Fic: Z-Day - Chapter 6: First Time
Title: Z-Day (Chapter 6: First Time)
Pairing: Santana Lopez/Brittany Pierce
Rating: R
Summary: Santana and Brittany face the unthinkable -- and the inevitable -- in post-apocalyptic Zombieland.
Word Count: ~975
Disclaimer: Still don't own Zombieland or Glee.
“I just don’t get it,” I managed. I was blubbering at this point, unable to say anything like a normal person. Like some sap at the end of The Notebook who thought the world was so beautiful and so sad, and why did they have to go and die in such a fucking perfect way. I wanted to scream and pull the refrigerator out of the wall and throw the microwave into the non-working TV in the living room. “What did I do wrong? When did I… I should have been with you,” I said. “I should have-”
Brittany placed her hand over my mouth. “It doesn’t matter,” she said.
I shoved her hand away. “Yes it does!”
“It doesn’t matter what you could have done. It happened. Why are you trying to make it worse?”
“I’m not - how are you even so goddamn calm right now!”
*
“That was so fucking hot,” I breathed against her neck.
She shivered. “Really? It felt kind of…”
“So hot,” I grinned.
Her skin shone with a thin layer of sweat, and her legs were still trembling slightly. “I know they’re already dead, but it still seems kind of awful to shoot them,” she said, unable to look away from the carnage surrounding us.
“Don’t feel bad,” I said. “It’s you or them. And I’m glad it wasn’t you. Come on.” We stepped over the fallen zombies into the supermarket.
I picked up an avocado and squeezed; when the outer shell caved beneath my fingers, I quickly dropped it on the floor. “Ew.”
“The apples are still good!” Brittany grinned, biting into one.
I eyed the yogurt suspiciously as we passed it, and Brittany grabbed a box of Ho-Ho’s. I raised my eyebrows. “Seriously?”
“What? It’s not like Coach Sylvester’s weighing us anymore,” she said. “I’ve always wanted to try them.”
“Well, they’re disgusting. Plus, I don’t want them to get in the way of these.” I pushed her tank top up and traced her beautiful abs, leaning up to kiss the underside of her jaw, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. She giggled and turned into the kiss.
“Killing zombies makes you horny,” she said against my mouth.
“Mhm,” I said. “Especially when you do it. That was the first time I’ve seen you shoot a gun. So. Fucking. Hot.” I punctuated the last few words with kisses trailing down her neck. I teased the flesh over her pulse point between my teeth and sucked gently. She let out a breathy whimper and dropped the Ho-Ho’s so she could tangle a hand in my hair. I smiled triumphantly.
“San.” The barest of exhales. I glanced up at her - head tilted back, bottom lip pulled between her teeth, eyelids fluttering closed. I clenched my thighs and bit my own lip.
“Mm?” I replied, slipping a hand underneath her shirt and brushing my fingers along the outline of her bra. She whimpered again, pleadingly, and pushed herself against me. I barely swallowed my own groan at the feeling of her teeth nipping my earlobe, her breasts on mine, her thigh pressed to my center. “Hey Britt?” I whispered seductively. I always had one kickass bedroom voice, even in the middle of the cookies-and-chips aisle.
“Yes,” she said breathily, panting slightly.
I pressed myself even closer to her, delighting in the way her breath quickened and she refused to break eye contact. God, when they went dark like that… it was like she was fucking you with her eyes. “Let’s get these instead.” I said, pulling a bag of Pop Chips from behind her and stepping away, continuing down the aisle with a smirk as though we hadn’t almost totally just got it on in front of Little Debbie and the Hostess snacks.
She groaned loudly, and after a moment I heard her steps behind me. “That was so…”
“Hot?”
“Mean. So mean.”
*
“How are you so goddamn fucking calm?!” I gripped her shirt tightly in my sweaty hands.
“Do I have another choice?” she asked genuinely, frowning a little in confusion. “I mean…” lifting her wrist to her face, she worried her bottom lip and looked at it with sad eyes. Finally, she kissed my forehead tenderly.
In the back of my mind, I guess I knew it would happen eventually, but it was shoved so deep under the picture of me and Britt living in this random cabin in the Sierra Nevadas somewhere west of Lake Tahoe that I’d kind of forgotten about its reality. When we were out there, it was like zombies were just some bad dream that we were trying to get over. Like Freddy Krueger or Jason Voorhees, where you’re scared enough to sleep with a baseball bat for a couple nights, just in case, but when day after day of safety goes by, you push them deeper into your memories until you mostly forget them.
Mostly.
I turned Brittany’s wrist and stared into the face of reality.
“It’s okay,” she said with a tiny, scared smile. “It was starting to get really cold up here anyway.”
Pairing: Santana Lopez/Brittany Pierce
Rating: R
Summary: Santana and Brittany face the unthinkable -- and the inevitable -- in post-apocalyptic Zombieland.
Word Count: ~975
Disclaimer: Still don't own Zombieland or Glee.
“I just don’t get it,” I managed. I was blubbering at this point, unable to say anything like a normal person. Like some sap at the end of The Notebook who thought the world was so beautiful and so sad, and why did they have to go and die in such a fucking perfect way. I wanted to scream and pull the refrigerator out of the wall and throw the microwave into the non-working TV in the living room. “What did I do wrong? When did I… I should have been with you,” I said. “I should have-”
Brittany placed her hand over my mouth. “It doesn’t matter,” she said.
I shoved her hand away. “Yes it does!”
“It doesn’t matter what you could have done. It happened. Why are you trying to make it worse?”
“I’m not - how are you even so goddamn calm right now!”
*
“That was so fucking hot,” I breathed against her neck.
She shivered. “Really? It felt kind of…”
“So hot,” I grinned.
Her skin shone with a thin layer of sweat, and her legs were still trembling slightly. “I know they’re already dead, but it still seems kind of awful to shoot them,” she said, unable to look away from the carnage surrounding us.
“Don’t feel bad,” I said. “It’s you or them. And I’m glad it wasn’t you. Come on.” We stepped over the fallen zombies into the supermarket.
I picked up an avocado and squeezed; when the outer shell caved beneath my fingers, I quickly dropped it on the floor. “Ew.”
“The apples are still good!” Brittany grinned, biting into one.
I eyed the yogurt suspiciously as we passed it, and Brittany grabbed a box of Ho-Ho’s. I raised my eyebrows. “Seriously?”
“What? It’s not like Coach Sylvester’s weighing us anymore,” she said. “I’ve always wanted to try them.”
“Well, they’re disgusting. Plus, I don’t want them to get in the way of these.” I pushed her tank top up and traced her beautiful abs, leaning up to kiss the underside of her jaw, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. She giggled and turned into the kiss.
“Killing zombies makes you horny,” she said against my mouth.
“Mhm,” I said. “Especially when you do it. That was the first time I’ve seen you shoot a gun. So. Fucking. Hot.” I punctuated the last few words with kisses trailing down her neck. I teased the flesh over her pulse point between my teeth and sucked gently. She let out a breathy whimper and dropped the Ho-Ho’s so she could tangle a hand in my hair. I smiled triumphantly.
“San.” The barest of exhales. I glanced up at her - head tilted back, bottom lip pulled between her teeth, eyelids fluttering closed. I clenched my thighs and bit my own lip.
“Mm?” I replied, slipping a hand underneath her shirt and brushing my fingers along the outline of her bra. She whimpered again, pleadingly, and pushed herself against me. I barely swallowed my own groan at the feeling of her teeth nipping my earlobe, her breasts on mine, her thigh pressed to my center. “Hey Britt?” I whispered seductively. I always had one kickass bedroom voice, even in the middle of the cookies-and-chips aisle.
“Yes,” she said breathily, panting slightly.
I pressed myself even closer to her, delighting in the way her breath quickened and she refused to break eye contact. God, when they went dark like that… it was like she was fucking you with her eyes. “Let’s get these instead.” I said, pulling a bag of Pop Chips from behind her and stepping away, continuing down the aisle with a smirk as though we hadn’t almost totally just got it on in front of Little Debbie and the Hostess snacks.
She groaned loudly, and after a moment I heard her steps behind me. “That was so…”
“Hot?”
“Mean. So mean.”
*
“How are you so goddamn fucking calm?!” I gripped her shirt tightly in my sweaty hands.
“Do I have another choice?” she asked genuinely, frowning a little in confusion. “I mean…” lifting her wrist to her face, she worried her bottom lip and looked at it with sad eyes. Finally, she kissed my forehead tenderly.
In the back of my mind, I guess I knew it would happen eventually, but it was shoved so deep under the picture of me and Britt living in this random cabin in the Sierra Nevadas somewhere west of Lake Tahoe that I’d kind of forgotten about its reality. When we were out there, it was like zombies were just some bad dream that we were trying to get over. Like Freddy Krueger or Jason Voorhees, where you’re scared enough to sleep with a baseball bat for a couple nights, just in case, but when day after day of safety goes by, you push them deeper into your memories until you mostly forget them.
Mostly.
I turned Brittany’s wrist and stared into the face of reality.
“It’s okay,” she said with a tiny, scared smile. “It was starting to get really cold up here anyway.”