Matter of Survival

"Oh yeah no I made sure that they wouldn't turn. I'm not real religious but I feel like that is some sort of like...sin. If I let them just become the undead you know? Dishonor on their memory." he said with a sift sigh as he touched the compass he wore on his belt. Will felt the color rise in his cheeks when the other man called him cute and winked at him like that. Oh this man was beyond charming and Will was sure that he knew it. "Thanks and I wouldn't mind buying you a drink. Well. I could make you a drink I already have some booze stashed away."

Will moved towards the door and gestured for Allistair to follow him so he could show him the showers. He wouldn't mind keeping the handsome Scotsman company if he wanted. Who could resist that accent anyway? He was sure he'd have half the mall wrapped around his finger soon, might as well get on the ground floor right? "I love taking showers, being clean is kind of addictive when you sit in your own filth for months in the wilderness. I mean I washed in streams and stuff but it's never enough to feel clean." he said with a little shudder and he was glad it was summer, in the winter he would have surely died.

He understood Will's words probably better than most. Only those who had been surviving in the wilderness for a while would. The barely sleeping on the ground because every small noise could mean you were in danger. Not feeling clean enough after bathing in cold streams and rivers. Washing clothes by hand without any supplies just to make him a little more presentable than looking like you have been rolling on filth for months. And the food aspect? Canned food was nutritious and all but after a while it got boring. It became less about the flavor and more about survival. Heck, even eating lizards or bugs became a part of the menu every now and then when hunting was scarce. "I don' remember the last time I had a proper drink." Alistair followed the other man through the mall, looking around and trying to memorize where things were since he was new there. "Long gone are the days when ye' just grabbed a pint with yer' mates after a long shift." They were all probably dead by now. It was unfortunate but better them than him.

He catches pieces of what the guy says, "strong stuff," "lock and key," enough to get the gist without the whole sentence, eyes flicking to his mouth, the accent making it hard. "Worried about junkies already?" He smiles ruefully, ignoring the sensation of blood seeping down his arm. "Smart." He crosses straight to the drawer, doesn't hesitate, pulls it open like he's done it fifty times. Because he has. Gauze, a pad, tape, he sets them on the counter one at a time, not asking where anything is because he already knows. He peels back the bloodied strip of shirt first, barely reacting to the pull of dried blood on skin, tosses the ruined scrap of fabric aside, then presses the fresh pad over the wound and starts winding gauze around his own arm, tight, practiced, one-handed with the other holding the end in place. Joint still parked between his lips the whole time, untouched. "Relax. Morphine makes me feel like shit." He glances up, finally looking the guy over, doesn't place him. New face.

It was with interest that Alistair saw the younger man parade around like he owned the place, watching him deal with the wound on his arm like he had done that countless of times before. The doctor in him wanted to assist. To stop him from doing whatever he was doing, to check the wound, to see if any muscles or nerves have been damaged. To even offer to stich it in a way that would leave no scars - because he was just that good when it came to opening people up and closing them again without even leaving a mark to remember what transpired. Instead, his arms folded over his chest. His eyebrows arched upward momentarily as he kept studying the mechanical way the younger man moved and patched himself up. Rudimentary. Pathetic. Basic care. No cleaning up, no checking if there was anything within the bruise. Just wipe the blood, cover the wound, bandage it and move on. Not to mention how easily it was for someone to just waltz inside the infirmary like they owned the place. Like a self-service station. Where were the nurses? Where were the other doctors? Maybe they were all too busy not doing their job to even care.

Michael had been here for a month now and every day new survivors found their way to their stolen oasis. Some days he couldn't help but wonder how things would be for him-- for his late wife, and his missing brothers-- if they had found Mistwood right from the start; if they hadn't been subjected to all that fear, and horror, at the hands of those weaponized cowards. It often left him bitter, or hating himself for not risking his life to actively search for his brother's so he could bring them here, but some days he wasn't as hard on himself.

Today, he was too distracted staring at the broad width of the newcomer's shoulders and backs as he showed him the medical center to be thinking about anything else.

Leaning against one of the back set of cabinets, arms crossed over his chest and a soft blush on his cheeks like a schoolboy with a crush, Michael listened and nodded along as the man praised their setup.

"Yeah, I know it's not a lot but it's certainly better than nothing-- and everyone on the team, so far, keeps their stations pretty damn tidy. As-," he cleared his throat with a cough, and straightened his posture as the other man-- Alistair, if he remembered correctly-- stopped going through drawers and cabinets and looked at him again, "as far as the strong stuff is concerned, for the most part it's on an honor system. I don't disagree that we need to have a bit more security in place but right now everyone has proven to be trustworthy; and everything is still a bit delicate around here. Locking things up might start making people think we don't trust 'em and it'll just snowball away from us. No one really comes back here though unless they genuinely need care. We don't misuse this space," but they could.

"That is a lot of faith put in others, luv." The Scottish accent danced past Alistair's lips like a melody as he tilted his head to the side, his gaze as methodical as his scalpel would be on a body. He was the newest acquisition at the mall. One the latest ones to find solace in a place not desolated by death and entropy. But over the past six months, he had seen what humanity was capable of. Whatever few survivors he had crossed paths with... they were all compelled and drawn to their own selfish needs. Victims to their own whims. In a way, Alistair could relate. The world had gone to shit. All the pillars that kept the world afloat had crumbled and turned to ash. Anarchy reigned supreme whenever survivors gathered. That little slice of heaven seemed to be the exception but sooner or later, corruption would find its way in. Someone would decide that their wants and whims were above everyone else's. It was cute, really... to trust others. It was kind of honorable even. To see the crumbling ashes of the old world through rose-tainted glasses.

"It's nice to not have to sleep in trees and take real baths now you know? It really is gem and I think we should do everything in our power to take care of it. the people here have been obscenely nice for me. They even helped me bury my friends."

"At least they buried, luv." The Scottish accent dances against the almost pristine walls. Allistair would never believe that place was inside a mall, one of the possible last bastions of survival against the undead epidemic. "Could be worse, ye' know? They could crawl from their graves and try to take a bite out of ye'." The surgeon chuckled, playfully giving the other man accompanying him a quick wink before he continued his inspection. "Yer' too cute to be dead. As for bitin'... well... ask nicely and buy a man a drink first, aye?"

That didn't really answer his question. Or maybe it did; he just disliked the answer. The way Vince's eyes had crinkled when he'd chuckled—like this was all some game—made Jun's stomach clench. Whatever. Vince's personal life wasn't his business, who he slept with, or how many times. It shouldn't bother him. His fingers found the rifle strap anyway, flexing against it as they walked, the canvas groaning under the pressure. He could feel his knuckles turning white as he imagined Vince with some nameless face from their camp—maybe that guy from the kitchen, or that new kid who always looked terrified—smiling while... He cut the thought off, a blush creeping up his neck. It. Wasn't. His. Business. The strap slipped through his sweaty palms, forcing him to tighten his grip again.

"Yeah, well..." He shifted his bag, trying to make it seem like it was just an adjustment for comfort. "It's not like it matters. Just curious. That's all." But he wasn't, not really. He was just picturing it. That was exactly why he regretted asking. The canvas strap dug into his shoulder as he adjusted the weight, his fingers brushing against the frayed edges where he'd nervously picked at it for weeks. Jun felt like a kid caught staring, who suddenly found something interesting on the ceiling. "Just curious," he repeated to himself. Why had he asked? Why had he let himself want an answer?

He glanced up at Vince's back again. The guy wasn't even flustered. Of course not. Why would he be? It wasn't anything serious for him. Why would Vince care if he's sleeping around? It wasn't like Jun expected... He didn't know what he expected. Maybe just that there'd be some kind of... who knows? A spark? Not that Vince would even notice. Jun pulled his jacket tighter. The damn thing was already worn thin. Like everything else.

"Fine, then. Keep your secrets." He muttered it under his breath, hoping Vince didn't catch it. "It's none of my business, anyway." The last thing he wanted to sound was jealous or clingy or like he was trying to pry.

But his mind wouldn't stop spinning as he tried to imagine it—someone else, not him. It's not like Jun wanted Vince. That wasn't it. Or... He shook his head.

There was something in the way Jun spoke that made the sniper pay more attention to the other man's words and actions. Like... there was this tension lingering underneath the words being spoken. Jun was just curious. Nothing wrong with being curious... until that curiosity seemed more like an excuse to hide something else. At first, Vince chose to ignore it. Maybe it was just in his head and the other man was really merely curious about how he did things. They did come from different backgrounds, after all. He couldn't blame the other man for trying to understand how some things worked there. But why did it matter anyway? The whole world had gone to shit. Civilizations crumbled, people were dying, the fucking dead walked like a plague. Maybe now was a time to be curious about things, especially since for all they knew - tomorrow could be very well their last day on earth.

"It's not keeping my secrets." Vince shrugged without a hint of concern. He merely liked to keep the private aspects of his life private. He wasn't one to share his background with everyone else. Jun already knew more from his mouth than many others did. It was not keeping secrets. "I merely don't go around publicizing who I sleep with or don't sleep with like so many others. They want to gloat? Gloat. But I don't kiss and tell. That is not nor has ever been my style. If you are uncomfortable with that - it's a you thing." He started to walk a tad faster. This conversation was seriously going toward deeper waters and no amount of curiosity coming from Jun would make him want to share more than he had already done. Sharing meant letting other people in. If that were to happen, he would become close to them. And then if something happened... it would be like Matias all over again. His heart had already been broken once. There was no way he wanted a do-over of that.

Until the question came out of Jun's lips and actually made Vince halt on his steps.

"Want? What do I want?" Leo murmured, turning his head enough to breathe in Vince's scent. The guy somehow still smelled clean, months into the end of the world, like he'd found a supply of soap somewhere in this building and was keeping it to himself, which honestly Leo wouldn't put past him. He kept meaning to ask about that. "Well…"

He didn't need to spell it out. Vince was right there; Leo was already naked. But still, part of him wanted to be clear—no assumptions.

"I want—" The words were sitting right there, lined up and ready to go, and his mouth just wouldn't do it. Leo shoved his face back into the pillow, breathing warm cotton, waiting to see if the sentence would finish itself if he gave it a minute. It didn't. The whole thing lasted maybe ten seconds, which was probably a personal record for him staying quiet.

"It's not about sex, if that's what you're thinking," he said, finally rolling over to face Vince. His hand came up to rest on Vince's chest. "Okay, so some of it is sex." He was wiped out, mentally at least, but his body hadn't gotten the memo — his cock was already nudging Vince's stomach at half mast, and there was no point pretending otherwise. "A lot of it. Most of it, honestly, you're right there, and you're warm. You already know I get worked up around you. This is not new information."

He shrugged like it was no big deal. It was not like he had many opportunities these days to have any kind of intimacy beyond hooking up. Not that there weren't people willing to do just that, and Leo just was fine with being another notch.

The world had ended, everybody was scared, and it turned out scared people are horny as hell. Nobody puts that part in the movies. People grabbed whatever warm body was close — no names, no breakfast — Leo had been that warm body plenty of times. He wasn't complaining about it either. The sex was fine, sometimes way better than fine; everybody walked away with what they came for.

He wasn't judging anyone—hell, if you could find someone willing, why the hell not? He just wanted more than that. He wanted to know their name. He wanted to know if they liked it rough or gentle, if they bit their lip when they came, if they made coffee in the morning or snuck out before dawn. He wanted the details, the specifics, the data points that made up a person. He wasn't looking for a soulmate, but he wasn't looking for a stranger either.

People tended to be complicated every now and then. Even Vince wasn't immune to those moments when you couldn't put your thoughts in order, or your mind wanted one thing and your body another. So... he allowed Leo to think. To conjure the honest response to the honest question presented. It was also a nice way for the sniper to know where they stood. They had an unspoken agreement. They would occasionally fuck, please one another and then return to their own lives and do what they did best. However, Vince knew that no strings attached often came with some strings attached. Maybe the sex was so great, someone would want more. Maybe the companionship was all they ever really wanted and also needed more. There were plenty of reasons for someone to want more than just a good old fashioned roll in the hay. But just because Vince understood the need to have someone by his side and find a safe haven where he could just... let it go ... it did not mean he viewed himself as someone else's safe harbor.

His own safe harbor was somewhere out there. How could he find solace with someone else?

Sliding his knife against smooth wood, Klaus was more than grateful to be able to indulge in an old hobby. He knew that it was hardly a skill that would be useful to the group, but it kept him sane. He also had Chief, but he could easily try to survive on his own if all he needed was canine companionship.

Klaus looked up, purposely trying to catch the other's gaze. " Everyone needs a good chat now and then, " he responded, pausing in his work. " You see anythin' worth investigatin' " he asked, nodding to the edge of the roof.

"There aren't that many stragglers." Which was mostly due to those who went out to scavenge doing a damn good job at keeping it stealthy and not drawing attention. That and the fact that there were always soldiers patrolling the grounds. Vince liked to stay up on the rooftop. Not only because it was quieter but where else would the sniper be? "There's one every blue moon roaming around solo. I take those down before they get too close. One can easily become two and so forth." Vince's attention turned from his scope to the man carving the chunk of wood next to him. It had been a while since he chatted with someone during his patrol. More often than not, he socialized after his time was done and even so... it would depend on the person, the location and the reason why a chat was required.

Jun trailed after Vince, still fiddling with his bag strap. He had no idea how to answer. Part of him wanted to laugh it off, but he was just too curious. From what Jun had noticed about Vince, the man was also a private person, so Jun didn't know if asking was even okay. He glanced at Vince's back. They had been sharing more than usual during their time out here, but still... It wasn't like they were close.

"You talk about it like it's nothing." Jun stepped around an overturned rack. He tried to keep his voice down. "But you must've had relationships? Friends, boyfriends, people you cared about?" Vince couldn't live all these years without forming connections—unless he chose not to. The more Jun heard, though, it sounded like Vince really didn't want anything more. "So it was always just... relief? Nothing else?"

Jun didn't mean to pry, but he couldn't help himself. He imagined Vince just shrugging off relationships, not needing to stay around after, never catching feelings. The idea made him feel hollow. Sex had never just been about relief for Jun, not that he'd ever gotten close enough to know. Maybe Vince was right; maybe he was overcomplicating it. "What if someone wants it to be more than that?"

He regretted asking right away; it sounded way too pointed. "Not that I... I mean... it's different when it's more than just... sex, I guess." He stared down at his boots as they crunched over broken glass. "I'm not asking because... it's just... it's weird hearing someone talk about it like it's nothing. Maybe it's because of where I'm from. I don't know."

Jun shot Vince an uncomfortable glance. It was easier talking about it when he wasn't looking at him, but now his chest felt too tight to brush this off. "You don't have to answer," he mumbled. "It's not like I know what I'm talking about."

The conversation with Jun was becoming increasingly more private the more they dwelt on the topic. A part of the sniper wanted for him to just... rush ahead. End the conversation there, go back to the mall within a reasonable hour and put that whole exchange behind his back. But there was something in the curiosity provided by Jun. Yes, he was curious and wanted to know things he was not familiar with - but at the same time? It made Vincent pause for a moment. Almost as if he was replaying his past back inside his head. Seeking the right answers to give the other man. This was why he hated heart-to-heart conversations. It implied effort from him to give the correct answers, not to mention giving Jun a chance to get to know him better than most people at the mall did over the past few months. Getting attached was... stupid. It led to nothing but heartbreak in the end.

At least, that was what he had learned throughout his life.

"I don't know if what I had could be considered relationships." Vince paused for a second, scratching his scruff as he made it clear he did not want to look at Jun while answering. "I dated guys, I guess? I don't know if you call three weeks a thing." Military life was never the right path for him to find a nice guy and have a white picket fence. Not to mention how fucking homophobic the vast majority of the army was. "I was an army brat all my life. Dudes in the army are men's man... I guess." He gave Jun a shrug as he kept walking. "You don't do relationships with those. There were a couple there that were into guys. We got involved for a bit. But it's the military. The fear of being caught or guilt of doing something supposed to be wrong according to the big book..." There was never room for relationships in his life. Not that he sought them out actively.

"The only person I love is my brother. Only one I trust and would do everything from." Everyone else was just... good times, if they ended up fucking. Nothing too complicated. It was hard to rewire his brain into believing that being in a relationship with another man was alright. Times were changing fast and more and more people were accepting same-sex relationships. "I grew up in a military family, Jun. Only thing that truly matters is to stick to the mission and let nothing distract you. Relationships are a distraction." Or were. Unknown yet. "As for whether or not I fucked someone from Metrocenter more than once...?" Vince actually chuckled as he shook his head. Curious little bastard, wasn't he?

Leo opened his mouth to reply but... didn't. It wasn't often he found himself at a loss for words or even thought before he spoke, having no filter for most of his life. There was always some commentary he could throw in.

Something teasing or flirtatious. A distraction if he was being perfectly honest. It wasn't like he was making some sappy love confession for Vince. Love was a bit too strong for how he felt. Leo wasn't in love, but he did like when Vince was around. The sex was amazing, but neither of them wanted anything more serious. Pretending, even for a little bit, was nice.

He certainly didn't want to sound like he needed more than what Vince was willing to give him.

"Okay, fine, you got me. You're hot. You smell great, like... really great." His nose scrunched as he smiled. "And I like having you around." There, honest enough, but not too honest. "Plus, I sleep better when you're close, so if you wanna be my human teddy bear tonight, I'd be cool." He added quickly when he felt Vince's body shift slightly, like he might pull away, which he didn't.

"I like when you're around." He bit his lip. He was going to suggest they do more than just sleep, but no need to put that out there when Vince already knew how much Leo loved it when they fucked. "I know that sounded sappy. It's not a whole thing. I just like it when you're here." He finally rolled his head over his shoulder and opened his eyes to get at least one good look at Vince's face.

"You probably have better places to sleep." He cleared his throat and tried to play it off, turning his head away again. He had meant what he said: no pressure. "Don't let me keep you." His shoulders rose in an indifferent shrug.

There was an obvious underlying of something... deeper within Leo's words. Something that could make a guy like him run to the hills - mostly because that meant becoming attached to someone. There was only one person to whom the sniper was fully attached to and that was his own twin brother. Yes, he had relationships in the past. They never lasted longer than a couple of weeks, so those couldn't even be branded a relationship. Not when all they did together was have sex and go back to their normal lives. But the world had gone to shit. Things would never truly be the same for anyone. Everyone had lost someone. Emotions bubbled under the surface, and feelings were raw. He understood that sometimes, people just needed someone close. Someone who wouldn't leave. Someone who would be there. A safe haven amidst uncertainty.

"Alright." His voice was not louder than a whisper. He could stay that night. What was one night sleeping with someone else? And... maybe... deep, deep down, Vince could feel the same amount of comfort he was not willing to admit out loud. Without his brother, he felt lost. Almost like a part of him was missing and he was not complete. Being with Leo like this? Holding him close? Feeling the steady movements of his chest as he took a breath? It was soothing. Probably slightly more soothing than being on the rooftop and shooting the head off a lone undead. It was a nice reminder that he didn't necessarily have to be alone. He liked being alone but that was his choice. It was not mandatory. If he so wanted... there would be a place for him there. Or somewhere else.

"I'm not a vir..." Jun let out an uneven breath he hadn't realized he was holding. His blush was fading, but his nerves were still strung tight. It was like stepping onto broken glass, and every time Vince turned that calm smile his way, it sent sharp sparks up his spine. Jun wasn't good at this. The teasing felt like he was getting more attention than he was used to.

"You are so calm about everything. I only get like that for the mission." Jun said after walking in an almost awkward silence for a good minute or two. "Do you flirt like this with everyone?" He peeked at Vince from behind his hair, but quickly dropped his eyes again. "It's just... where I come from, you don't say things like that unless you really mean it. I'm not a very good flirt."

The truth was, Jun didn't really have anyone back home with whom he could share that side of himself, so he had very little experience with men. He didn't understand why Vince kept giving him these openings to flirt back. Or why his chest kept getting tighter when he tried to brush it off.

Jun slowed his pace as they neared an open plaza up ahead. There was more debris, along with scattered carts and benches. It could hide infected, so Jun gestured for them to stop at its edge. "The one you... Your first. Was it someone you knew? Or..." he asked while looking around, checking blind spots and possible entry points. The mall wasn't quiet, not really. There were creaks, distant groans, small sounds of things settling, but none of that was reassuring.

He couldn't imagine being with someone he didn't know for his first time. The thought of being seventeen and reckless enough for it to be some hookup didn't sit right with him.

Did he really pass that impression? That he flirted with everyone? The mere concept of flirting wasn’t a novelty to the sniper, but Vincent liked to think he wasn’t as flirty as some of the other guys living at the mall. Did he flirt? On occasion. If the other guy was hot, if there was chemistry. It wasn’t flirting for the sake of finding someone to fuck because he was too tired of using his hand. Sex was good and all but… he wouldn’t die because of not shoving his dick on someone for over twelve hours. “I do not.” The answer was quick. Precise. No need to justify his answer – mostly because Vince didn’t feel the need to do it. He didn’t flirt with everyone. In fact, his social skills were quite abysmal altogether. Yet, he was not going to expand his answer beyond that. He did not flirt with everyone and that was that.

As they stopped, his attention returned to his rifle. Dropping to one knee, the sniper adjusted his scope to check their surroundings. No movement yet, which meant that for the time being, both of them were safe. They were moving quick yet carefully. Not drawing attention to themselves. “My first was someone I knew. Acquaintances.” Not friends. He didn’t have many of those in the grander scheme of things. “He suggested it and I said why not. It happened.” It wasn’t special. It wasn’t romantic. It was almost a science experiment to see how that felt. Mechanical and impersonal. Emotions were… complicated. In more ways than one. “Why does it matter? Sex is not supposed to be complicated. It’s supposed to be enjoyable. Pleasurable.” No movement. They could keep going for now. “I do not know the difference between lust and love. Never experienced the latter.” And he probably never would.

Which was a fact Vincent had made peace with.