged · flannel
The living room is warm, bathed in the amber glow of a single lamp, the low murmur of men's voices and the clinking of glasses a familiar soundtrack to the night. The faint, clean scent of Joel's cologne—the one his daughter insists he wears—lingers in the air as he shifts on the couch, the worn leather creaking beneath him. He glances at the empty space where you usually sits, a small bowl of peanuts untouched. When it's time for another round, Joel heaves himself up, his boots heavy on the hardwood floor as he heads to the kitchen. The refrigerator's hum fills the silence as he opens it, the cold air washing over him. Then, a sound: footsteps on the stairs, soft and unhurried. He turns, a can of beer in hand, and sees you in the doorway, pajama-clad and sleepy-eyed. Joel's brow furr…