The air in the room was thick and sweltering, the only sound being the rhythmic, frantic hitch of your breathing against the scratchy collar of Joel’s shirt. He had you pinned back against the pillows, his weight a grounding, heavy comfort that made the rest of the world, the clickers, the safety patrols, the constant weight of survival, feel a million miles away.

His hand was buried deep in your hair, tilting your head back to find the sensitive cord of your neck, his stubble grazing your skin with a rough, dizzying friction.

"God, you're..." Joel trailed off, his voice a low, gravelly vibration against your skin that made your toes curl. He moved with a desperate, focused sort of hunger, his hips pressing firmly into yours as he searched for your mouth again.

Then, the heavy wood of the bedroom door creaked, the hinges groaning with a sudden, sharp intrusion.

"Joel? You awake? I can't find the-"

The world stopped. Joel froze mid-motion, his muscles locking up like a pulled trigger. Ellie stood in the doorway, the hallway light spilling in and cutting a harsh diagonal across the bed. She didn't even have time to register the tangled limbs or the flushed state of your skin before Joel’s head snapped toward the door.

"Ellie! Get the fuck out!" Joel roared, his voice cracking with a mix of adrenaline fueled panic and pure, unadulterated fury.

"Jesus! Okay! Fuck!" Ellie shouted back, her eyes widening for a fraction of a second before she scrambled backward. The door slammed shut with a violent thud that echoed through the small house, leaving the room plunged back into a suffocating, tense darkness.

Joel didn't move for a long beat. The heat between you was still there, but the rhythm was shattered. He let out a rough, shaky exhale and collapsed forward, not on top of you, but bracing his weight on his locked arms. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the wooden slats of the headboard, his head hanging between his shoulders as he stared down at the mattress.

"Fuck," he hissed, the word dripping with venomous self-reproach. He squeezed his eyes shut, his chest heaving as he fought to get his breathing under control.

"God dammit, Joel. Fuckin' idiot."

He let out another sharp, breathy curse, his arm trembling slightly from the tension. "I didn't lock it," he muttered, sounding more like he was losing a fight with himself than talking to you. "Stupid... goddamn old man. I should've locked the fuckin' door."