arby's didn't have free lunch

"But what if you don't? Because no one ever has, Frank. Even my own..." It was embarrassing how fast he allowed that to slip out, and even more so with how quick he felt emotion overcome him. It was true, though. No one ever stayed. They said they would, and then they fucking left. And it was fucking fine. He didn't need them. He could survive. He could build and fix and cook, and he never needed another goddamn human again. Maybe that was why the end soothed him. No one else to lie to him. To tell him he was something he would never be. No one until Frank. But this human... he can't admit that. Not yet. Not until he knew for sure. "I know you want to now. Be it because of the showers, or food, or the s...the sex... but... things change. And I know that. I know better than to think that the world ending changed anything about me." His face was humiliatingly wet and warm. He backed off, shaking his head and letting the choked off words fall. He wanted it? Fine. Only two ways for it to end, and this would answer questions for them both. Why he was so fearful and hard for Frank and if he really wanted to stay for Bill. He shifted back another step and sighed. "My mother left me here when I was seventeen. She was tired of me. Said that I was too fucking 'special', the bad kind, the way they said about the kids that got stared at in the yard. The doctors never said it. But she... she suspected, and I think everyone else did too. I was different and they didn't like me." It was weird. Talking about it, telling anyone about what he'd had to listen to over and over and over and over, until he was often left wondering why he was still alive. If he was that much of a burden to everyone he came across... was it even worth it? Yes. Because now we have him. "I had a girlfriend. Once. For a whole day. She only spent that day with me because she was worried about this boy she liked not wanting to date virgins, and I... didn't understand enough to get that she was only using me as means to an end. After that... I was alone until my mother got sick. I moved back here, I took care of her until she died and she let me keep the house. So... I am scared, Frank... of you telling me you want to stay and making me think it's because of me and it's not. I don't care. You can stay if it's just for the food or whatever it might be... I just... am fearful of being lied to." Then came the harder confession. He wiped at his face, shaking harder than he had in a few days, trying to find the words to explain... and opting to be direct. He moved back to invade Frank's space, inhaling the scent of his soap and coffee, kissing him and whimpering guiltily against his lips. "I'm scared that I am falling in love with you..."

He found comfort in focusing on Frank, watching him as he inched along. Sam could see the way his companion was trying to focus, reaching so his hand was firm on his back, assuring him that he wasn't going down... at least, not alone. He was grateful when he watched Frank make it to safety, following him and taking a second to breathe before moving to peer back the way they'd come. There was smoke, and fire... but even after a couple of minutes, no infected emerged from the thick, grey wall. Satisfied that they had somehow managed to make it out of this, he returned to Frank, reaching to pull him close again. It was reflex. Relief that they'd lived through this, that they could take a second to breathe as they planned the next leg of this trek back to the settlement. He held him tight, frozen for a solid minute before he let him go, moving to look at the roof adjacent to them. It looked easy enough. There wasn't more than a foot or two between and he'd seen Frank take larger leaps with ease. It was solid. They could scale the escape on the side of the neighboring building and be back on the way to home. He felt a sense of calm wash over him, then he once more returned to Frank. "I think we can probably rest here for a while. If you want to nap, I'll keep watch."

It was so insanely overwhelming. Bill never liked being touched; he hated it. He could remember being a little boy and having to be physically restrained at the doctor because he'd react so violently to touch... but then came Frank, who touched him like he was using only his hands to pray and like Bill was sacred. And he never wanted Frank to stop. Even if the contact still left him bewildered and unsure right then. He could feel his eyes widen in what he really hoped read as relief when Frank assured him he liked him too, tensing unintentionally as he was urged to relax. Frank asked him what he was afraid of and all at once, a cacophony of intrusive, mean thoughts assaulted his brain. It insisted he remind Frank that he wasn't a good man, he was a lonely man. That he'd find someone better if he spared himself. But at the same time, his heart protested. Frank was sweet, but it was a genuine miracle the man had lived long enough to nearly die in one of Bill's traps. He fought back, focusing on the lilt in Frank's voice when he'd praise Bill, or the shade of his eyes when he first woke up in the morning, letting that quell the screaming, then he tried organizing his thoughts. Would he sound pathetic if he owned the fear of being alone again? Was it manipulative to tell him he was afraid that he was falling in love with Frank? There was no way to be sure what was okay to say and what was sure to make the beautiful features of the younger man crumble. "That's a story for a different day. Please come home..."

"I couldn't take anything else. Tess, you know... she's got things pretty well set up. Hilarious to me that even after the world ended, the women are the stronger ones." He couldn't find words for the way talking to Frank made him feel so at peace and calm. He reached for his own bag, digging in and pulling out a knife he'd picked up somewhere around what he thought was Helena. Reaching, he offered it to Frank, voice quiet as he followed it with the soft explanation of the gift. "Found that when we stopped to eat one night and it's real nice. My brother had one just like that when we was kids. Used it all the time, it should hold up to just about anything. Your... uh... yours can probably fix it up if it sticks or anything. I just sharpened it a few nights ago... so... careful with the blade near your hand, hu?"

The younger Winchester had grown so deeply attached to this man. His sweet reassurance made Sam move to embrace him, crushing the older man's smaller frame to his and holding a moment. He missed physical affection... and if they were about to die, he was going out knowing how Frank fit against his chest. The moment past and he let go, letting Frank go off to do what he'd asked. He'd finally finished getting everything ready when Frank called back to him, making him stand up and flash a thumb. "Get ready to scramble. I'm going to light it. If you can't get out without help, don't. I will be there in less than a second." Then it was show time. He drew a breath, Dean's voice in his ear, soothing him through what he was going to do. He carefully grabbed some sticks he'd made from broken desks and let them... then threw them at the gasoline covered door. As the flames sprang to life and the infected on the other side wailed, Sam raced to grab his things, stowing some small bottles of the gasoline that he had rationed making the trap, then bolted to get Frank. He was fast and careful, hoisting the older man out the window and scrambling out after him on the ledge. The room behind them was hidden in a patchwork of reds and oranges as the fire consumed it, reminding him they needed to move. The ledge was SHORT. He was regretting that as he inched along behind Frank, too scared of him falling to worry for his own safety. "Stay close to the wall."

I will always choose you. He said it like something sacred, and that was both beautiful and terrifying. Bill had never been tolerated, much less worshipped the way Frank seemed to genuinely be doing. He knew his fear and his past made him question if this was because he fed him, or because he knew he'd be safe here with Bill... but the weight of the promise falling so effortlessly and confidently from lips Bill already never wanted to stop kissing told him this might be a real thing. Them. He'd spent so long happy to be alone. Never had he stopped to think about how nice it might be to have a person. To have someone he wanted that wanted him back. And now, the world was over and somehow, the perfect someone, the perfect person.. found him? And wanted him? His hands moved to rest on Frank's hips, curling slightly into the well worn denim clinging to the skin there, voice a soft whine. "I really like you..."

"Let's hope this one gets us home, right?" He was so grateful for their bond. It was all that he had anymore and it meant everything. He was shaking his head at the question about which fate sounded worse when Frank found the ultimate Hail Mary; one of the cans wasn't empty! Sam moved fast, moving to take it, sniffing it and looking up to whisper a soft 'thanks, Jack' before moving back to look at the pile he'd formed in front of the door, brain working out how fast they'd have to move to get out in time. It wouldn't be without risk; the window would take seconds to reach, and while he'd mostly busted it out, he'd still have to help Frank out over the glass. Then they'd have to more or less side shimmy along the ledge that Sam's feet were undoubtedly too long for. It would take, again, mere seconds... but if there was an error... that was a nearly ten story drop. The sounds from the hall were getting louder, so he let his hunter brain kick in, moving to grab some old curtains. "Take this one and wrap your hand. Go finish clearing the glass, and be ready when I get back to you. I'm going to pour some of this on the door and the shit against it... then I'm lighting it and we have to book it. You ready for this?"

He didn't know quite how to process this act of kindness. He was frozen in his place as Frank extended his hand with the watch secured in it, explaining the reason he thought this was a good idea, staring and feeling like a rock had suddenly settled over his vocal chords. He reached, wrapping both hands around the one offered and squeezing tight a second. He was struggling to breathe, much less form words. So he silently accepted it and strapped it into place on the other wrist, studying it as his fingers wrapped the broken one a beat. Finally, he felt able to clear the boulder in his throat, shaking his head and looking back to Frank. "This is very kind of you... I... thank you for this. Really."

"If you fix it... it won't be the same." He had no idea how to explain. The broken face, the hand frozen on the moment his daughter's light had been snuffed out... it should have triggered his anger and sadness. It should have made him want to get rid of the damn thing and let the scar heal over. It was a reminder of the singular worst moment of his whole fucking life. Yet, all he could think of when he looked at it was her face... those sweet eyes so full of joy and excitement, proud of her surprise for the father she loved with everything she had. The lilt in her laugh telling him she'd slung drugs to pay for the watch repairs before confessing to using his own money. The giddy dance in her spot before he pranked her. It was one of the most mundane, silly moments ever, and he was so grateful that after all this time... he could still hear that laugh. Her voice. See her beautiful little face when he looked at it. It was all he had left of his entire universe. "You're kind. I appreciate that offer more than you know. I just..." His voice broke a bit, forcing him to clear his throat. "It's all I have left. The way it is. I don't know why I can't... I just... need it to stay this way. Maybe it's because the last time it was fixed, she did it... it's crazy. I know."

"We don't need it to be full. I just need a little bit. I have an idea..." His brain was going a million miles a minute. He was trying to remember exactly what he had on hand, moving to crouch and tear open his kit. "Go grab that, and the others behind it?" Digging back into his bag, he started ripping things out of the way trying to find the items he knew could help if there was any gas left, nearly losing his mind when he found the flint stick and some paper. "If we can get even a little... we can set that door, the one they're coming for... on fire. They'll catch. We put enough stuff between us and then, it gives us time to get out the window over there. The ledge is scary... but we can do it. We can cross there, it's seven side steps to the roof... the empty roof. You grab the cans, I'm going to start piling things in front of the door."

"Because the world ended and there's no one else?" He'd been the one no one wanted his whole life. He was weird, different. It made it hard to connect to people, and it had made him so relived when everyone was gone. He no longer had to fit in. And he still didn't, not even now, with Frank, but he wanted to. He wanted so badly to be the kind of man Frank would want to stay with. Not just because there's no other option. And it felt an unfair question... it really did, but he needed to ask. He needed to assurance that his brain was playing games and that he was worth being something to someone as beautiful and good as Frank. "I've never done this before..."

"No! What if they overrun you while I'm gone? No. No one is staying. We both leave... or we die together, Frank." He wasn't even slightly prepared to say goodbye to Frank; he'd been alone until the man had taken him in, still shattered from the days old loss of his wife, Eileen. If it hadn't been for Frank, Sam would have been right behind her. And now he wanted to risk being torn apart for what? To let Sam go on? There was no way. "We can get out together, I know we can. We just need... something..." His eyes swept the room, searching for anything they could use, freezing as he spotted what may have been their only hope if he was right. "Is that a gas can?"

"It's a long story. Ain't a happy one, either." He hadn't really ever shown anyone this stuff. Tess knew, but only because Joel guarded it with his life if it wasn't on his wrist, and he insisted on wearing it even though it wouldn't work again. He reached to take it back, being gentle and easing it out of the man's hands and back around his wrist. "My high school sweetheart gave it to me. Then she gave me a daughter... and left me. Busted it one day when Sarah was four... she got it fixed for my thirty-sixth birthday..." It hurt, thinking. He let it crash, though. His voice cleared up and he added softly. "It got broken again a few hours later..."