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The summer brings humid breezes and stale air through the town, wisping in the scent of drying leaves and grass and the earth. Every morning, Joel steps out onto the porch, boots heavy against the creaking wood as he looks out across the yard to watch the spray of colour that makes up the land around them. Faded purples and orange; the sky lit by the rising flames of the sun, the fading remnants of the velvet night along the edges. Sometimes he breathes and tastes the last of the midnight dew, and then in the next moment the smell of fallen leaves and summer daisies.
In the early hours of the morning, it’s almost easy to forget what the rest of the world’s become.
It comes back to him in an instant; in the shouts of men from the wall, the grind and churn of the hydroelectric plant looming in the horizon. The faint sounds of creatures in the woods that Joel swears is in his head, but he can never be too sure anymore.
He turns back to the house, Bear standing expectantly in the doorway, pink tongue lolled out and tail wagging lazily behind him. Joel gives the mutt a fond scratch behind an ear and drifts back into the house, boots muffled against the carpet and restored wood. Upstairs, he knows Tess is sleeping still, left in bed by him at dawn. Ellie won’t wake for another couple hours; not until they wake her.
Pushing their bedroom door open, Joel takes a moment to pause at the doorway and watch Tess. The pale lines of her stretched out in their bed, the tangle of sheets around her legs and hips, pulled tight over a shoulder as she leans almost subconsciously into the empty space he’d left behind. Elegant, bird-like arms that spread with long fingers in search of warmth, the quiet sounds of her breath against the aged cotton of the pillows. Her hair falls like a winding river down her back, curling at the ends and around her ear. This is the longest he’s seen her hair in the fifteen years he’s known her; lightened out in the summer sun into caramel and hidden red amidst the rich mahogany. Her skin is pale in the sunlight, pale even against the white of their sheets; the shadows of an emerging tan from the burgeoning summer heat crawling over the defined plane of her shoulders.
A constellation of freckles across her shoulder blades, beard-burn and bruising kisses combined.
Perching himself carefully at her side, Joel leans down to press a kiss against the jut of her shoulder, the bed dipping under his weight. He traces a path of whiskery kisses along her shoulder along her neck, rumbling warm and deep in his chest as Tess stirs and squirms under the covers. She rouses with a shudder, lashes fluttering against her cheek before she slits them open to look at him.
“Your lips are cold,” she whispers, deep and rasping with sleep.
He rumbles, sliding his hand along the ridge and curve of her ribcage. Big and warm, his palm strokes up under her shirt, cupping the swell of one breast. Tess purrs appreciatively at the touch, skin prickling at the heat of his hand as she turns over onto her back. Joel watches her rub sleep from her eye, struck by how young and childlike the movement is — sweet and soft like the early cut of sunlight in the morning.
“Keep you warm,” he murmurs, leaning down over her. Cradling her face in one hand, he tilts his head down to kiss her, soft and sweet and warm. Tess hums against his lips, melts into the kiss easily with how pliant wakefulness makes her. She’s never been much of a heavy sleeper, waking in an instant as necessary; as necessary it was in the Zone. Lately she’s taken to sleeping more, sleeping deeper and better, and Joel is glad for it.
Tempted as he is to curl back into bed with her, to pull the blankets over them both and warm her in different ways, Joel pulls back. Tess catches herself from leaning in again, and Joel feels his eyes crinkle at the owlish way she blinks at him.
“Gotta head out with Tommy for the scouting run,” he tells her, and Tess blinks again in recognition.
She pushes the covers back, sliding her bare legs off the side of the bed. “Gimme ten minutes and we can go,” she mumbles, pushing her unruly hair back. Joel sits back and watches her push off the bed immediately into a stretch, yawning long and low as her arms reach high over her head towards the ceiling. He leans back on his arms and takes in the lithe length of her appraisingly. The cotton tank top rises above her hips and his eyes drop immediately to the dimples just above the pert curve of her ass.
“Where’s Ellie?” she asks, wandering into the adjoining bathroom distractedly.
Joel shrugs. “Sleepin’ still, I’d figure.” He hears the water running in the sink, the splash of water and the hissed ‘fuck’ that comes from Tess as she feels the frigid cold against her cheeks.
He lays back on the bed, listening idly to the sounds of Tess washing her face and brushing her teeth, rubbing a hand across the sheets. Tess emerges from the bathroom after a quick visit to the toilet, the gurgling water echoing as she wipes at her face with a towel. He’s disappointed to realise that she’s dressed in her jeans already.
“Why don’t you get breakfast ready and I’ll get the kid up,” she tells him, tugging her sleep shirt off. She rolls her eyes at the look on Joel’s face as she does, smirking as she rummages around for her sports bra. “She’s probably tuckered out from helping at the plant last night; she said she wasn’t feeling that great at dinner too.”
Joel’s brow wrinkles worriedly. “‘s she okay?” He hadn’t been around at dinner — coming in from a patrol just at the tailend of it with shoulders burdened with a large mule deer buck. At the time, he’d been too busy with carving up the buck and skinning it to notice, but Joel vaguely remembers the wan smile Ellie had given him before disappearing somewhere.
“Probably just tired,” Tess assures him, slipping on one of his flannel shirts. She tucks the ends of it into her waistband, pulling her bandana off the dresser and tying it around her head. “Get breakfast settled, old man, we don’t have all morning.”
Puffing out a breath, Joel pushes himself upright, skimming his fingers across the waistband of her jeans as he goes. “Bacon and eggs?”
“Unless you’ve got some waffles hidin’ somewhere,” she drawls, wriggling away when he pinches her side.
“Cute.”
-----
Pushing the door of Ellie’s room open, Tess expects the girl to be exactly as she is — burrowed deep under her covers, curled tight and only the barest tuft of her hair visible. Tess smiles softly, creeping into the room and settling delicately on the edge of the bed. “Hey kiddo,” she whispers, laying her hand over the blankets in the general area of Ellie’s ankle. She feels the thin shape of it under the covers, giving it a little squeeze.
Ellie curls tighter into the bed, moans muffled into the pillow. “Fi’more mins,” comes the garbled reply.
Tess frowns slightly; there’s a nasal lilt to the girl’s words, thick like she’s speaking through a stuffy nose, and Tess leans in closer. “Elle, you okay?”
“Mmnn.” Ellie shifts, sticking her head under a pillow.
“Joel’s makin’ breakfast,” Tess goads her gently, squeezing her ankle again. “Eggs and bacon. Think there’s still some of that OJ from yesterday in the fridge.”
Ellie makes another muffled nasal sound in her throat, but makes no move to wake. Worry takes a firm grasp of Tess — the kid is usually a bottomless pit. Knowing that even the promise of eggs and bacon in the morning hasn’t gotten the girl to budge puts a gnawing feeling in Tess’s gut.
Scooting up further on the bed, Tess tugs the covers off Ellie’s face gently. “Ellie?” She looks down into the girl’s face.
Ellie wrinkles her nose at the light. It’s obvious she’s sick; the flush in her cheeks and the watery redness of her eyes. The stuffy moan of protest she makes at Tess’ manhandling compounds it all.
Tess presses her hand immediately to Ellie’s cheek, smoothing back the girl’s messy hair and muttering a low curse at the heat burning there.
“How long’ve you been like this?” Tess asks, fluttering around the bed to adjust the covers and pillows anxiously.
“Las’ night,” Ellie mumbles, sluggishly fighting back Tess’s moving hands as they readjust her against the pillows. She lets out a wet cough, thick and spasming before it rattles off into a little wheeze. “Threw up.”
Tess purses her lips, brushing back Ellie’s hair again and placing her palm flat on the girl’s forehead, then cheek. The heat is almost painfully out of place on clammy skin, and Tess pulls the blankets up higher and tucks them under Ellie’s chin. “Do you think you can get outta bed?” she asks gently, arms braced around the girl’s curled figure as she hovers.
Wrinkling her nose again, Ellie opens her eyes, glazed and feverish up at Tess before her face crumples into a moue and she whines.
“Okay,” Tess soothes her quickly. “Okay, you take it easy, kiddo. I’m gonna go tell Joel —”
“Don’t go,” Ellie moans, reaching out to cling to Tess’s wrist with a clammy hand. “I — I don’t wanna —”
“Just real quick, I promise.” She gives Ellie a reassuring little squeeze, feeling an inexplicable wrenching sensation in her chest. She moves quickly, taking the stairs in long strides and rounding the corner into the kitchen.
Joel turns to her from the stove, prodding at a pan of sizzling bacon. His face shifts at the sight of her, brows furrowing seriously. “What’s wrong?”
-------
Of course, Joel calls in Pete as soon as he sets sights on Ellie. He lingers by the girl's side, petting her hair and pressing the back of his hand against her cheek to check her temperature. "Oh, baby girl," Tess hears him murmur. “Guess it had to happen at some point.”
Tess lingers by the foot of the bed, scrubbing one hand along her other arm as Pete kneels by Ellie’s side, stethoscope pressed to her chest and flashlight shined into her bleary eyes.
She chews her lip and shifts from foot to foot, watching Joel hover and fuss while Pete coaxes Ellie upright to press his stethoscope to her back.
Pete hums, pulling the stethoscope from his ears. “Her throat’s looking a little raw, but her lungs are clear. It’s probably just a bug, but just so we know it’s not gonna turn into strep, I’ll check our stores for antibiotics.” He turns to Tess. “In the meantime, I’d suggest honey and tea if you can get your hands on it.”
Tess presses her lips together and nods. “Right.” She looks at Joel, and then at the bundle on the bed, and follows Pete downstairs.
-----
Joel hasn’t left the kid’s side by the time she gets home; a jar of honey from Julie and a satchel full of crops from the garden out back in her arms. She pushes the door open quietly, leaning against the doorway to watch them for a moment until Joel catches her eye.
She holds up the honey and a spoon. “Think you can get her to eat some?”
Joel grunts, accepting the jar gratefully as Tess perches herself carefully at the end of the bed. “Julie give you this?” He unscrews the cap, taking a breath of the dense sweetness and licking some off his finger. He swirls the spoon in it, making sure not to drip the golden syrupy mess from it before he tucks the covers off Ellie’s face slightly.
“Hey, kiddo, you wanna open up for me?” He holds the honey-dipped spoon up enticingly.
Ellie wrinkles her nose, shaking her head. “Hurts t’swallow,” she mumbles.
“This’ll help,” Tess assures her, laying on hand over the general vicinity of the girl’s hip. “You need to eat something anyway, Elle.”
The girl whines, pulling the covers back up over her face. “Go ‘way.”
Tess sighs quietly, sharing a look with Joel. “You haven’t eaten yet, have you?” she asks.
The man shrugs, dipping the spoon back into the jar. “Stuff’s probably cold by now,” he mutters, brows wrinkling when Tess reaches to take the jar back.
She jerks her head at the door. “I got stuff for soup downstairs. Figured it’d help some. Chicken noodle soup, y’know?” she shrugs, swirling the spoon. “You probably know better than I do. I haven’t got a clue where to start.” She looks at Ellie again, softly. “I can stay with her.”
Joel’s own eyes are soft and hesitant, reaching out to pet Ellie’s hair again. “Might make chicken and dumplings instead,” he says, rising to his feet. “Don’t think I got the finesse for noodles.”
Tess smirks at him. “Whatever you know best, old man.” She watches Joel go, shuffling and heavy against the floorboards before she turns back to the quivering mass of blankets. “Hon,” she tries tentatively. “I know you probably don’t feel like it, but you gotta try, kiddo. Even just half a spoon.” She shifts closer, laying a hand over Ellie’s shoulder. “It’s honey from Julie’s bees; you like sweet stuff,” she cajoles.
She smiles quietly when Ellie’s head slowly emerges, eyes red-rimmed and squinting distrustfully at Tess.
Ellie takes half a spoon, and then another half, and Tess croons and praises her with gentle words. Ellie flushes, licking her lips and rolling onto her back for the first time the whole morning.
“‘m thirsty,” she mumbles.
Tess sees a glass on the bedside table — likely placed there by Joel at some point. She helps Ellie take careful sips, pausing between each swallow just in case any of it was coming back up, until the girl pushes the glass away.
Tess brushes her unruly hair back, pressing her palm against Ellie’s forehead. Ellie moans gratefully, leaning into her cool touch. She makes to pull away again, but Ellie clings to her wrist again.
“Don’t go,” she mumbles, shuffling closer to Tess. “Don’t wanna be alone.”
Tess swallows, staring down at Ellie’s flushed creeks and imploring eyes. She looks appropriately miserable; sickly — and young. A rush of memories come unbidden, of a time of fevers and chicken pox, gentle hands, and a soft voice sitting at her bedside. Memories from a lifetime ago; another life entirely, but Tess feels that forgotten tremor of emotion in her fingertips.
She slips her hand into Ellie’s, squeezing gently. “Not goin’ anywhere, kiddo.”
That’s how Joel finds them a little while later: Ellie curled into Tess’s side, face pressed into the woman’s arm as Tess scratches her nails wordlessly along the girl’s scalp.
-----
The next Ellie wakes, the girl refuses to take a bite to eat, until Tess murmurs to her quietly, still clinging to the woman’s side. She squirms and fusses, almost childlike with her neediness and the way she only concedes when Tess is the one to press the spoon to her lips.
To his credit, Joel doesn’t take it too personally, although Tess knows that shuttered and distant look in his eyes. “All kids’re the same,” he tells her, cleaning away their bowls. “Used to hafta take the whole week off from work — couldn’t ever leave her alone.” She knows who the her is. “Tommy hadta do everything when she was awake.”
He smiles half a smile, sad and hollow.
She looks at him, chest tight with a raw sort of ache.
Tommy does stop by later in the day, Maria and Lucas in tow, even if Maria can’t bring the baby anywhere near Ellie. He drops off a bundle of food as well as a bottle of Amoxicillin. “Pete said to try one pill first, ‘cause we don’t know if she’s allergic to anythin’,” Tommy says, peeking in at Ellie’s room. He pauses at the door, a slow smile tugging at his lips at the sight. “Looks like she’s got good company.”
Tess looks up at the creak of the door, blinking away the drowsiness pulling at her eyelids. “Hey,” she rasps, nudging Ellie to lean upright higher on her chest. “Look who came to visit.”
Ellie coughs, a wet and phlegmy sound that makes Tess stroke her back gently. “Hey, Tommy,” she mumbles. She’s in a good enough mood to shoot both Miller men a tired smile. Even from the doorway, Joel can see Ellie’s hand still curled around Tess’s arm that she’s leaning against.
“Heya, kiddo,” Tommy murmurs, coming to stand at the foot of the bed with Joel. “Heard you weren’t feelin’ too great.” He tucks his hands into his jacket pockets, glancing from the girls to Joel. “The old man’s got ‘imself all riled up worryin’ about ya.”
Ellie gives Joel a sheepish grin, seemingly oblivious to the way she’s leaning into Tess’s fingers smoothing out her hair. “Sorry,” she croaks.
“Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry about,” Joel insists, shooting his brother a look. “You can’t help gettin’ sick.”
“So’s this where ya been, Tess?” Tommy teases her lightly. “Playin’ nurse?”
“Kid’s sick,” Tess says simply, making no move to extract herself from Ellie’s bed. “Honestly she’s better company than your nosy ass,” she retorts, and Tommy laughs.
“I’ll bet.” He gives Joel a companionable pat on the shoulder. “Y’all gimme a call if ya need anythin’.”
------
Joel takes her place for the night. It’s not easy to unravel herself from Ellie’s embrace, but the girl relinquishes her grip readily enough when Tess whispers to her rather urgently about a full bladder. When she gets back from the bathroom, Ellie’s asleep, and Joel is already propped up in bed beside her. He sits against the headboard, over the covers and legs crossed at the ankle as he grabs a dog-eared novel off the bedside table.
He looks at her over the top of his book.
“You sure you’re gonna be okay?” she asks carefully, tucking in the edges of Ellie’s blankets, if only to give her restless hands something to do. “‘s gonna hurt your back —”
“I can handle it,” he shrugs. “Don’t mind stayin’ up some, just in case she gets up at night.”
Tess nods. “Alright.” She doesn’t need to be told twice. She gets it, she really does. Instead, she leans down, kissing his grizzled cheek gently and tucking a strand of hair behind Ellie’s ear. “I’m right next door if you need ‘nything,” she reminds him.
She leaves the door open just a sliver, and goes to sleep in a bed much too big and much too empty.
-----
She wakes with all of her body geared to fight. Muscles locked and heart in her throat; Tess opens her eyes and doesn’t know why. Then she sees the man standing at her bedside, sees his outstretched hand on her shoulder.
“Sorry, hon,” Joel mumbles, a little more nasally than usual. His other hand is cupped over his face, and when Tess wakes more, she sees the bright red spill of blood on his shirt.
She inhales sharply, shoving the covers back. “What —”
“‘s okay, she just — I got on the wrong side a’ her fist,” he tells her quickly, muffled behind his hand.
Tess breathes out, sagging heavily into a slouch as she grips the edges of the bed tight. “‘s it broken?” she asks, reaching up to touch the bruising ridge of his nose tentatively. He flinches but doesn’t pull away, and Tess cringes sympathetically. “Doesn’t feel broken.” She moves off the bed quickly, snatching a rag off the dresser and pressing it gingerly against Joel’s face.
“I got it, I —” Joel takes the rag, sinking down wearily onto the bed. He sighs, tilting his head up to the ceiling as Tess hovers anxiously.
“Was it a nightmare?” Tess whispers, stroking her fingertips against the arch of his cheekbone.
Joel shakes his head, pulling back the rag to stare at the crimson patch, spreading across cotton. He sits for a moment longer, almost weighing the rag in his hand before crumpling it in a fist. “Instinct, I guess,” he mumbles, eyes far away and hard at some distant point at his feet. “I thought she was havin’ a nightmare — ‘specially with the fever and all —, and I tried ta...wake her up.”
Tess frowns, brows pulling tight with confusion. “It happens,” she says quietly. “I’ve beaten you bloody in my sleep, too.”
Joel nods slowly, dabbing his nose with the end of the rag. The cloth comes away only slightly blotted in new blood, the older stains already darkened and crusting. “She didn’t know it was me, though,” he whispers, and Tess tenses beside him. “She thought I was... him .” He swallows thickly, jaw tightening hard as the muscles in his shoulders and back stiffen with tension.
She grips his shoulder, anchoring him here; anchoring herself to him. “It happens,” she repeats, something sharp and low in her voice, to match the growing weight of something warm and deeply rooted blooming in her chest. “I’m gonna check on her, okay? You get cleaned up, old man. Sleep. I’ll take the midnight watch.”
Joel presses his lips together but doesn’t fight her, only reaching up to lay his hand over hers before she slips out of bed, her fingers sliding off his arm as she goes. A prickle of goosebumps form in their wake, and Joel watches her go silently, moving on skilled, soundless feet, a sinuous shadow.
------
Tess slips into the room quietly, shutting the door behind her back with a soft click. She braces herself; for what, she can’t entirely say, but she expects the girl to be awake the way she is, pressed back against the headboard with the blankets pulled up high over her face.
Wide, heartbroken eyes stare back at her, glossy in the moonlight. She whispers, small and childlike. “I didn’t mean it.”
Tess gives her a sad little smile, moving to the bed. She pulls back the covers enough to get under them, and lets Ellie curl up into a ball at her side. The girl puts her head in Tess’s lap, and Tess starts to scrape her nails over Ellie’s scalp again.
She feels a breath hitch in her throat at the way Ellie clings to her, thin fingers wrapping tight around her waist. “You’re alright,” she soothes the girl, dabbing away the sweat along her forehead with the edge of the covers. “Joel’s fine, too. Just got a bloody nose, not even broken.”
Ellie swallows back a shuddering breath, coming out in a hiccup. “I-I didn’t — I thought he was —”
“I know.” Tess lays her hand gently along Ellie’s cheek, soft and cool against feverish skin. “We know. He doesn’t blame you. Wasn’t your fault, kiddo.” She looks down at Ellie, tracing her fingertips in small, idle patterns along the girl’s cheek, curling up around her ear and stroking over her forehead.
Ellie sighs, a burdened and rasping sound. Her fingers tighten on Tess, and the woman feels Ellie press her face into her skin, hears the deep inhale that Ellie takes against the cotton of her clothes.
Tess’s lip twitches; she remembers doing the same thing as a child. The same infantile need for a scent of comfort, familiarity. Pressing her face into her mother’s skirts and remembering the smell of the laundry soap and perfume, of towels dried in the sun and the softness of something lingering on her skin.
She wonders what memories Ellie clings to with her scent.
Gunpowder and grease? Blood and ice?
It must be all the same to the poor kid. In a time when gunpowder and grease has become a source of security.
Tess wishes there was something else to give Ellie; something soft and warm and sweet, the scent of a mother’s embrace. Sunshine and fresh dew, or even just laundry soap. Everything that she isn’t.
Ellie hiccups again, and Tess reaches to wipe the hot trail of tears that have started to seep into her lap. “Sweetheart,” she whispers, softer and gentler than she thinks herself capable. “Oh, hon. You can cry if you want. I’ve got ya.”
She manoeuvres them enough to get them both lying down under the covers, pulling Ellie against her as the girl starts to tremble and hiccup with earnest. Ellie lets out a low whine, pressing her face into Tess’s side, burrowing deep into the woman’s arms as she cradles the girl close. Tess shushes her gently, rocking in slow turns in between gently pushing her hair off her neck and wiping the tears that run a path down Ellie’s chin and neck. She clings just as tightly to Ellie as the girl does her, holds the trembling girl and feels her own grip falter as she reaches out to wipe away a tear.
She curls up around the girl as well as she can, whispering sweet nothings into her ear. “I’d sing for ya if I could keep a tune,” she admits.
“Jus’ hol’ me,” Ellie mumbles, nuzzling her face even harder into Tess’s midriff. “I don’t mind if you sing bad.” She fingers the hem of Tess’s tank top shyly. “I — I never had anyone sing for me.”
Swallowing back the frog in her throat, Tess gives the girl a little fond squash, pulling all of Ellie’s limbs tight to her like a big spoon bear hug. “Gonna make your ears bleed,” she mumbles, feeling the embarrassment show in the form of her rapidly flushing cheeks and neck.
Tess clears her throat, taking a moment to remember the music of her childhood. A watercolour memory surfaces, rippling shades of music videos and old radio hits she used to Google the lyrics to.
She licks her lips, and dares to try.
She hums a wordless tune, its lyrics long forgotten, but the melody lingers in the back of her mind. Something soft and gentle that didn’t quite start off as a children’s lullaby. She strokes the girl’s hair in little idle circles and patterns, feeling the tension melt from Ellie’s slight frame. Ellie sags against her in exhaustion, her breaths quiet but belying the wheeze of her weakened lungs.
Ellie sniffles.
“Sometimes it’s not David,” she mutters. “Sometimes I’ve got the machete and it’s not...him. Under me.”
Tess purses her lips, reaching down and thumbing away a tear on Ellie’s cheek. “You have those kinda dreams often?”
“Not always,” Ellie mumbles. “Usually I — can figure out that it isn’t real, y’know? Like sometimes I can control my dreams, but this time it —” she hiccups, wiping at her snotty nose with her sleeve. “It felt real.”
Tess feels a pang of sympathy go through her. She knows those dreams; has her own fair share of moments where she fires her gun and it’s Joel who falls to his knees. Reaching the ground floor of that research facility and finding Joel ashen-faced and unbreathing on that rebar.
Sometimes they’re too late and the Fireflies win.
Sometimes the last thing she sees is Marlene’s smug face before a gun goes off.
“I get those dreams, too,” Tess murmurs. A warring sensation of guilt pulls at her — this isn’t the time or place to wallow in her own nightmares, but Tess doesn’t think she’s reliving them for her own sake. “Used to get them all the time.” Her lip twitches into a bitter smile. “Think I get them more now than anything.”
Ellie lets out a breath, low and shuddering. Tess feels her shift closer in increments. “Yeah?”
Tess hums, fingers flitting to idly stroke the length of the girl’s arm. “Yeah. Sometimes I realise, and I pull myself out. Other times…” she shrugs, because it’s really all she can do in the moment.
“Yeah,” Ellie mutters, with a weariness she is much too young for. “It sucks.”
Tess smiles sadly, squeezing Ellie again. “Totally.” She feels a yawn prickle up in her lungs, watering her eyes and warming her spine, and she gives the bed a thoughtful look. “You want me to bunk with ya, kiddo? I don’t need to be on shift tomorrow anyway.”
Ellie chews her lip hesitantly, glancing at their blanket-covered laps and then back at Tess with a shy longing. “‘f you wanna,” she mumbles, flushing warmer under Tess’s soft look. “I don’t wanna be any more trouble.”
“You’re not a trouble, Ellie,” Tess says, huffing softly as she herds the girl back against the pillows gently. She fusses with the blankets for a moment, unraveling it wide enough for the both of them and tucking it around Ellie’s huddled shoulders.
Settled in, Ellie immediately nestles herself back into Tess’s arms, burrowing down into the woman’s embrace, shameless now. Tess puffs out something like a laugh, folding herself around the girl in turn.
“Tomorrow we’ll make some pancakes or something,” she promises, muffled over the top of Ellie’s head. “Bet the old man’d like some.”
“Mmm,” Ellie mumbles, slurred and sleepy. Her grip slackens the deeper she drifts, but Tess holds on tight.
She holds on for the both of them.