Fic: Z-Day - Chapter 9: House Hunting
Title: Z-Day (Chapter 9: House Hunting)
Pairing: Santana Lopez/Brittany Pierce
Rating: R
Summary: Santana and Brittany face the unthinkable -- and the inevitable -- in post-apocalyptic Zombieland.
Word Count: ~1250
Disclaimer: Still don't own Zombieland or Glee.
“You want to go for a drive or something?” My voice was hoarse.
She shook her head, never taking her eyes off mine. “Can we just sit here for a little bit?”
*
“I wonder what it’s like to make out with a zombie,” Britt wondered.
“Ugh, B, no,” I said. “He’d eat your face off.”
“Yeah, but, if he didn’t.”
“It doesn’t matter because you’re not going to do it.”
“I make out with a lot of people.”
“Zombies aren’t people.”
“Are janitors people?”
I sighed. “Plus, if you made out with a zombie you’d turn into one.”
“I thought they had to bite you.”
“Usually they do. But Puck told me if you, like, mix with zombie fluids, or whatever, you get the virus.”
“Puck told you? Or you read it in that book?” she teased.
“Whatever. Zombie sex is out, anyway.”
The corners of her lips turned down. “Ew.”
We were out in-fuck, I didn’t know where. Maybe an hour ago I’d seen an exit for San Francisco, or maybe it was Sacramento, and maybe it was two hours ago, or twenty minutes-it didn’t really matter. I’d avoided it. Cities were a death trap.
We’d seen no one for miles-not even the odd zombie tearing into a corpse on the median strip. I wanted to feel comforted, but mostly I was just unnerved. A ghost highway, ghost towns… it gets fucking lonely, even with Brittany around. I took the next exit and we ended up on a road that ran alongside a stream and through some huge ass trees.
“What’s wrong?” Brittany said.
“Huh?”
“You sighed. Twice.”
“Nothing’s wrong.” As soon as I said it, I couldn’t help but laugh a little. Aside from the whole end-of-the-world thing, everything was A-fucking-OK.
I was always apprehensive about driving on one-lane roads, especially in the woods, because I had this irrational fear that a horde of the undead would be waiting for me in a Red-Rover-Red-Rover-esque line and I wouldn’t be able to get past and they’d swarm the car and break the windows and eat us both. Britt didn’t like one-lane roads in the woods because she was convinced we’d get attacked by a werewolf. I used to think that was stupid, and it was a pain in the ass whenever we went to Karofsky’s cabin up by Port Clinton for summer weekends because it took me hours to talk her into going in the first place, and then I had to get her drunk fast so she’d forget where we were and we could have fun. A couple times I misjudged and we ended up in the second-floor guest bathroom with me holding her hair back as she retched into the toilet and the party raged downstairs. Not my proudest moments.
I still thought werewolves were a stupid idea, but every time I tried to make that argument, she’d tilt her head, raise her eyebrows, and say, “Santana. Zombies?”
“Let’s go up there,” she pointed to a narrow dirt road as we passed it.
“You think anything’s up there?”
She shrugged. “It goes up the mountain. See? You can see it up there.”
I pulled a U and launched the G-wagon up the road. “I hope this isn’t just a logging road,” I said.
It wasn’t. The first house we passed was a one-story POS with so many cluttered deer statues and reflective globes and wind chimes in the yard that I physically twitched and pressed on the gas just a little harder. The second was a trailer. The third was a barn.
“Maybe we should try a different road,” I said.
“No, keep going,” Brittany said. “This is fun. It’s like we’re house shopping.”
“I want to look at good houses, though. These all suck.”
“What kind of house do you want?”
“I don’t know, but not, like, a double-wide or anything. Something safe.”
“I don’t want a big one, though. They’re too scary.”
“My house was big,” I said. “Did you think it was scary?”
“We spent most of our time in your room. I liked your room. It felt cozy, like a cave.”
“Yeah, but what about when we were little?”
She shrugged. “I always got nervous before I went over. What about that one?”
I wrinkled my nose at the A-frame and kept driving. “I would rather live out of the car. Why’d you get nervous?”
“I thought I’d get lost somewhere in your house and nobody would be able to find me. Like when I got lost in the sewers over the summer.”
“That was… I’m never leaving you alone again after that. I still can’t…”
“It was okay.”
“If my mom had let you come with us it never would have happened.”
“Probably,” she said indifferently. “I just would have gotten lost in Puerto Rican sewers instead, and I think they might be worse.”
“What about that one?” I slowed down as we passed a cabin tucked back in the pines. “Maybe?”
“It’s cute,” she said. “But it doesn’t have a garden.”
“We could always plant one.”
“That sounds like a lot of work.”
I squeezed her hand. “Okay. Let’s keep going.”
*
“I can’t just sit here,” I said. “It’s killing me.”
“Or me,” she said.
“That’s not funny.”
“Sorry.”
“I never should have left you alone,” I said. “I told you I wouldn’t. I promised.”
She gently brushed a tear that had barely spilled onto my cheek. “Honey, it’s not your fault,” she said. “And you promised me something else, too, remember?”
I shook my head. Not because I didn’t remember-because I refused to acknowledge the promise. “B,” I pleaded.
“You never let me down, Santana. I’m not asking you to do this for you. I want you to do it for me.”
“Don’t lie. You’re doing this for me.”
She smiled. “Yeah, but if I told you that you wouldn’t do it. I know how you think.”
“Why the hell would I want to stick around if you’re not here?”
“Pretty soon I won’t be here anymore, whether or not you…. If I’m a zombie I won’t be me,” she said. “You can’t just keep me around and think I’ll get better. I know I won’t.”
Feeling like all the bones in my chest suddenly disintegrated, I grabbed her face and kissed her so hard my lips tingled with the collision.
“San!” She pushed me off, but it was too late. I ran my thumb across my lip and swiped my tongue across the pad, swallowing every last bit of her.
“There,” I said. “Now it doesn’t matter.”
Pairing: Santana Lopez/Brittany Pierce
Rating: R
Summary: Santana and Brittany face the unthinkable -- and the inevitable -- in post-apocalyptic Zombieland.
Word Count: ~1250
Disclaimer: Still don't own Zombieland or Glee.
“You want to go for a drive or something?” My voice was hoarse.
She shook her head, never taking her eyes off mine. “Can we just sit here for a little bit?”
*
“I wonder what it’s like to make out with a zombie,” Britt wondered.
“Ugh, B, no,” I said. “He’d eat your face off.”
“Yeah, but, if he didn’t.”
“It doesn’t matter because you’re not going to do it.”
“I make out with a lot of people.”
“Zombies aren’t people.”
“Are janitors people?”
I sighed. “Plus, if you made out with a zombie you’d turn into one.”
“I thought they had to bite you.”
“Usually they do. But Puck told me if you, like, mix with zombie fluids, or whatever, you get the virus.”
“Puck told you? Or you read it in that book?” she teased.
“Whatever. Zombie sex is out, anyway.”
The corners of her lips turned down. “Ew.”
We were out in-fuck, I didn’t know where. Maybe an hour ago I’d seen an exit for San Francisco, or maybe it was Sacramento, and maybe it was two hours ago, or twenty minutes-it didn’t really matter. I’d avoided it. Cities were a death trap.
We’d seen no one for miles-not even the odd zombie tearing into a corpse on the median strip. I wanted to feel comforted, but mostly I was just unnerved. A ghost highway, ghost towns… it gets fucking lonely, even with Brittany around. I took the next exit and we ended up on a road that ran alongside a stream and through some huge ass trees.
“What’s wrong?” Brittany said.
“Huh?”
“You sighed. Twice.”
“Nothing’s wrong.” As soon as I said it, I couldn’t help but laugh a little. Aside from the whole end-of-the-world thing, everything was A-fucking-OK.
I was always apprehensive about driving on one-lane roads, especially in the woods, because I had this irrational fear that a horde of the undead would be waiting for me in a Red-Rover-Red-Rover-esque line and I wouldn’t be able to get past and they’d swarm the car and break the windows and eat us both. Britt didn’t like one-lane roads in the woods because she was convinced we’d get attacked by a werewolf. I used to think that was stupid, and it was a pain in the ass whenever we went to Karofsky’s cabin up by Port Clinton for summer weekends because it took me hours to talk her into going in the first place, and then I had to get her drunk fast so she’d forget where we were and we could have fun. A couple times I misjudged and we ended up in the second-floor guest bathroom with me holding her hair back as she retched into the toilet and the party raged downstairs. Not my proudest moments.
I still thought werewolves were a stupid idea, but every time I tried to make that argument, she’d tilt her head, raise her eyebrows, and say, “Santana. Zombies?”
“Let’s go up there,” she pointed to a narrow dirt road as we passed it.
“You think anything’s up there?”
She shrugged. “It goes up the mountain. See? You can see it up there.”
I pulled a U and launched the G-wagon up the road. “I hope this isn’t just a logging road,” I said.
It wasn’t. The first house we passed was a one-story POS with so many cluttered deer statues and reflective globes and wind chimes in the yard that I physically twitched and pressed on the gas just a little harder. The second was a trailer. The third was a barn.
“Maybe we should try a different road,” I said.
“No, keep going,” Brittany said. “This is fun. It’s like we’re house shopping.”
“I want to look at good houses, though. These all suck.”
“What kind of house do you want?”
“I don’t know, but not, like, a double-wide or anything. Something safe.”
“I don’t want a big one, though. They’re too scary.”
“My house was big,” I said. “Did you think it was scary?”
“We spent most of our time in your room. I liked your room. It felt cozy, like a cave.”
“Yeah, but what about when we were little?”
She shrugged. “I always got nervous before I went over. What about that one?”
I wrinkled my nose at the A-frame and kept driving. “I would rather live out of the car. Why’d you get nervous?”
“I thought I’d get lost somewhere in your house and nobody would be able to find me. Like when I got lost in the sewers over the summer.”
“That was… I’m never leaving you alone again after that. I still can’t…”
“It was okay.”
“If my mom had let you come with us it never would have happened.”
“Probably,” she said indifferently. “I just would have gotten lost in Puerto Rican sewers instead, and I think they might be worse.”
“What about that one?” I slowed down as we passed a cabin tucked back in the pines. “Maybe?”
“It’s cute,” she said. “But it doesn’t have a garden.”
“We could always plant one.”
“That sounds like a lot of work.”
I squeezed her hand. “Okay. Let’s keep going.”
*
“I can’t just sit here,” I said. “It’s killing me.”
“Or me,” she said.
“That’s not funny.”
“Sorry.”
“I never should have left you alone,” I said. “I told you I wouldn’t. I promised.”
She gently brushed a tear that had barely spilled onto my cheek. “Honey, it’s not your fault,” she said. “And you promised me something else, too, remember?”
I shook my head. Not because I didn’t remember-because I refused to acknowledge the promise. “B,” I pleaded.
“You never let me down, Santana. I’m not asking you to do this for you. I want you to do it for me.”
“Don’t lie. You’re doing this for me.”
She smiled. “Yeah, but if I told you that you wouldn’t do it. I know how you think.”
“Why the hell would I want to stick around if you’re not here?”
“Pretty soon I won’t be here anymore, whether or not you…. If I’m a zombie I won’t be me,” she said. “You can’t just keep me around and think I’ll get better. I know I won’t.”
Feeling like all the bones in my chest suddenly disintegrated, I grabbed her face and kissed her so hard my lips tingled with the collision.
“San!” She pushed me off, but it was too late. I ran my thumb across my lip and swiped my tongue across the pad, swallowing every last bit of her.
“There,” I said. “Now it doesn’t matter.”