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He's limping when he walks through the door, his right foot dragging along his left as if it were a nuisance. You turn from where you're washing dishes to catch him trying right himself so he can pretend he's not hurt. The blood on his face and hands give him away more than anything else—anger and panic blossom in your chest as he looks at you with tired, regretful eyes.
"Sit." You say, jerking your head in the direction of the kitchen table. You dry your hands on a towel before pulling the first aid kit off the fridge.
"It's nothing."
"You're bleeding. Sit," you double down, and he sighs before finally settling into a chair. You soak a rag in alcohol as you walk over to him, standing between his legs to get a good view of the cuts on his face. All things considered, he's not in horrible shape. Bruised and bloody, sure, but alive. He hisses when the rag touches his split eyebrow, and his hand grips the table. His scabbed knuckles break open, only adding to his pain and dripping blood down his hands. You slide the alcohol over to him, and he quickly takes a big swig. "Who did this?"
"It was just a deal gone bad with a FEDRA officer." He says as he puts the bottle back down, the cut on his lip leaves blood on the rim of it. The idea of him getting beat down by FEDRA makes you want to scream. This is why you take someone with you on drops, you think.
"Who?"
"Stone." He finally gives you the name, and you give him a look.
"I told you to stop doing deals with him."
"I had it under control."
"Sure looks like it," you say, grabbing his hand to hold the rag to his face as you grab a butterfly bandage. "And where is Stone now?"
"In the hospital. 'M pretty sure I broke his nose," he says smugly, and you hum in acknowledgment. He falls quiet as you take the rag from him to stick the bandage to his eyebrow. A noise of protest rumbles in his throat at the pressure, but then it's over. "I give it a week before he's crawling back for pills."
"He can go through withdrawal for all I fucking care." You mutter under your breath as you put your hand on his jaw, turning his face this way and that to get a better look at his injuries. He turns and kisses the inner part of your wrist. You would've melted if you weren't so pissed at the bruises blooming on his face.
It's good that Stone is already in the hospital because otherwise, you would've marched out to find him. Joel may look scarier, but there's no limit to what you can do when rage pulses through your veins like this. He knows that. He's seen it happen a handful of times, and it's always right after he or Tess gets hurt on a drop. Something shifts within you, and suddenly there is no god out there more dangerous than you. Your enemies become less concerned about getting out alive and more about how fast you'll let them die. If Joel weren't so wrapped around your finger, he'd be terrified of you.
"I'm fine. I came back to you, didn't I?" He says, and you sigh. You step closer and kiss the top of his head, relishing in the feel of his curls brushing your face. His stained hands come up to rest on your waist, further grounding you in his presence. "I'll always come back to you. You don't need to worry about that, you hear me?"
"I hear you, and I love you," you say as you kiss him. He tastes like blood and whiskey. "Do you know when he'll get out of the hospital?"
"Probably by the end of the week." He says as you pull his hands from your waist to wipe the fresh blood from his knuckles. You press around for broken bones as you think about the best way to ruin Stone's life. Joel doesn't wrench his hands from you, so you take that as a good sign.
"What do you think his wife will say when I tell her about the other girls he’s fucking when he's supposed to be out on patrol?" You ask, and it's his turn to give you a disapproving look.
"Don't fuck with his family."
"He fucked with mine first." You snap, and he sighs. Big brown eyes bore into yours, but you're unflinching. A puff of air leaves his nose, and he smirks.
"Y'know, it's really not fair how hot you are when you're angry." The fire in your veins settles for just a moment, and you press your tongue into your cheek.
"Is that why you keep picking fights with FEDRA officers?" You tease as you throw the rag down on the table to squeeze your way up each of his arms, checking for broken bones.
"Somethin' like that," he shrugs as your hands fall to his ribs. “Are you tryin' to make a move on me? Because that'd just be inappropriate. I've just been beaten," He asks, and you laugh. He smiles at the sound and doesn't wince as you count each rib to ensure they're intact. He stands once you're satisfied that nothing's broken and snags his fingers through your belt loops to pull you flush against him. The world seems to still as his heart beats against yours, and your panic dies in your throat. He kisses you firmly like he's trying to prove how okay he is. Your hands thread through his hair, and he groans when you tug at his roots. The sound makes you dizzy, and you want to hear it again and again. "Don't tell his wife just yet. We'll need leverage over him in the future." He says against your lips, making you pull away. He looks defeated, and you squint at him.
"Were you trying to distract me so I would forget about Stone?"
"Was it working?"
"Miller," you scold. "So, you just want me to do nothing and let him get away with it?"
"That's not what I'm saying. We're gonna make him sweat. Tell him we haven't gotten any shipment in. Withdrawal makes him desperate, and once he's desperate enough, we give him half of what we normally do but charge him double. Make him rely on us more. We might even get some new guns out of it, but we can't do that if he's fuckin' dead." He explains, and you roll your eyes. He's right. You hate that he's right, but he is.
"Fine, but I swear to God, Joel, if he puts his hands on you again-"
"I will hand you the gun myself. Okay?" He asks, and you nod. "Good. Now, can we please talk about something else? I have a surprise for you."
"A surprise?"
"I was gonna make it all romantic, but that went to shit." He says as he lets go of you and reaches for his backpack. You watch as he rummages through his stuff until he pulls out a big brown bag and hands it to you. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion until you open it, and the sweet aroma of coffee smacks you in the face. There's so much of it. The bag has to be at least half a pound. You didn't even know that there was this much coffee left in the world, let alone that Joel would find a way to get some. You take one bean between your shaky fingers and dig a nail into it, grounds collecting under your nail.
"Holy shit, these are real," you breathe, and he nods. "What'd you trade for this?"
"You don't want to know."
"You can tell me if you whored yourself out for coffee beans. I would do the same thing." You say, and he laughs.
"I'll remember that for next time," He says, making you smile. You glance between the coffee beans and him and take a deep breath. Even though it's small and stupid and probably costs more than they're worth, the idea of Joel going out of his way simply so you two could share coffee in the mornings makes your heart swell. Twenty years ago, sitting on a porch somewhere and drinking it first thing in the morning may have been your norm, but it never meant as much as it does right now. You carefully put the bag on the table before wrapping him in a hug. "Was that a good surprise?" He asks softly, like he's afraid if he says it too loud, the world will crumble around us. You nod and kiss his shoulder.
"It's perfect. Thank you."
The beans will probably be gone by the end of the month, and it will probably be another two years before we get an opportunity to trade for them again, but this feeling in your chest will keep you warm for much longer than any cup of coffee could. It's almost enough to forget that the world is falling apart outside, and someone tried to take him away from you today. Almost.