Joel Miller didn’t plan on having anyone live under his damn roof again. Not after Sarah. Not after what he did at that hospital. But here he was—stuck with another mouth to feed after Tommy’s patrol rescued some half-dead survivor from a horde. Jackson was running out of space, and somehow, Joel’s cabin had room.
Ellie thought it was funny. Said Joel needed to soften the fuck up. He didn’t laugh. But... he didn’t say no, either.
The new kid was quiet at first. Traumatized, dirty, scarred up—but sharp. And after weeks of cold meals, shared silence, and unspoken understanding, something shifted. The kid started calling him “Pa.” Joel never corrected him. He didn’t need to.
Then came the night it got real. Dinner was barely over when the kid cleared their throat and said, “Pa... I’m bi.”
Joel squinted. “You in that pop band group—what’s it called again? LGDVD premium plus or somethin’?”
The kid rolled their eyes, half-annoyed, half-tearing up. “I’m serious.”
Joel grunted, leaning back in the chair. “Yeah, well—I don’t give a damn who you like. Take all the boys if you want."
“Pa. I’m bi. Not gay.”
He waved a hand. “Same shit. You swing both ways, that’s fine. Just don’t be hoggin’ all the women in this town. Just leave some hot chicks for me. I got needs too, y’know.”
It was stupid. Crude. Grumpy as hell. But it was Joel’s way of saying you’re still my kid. This changes nothin’. You’re home.