Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The world falling apart was the cherry on top of his piece of shit life. It wasn’t like the government did much in this situation either. The same government that had raised him so high just to push him off the podium and shove his face in the mud. God, John Walker didn’t even know what he was still doing. Why was he even alive? Everyone started getting sick and then those that were sick began to attack people which then made more people sick. It was a never-ending cycle. If he wasn’t such a coward he would’ve probably killed himself already. But then he met this woman named Ava and as much as she was a bitch at times she was sort of nice to have around.

It was less lonely, even though pretty much every word that came out of her mouth was an insult. They somewhat got along in a begrudging kind of way. New York City was a bit of a disaster zone, all of the bridges had been destroyed before the city itself was bombed to shit. Some of the surrounding States had a sort of safe zone area but that also kind of sucked. So he and Ava mostly kept to themselves.

Today in particular was irritating. They worked for this sketchy lady named Valentina. Everywhere was trying to find a cure for this sickness and he knew she had some lab that she kept out of the government’s (or what’s left of it) prying eyes. He knew she was mostly just motivated by the potential for being adored and enriched when the world went ‘back to normal’. John knew there was no such thing as normal anymore and nothing and no one was ever good. If he lived by that motto it would keep him alive.

“Walker, get your ass up,” Ava hissed, she went as far as to throw a shoe at his head.

When he finally awoke, with a grimace, he realized the room was flashing with red. There were no sirens in this dingy facility but the lights meant there was a problem. And problems were not one of John’s favourite things, he actively avoided problems as much as possible. He was surprised he hadn’t woken earlier, usually he was good at sensing these things. Then again, he’d been awake for the last twenty-ish hours so he’d been pretty exhausted when he finally crashed.

“Could’ve just shook me awake,” he muttered, rubbing the side of his head.

She smiled rather sarcastically, “Wouldn’t have been as fun,”

He pulled his boots on, quickly lacing them, before grabbing the rifle he had propped up next to his cot. Ava already had her pistol out which undoubtedly meant trouble. They crept down the corridor towards where they knew the labs were. He kept his head on a swivel, making sure every room they passed was clear.

“What’s going on?” he asked quietly as they turned the corner.

Ava lowered her gun slightly, “Heard some explosions coming from above ground earlier, then the lights came on,”

“Probably means trouble,” he muttered.

She rolled her eyes, “Yes Walker, were the blaring red lights not obvious?”

They moved methodically as they made their way to the lab. When they turned the next corner the scenery was visibly different. Blood was smeared on the ground and the windows that lined the walls to peer into the lab were smashed. Ava was quick and quiet, avoiding pieces of glass on the ground. John would joke that she was almost like a ghost with how silent she could maneuver around places at times. He went in ahead of her, giving one sharp nod for her to follow suit once he saw that it looked to be clear.

John was never really in the lab area. He mostly secured the upper levels of the building to make sure nobody came snooping around. To be clear, he actually hated Valentina with a burning passion. But she offered a place to sleep, food that wasn’t always canned or expired, and a sense of duty. John was a military man before all of this shit happened, born and raised. He was good at taking orders and this gig he had going for him made life ever so easier. The two of them froze in place when they heard a cough. It was quiet and weak. He peeked into the small side room first, light on his gun flooding the dark room.

“Oh great, it’s about time you two got here,” Valentina’s annoying and withered voice said.

She was standing hunched over an overturned desk, a splatter of blood across her face and a bloody lamp base in hand. There was a body at her feet, by the looks of the white coat he assumed it was one of the lab technicians. If it was anyone other than Valentina he might’ve told them he was impressed, he would never give her such compliments.

She coughed again and moved around the desk to lean against it, she pointed the bloody base of the lamp towards John, “I’ve got a mission for you soldier,”

He kept the rifle trained on her, “What the fuck happened here?”

“Oh John, that's not important right now. What is important is you finding Miss Belova in the Holding Wing,” she then flashed a wicked smile at Ava, “Ava please be a dear and make sure he actually follows orders, once you meet with Miss Belova please escort her back here to see me,”

It was simple instructions really. They didn’t protest and simply left Valentina to whatever she was up to. She didn’t display any immediate signs of infection so John mentally ruled that out in his head. The Holding Wing was further down the corridor and went down another set of stairs. He and Ava were cautious as they continued on as the state of the building only seemed to worsen. They took down a few lab technicians on the way. They were crouched over a body that had been torn to shreds, shoving chunks of flesh into their mouths like wild beasts. Killing infected people didn’t bother either of them. It was something they had become desensitized to, after all they weren’t people anymore.

“...okay? It’ll be fine, you just need to -” a muffled voice said in a nearby room.

When John tried the door it was shut tight, felt like something heavy was against it. He motioned for Ava to keep watch as he shifted his rifle to his back, hands bracing the door to push. The furniture blocking the door hissed as it was shoved out of the way. John ducked when a bullet was fired through the door, if he had been a second slower it would’ve gone through his head.

“Jesus Christ it’s fine! Valentina sent us to come get you!” he yelled.

There was a long pause, he felt the blood rushing through his veins. He shifted the rifle back in front of him so it was in his hands. He was acutely aware of how loud that gunshot just was. Cautiously he stood up and motioned for Ava to slide through the door first, she shook her head and glared at him, mouthing the word ‘no’. With a sigh and an internal prayer he pressed his way inside the room. When he wasn’t immediately shot Ava followed suit. There were lights on inside, ceiling light flickering in an annoyingly old manner.

There was a blonde woman standing in the corner holding a pistol up towards them with her right hand while her left was holding onto the person cowering behind her. John assumed this was the Belova chick Valentina was talking about. The three of them were in a stand-off, really it was two against one and he was sure his rifle fired faster than the pistol.

“A bit trigger happy don’t you think?” Ava asked, head tilted to the side.

“Why wouldn’t you say something before trying to come in? You could’ve been infected for all I knew,” the blonde retorted, she had a slight Russian accent.

John tried to peer around her at the person she was shielding. He nodded towards her, “So who’re you hiding?”

“What do you want?” she asked, choosing to ignore John’s question.

Ava took a miniscule step forward, “Valentina told us to get you and bring you back to her, by the looks of it some shit went down with infected and if there are any left in here they’ll be coming now that you shot your gun like an idiot so I’d rather we leave -”

“I am not an idiot!” the woman argued back.

John sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Look we don’t have time for this shit, let’s just go,”

The woman took a moment and looked around the room, likely assessing her options. She then reluctantly lowered her gun and moved out of the way. The person behind her was a man. He was probably in his early thirties with brunet hair that curled around his neck and fell in front of his eyes. The hospital scrubs he had on were dirty and two sizes too big. He was holding tightly onto the woman’s hand, eyes wild and struck with fear. It was quite the sight to behold.

“Just stay behind me Bob,” she said, squeezing the man’s hand.

They made their way back towards the lab with thankfully no run-ins with any infected. John thought perhaps the only ones were the two lab technicians he and Ava took care of on the way there. He lowered his guard a bit, looking over his shoulder to see the two new additions to their group. The man, Bob, was shuffling behind this Belova lady like a lost puppy, his hand never leaving hers.

“So I’ve gathered his name is Bob but what’s your name?” Ava asked, mostly out of boredom and a bit of curiosity.

“Yelena,” the blonde answered shortly.

Ava rolled her eyes and smirked, “Well I’m Ava and this grumpy piece of shit is John,”

“I’m not grumpy,” John grumbled as they approached the entrance to the lab.

Some of the lights were back on now, perhaps Valentina had gotten some power restored back to this part of the building. He wondered when the rest of the crew was going to show up. At night it was only a small group of people inside but in an emergency such as this he was sure Valentina must’ve called reinforcements in by now. The lab was completely trashed with tables overturned and blood smeared everywhere. Valentina exited the side room they left her in previously, she threw a used syringe to the ground. One of her heels on her shoes were broken so she walked with a bit of an awkward limp.

“Oh great, you’re still alive,” she said, flipping her hair out of the way, she looked quite frazzled.

Yelena was back in front of Bob again. What was their deal anyways? Valentina placed her hands on her hips and smiled triumphantly, “And you’ve brought Robert back safely,”

“His name is Bob,” Yelena corrected, a threatening undertone.

Valentina rolled her eyes, “Does it really matter?” she then rubbed her arm, “Look the lab is obviously destroyed and its ‘cause shits going down above ground. Can’t trust the government to keep anything safe these days,”

“What do you mean by that?” Ava asked.

“Oh it's chaos up there right now,” Valentina then looked at John, “I need to speak with you a moment,” she motioned for him to follow her to the side room.

He followed her inside, eyes automatically finding their way to the corpse still lying in the room. Valentina closed the door behind him, leaning against it with her arm while she kept an eye on the others through the small window. John rested his hands on the rifle that hung in front of him, “What’s going on Valentina?”

“I have an extraction team coming for me in thirty. There’s a truck in the alley outside, here,” she tossed him a set of keys, “I need you to escort that man out there to Washington, the state not D.C,”

His heart dropped to his ass when she said that, “Are you fucking crazy? That’s like the other side of the country,”

“Take Ava and Yelena, or don’t, you can leave them here to die for all I care. But that man-boy, needs to be in Washington,” she instructed.

John felt uneasy. This wasn’t like the old days where one could traverse the country with ease. This was something that was going to take months and would likely throw his life on the line. He gripped the keys tightly, feeling the metal dig into his palm as he took a step towards her, “Oh yeah, and what’s so special about him?”

There was wonder in her eyes, ”Everything,”

It nearly shook him to the core. He’d never seen Valentina have that look in her eyes before. The woman could read him like a book, a satisfied smile appeared on her face. She knew for one thing that John Walker was good at taking orders. He would follow through on this mission for her.

“What do I get in return?” he asked, he knew it was selfish.

Valentina smirked, “Whatever your heart desires just get him to Washington. The coordinates are on the back of a notepad in the glovebox,”

She then opened the door and motioned for him to go before her. When he exited he looked towards the three who had drifted towards the entrance to the lab. Ava was keeping watch at the door while Yelena held Bob at her side, she seemed to be speaking quietly into his ear. John rolled his eyes at that, the other man looked pathetic. Valentina went to close the door, poking her head out one last time, “I’d head out now, extraction has orders to shoot everything on sight when they get here,”

John gave a curt nod and headed to the others, hearing Valentina close and lock herself in the side room. When he approached, Ava motioned with her eyes to Yelena and Bob before rolling them.

“We’ve gotta head out now, there’s a truck in the alley waiting for us,” he stated, sliding the keys into his pocket and picking up the rifle in his hands again.

“Do you know what the hell is going on up there right now? We’ll get jumped as soon as we step onto the street,” Yelena argued.

Ava shushed them all at once. She peered into the hallway and looked to the right, gun held out in front of her. John pushed past Yelena and Bob to join Ava, stepping into the corridor in front of her with his rifle aimed straight ahead. The flashlight glided from left to right catching nothing visually. But then he heard it too. It was a haunting gasp like someone was trying to breathe with no lungs and it echoed towards them from down the corridor. That sound was ingrained in his memory by now, he knew it by heart. Then his flashlight caught sight of it. The twisted figure that slowly crept towards them.

He turned his head to look at the others and whispered, “Quick and quiet now,”

They moved behind him as he kept his rifle trained on the inhuman creature. The top of its face from the eyes up had been shredded and clawed up which is why it hadn’t seen them yet. John very carefully began to walk backwards when Ava tapped his shoulder, she kept one hand on him to guide him while the other pointed her pistol at the creature. John still wasn’t one-hundred-percent sure how this infection worked. People usually turned after a day, two if they were particularly resilient. It was brutal to watch and he’d only seen it happen a few times.

These creatures didn’t react to pain or emotion. They were driven by the desire to destroy, he didn’t even think they needed to eat. Its skin was pale, almost translucent, fresh blood coated its mouth and all the way down its neck. The lab coat was dirtied and torn, bloody handprints on its right sleeve.

CRACK.

John quickly looked behind to see Bob had snapped a piece of glass underneath his foot. The man looked like a deer caught in the headlights, blue eyes wide and scared. He turned his head back forwards and saw the way the creature's head dropped from looking at the ceiling to now looking at them. They all held their breaths, not moving an inch of a muscle. Ava’s grip on his shoulder was strong, nails digging in to where he was sure marks would be left. It took another screeching breath, baring its chipped and bloodied teeth. Then it began to run.

On instinct he fired a few bullets, two of them hitting the creature square in the chest. It did nothing to slow its pace. Of course it didn’t. He’s seen some of them take an entire clip before being taken down before so why would two measly bullets stop it? He felt Ava pull him with her, he turned in her grip and she finally let his shirt go. She briefly looked over her shoulder and fired a few bullets as well.

“Fucking go!” John yelled, pushing for Yelena and Bob to use their legs.

They all scrambled down the corridor, turning the corner and watching as the creature ran into the wall. He heard it briefly fall to the ground before scrambling back to its feet to continue its chase. They ran past the room he and Ava called home for this short time. At the end he saw the door to the staircase. His heartbeat was hammering in his ears, he couldn’t even dare to look back. He could hear it behind him, its god awful wheezing breaths as it blindly flung itself down the corridor.

“Through the door and head up!” Ava instructed, she turned again and shot at the creature.

He held the door closed with his back braced against it, drawing in deep breaths. Yelena helped Bob up off the floor. He noticed the man’s foot was bleeding, he had no shoes on. John rolled his eyes, that was a problem that could be dealt with later. After about a minute the door tremors stopped as the creature lost interest. He didn’t dare to move until Ava nodded at him. Slowly he peeled himself from off the door, peeking through the small window to see the tattered lab coat stumbling back down the corridor.

Silently he pointed above him. They all understood and began to ascend the staircase. John took up the back of the group, noticing the bloody footprints Bob left behind him. Whatever, it’s not like Valentina said he had to appear in Washington in one piece. When they finally reached the ground floor John knew something was off. The orange flames that raged from a car outside the front of the building was one thing. He readjusted his grip on the rifle and headed towards the back of the building where the exit to the alley was.

“Bob, are you okay?” Yelena asked as the man was now slightly limping.

He gave her a withered smile, “I’m fine, don’t worry about me,”

“Zip it, you can talk when we’re in the truck,” John hissed at them from behind.

His eyes fell on the bloody footprints that Bob continued to leave and he shook his head. This guy was a disaster and he couldn’t believe he had to deal with it. Shooting erupted from outside the building followed by a few screams. They all dropped to a crouch, well except for Bob but Yelena yanked him down hard. A few strangled screams sounded out. John’s eyes darted to Yelena’s hand against her leg. Her eyes were closed, fingers tapping and opening from her fist in tune with the yells. Three.

Yelena opened her eyes and looked back at John to whisper, “Where is this truck?”

“Back alley, exit doors just down the hall,” he replied just as quietly.

When the strangled screams faded, being drawn away by distant gunfire they all but dashed to the exit door. There wasn’t much to this building anyways. The upper floor was nothing more than a facade of a store. When they stepped outside into the back alleyway John could smell death in the air. It was pungent. He could see the building next to them was partially destroyed, smoke billowing out from the crumbling hole on the side of the second floor. Had he really slept through all of this chaos earlier? He really needed to get his sleep in check.

Surely enough there was a beaten up old pickup truck parked at the end of the alleyway. He approached slowly, ahead of the group, with his rifle drawn. There was no one inside and the truck bed had two large duffel bags and one gas canister sitting in it. It seemed like Valentina had thought this out and already knew that John was going to agree to whatever scheme she had in mind. He abruptly stopped when he reached the end of the truck bed. That stench had to be coming from somewhere.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Bob mumbled from behind before gagging.

There was a torn apart body on the ground. The man was vaguely familiar to John, he definitely worked for Valentina. John steeled himself and turned just in time to see Bob leaning against the brick wall puking. Yelena had a disgusted look on her face but nevertheless rubbed soothing circles against the man’s back. John rolled his eyes and turned his gaze to Ava, “Y’know as soon as we turn this on it’s going to attract everyone and their mother to us, right?”

She held her hand out, “I’ll drive, you shoot,”

He shook his head, “No I’m driving, you’re shooting,”

“Don’t be a dick Walker, you have a rifle and I have my shitty pistol, I’m driving,” Ava shot back at him.

“Holy shit either one of you drives or I drive, you’re fighting like children I swear to god -” Yelena started to yell.

“Shut up Yelena!” Ava and John snapped simultaneously.

Begrudgingly he tossed the keys to Ava before climbing into the truck bed, setting his rifle up against the roof. When he saw Yelena trying to get Bob into the front seat he reached over the side of the bed and grabbed the back of Bob’s scrubs to halt him. The guy jumped at the touch which then made Yelena whip around to shoot him a nasty glare.

“Uh no he’s not going in there, I’m not cleaning his blood out of the cab,” John hissed, yanking the man backwards.

Yelena yanked Bob back forwards by his arm, “He is not sitting in the truck bed with you,”

John yanked the guy back again, Bob was stumbling now, “Oh yes he is, the guy’s filthy he’ll ruin the seats,”

Bob laughed, “Has anyone ever told you that…you’re a bit of an asshole?”

John didn’t have time for this. He lowered the rifle and pointed it towards the two of them, “Get in the truck bed,”

“What the fuck is your problem?!” Yelena yelled, pistol now pointed at him in return.

Ava chimed in now, “Both of you shut the fuck up and get in the truck, we don’t have time for this bullshit!”

Bob ended up getting to sit in the cab squished between Ava and Yelena. The truck started with a rumble and Ava slowly had it creep out from the alleyway. The safe zone was a disaster, bodies were littering the streets and fires had cropped up in buildings. He wasn’t surprised, in his time he’d seen a few of these zones turn to shit. Nothing permanent ever lasted anymore. The sound of the truck drew a few of the translucent creatures out, he banged his hand down on the roof of the cab, “Alright Ava let’s pick up the pace here!”

“Piss off Walker!” she yelled back, hand sticking up to flip him off.

He nearly fell back in the truck bed when she pressed her foot down on the gas.

Chapter Text

They drove for thirty minutes, escaping into the long winding roads. When John was sure they were in the clear he smacked his hand down a few times against the roof of the truck. Ava stopped the truck abruptly, likely out of spite, he was thrown down to the truck bed. He groaned, rubbing his shoulder and glaring daggers at the brunette woman as she exited the driver's seat. Yelena and Bob exited as well, he noted the strained look on Bob’s face and the way he leaned most of his weight onto his left leg. Again, not his problem at the moment. The sky overhead was darkening. They needed to figure out what their next steps were.

Ava leaned against the side of the truck bed, “What’s the plan Walker?”

“We’re heading to Washington,” he replied, head sinking slightly and eyes looking at her in silent communication.

She understood immediately, eyes growing wide in an infuriated sort of way, “Absolutely the fuck not! Is Valentina crazy? Are you crazy?!”

“We’ll discuss it later, can we just figure out where the hell we’re going for the night?” he said as he was starting to feel a bit tired and didn’t have the energy to argue with her right now. After any big rush of adrenaline like that he always felt drained. He was also running on fumes. Ava levelled her gaze as she looked around, he knew she was trying to think of some idea. John honestly had no idea where they were and he didn’t have a map on him at the moment.

Yelena sounded pained when she said this, “We can go to my Dad’s?”

John turned to look back at her, “Your Dad’s? That’s your solution,”

“Well I don’t see either of you coming up with a solution!” she argued.

Ava sighed loudly and opened the door to the driver's seat again, “Whatever, let’s just go. We can figure the rest of this shit out later,”

It was a bit of a longer drive. John was dozing in and out with his head leaning against the side of the cab. The droning of the tires on cracked pavement and wind whirling past was quite the natural sedative for him. It reminded him of his time in the army when he’d be loaded into the back of trucks with the other soldiers to head back to base. That was a very long time ago. A light slap to the side of his head was what woke him up. On instinct his hands tightened around the rifle, whole body rigid and ready to fight. Ava chuckled from behind him and walked away from the truck.

They were in a forested area now. It was dark and smelled of pine and earth. He jumped over the side of the truck bed and landed solidly on the ground. Up ahead he saw Yelena with her arm around Bob’s shoulders, helping the man as he limped with each step. John could never imagine himself needing such help. He turned the flashlight on the rifle and looked around. There was a chain link fence that surrounded the vicinity, barbed wires coiling around the top. He followed the group to a shitty looking wood cabin. Some of the windows were cracked and the red paint on the outer panels was faded and chipped.

Yelena opened the door with no trouble, “Alexei I’m back!”

“Lena!” a loud Russian voice billowed.

An older larger man came stumbling down the stairs, nearly falling. He had an unlabelled bottle of what John assumed was alcohol from his staggered movements. The robe he had on was frayed and hung open in an unflattering manner. The only other article of clothing the man had on were his boxers, thank god for that. When Alexei registered there was more than just his daughter he seemed overjoyed, “Umnichka you bring friends home?”

“Not my friends,” she grumbled, then she furrowed her brows at the man, “Are you drunk? It’s only nine o’clock,”

A dopey smile formed in his grey beard as he took another swig and patted his round belly, “Feeding the fire within,”

Yelena rolled her eyes and pushed past him, “Come Bob, let’s get you fixed up,”

She helped Bob towards the steps, slowly bringing him up the stairs with her. John noticed there weren’t any bloody footprints left behind anymore. He turned his attention to Alexei who stared at him with glee, eyes locked in on the army pants he had on, “I see you are fellow soldier, I too was soldier back in the day serving the great Mother Russia,”

“Oh great, now we have two army nutheads,” Ava said with that signature sarcastic lilt to her voice.

Alexei’s heavy hand fell on John’s shoulder, “I shall prepare feast, come, sit,”

The little cabin was cluttered with many things. His eyes traced the old soviet posters and family pictures that were nailed to the wooden walls. He and Ava settled on the living room floor, rifle now resting on the janky coffee table. John was surprised to see the television working. The footage was grainy and the sound was muted but nevertheless it was a working television. Ava seemed lulled by it, propping her tired head up with her hand as she leaned her elbow against the coffee table. Twenty minutes of silence passed until two sets of footsteps descended the creaky stairs.

“Lena! Come help in kitchen!” Alexei yelled from the next room.

John looked up when a body was dropped onto the couch behind him. Yelena had helped Bob there, sat him down as if he was some fragile doll. His eyes swept the man’s body, he looked completely different. The scrubs were gone, now traded for an oversized blue hoodie and sweatpants. His feet were now socked and John could see the bandages peeking out just above his right ankle where a sliver of skin would usually be between the bottom of his pants and the top of his socks. John could smell the scent of pine radiating from the man, his curled hair slightly damp and falling in front of his eyes. He was actually jealous because that meant Bob got a shower.

Yelena patted the man’s shoulder, “You stay here Bob, I’ll be back shortly,”

He waited for Yelena to leave to open his mouth, “So Bob, what’s your deal with Valentina?”

The man looked confused, eyes squinted and head tilted ever so slightly, “Aw man I uh…I don’t really know,”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” John asked, he was getting a bit annoyed with this whole aloof act.

Bob shrugged his shoulders and scratched his head, “I mean everything’s just a bit fuzzy right now,”

John threw his hands in the air exasperated, “Fantastic, so we’re dealing with an absolute moron then,”

Ava reached across the table and hit John hard in the arm, “Can you stop being a dickhead for like five seconds?”

“Bite me Ava,” he hissed.

Yelena and Alexei returned seconds later with bowls of food. It was hot, which was a change. Honestly it looked like slop but the promise of the steam radiating off of it threw any concern from his mind. It tasted a bit meaty and was heavily oversalted. Yelena joined Bob on the couch, squishing in close next to him. The two seemed to be inseparable. John watched as she nudged her shoulder against his, motioning with her head to the bowl he was holding in his hands. She murmured something to him quiet enough that John couldn’t hear, especially not when Alexei sat heavy next to them and unmuted the television. A loud burst of parade music flooded the room, he cringed at the sound. Yelena snatched the remote from his hand and lowered the volume significantly.

“Lena I was watching that,” Alexei huffed.

She put the remote on the side table next to her, away from his reach, “One night I want peace from this old parade shit,”

Ava pointed her spoon towards Yelena, “So…Yelena, how do you know Valentina? ‘Cause I don’t recall ever seeing you around,”

“We,” Yelena motioned between herself and Alexei, “Deliver supplies through the back. Val gives us a list in exchange for other things and we fulfill it,”

“Oh so what, you're like her little errand dogs?” John asked, a bit of bite to his comment.

Yelena leaned forward and glared at him, “Eat shit,”

John smirked and raised his spoon, “Already am,”

She shot to her feet like a bullet and pointed towards the door, “Get out,”

He didn’t need to be asked twice. John would gladly sleep in the truck if it meant he got some peace and quiet. He grabbed the rifle off the table and exited the little cabin, keys spinning around his finger as he swung them. This whole situation was a disaster. The cab wasn’t as dirty as he thought it was going to be and thankfully the truck was old enough that the front seats were one long bench. As soon as he was situated he opened the glovebox and rummaged around inside, surely enough the notepad Valentina told him about was there. He detached the flashlight from the rifle, sticking it in his mouth so he could use his hands to flip through the pages.

It was mostly empty paper, yellowed from age. The last page had coordinates and a folded map shoved in between the last page and back cover of the notepad. John spent most of the night scanning the map and trying to roughly pinpoint where the coordinates led. It was a map of Washington state so it wasn’t exactly helpful for their drive to get there. He’d figure it out, he was smart like that. His neck ached from awkwardly propping his head up against the drivers side door as he laid across the bench. It wasn’t the worst sleeping position he’s been in before but it definitely wasn’t the best.

The driver's door suddenly opened and his head snapped back, he hissed around the flashlight, “Fuck!”

He blinked and looked up to see Ava looking down at him, she was unimpressed. Before he could say anything the map was snatched from his hands, “So were you going to tell me about this now or later?”

He took the flashlight out of his mouth and sat up, shifting over so she could climb inside, “For the record I just found it in here,”

A lie, but Ava didn’t need to know that. Valentina gave him a job to do and trusted him specifically to do it. She hadn’t seen the notepad yet so he slipped it under his leg, hiding it from sight. The map crinkled as she flipped it around to inspect it, “You don’t have to be such an asshole you know?”

He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms like a sulky child, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I have a sunshine personality,”

She flipped the map again, “They actually aren’t that bad, that Alexei’s guy’s a bit annoying and loud but Yelena seems pretty useful…that Bob guy though is going to be a problem,”

John wasn’t exactly shocked to hear that. The guy seemed like a liability. Even when they were back in the lab he caused a great deal of problems while they were trying to get out. He looked unsure of himself, clumsy, quiet. John wasn’t a fan. He shifted in his seat, throwing his head back to rest against the back of the seat. He let his eyes close, listening to the map crinkle as Ava tried to fold it back up.

“What did Val have to say?” she asked, breaking the silence.

He raised an eyebrow, eyes still closed, “More of the usual shit, she wants us to take him to Washington. I’m assuming she’ll probably be there to take him,”

“Okay but did she say why she wants him dragged across half the country?” she continued, pressing for more information.

John shrugged in a nonchalant manner, “No idea. He’s probably related to someone important or he’s like her weird young fuck buddy, either way I don’t really care,”

She nudged him in the side with her elbow, “So are you coming back inside or not?”

John kept his eyes closed, “I’ll pass,”

It wasn’t a comfortable sleep, he was in and out throughout the night. The crickets that chirped outside the truck lulled him somewhat. By dawn he was awake again with the map in hand sitting in the truck bed. They needed a plan for the best way to get to Washington from here. He knew it was going to be a long haul pain in the ass. Most major cities were a no-go and the old highways were likely jammed with rusted out vehicles. In the back of his mind he knew the truck would only get them so far and it's not like there were gas stations anymore to refuel. So walking was going to become a thing which meant camping.

Someone knocked on the outer wall of the truck bed that he was leaning against, he only grunted in acknowledgment. He was expecting Ava but was mildly surprised when Yelena hopped up into the truck bed with him. Her hair was wet and slicked back, attire primarily a variety of different black and dark greys. She stood above him, looking down at the map and supplies he had been looking at in the duffel bags. A granola bar was dropped into his lap, almost like a peace offering.

“You cannot take Bob to Washington,” she suddenly said.

His head snapped up to look at her. “I’m just following orders,” he opened the granola bar and took a bite to soothe his grumbling stomach, “Why do you care what happens to him anyways?”

She squatted down so they were eye level, “Because he needs someone to care about him and I’ve met men like you Walker and you do not care for anyone,”

John took another bite and laughed, “What, is that supposed to hit home or something? Look around you Yelena, it’s every man for himself around here,”

Yelena said something in Russian, likely cussing him out, before jumping back to the ground and heading back to the cabin. He made sure to finish taking account of the supplies they were given as well as figuring out their next route; likely cut through Pennsylvania to Ohio and from there he will reroute again. Only after that was done did he reluctantly head back into the cabin. Despite the clutter it was actually quite cozy. He wondered if Yelena had always lived here with her Dad or if this was some place they found after shit went down. His eyes flickered across the open room, mostly looking for Ava but she was nowhere to be found.

His eyes landed on Bob, he was curled up on the couch with a book in his hands. Dark blue eyes caught his gaze in a curious manner. Bob lowered the book slightly to peek over at him, almost studying to see what John’s next move would be. John walked towards the couch, lingering at the opposite end from the other man.

“Have you seen Ava?” he asked.

Bob shrugged, “I think Yelena’s letting her use the shower,”

“So there is a shower,”” John said incredulously.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had a good shower, a hot shower even. It all seemed like such a distant memory. Val’s facility was pretty bare bones and he was lucky at times if the water was working enough for a bath. Above he could hear heavy footsteps as someone walked above them. John carefully walked around the couch to the far wall, lowering the rifle to lean it against it while he kept his eyes on the front door. There was a loveseat he could’ve sat on but that would mean he was facing away from the entrance and that was just too much anxiety to be worth it.

Bob’s back was to him now. The man was hunched over on himself, right leg straight out with his injured foot elevated on a pillow. Yelena really knew how to baby this guy. John couldn’t remember the last time someone doted on him like that. The guy didn’t seem all that special so he wasn’t sure why he was so valuable to Valentina. Her explanation was rather vague and if he wasn’t so pressed for time he would’ve questioned her further.

“You gonna keep staring at me or are you gonna ask your stupid questions?” Bob said, not even so much as tearing his eyes away from the book.

John’s face grew warm, embarrassment spreading through him. How did he know he was watching him? He crossed his arms and cleared his throat, “I need to take you to Washington,”

Bob sunk an inch lower into the couch and flipped a page in his book, “And what if I say no?”

“Valentina says you’re important, I’m just following orders. So you’re going to Washington,” John said matter of factly.

Bob closed his book and shifted his body to look at him. There was something strange in his eyes, almost akin to hope? It was strange and John didn’t really know how to feel about it. Bob looked down at his lap, fingers curling into the sleeves of his hoodie, “She said I’m important?”

John nodded, “She said you were everything,”

Bob’s head snapped up, that wondrous look in his eyes returning. Now John clocked it. Was it validation he was looking for? John could work with that.

“Look, whatever Val’s doing…she clearly can’t do it without you and I wouldn’t have volunteered if I didn’t believe in her,” John said, lying as smooth as a rug.

John didn’t volunteer for this but the guy didn’t need to know that. He just needed Bob to get on board with this thing. He’d be bringing Bob to Washington either willingly or not and willingly would make the journey a lot easier. So for now he’d play into that need for validation that the man clearly craved. John didn’t give a fuck about what Val needed Bob for as long as he got what he wanted in the end.

Bob nodded slowly, a small smile appearing on his face, “Okay, I’ll go to Washington,”

Chapter Text

John didn’t have much luck when it came to shaking off Yelena. That woman was hellbent on going with them to ensure Bob’s safety, whatever the hell that meant. She actually tried to convince Bob not to leave but John had already gotten the idea going. It was a grand journey full of ‘purpose’. Alexei gave them a few more supplies, a map of New York State and Pennsylvania, even gifted another canister of gas which meant they could go a bit further than originally planned. It was intriguing that Alexei was so confident in Yelena’s abilities. Usually fathers never wanted their daughters going out into the wild like this.

The terrain was very flat and they tried to avoid major roadways because he knew they were going to be jammed up. By mid-morning they had switched up, John and Bob were in the cab with John driving while the girls sat in the truck bed. It was a bit tense at first but John could vaguely hear the laughter coming from the back. He was shocked Ava and Yelena actually got along. Inside the cab it was quiet, Bob was sleeping for most of the morning with his head squished against the passenger window. He glanced at his watch, he was hoping they would be past the outskirts of Buffalo.

Bob’s head suddenly jerked, eyes flying open and hand clutching into the front of his hoodie. John looked at him in his peripherals and could see the fearful expression on his face and the way he tried to seem nonchalant about it as his eyes took in his surroundings. He wasn’t shocked that the guy had a nightmare, everyone had nightmares nowadays. Another round of laughter sounded from behind him. The girls seemed thoroughly occupied. John rolled his shoulders as he spoke, “Did you always live in New York?”

Bob looked at him, surprised at the question, “Um..yeah, sort of. I’ve been around,”

“Well that’s very vague and not so straight forward,” John pointed out.

Bob shrugged, “Well before,” he motioned to the world around them, “all of this happened, I was all over the place. I just got back from Malaysia a month before this shit went down,”

“Malaysia huh?” John said, he was intrigued.

Bob laughed, the type that was more self-deprecating than joyful, “Yeah I don’t really remember most of it,”

Just as John was about to inquire further Yelena banged her hand against the glass that separated the cab from the truck bed. Bob turned in his seat and slid the glass panel open so she could stick her head inside. Her hair was frazzled from the wind and she had a slight flush from being in the sun. She reached in and ruffled Bob’s hair, a smile on her face, “How are you Bob? Are you hungry?”

He shook his head, returning a smile in the smallest of ways, “I’m fine, really,”

John rolled his eyes, “You’re mothering him too much, how old are you? Like thirty-five?”

“Thirty-two,” Bob muttered under his breath.

Okay so older than John thought, he was being dramatic with the guess of thirty-five. In the rear-view mirror he could see Yelena glaring at him, she probably wanted to hit him but refrained. Regardless, she looked down and snatched the map that John had laid out on the bench between himself and Bob.

“So where are we heading right now?” she asked, map crinkling in her hands.

“Erie, then from there we’ll take the nineteen down and -”

“We should hug the lake, it’ll be quicker,” she interrupted.

John vehemently shook his head, “No we’re going to avoid the cities, if we followed the lake we’d have to go through Cleveland and I’d like to avoid as many infected as possible,”

He’d actually thought about following the lake across but the border cities were a disaster. More places where people used to be usually meant more infected were there now. John wanted to make this journey unscathed. So if that meant taking the most complicated out-of-the-way routes then he would be doing exactly that. Bob leaned over, face squishing against Yelena’s arm so he could look at the map as well. His eyes scrunched, eyebrows furrowing as he studied the path Yelena was tracing with her finger.

“Are you sure you know where we’re going?” Yelena questioned, her eyebrow raised in suspicion.

John rolled his eyes and snatched the map from her hands, “I’ll know better if you guys stop snatching the fucking map,”

“Ooh touchy touchy,” Yelena teased before pushing herself back out to resume her chat with Ava.

John grumbled to himself, mostly about the irritation of the situation. It would be a lot easier for him to focus if they all stopped bothering him and left the map alone. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Bob trying to smooth the map down, turning it so it was back facing John. He didn’t say anything, instead propping his head against his hand and staring ahead at the road.

By two-o’clock they reached a little town. The sign was faded, he assumed it said Cambridge Springs as he pieced the faded letters together in his head. They were somewhere in Pennsylvania now, trying to make their way to the Ohio border. He drove slowly, weaving around stopped rusted cars, before finally stopping on the bridge that went over a creek. It was dead silent, Ava and Yelena who sat in the truck bed were on guard, guns at the ready. John set the truck in park and climbed out. The vehicle needed fuel and his legs needed stretching.

“Why are we stopping here?” Yelena asked, standing on the truck bed to look around.

John pointed around them, “No buildings on either side of us, some distance between us. We can see if anything’s coming and there’s enough space for us to have time to get out of here before anything reaches us,”

Ava looked over her shoulder up at Yelena, “That’s his super macho military brain talking,”

“You were in the military?” Bob asked, he was standing on the opposite side of the truck from John.

He hadn’t heard the other door open. John shrugged his shoulders, “That was a long time ago,”

“America’s finest right here, Captain John Walker at your service,” Ava quipped, a smirk spread across her lips.

“Oh a Captain? Very fancy Walker. And here I thought those camo pants were just for show,” Yelena said, joining in on the teasing.

John remained calm, not wanting to feed into their aggravating teasing. Yelena and Ava were going to be a menace together, he could feel it. He waved them off and reached over the edge of the truck bed to grab one of the gas canisters, “You’ve got twenty minutes then we’re back on the road so go do whatever you wanna do,”

Bob muttered something about going to the bathroom and Yelena and Ava meandered on the sidewalk of the bridge, peering down into the creek below. After filling the truck he grabbed a swig of water from one of the bottles. His eyes trailed over to the girls, they were throwing rocks into the water below. It was silly, childish even. A sigh escaped his lips and he leaned back against the side of the truck, eyes closing and face turning up towards the sun. It was warm on his skin as he soaked in the rays. He knew he’d be missing this when winter rolled around.

“Bob? Bob?!” Yelena yelled.

His eyes opened and he blinked a few times to get the black spots out of his vision. He didn’t know how long he had been resting like that. Yelena and Ava were walking around on the bridge, leaning over the edges to look down. The blonde looked more panicked by Bob’s absence. He looked down and checked his watch, it’d been twenty minutes already. Yelena jogged up to the truck, she looked slightly distressed, “Bob’s missing, he’s been gone for too long,”

“Relax, he's a big boy, he can take care of himself,” John brushed off.

Yelena shoved him in the shoulder, “Using the bathroom doesn’t take twenty minutes, he might be in trouble. Now move your selfish ass and help us,”

He raised his hands in surrender, “Fine, fine. I’ll head West you head East,”

They split up, he made sure to grab his rifle before climbing down to the edge of the creek. The water was green and perfectly still, bugs buzzing just above. He walked carefully, measuring his steps to make sure he didn’t trip on the weeds. In the distance he could see another concrete bridge. He’d probably walk just past it before calling it quits. Hopefully Yelena and Ava found him before John because he didn’t want to deal with whatever disaster was happening. John sighed when he saw the figure in the distance, of course Bob would be in the direction he chose to walk.

There was a transport trailer on top of the bridge, the tractor had crashed and was hanging over the edge. Bob stood next to it, looking up at the open driver's door. When a sharp white hand struck out John felt his blood grow hot. It was instantaneous how quick his leisurely walk turned into a sprint, nearly tripping over the tangles of overgrown grass and weeds. As he reached the front of the tractor he held the rifle up, heart hammering in his chest. The hand swung out again, sharp fingers narrowly missing Bob’s neck. Bob stood just far enough out of reach, his eyes glazed over as he stared up at the creature.

John slowly walked around the tractor, one hand reaching out to grab Bob’s hood to yank him backwards. Bob quickly shook his head, breaking out of whatever trance he was in. He blinked a few times before shrugging John’s hand off of him. John lowered the rifle, throwing the strap over his shoulder to let it hang. What used to be a person sat in the driver’s seat, seatbelt keeping them locked against the driver's seat. Its left hand reached out to them, skin peeled away to nothing but sharp finger bones. By the state of it with the burrowing holes in its body, paper thin skin, and bugs worming around, it had been here for quite a long time.

“Are you actually looking to get yourself killed because you’re being pretty fucking stupid,” John hissed.

Bob kept his eyes on the driver, “Do you think he knows what’s going on still?”

“What?” John asked, perplexed by the question.

Bob looked back at him, his eyes seemed haunted, “Do you think he knows that we’re standing here with him?”

John shook his head, “Don’t ask stupid questions Bobby,” he then grabbed the back of his hoodie and lightly pushed him in the direction back to the bridge, “Don’t wander off like that either, you’ll give your babysitter a heart attack,”

Bob turned around, hands balled into fists at his sides, “She’s not my babysitter,”

John laughed, amused by the other man’s frustration, “I don’t know Bobby, she cleans you, feeds you, hell she probably tucked you in last night -”

“You need to stop talking,” Bob said, his eyes were stormy and his knuckles were turning white with how hard he was clenching his fingers inwards.

John took a step closer, looking the man up and down before laughing low in his face, “Yeah? And what are you gonna do about it?”

The movement was quick. The rifle was yanked off his arm and his body was shoved to the left. Cold water soaked his body as he was pushed into the creek. John shot up in an instant, clothes wet and sticking to his body. Bob stood at the edge holding the rifle with a dark look on his face. John shook his hands before reaching up to brush the wet hair from his eyes, he had to fight not to see red when he looked at the brunet who glared at him from dry land. It was tense and quiet save for the sloshing of water as John climbed out of the creek. He walked up to Bob, clothes dripping wet, and held his hand out. Just as the rifle grazed his fingers John snatched it, eyes staying level with the other man’s the entire time.

He leaned in close, anger rolling off his tongue, “You do that again, and I’ll -”

Bob’s hand darted out and before he could grab John he was slammed back first into the grass. John’s hand was heavy on his chest, he made sure to hold the man there even if he squirmed. The brunet stopped after a moment, jaw clenched and eyes fuelled with a newfound fire. Droplets of water fell from John’s hair onto his face, rolling down his cheeks almost like tears.

“You’re done,” John growled, a sense of finality coming into form.

They stayed like that for a moment, he could feel Bob’s erratic heartbeat under his fingers. Bob laid there in the grass, hair fanned around him like a halo and hatred burning in his eyes. When John felt satisfied that he wouldn’t fight back anymore he let him go. Bob scrambled to his feet, face red enough that he looked like he would explode. Silently John motioned with the gun for the man to walk and after a moment Bob turned and did just that. He kept his distance this time. A few steps back so Bob wouldn’t be able to throw him into the water again.

When they arrived back at the bridge, Yelena and Ava had already returned. Yelena was pacing back and forth up top and when Bob called out to her she scrambled to lean over the rail. Her relief turned to disgust when her eyes flickered to John.

“What the fuck happened to you?” she asked.

John groaned, eyes glaring daggers into the back of Bob’s head, “Slipped and fell,”

He didn’t fail to notice the way Bob’s shoulders relaxed when he lied. Telling the truth wouldn’t do John any good anyways. Yelena would just be pissed off that he was harassing Bob and not the fact that he has tossed John into the water. They climbed back up to the road and John tossed the rifle into the truck bed. He felt like a wet dog as he peeled his shirt off to ring it out. Ava whistled, albeit sarcastically. Briefly his eyes flitted over to Bob. The man was staring at him, gaze still hardened but studying him nonetheless.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” John grumbled.

Bob narrowed his eyes, tone bitter as he spoke, “It’d be a waste of film,”

Ava interjected as she sensed the animosity in the air, “I think we should get back on the road now, I’ll drive seeing as Walker is soaking wet,”

John pulled his damp shirt back over his head, “I can still drive,”

Ava shook her head, already at the drivers door, “You’re soaking wet and you smell like swamp, you can dry off in the truck bed,”

With that being said she climbed inside and shut the door, the truck rumbling to life as it started. John was thankful that Yelena and Bob both squished into the cab with Ava. That meant he could have some peace and quiet. They sat there for a moment as Ava studied the map, he could vaguely hear Yelena and her talking about the route. His eyes drifted to the other bridge down the creek. If he squinted he could just barely see the figure hanging in the driver's seat of the downturned tractor. He shook his head when the truck began to move, briefly he glanced inside the cab to see Bob laughing at something Yelena said.

Heat burned through his veins, annoyance had made its home in his heart whenever he looked at the other man. The cool air striking his wet body while they drove made the annoyance within him only grow. He regretted not tossing Bob in the creek as well.

Chapter Text

When they got to Ohio they had to start taking guesses on where to go. They reached the outskirts of Sandusky by nightfall. John was always a bit weary of sleeping out in the open. It was a long stretch of road either way and they all agreed it was best to steer clear of the town until morning. There were a few houses that were dotted off the sides of the road, however, none looked stable enough for them to stay in. He smacked the side of the truck and pointed to one of the houses on the right side. Ava turned onto the long dirt road, truck shaking as it drove up to the dilapidated house.

“Why are we stopping here?” Yelena asked from inside the cab, he could hear clearly as they opened the glass divider earlier.

“We need to be as inconspicuous as possible,” John said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

She turned in her seat to look at him, eyes narrowed, “We’re in the middle of nowhere there’s no one here,”

Ava shook her head as she pulled the truck to park it beside the house, “This isn’t our area, we don’t know who or what is out here,”

John hopped out of the truck when it was put in park. Once the headlights were out the area became darker. The sun was nearing the end of its descent, a bright amber was burning the horizon and casting striking shadows everywhere. John walked towards the little house, rifle at the ready with the flashlight turned on. The roof was caved in so he couldn’t enter but nonetheless he wanted to clear it. Yelena joined him, falling in step behind him as he rounded the first corner of the exterior.

“I can do this myself,” he said, the light on his rifle shining through one of the broken windows.

She walked leisurely beside him, hand resting on top of the gun holstered at her hip, “What happened with Bob earlier? As much as it brings me great joy to think you fell I know that is not the case,”

He checked the next window, trying his best to ignore her question. It wasn’t something he wanted to talk about at the moment, especially with someone he met twenty-four hours ago. She nudged him in the side with her elbow, “I am not going to bite Walker, you can talk to me,”

“No offence Yelena but I don’t know you and I don’t trust you,” he continued, rounding the next corner.

One of the back windows peered into a small bedroom, some of the ceiling was caved in similar to the front entrance. The flashlight glided through the space and up the post of a bed. John grimaced at the two clothed skeletons that laid there. Yelena saddled up next to him, eyes locked on the dead couple, “At least they had each other,”

John didn’t say anything to that.

They continued along the back of the building, he couldn’t get the sight of the skeletons out of his mind. The way their arms were over each other in a last embrace. It’d been a while since he saw something like that. He shook his head and continued, eerily aware of Yelena’s quiet presence at his side.

She stopped before they turned the last corner, hand reaching out to grab his elbow, “Look Walker,”

John stopped as well and turned to face her. She had a pained look on her face as if what she was about to say was horrible. He rested the rifle in front of him, light pointed towards their feet. She grimaced before begrudgingly speaking, “We are going to have to get along if we’re going to be travelling together,”

“Uh huh,” he said, waiting for her to continue.

She groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose as she spoke, “We will unfortunately need to trust each other,”

John shook his head, “Just spit it out Yelena, what do you want?”

“What does Valentina want with Bob? I know you know something because she spoke to you before we left,” she asked directly, hands now on her hips.

Of course that was the question. That was everyone’s question. Truthfully John didn’t actually know why Valentina wanted the guy. He didn’t care too much to find out as at the end of the day it didn’t exactly change what he was getting out of it. Which was whatever he wanted. He leaned back to peer around the corner. Ava and Bob were sitting in the truck bed making small talk. There didn’t seem to be anything special about this guy. Hell, he couldn’t even fight so what was the deal with him?

John shrugged, “I don’t know Yelena, I was just told to bring him to Washington,” he then narrowed his gaze at her, “Better question is, what’s your deal with him?”

“We met in the lab, sometimes my deliveries required me bringing them downstairs. Bob was always with the doctors, we spoke here and there. He’s very kind, fragile, I worry for him Walker,” she explained and by the look in her eyes it sounded like she was telling the truth.

John rolled his eyes, “He’s a grown man Yelena, whatever shit he got himself into with Val I’m sure he’ll get himself out. It’s not any of our business what Val wants with him anyways,”

How had John not run into this guy before? Then again, Yelena apparently is a frequent delivery person of Valentina’s and he’d never met her until now either. There was a brief silence, he took that as his cue to continue onwards. Just as he was turning she grabbed his arm again. He looked back at her to be met with a stern gaze.

“I don’t trust Valentina as far as I can throw her,” she said. It sounded a bit like a threat.

“Welcome to the end of the world Yelena, glad to see you’ve finally caught up,” his tone was sarcastic and he shook her hand off him.

They went back to the truck without another word. Dinner was a can of beans. He would’ve taken an MRE over this and that was really saying something. He was going to make the joke but stopped himself. The others wouldn’t get it anyways. The four of them were squished into the truck bed, all sat interchangeably on opposite sides from one another. Yelena had pulled out a small portable lamp that she brought from her home. It provided enough light that he could just make out everyone’s faces. Everything outside of the truck was a near black void.

“So how did you two end up together?” Yelena asked, eyes flitting between him and Ava.

Ava smirked around her fork, choosing to respond when he stayed quiet, “For the record he is nothing more than an annoying companion and I don’t know I think it was like two years ago now. I saved his ass from getting blown up by a homemade landmine,”

“That is definitely not what -” he began to say before Ava cut in again.

“No, that is definitely one-hundred percent what happened, even have the burn from the explosion to prove it,” she interjected, raising the bottom right side of her shirt to show the smooth twisted flesh on her side.

It spanned a quarter of her ribcage. He remembered their meeting almost as if it were yesterday. He was exhausted and hungry, only being driven by spite and spite alone by that point. Usually he was so aware of his surroundings but that day someone probably could’ve verbalised their intent to kill him and he’d have been none the wiser. It was a trap someone had set up. If it wasn’t so shittily made he definitely would’ve died that day. Ava came out of nowhere and tackled him to the ground just as his foot touched the pile of brush it was under. The explosion was delayed and she had jumped on top of him, annoyingly heroic as ever. After that, there was a silent agreement that they’d stick together.

He owed her his life, though he’d never admit that out loud.

“I’ll do you one better, look at this bad boy,” Yelena said, pulling the collar of her t-shirt to the side to show the scar of a bullet wound on her right shoulder, “For context, my father is an idiot and shot me by accident,”

“You do know that’s not normal right?” Ava asked, mild concern displayed on her face.

Yelena wagged her finger at her, “By Russian standards this is a mere family discourse,” she then looked at John, “You have any cool scars?”

Sure John had a few scars here and there. He didn’t have any that had stories that were quite like hers or Ava’s. Some of them were really old from his time in the military. A few newer ones were from some fights or traversing less than safe areas. He shook his head and nudged Bob with his boot, “You got any?”

Bob looked up from his daze, he’d been quiet for most of the afternoon after the creek incident. The man shrunk in on himself, arms wrapping around his torso to hold himself. He shook his head, “No, I don’t have anything,”

John noticed the man hadn’t really eaten anything yet. He didn’t grab anything from the bags either. Maybe he was just shy and didn’t like eating in front of others? Yelena continued to tell some stories of her weird childhood. However, what she thought was amusing was really just childhood trauma. At one point she handed the remainder of her can to Bob and urged him to eat. She did it under the guise of ‘being too full and not wanting to waste it’. The man was reluctant but began to pick at it, a few spoonfuls eventually making it into his mouth.

When it came time to sleep John turned on his flashlight and hopped out of the truck bed. Ava called dibs on the cab while Bob and Yelena were going to take the truck bed. There was an old oak tree on the property just at the back of the house. He headed over without saying a word and sat underneath it, back against the sturdy trunk. Sleeping under a tree wasn’t the worst and if it did happen to rain he had some cover. He sat with the rifle in his lap, staring into the darkness. A few fireflies dashed in and out of existence around him, their soft yellow glow lighting up the long grass.

He didn’t sleep very much, body too anxious of their surroundings to fully allow himself to rest. When the sun began to rise he wandered off into the nearby field. It smelled like dew and summer. For a moment he closed his eyes, tips of the tall grass dragging against the palms of his hands, and pretended that the world was normal again. He knew the next likely year of his life was going to be hell on earth. They were going to run out of gas likely within the next day or two which meant it was on foot after that. He also knew they needed to find a map of Ohio which meant lingering in Sandusky to find one.

Cities, even small ones, meant infected.

Yelena and Bob were the last ones awake. He and Ava stood at the back of the truck mirroring each other with their arms crossed and eyebrows raised. The two were tangled together and Yelena was snoring like a trucker. John shook his head and banged the bottom of his rifle against the truck. The sound was loud enough that it scared some nearby crows away. Yelena shot up, hand instinctively reaching for her gun as she looked around. When the sleep faded from her eyes her gaze hardened and she glared at the two of them.

John laughed and pointed to the corner of his mouth, “You got a little schmutz there,”

Yelena furiously wiped her face with the back of her hand, “Shut up Walker,”

The drive into Sandusky was tense to say the least. There were a lot of cars that they weaved through and even a few streets they had to find alternate routes for because of how blocked up they were. It was unnervingly quiet, he hated it. The possibility of there being no infected here was near zero percent. He parked the truck at a gas station and hopped out.

“I’m going to take a look around, see if there’s a map or something to figure out where the hell we are,” he said before heading to the little station shop.

Ava joined him, leaving Yelena and Bob to watch the truck. When they entered the store the both of them cringed at the jingle of the bell above them. They froze in place, eyes scanning the store for any movement. The infected were hyper aware of loud sounds at times, especially anything high in frequency like a bell. When nothing came John let out a relieved breath, reaching up to pull the bell from the post it was attached to above the door. He placed it down gently on a dusty shelf.

The store was pretty destroyed, looting was rampant when the infection first started. Ava quietly crept down the aisles, eyes flitting over the few items left behind. She picked up a bag of nuts and held them up, “Do you think these are still good?”

“I wouldn’t eat anything in here,” he said with a shake of his head, hearing her toss the bag to the ground.

It was like the gods had answered his prayers because the back corner of the store had a map stand that was still in perfect condition. People were usually so busy worrying about food that they didn’t think things like maps mattered. He plucked one off the stand and opened it, coughing at the dust that flew outwards like a plume of smoke. Ava appeared behind him, looking over his shoulder at the map.

“Are we going to head up through Michigan or go straight across to Indiana?” she asked, finger now on the map pointing between the north and west borders of the state.

John mulled it over for a moment. There were pros and cons to both. Each state had their major cities which they would try to avoid as much as possible. Following the lake up through Michigan would be more helpful should they not have a map. John wasn’t as familiar with the inner states. His eyes found the train tracks that went up through Michigan, he pointed to it on the map, “We don’t have enough gas for the whole way, we’ll need to ditch the truck soon. It might be safer if we follow the tracks up across the water,”

“If we follow the water we’ll be nearing Detroit,” she pointed out.

He began to fold the map up, “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, let’s just cross the bay first,”

When they exited the store Yelena was outside the door, finger to her lips in a shushing motion. John raised his rifle on instinct, eyes scanning the area. Yelena pointed to one of the few cars that sat rotting in the small lot. The creature was stumbling between the cars, skin red and peeling from weeks of being out in the sun. Its body was near skeletal, clothes hanging off it. There only seemed to be one. John looked at Ava, giving a short nod. He handed her his rifle and then pulled out the knife he had sheathed on the back of his belt.

Taking down these things at close range never got any easier. His movements were methodical as if he’s done this a million times already. When he was within a few steps of it he could hear those haunting wheezy breaths escaping between its teeth. In one swift motion he kicked it face down to the ground, leaning down over it and pressing the knife to the base of its neck. It wasn’t a kill per se, more like an immobilization. Killing them was still a bit confusing as direct shots to the head or heart didn’t always do it right away. However, he did learn that severing the spinal cord meant loss of movement. Which is what he did as he pressed the blade down into the back of its neck.

As he walked back to the others he wiped the dark blood off on his pant leg before sliding the knife back into its sheath. Ava handed him back the rifle and gave him a thumbs up. He didn’t miss the way Bob was staring at him from where he sat in the truck bed. Those dark eyes locked in on him. John shrugged the gaze off and pulled the new map back out, spreading it open on the end of the truck bed. From there he began to explain to Yelena and Bob the next steps. It felt like he was under a microscope more than anything. In his peripherals he could see the other man watching him intently. He shoved the unsettling feeling within him aside and tried his best to stay focused.

This was important, he didn’t need to focus on Bob, he needed to focus on the mission.

Chapter Text

The truck running out of gas was not surprising in the least as it was bound to happen eventually. It still was disappointing though as it meant the long haul was about to begin. They decided to camp out by the water for the night. The bridge across the bay was packed with cars but John had eyed a train track that went across on its own bridge. He had half a mind to leave some of the supplies in the truck for when they were coming back but John knew he was likely never coming here again. Hell, he’d be lucky if he actually didn’t die on the way to Washington.

Over the lake he could see the dark clouds that were forming. By morning the sky was still moody and the water looked rough and choppy. Yelena had the idea the day before to find backpacks and was successful in her endeavors. She was helping Ava divide everything up and pack them all evenly. John stood on the grassy bank watching as the waves slapped against it. He could feel the sprinkles of water hitting his face. It was going to be a tedious crossing with the weather like this. He looked back over his shoulder briefly to see the others finishing up at the truck.

Bob was quiet again this morning. He didn’t eat anything when they were having breakfast either. Maybe he was just moody? Or maybe he was still pissed off from the incident at the creek? John shook his head and headed back to them. He bit his tongue to stop himself from saying anything about Yelena’s backpack. It was an annoyingly bright blue, almost neon. He’d already chastised her choice yesterday and decided it best not to re-ignite that fire. She threw a black backpack at him which he caught with ease.

“Here, boring just like you wanted,” she sassed.

John rolled his eyes and slid his arms through the straps, “Yeah, yeah, Yelena. Just know that if we run into other people they’ll be shooting at your highlighter ass first,”

She stuck her tongue out at him, “You are jealous, you are not as cool as me Walker,”

She then walked over to Bob and helped him adjust the straps so it sat tightly against his back. The brunet’s eyes were glazed over, his mind seemingly elsewhere. When she realized he wasn’t listening she gently touched his cheek and said something quietly. John looked away. The moment too intimate for him to keep watching. Ava appeared at that moment, nudging John in the side with her shoulder before nodding towards the distant tracks, “You see how bad the water is?”

“We’ll be fine Ava,” he affirmed, if he said it out loud then it would be true.

The train tracks that crossed the bay were low lying to the water, not like the usual suspension bridges he’s seen built before. With the water crashing against the sides and spilling over in some parts it made the terrain slick. By the looks of it it was entirely hanging over the water, some stretches were on parts of land that poked out from below. John took the lead, carefully placing his steps to make sure he wouldn’t slip.

“Everyone can swim right?” he yelled over his shoulder.

Ava and Yelena both yelled in agreement but Bob remained silent. John briefly looked behind, “Bob you can swim right?”

Bob looked up from the ground and nodded slowly, “Yeah, yeah I can swim,”

They all walked close behind each other, John leading followed by Bob, then Yelena, then Ava who took up the end. It was colder over the water due to the wind that blew through. When they were about a quarter way across there was a sudden break in the tracks. The gap wasn’t too wide and could easily be jumped. John stopped, hands on his hips, “We’re going to have to jump it,”

A wave slammed against the side, water spilling over his feet. All of their shoes and pants up to their mid-calves were soaked from the water already. Before the others could disagree John jumped, digging his feet into the gravel to stop himself from falling when he made it on the other side. Yelena and Ava had no trouble crossing the short distance which only left Bob to make the jump. The man stood at the edge looking down at the dark water as it rushed between the gap.

“Come on Bob, you’ve got this!” Yelena yelled, she was attempting to sound somewhat encouraging.

Bob looked nervous, “I don’t know,”

She flashed him a warm smile, “We can’t cross this without you Bob,”

It was as if John could’ve predicted it or maybe he just knew how the other man was by now. Bob went to jump but slipped due to the weight suddenly being thrown down onto his injured foot. John’s hand shot outwards, grabbing the other man by the front of his hoodie and pulling him close. Bob stumbled into him, arms flailing until his hands found stability on John’s arms. His eyes were as dark as the water around them, a deep suffocating shade of blue. Ava began snickering behind him until Yelena hit her in the arm.

“Foot okay?” John asked, fingers still tightly tangled in the hoodie.

Bob nodded, his gaze heavy, “I’ll be fine,”

John let him go and they continued on as if nothing happened. There was no point in bringing up Bob’s clumsiness now. Everyone knew the other guy was a bit of a disaster anyways so it’s not like John would be starting a new conversation by it. At the halfway point the sky above began to grumble. With the weather worsening they quickened their pace but the quick pace meant more room for missteps. His heart dropped to his ass when he saw the train cars on the track up ahead.

“You said this was supposed to be easy? What does anything about this seem fucking easy?” Ava yelled from the back.

John took a measured breath, “I’m not a psychic it’s not like I could tell a fucking train would be here Ava,”

Another crash of thunder sounded overhead. They needed to get across before it started storming. It was a freight train which meant there were no cabs for them to pass through. Once he was on top of the first one he reached down and helped the others up. Walking on top of the train was dicey, especially with the waves slamming against it causing it to shake. His eyes were drawn to the way the top glistened. It was slippery. John stopped and turned to face the three behind him, holding his hand out to Bob who was directly behind him.

“It’s slippery and windy, better if we all have a hold of each other,” he explained loudly over the cutting wind.

Bob hesitantly placed his hand in John’s. The man's hand was soft and warm, almost too warm. It was a drastic difference from his own which were rough and calloused. They formed a chain and held tightly onto each other’s hands. It was tedious and throughout the entire walk over the train no one so much as uttered a word. He wouldn’t say he was anxious but this was not the most ideal situation to be in. Bob’s hand was sweaty, likely from anxiety, and he could feel his hand trying to adjust to stop them from slipping apart.

When Bob almost slipped and fell for the second time John readjusted how their hands were connected. He laced their fingers together and squeezed the other man’s hand tightly. John didn’t think too much about it, more focused on not having to save Bob’s ass for the second time today. If the day couldn’t get any worse it began to rain when they reached the last train car on the track. He could see land from here now and knew it was probably only another ten minutes of walking after they climbed down.

The ladder was rickety when he descended back onto the track. When he had let go of Bob’s hand there was a chill that settled there as if the man had sucked all the warmth back with him. While they walked across the remaining length of track he felt a slight weight on his backpack. A brief glance back told him it was Bob holding onto him. John didn’t bother saying anything about it. By the time they reached dry land it was pouring rain and they were all soaked to the bone. Despite the mud Yelena threw herself onto the ground with glee. She looked up at John and glared, “You are no longer allowed to pick our crossing routes,”

John threw his hands up in surrender, “Hey at least there were no infected,”

Ava pulled Yelena to her feet, “I agree with Yelena, I would rather go through twenty infected then that hellscape again,”

Just up the nearby road there was a garage. The rusty door screeched as John lifted it, Ava ducked down and took a peek inside with her flashlight, “It’s clear,”

The inside smelled musty and old and when he turned his flashlight on dust particles danced around them. Bob sneezed which caused the rest of them to jump, he then mumbled an apology. Yelena’s portable lantern came in handy again, flooding the dark garage with a hazy yellow glow. They were all exhausted and wet from the journey across the bay. John threw his bag to the ground and peeled his wet shirt off, ringing it out in the corner. He felt disgusting. The girls began to do the same as well.

“This is absolutely miserable,” Yelena said, vocalizing how they were all feeling.

“If it keeps up like this we’ll have to stay here tomorrow,” Ava added on.

John shook his head, “We don’t have time to sit around, I want to get as much travelling done before winter as possible,”

Bob suddenly sneezed again from the corner. His gaze snapped to him in an instant, noticing the man sitting in a sopping wet puddle. He hadn’t even tried to wring his hoodie out, brown curls plastered to his face, and water still dripping from his chin.

“You know you’re going to get sick if you sit there soaking wet,” John said, now shaking out his shirt to try and get more water out.

Bob shrugged, a weak smile on his face, “I’ll be fine,”

Yelena was on him in an instant, squatted down next to him with a hand now on his shoulder, “I am sure a little water won’t kill you,”

By next morning John was convinced Bob had something wrong with him, not physically but definitely mentally. The man barely ate again and what it’d been like over twenty-four hours since he properly ate enough food? He also didn’t speak or really moved, staying balled up on the ground with his hood up pretending to be asleep. John knew he wasn’t really sleeping as the rise and fall of his body from his breaths weren’t even. He and Ava were outside the garage waiting for Bob and Yelena. It had been about ten minutes now. When he left he last saw Yelena lying on the ground in front of Bob, mirroring him, trying to coax him to get up.

“We really don’t have time for this,” John muttered, he was getting a bit antsy.

There was a lot of ground to cover still and he wasn’t sure if the weather was going to hold up. It wasn’t pouring like when they first got here yesterday but the sky was spitting, clouds a grumpy grey. Yelena cleared her throat from behind them, both of them turned around to face her. She looked ready to go with her arms crossed, a frown on her face, “Bob is not well,”

“What is he sick?” Ava asked.

Yelena shook her head and tapped her finger against her temple, “We need to keep an eye on him, I don’t want him doing something stupid,”

Ah, John understood. Basically make sure Bob stays away from anything that could possibly kill him. He’d had those days before, sometimes the call of the void was so strong. After another minute Bob appeared, lingering behind Yelena. He was shrunk in on himself, hands hidden up in his sleeves. There was an exhaustion in his eyes, something a lot more than just physical, dark circles pressed against the pale skin around his eyes. For better words he looked like shit. Yelena took his hand in hers and gave him a warm smile before nodding at John for them to start their travels for the day. Bob went with them, quiet and sad like an unwilling passenger.

It was like that all the way to Toledo. John usually didn’t have a lot of sympathy for others but Bob just looked so pathetic and miserable. It was a long few days as they had to move in small increments due to the weather. They crossed another body of water which had John’s anxiety running rampant as Bob kept stumbling and tripping. The guy walked as if he didn’t care what happened to him. John half thought the guy was going to throw himself into the water to drown at one point. He was weary of entering Toledo but they had wasted so much time already because of the weather that this was the quickest way through.

The city was eerily quiet and every slight sound had the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. It wasn’t a bustling city like New York with tall buildings but it was still quite condensed with all the tiny war-time homes. The tracks led them to a giant train junction where dozens of trains were left to rot on the tracks. For the better part of an hour Yelena was playing I-spy. Or rather, she was playing and hoping that the others would join in. Most of her topics so far had been trying to describe John in different annoying ways.

“Okay I spy with my little eye something stupid, dirty, and lost,” she said, a wicked smile on her face.

Ava snorted, “Hmm I don’t know Yelena, sounds like a bit of a hard guess,”

John threw his hands into the air in frustration, “Yelena for the last time you can’t keep using me! It’s supposed to be like stuff around you,”

Yelena laughed, “But Walker you are stuff around me,”

John shook his head and picked a sturdy looking train car before climbing up the ladder. Once on top he looked around, hand flush against his forehead in a sort of salute to block the sun. There were rows upon rows of rusty trains followed by rows upon rows of houses. Everything looked the same.

“Face it Walker, we are lost,” Yelena said from below.

“We’re not lost,” he looked around again, “We’re just…taking the scenic route,”

When Bob laughed, John nearly fell off the top of the train. The three of them looked at the brunet in shock. He hadn’t breathed so much as a whisper in days. Bob raised his head to look up at John, mimicking the way John’s hand was to block the sun, “We’re lost,”

John sighed, defeated, “Okay so we’re a bit lost,”

He climbed back down, jumping from the ladder to land in the gravel. It crunched underneath his boots. John had never been to Toledo before and it really showed. They weaved their way through the train cars and finally made it out of the maze. By the evening they made it to what seemed to be an Art Museum. It was starting to storm and the last thing they wanted was to be caught outside in one again. Much to John’s dismay Yelena had convinced the others to stay the night here. He would’ve rathered a house or somewhere smaller and less public. Spaces like this meant the opportunity for more infected to be around. The back of his mind kept reiterating that something wasn’t right. This place was too quiet, too empty. Nevertheless, he followed inside to explore with the rest of them.

Chapter Text

The museum was like walking into a palace with its many steps and white stone pillars that bordered the front. It reminded him a bit of the old monuments in Greece. The main doors were locked, he wasn’t exactly surprised. Yelena kicked them in before John could tell them to all turn around and find another place to go. The sound was loud, echoing throughout the large building. Everything about this made him feel uneasy. This place was way too quiet, too still, for his liking.

The light was pretty limited and they had to use their flashlights to see where they were going. John was never one for art and history so he couldn’t care less about this place. Everything smelled stale as if no one had been here for a while. It seemed the likely case. As they walked down a long corridor John decided to speak up, “Okay I think we need some ground rules here guys,”

“Psh ground rules,” Yelena said dismissively.

John shone the light at the back of her head, “I’m serious Yelena. This place gives me the creeps,”

“I actually second that,” Ava added in agreement.

Bob scratched the back of his head and gave them all a small smile, “Aw come on guys it’s not that bad,”

They turned the corner and entered a large show room. The walls were a deep crimson and had a few large paintings hung. He turned his flashlight off as some light was coming in from the glass ceiling. Yelena walked up to the large painting at the center and took a seat on the dusty bench in front of it.

“Okay so ground rules: No unnecessary loud noises. Check around corners before walking into the open. And if something does happen and we get separated, meet back at the train junction, we wait one day and then after we leave,” he explained.

“You’re so paranoid,” Ava said, turning her flashlight off as well and walking towards Yelena.

The thunder from outside echoed through the large empty space. They decided to settle in this room for the night after having walked around the museum for a bit. Yelena called the long bench to sleep on, one leg swinging off the side as she stared at the ceiling. John was sitting on the floor next to a podium that held a small brass statue, he was digging into a bag of wild berries he picked on the way to Toledo. A majority of their trek following the tracks was through grassy and bushy overgrown areas. Bob was lingering near him looking at a painting, he had rubbed the dust from the description card a few minutes prior to read it properly.

It was a painting of an angel being led by a man, two guards leisurely lying at the forefront. John didn’t really understand what was going on in it but Bob seemed to be somewhat interested. He popped another berry into his mouth. It was more tangy than sweet but it was fresh which was all that mattered.

“Are they good?” Bob asked.

John looked up and then held the bag up towards him, “Try it yourself,”

The other man took this as an invite to join him, sitting down on the floor next to him. Bob reached into the bag and pulled a few dark berries out, his face growing sour after he popped them into his mouth. Despite the taste he looked back to the bag as if he wanted more. John reluctantly obliged, shaking the bag slightly to signal he could take some more. This was the first time in a few days he’d actually seen Bob eat so he wasn’t going to stop him now. The dark berries stained his lips a deep mulberry, colour disappearing when his tongue darted out to swipe across his bottom lip.

“Didn’t think Yelena was such an art fanatic,” John said, eyes drifting over to the blonde lounging on the bench across the room.

Bob shrugged, taking another berry, “Not really, I think she used to go to museums with her sister,”

John raised an eyebrow, “Didn’t know she had a sister,”

“Yelena said she was sick one day so her sister did one of her deliveries for her, she never came back,” Bob said quietly just so the story stayed between the two of them.

John nodded slowly. It put a few more things into perspective regarding Yelena. This was the unfortunate truth about this new world, everyone was bound to lose somebody. Soon the berries were gone leaving no excuse for Bob to stay around him. Surprisingly Bob stayed put on the floor, head downturned as he picked at the skin around his nails. There was still a lot about this guy that John didn’t know, he didn’t like not knowing things about people. Bob was a bit hard to read as well. Sometimes he was aloof and confused, other times quiet and reserved, or now where he was talkative and even a little snarky.

“What were you doing in the lab?” he asked, studying the way Bob tensed slightly at the question.

Bob shrugged, head still down, “Just some tests and stuff, I don’t remember a lot of it,”

“You’re very conveniently confused when it comes to important things,” he pointed out.

Another shrug, he seemed to cave in on himself more, “Sorry, I just…” Bob sighed and looked up at John, “I don’t really know what’s wrong with me, sometimes I have these really good days but then they’re followed up by really, really bad ones. When it’s really bad I can’t even remember what happens most times…”

Great, so Bob had a few screws loose. John wasn’t really sure what to say to that. He didn’t think the other man trusted him enough yet to actually talk about his problems. It made a bit of sense though and his rapid mood changes were now explainable. John wasn’t a doctor so he didn’t know what the fuck Bob had but maybe that was why he was seeing Valentina? He gave Bob a tight smile, he felt a bit awkward now. The other man looked back down at his lap, resuming his nervous skin picking. John opened his backpack and pulled out another bag of berries and handed it to Bob.

For once a soft smile was given to him. John wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of such a pleased look. It made his chest warm in a weird sort of way that was not usual. Sure Ava had smiled at him before but it was not as genuine as this. She had her own sarcastic way of doing things. Bob’s smile was subtle and warm, his eyes shining as he graciously took the bag and began to eat more berries. It was almost akin to a child getting candy after a day of only eating vegetables. He quickly looked away, instead focusing on his backpack as he rummaged through it. There was nothing he needed but it kept him busy and not looking at the sunny man next to him.

That night he awoke to a strange sound. It was gone in an instant and he sat up straighter against the wall, eyes blinking in the darkness. Thunder rumbled again overhead and he could hear the rain harshly tapping against the glass ceiling. Perhaps it was just the thunder that stirred him? He shook his head, sinking back again and resting his head against the podium. Just as his eyes closed he heard it again. It was a screeching wheeze, familiar and blood chilling. His hand was on his rifle in an instant, holding it up and slowly standing.

When the flashlight turned on his heart nearly stopped. A singular infected was maybe a few steps in front of him, back thankfully turned away from John. It was twitching in place, breathy wheezes sounding from its mouth. Quickly he tried to step back, shoulder knocking into the podium next to him. It teetered, the small statue on top tumbling to the ground with a resounding bang. The loud sound drew a symphony of screeches and yells from the nearby corridors. He raised his rifle just in time for the creature to whip around, boney sharp fingers gripping onto the gun as he tried to push it away.

“Get off me!” he yelled, pushing back against the creature with all his strength.

Cracked teeth snapped at him. Just then something hit the back of the thing's head, knocking it down to the floor. Bob stood there breathing hard and holding the now bloodied statue in his hands. There was dark blood splattered across the man’s face. He looked down at the infected body that twitched on the ground, trying to regain its strength. There was a stunned look on Bob’s face, like he couldn’t believe what he just did.

“We’ve gotta go now!” Ava yelled from across the room.

John took a deep breath and pushed past Bob to head towards the two women. He was stopped when three infected threw themselves into the room. The screeches that came from the corridor they fell in from were resounding. There were plenty more than the three. For a moment his gaze met Ava’s, silently communicating. She grabbed Yelena and began to pull her in the opposite direction from them.

“Twenty-four hours!” she yelled.

His feet moved faster than his mind, whirling around and grabbing a fist full of Bob’s hoodie to propel him forwards. They headed in the opposite direction the girls went in. One thing he knew not to do was look behind him. He could hear the fast footsteps, the screeching, and could smell death following close at their heels. It was dark and the flashlight in his hand was only so helpful. The museum was like a maze and it was even worse in the dark. Bob was starting to lag behind him, likely tired from the sprinting and his injured foot probably screaming for him to stop. John reached back, grabbing his wrist hard, tight enough to bruise, and pulling him along like his life depended on it.

“We’re not going to make it,” Bob said as they turned another corner.

“Shut up Bob!” he yelled, negativity was not something he needed.

Up ahead his flashlight caught a glimpse of an old exit sign that was hanging from the ceiling. He ran in its direction, coming to a dead end. The emergency exit door was blocked as he shoved against it. The sounds of death were drawing near. John took a breath, turning to Bob who looked like he was about to shut down, “Get the door open and get out,”

Bob shook his head, “No I can’t I’m not - “

He shoved the man back against the door with one hand, a stern look in his eyes, “Get the fucking door open Bob,”

Just like clockwork his military training kicked into gear. High stress situations weren’t anything new to him. He let Bob go and turned around, taking one knee and checking the ammo in his rifle. The stock pressed firm against his shoulder, left eye closing as he looked down the scope. The tall dusty windows lining the corridor provided a shred of light along with his flashlight. As soon as the first infected appeared, arms swinging wildly, he fired into its knee watching it collapse. He drew in a breath, shifting to shoot the next one. Each bullet shot made a flash akin to the lightning outside.

“How’s that door coming Bobby?” he yelled, firing a shot into the head of another infected.

Bob shoved with all his might against the door, “It’s fucking stuck John that’s how it’s going!”

The infected were endless and the shots were only attracting more of them. He also knew he was running out of bullets in the current clip. If he went to reload there wouldn’t be enough time. The corridor was only so long and some of the ones he shot weren’t even dead. Now stumbling or crawling their way towards them. The screeches were piercing, like a wounded flock of birds.

Four bullets left.

He rose from his position and took a step back, trying to pace his last few bullets. Bob was still pushing at the door behind him, curses and grunts falling from the other's mouth. He didn’t want to think about dying, not yet. There was no way he came to this stupid museum to die in it, especially not with this guy. Three, two, one. He dropped the rifle to hang around his neck, hand reaching behind to take the knife out of its sheath on his back. One of them grabbed him, fingers curling in the sleeve of his shirt and tugging. He plunged the knife upwards under its chin, watching the dark blood pour from its mouth.

Something shattered behind and to his right. He pulled the knife out swiftly, pushing the creature to the floor. There were six more. He raised the knife, a calm settling over him as he rolled his shoulders. If this was how he was going to die then so be it. Bob grabbed him, or rather he shoved himself against John almost like a tackle. Then they were falling outside. All the air was knocked from his lungs when his back hit the wet ground. It was a good few feet down from where they fell out. John laid there for a moment in shock, trying to remember how to breathe again even with the rain pouring down from above onto his face.

One of the infected fell out the window, landing with a crunch next to them. It surged forward grabbing Bob by the leg. Bob began to kick while coughing, trying so hard to catch his breath and not get torn to shreds. John hauled himself up, and fell next to him, knife plunging down into the creature's skull. Everything hurt, his lungs were still working to regain the oxygen it was abruptly deprived of. More infected threw themselves from the window and landed around them in heaps.

“Fuck,” he hissed, standing and pulling Bob up with him.

They ran for a long time. He didn’t even know where he was taking them, just anywhere away from these things. This was why he avoided cities. He almost thought he was going to need to carry Bob by the way he was stumbling behind him. The only thing he could focus on was the warmth of Bob’s hand in his, the water running down his face, and their quick wet footsteps slapping against the pavement.

By morning John was cursing himself. They found an old restaurant to hide out in, shutting themselves in the old walk in fridge. Thankfully everything that would’ve been rotting in here was nothing but dust now. His right side and shoulder were aching, having taken the brunt of the fall. He spent most of the night focusing on reloading the rifle's magazine, doing it slowly to focus on the action itself and not the screeching outside. Bob didn’t speak but John could hear him quietly sniffling to himself. It was a long night. When John deemed it safe he opened the heavy door. He was hesitant as he exited but it looked like the infected had all cleared out. A relieved sigh he didn’t know he had been holding escaped his lips, hand reaching up to squeeze his shoulder.

“Come on, let’s go,” he said, looking back at Bob.

With the light spilling inside the fridge he now saw it. Clear as day. Immediately he had the rifle up and pointed towards Bob. The man’s eyes widened, hands flying up in surrender. There was a bite on his right leg just above his ankle, pants torn and bloody.

John held the rifle firmer, “You’re infected,”

Chapter Text

Bob looked like a deer caught in the headlights. After a moment he looked down at his own leg and then back up at John, he shook his head. There was an aloof type of look on his face, not shock or fear but something more nervous than anything. Bob continued shaking his head, stumbling over his words as he spoke, “No, no, I’m not, “

“I’m not a moron Bob, I know how this shit works,” John retorted, scope of the rifle honed in on the center of the man’s chest.

Bob lowered his hands and gripped at the bottom of his hoodie, “Look man I, I can prove it - just, please don’t shoot me,”

The dirtied hoodie was slowly pulled up and over his body to reveal a lean torso cluttered with scars of bites, cuts, scratches. It was a mess. The marks marred his skin like a battlefield. John’s mouth grew dry, eyes tracing the toned body and markings that cascaded over it. Rows of different shaped teeth marks stretched from his hips to his shoulders, down his arms. Bob nervously dropped the hoodie to the ground in front of him, hands back to being raised to try and feign innocence. John was sure that Bob was probably shitting bricks with the rifle pointed at him.

“What the hell is this shit? These aren’t from infected they can’t be,” he said, shaking his head and adjusting the stock against his shoulder.

Bob frantically shook his head, “You asked why I was there at the lab,” he let out a nervous laugh, “Well this is why I was at the lab,”

“Bullshit, no one’s immune to this crap. And even if someone is, why the hell would it be you?” he spat, it came off more cruel than he originally intended.

The nervousness on Bob’s face melted into despair. He could see the way the light faded in the man’s eyes. Bob’s hands lowered to hang at his sides, he frowned ever so slightly, “I don’t know why it worked, I don’t know why it’s me,” he looked down at his hands and whispered, “It shouldn’t be me,”

John slowly lowered the rifle, letting it hang at his side. If Bob was bitten it would’ve been last night, likely when that infected jumped him after they fell out the window. There would be signs by now; the coughing and wheezing, erratic twitching, blood. Yet he still seemed the same Bob. He gave him a curt nod and lowered the rifle, signalling for him that it was okay. The brunet slowly bent over to grab his hoodie, eyes not being taken off of John’s face. Likely for fear that he would change his mind.

His eyes trailed the pale skin, watching as Bob stretched to pull the hoodie back over his head. The scars seemed to cover his back as well. John saw when he turned around to grab his backpack from the floor, hoodie sliding down his back. Bob was all lean muscle, narrow waist, slightly toned. It was surprising, the baggy clothes he wore made him seem so frail. He followed John out into the kitchen, watching the blond clear one of the kitchen counters off. With a resounding pat of his hand against the metal surface John looked to Bob, “Hop up here,”

Bob blinked at him, “What?”

John dropped his backpack on one end of the counter and pointed at Bob and then the counter, “Up, you, now. We can’t have you walking around with that bite showing,”

Bob crossed his arms, “There’s no one around,”

He looked over his shoulder and glared, “Bobby get your ass on this counter, we’re not arguing about this,”

Begrudgingly Bob hopped onto the counter, pulling his legs up and turning to face John. He stretched his right leg out, wincing when John grabbed his ankle to turn it to the side. The bite wasn’t anything substantial but the teeth had sunken in deep. He lightened his touch at the way Bob continued to wince, body going rigid under John’s fingers. Luckily he had some gauze in his backpack. He poured some water over the red mark to wash it out. It was a little irritated and was already starting to scab but it didn’t look infected.

Usually bites within a few hours would start to darken and bruise around the area. The veins around the area would darken like a blackness was taking over them. But Bob’s leg seemed normal. He’d likely need new pants as the leg was torn almost up to the knee. John’s fingers briefly grazed another crescent shaped scar on his leg. The man seemed to be covered in these markings. What the hell had Valentina done to him? Bob drew in a sharp breath, quickly looking away from John as he began to wrap the bite with bandages. John was acutely aware that this was the same foot that was injured, the guy seemed to have bad luck.

“Do you think Yelena and Ava are okay?” Bob asked quietly, eyes trained on John’s careful movements.

John shrugged, “Probably. They were closer to the front entrance than us when we split up, they’re probably at the train by now,”

Bob hopped off the counter, grimacing at the weight on his foot, “We should head out then, don’t wanna keep them waiting,”

John didn’t miss the worry in his eyes, he knew Bob was mostly thinking of Yelena. The two were very close. They seemed to have a connection that even John couldn’t wrap his head around. When they stepped outside the rain seemed to have subsided leaving a deep blue sky to greet them. John found comfort in the warm air as they headed towards the train junction. During their walk he began to ask questions, mostly out of curiosity.

“I’m assuming this is why Val’s so hellbent on you being delivered safely,” he said aloud.

Bob gave a tight nod, “I guess…I didn’t think she wanted me anymore,”

Were the tests the reason he was covered in all those scars? John never questioned that Valentina was a cruel person. She was indeed. Sometimes he would hear screams from the labs but he tried to pay it no mind. After all, it wasn’t his business. Now he wondered if some of that screaming was Bob. Briefly he looked at him, feeling a pang of guilt in his gut. He looked forwards again and pushed that feeling down and away.

“What’d she do to you?” he asked, hoping to get even a bit more information.

Bob shook his head and muttered, “I don’t want to talk about it,”

If it were any other day John would’ve pressed him for information, maybe even roughed him around to make him talk. But at this moment he couldn’t find the energy for it. Maybe it was the pain radiating through his body or the fact that he didn’t exactly dislike Bob anymore (he wouldn’t admit that out loud). In the distance he could see the train junction down the long stretch of road. It was probably another ten minutes from where they were.

“How’s your side?” Bob asked, flipping the questions back onto John.

John shrugged, right side still aching, “Would’ve been better if we didn’t fall out of a two story building,”

“Sorry,” he apologized, something that seemed to come to him automatically.

In fairness it was quick thinking on Bob’s part, John was mildly impressed last night when he was thinking about the escape. He hadn’t even thought about jumping out the window. Albeit was extremely reckless and they were lucky it wasn’t too far a fall and that there weren’t any dangerous things to fall on top of. The ache on the side of his body suggested the bruises underneath his shirt were pretty gnarly, maybe he even bruised a few ribs. He slowed down a bit to try and match Bob’s pace. The guy was struggling to keep up and was quiet about it but John could tell he was hurting by the way he limped.

“How’s the leg?” he asked, briefly looking down at the torn pant leg.

Bob grimaced, “Fine,”

When they got to the junction John helped him on top of one of the train cars. It would be easier to see Ava and Yelena from up high. Plus, it kept them out of direct grabbing reach should some infected roll through. Bob was lying down with his right leg straight out, his left bent up with his arm thrown over his face to cover his eyes. Neither of them got any sleep last night so now while they were waiting it was as good as ever. John stood and surveyed the area. It was very quiet and still. The air wasn’t humid which suggested that there wouldn’t be any more rain anytime soon. Which was great, he was sick of being wet all the time.

“Drink some water,” he said, nudging Bob in the side with his foot.

They had been sitting here for hours now. There was still no sign of either woman. Bob groaned and begrudgingly sat up, his cheeks were flushed pink and hair sticking to his sweaty forehead from the heat. The sun was relentlessly beating down on them. He took the water bottle from John’s hand and took a long drink. John’s eyes honed in on the teeth marks that peeked out from behind his hair, raised marks just on the back of his neck. It irked him in the back of his mind. Now that he knew the scars were there his eyes couldn’t help but lock onto any raised skin he caught sight of. Bob didn’t seem to notice though.

“Do you think they’re okay?” Bob asked, handing the bottle back to John.

John nodded, “They’re fine. Ava’s pretty capable so I’m sure she got Yelena out in one piece,”

He knew he was lying to himself. There were a lot of infected in that building and he and Bob barely made it out unscathed. Correction, not exactly unscathed. Bob was bitten and he knew if the tables were turned and it was John he’d be dead right now. The cicadas hissed, adding onto the heat in the air. He was absolutely drenched in sweat now, he didn’t know how Bob was able to sit there all covered up. John caved and took his shirt off, jumping when he felt a hand against his back.

He almost didn’t want to look, “How bad is it?”

“Pretty fucking bad,” Bob replied, fingers spreading against John’s right shoulderblade.

From his hip all the way up to his shoulderblade was a smattering of deep angry bruises. When he rolled his shoulder he hissed at the pain. Bob’s touch was featherlight against his skin, dragging down over the back of his ribs. He shrugged the hand off him, turning his head slightly to see Bob shake the daze out of his eyes. John took another sip of water and then ran a hand through his hair. This wasn’t looking good, he didn’t think Ava or Yelena were coming back. That would be a problem, mostly for Bob. He didn’t want to deal with whatever impending emotional crashout that might trigger.

“What if they don’t come back?” he asked, trying to test the waters.

Bob’s face twisted to anger, “Don’t say that,”

John sighed, “We agreed to twenty-four hours Bobby -”

The way the other man flinched was slightly alarming. He looked upset and frustrated, eyes refusing to meet John’s. Was it the nickname? Was it the fact that they might not actually see those two ever again? Something within him ached, deep in his chest. John tried not to get attached to people, he made that a rule of his after this shit all started. He kept Ava at arms length, never asking too many questions to get emotionally attached to her. In his mind he told himself she was like a coworker. Recently though it was becoming different. Ever since this journey began all they had was time. Many of the long drives had them all talking to each other for hours.

Yeah, he pushed that feeling down and away. He didn’t want to think about them not coming back. Bob looked frustrated, his eyes glossy as if he were about to cry. God, John did not want to deal with that right now. He could barely stand hearing the other man sniffle all night long but to see him crying in the daylight would make things so much worse. John was not good with these emotional things. Hesitantly he reached out and placed his hand on Bob’s arm, gently squeezing.

John tried his best to smile in a nice way, “We’ve got until tomorrow afternoon…they’ll come back,”

Bob nodded and looked away from him, sleeve raising to wipe at his eyes. John let go of him, drawing his hand back to himself. He returned his gaze to the rows of houses ahead. He really needed them to come back.

Chapter Text

He awoke to a whistle.

It was a strange tune, nothing familiar to any usual whistling songs. Something a bird would sing. It was dark out and the crickets around were chirping loudly. They had been camped out on top of the train all day and by the sting of face he figured he was sunburned. Bob sat up, almost like a bullet, and responded to the whistle in a similar fashion.

“They’re back,” he said, even in the moonlight John could see the excitement in his eyes.

The two climbed off the train car and jumped down onto the gravel. Once again the whistle echoed down the aisle to their right. Up ahead he could see two dark figures approaching, both holding onto each other. He turned his flashlight on and shone it in their direction. Ava and Yelena were illuminated. The two women were dirty and bloody, Ava was helping Yelena walk as it seemed like she had maybe twisted her ankle. Bob ran over and swallowed the blonde up in a tight hug. She sank into him, holding him ever so tightly. They seemed to be near and dear to each other.

John grimaced, he was not good with these emotional things. He approached, timing his steps to not seem too eager. Ava wiped the sweat from her forehead before dropping her hands to her hips, “Y’know I take it back,”

John raised an eyebrow, “Take what back?”

Her thumb jutted out to point to the woman next to her, “Her stupid ass ideas are almost as bad as yours,”

Yelena pulled away from Bob, laughing sarcastically, “Oh ha ha Ava. I did not think the art museum was going to be home to a whole fucking hoard of infected,”

“So uh, what happened to you two?” Bob asked as they were all walking back to the train car.

Yelena was leaning against him to take the weight off her left foot, “We got chased, we found an exit, I ate shit on the front steps and twisted my stupid ankle, Ava saved my ass blah blah blah,”

Once they were all on top of the train car John could finally feel a weight lifting from him. It felt as if he hadn’t been able to breathe properly until now. Yelena took her lamp out and had to hit it a few times before it turned on. The glass casing was shattered, likely from her tumble down the front steps. She then stuck her hand out towards John, “Give me your backpack Walker,”

His eyes narrowed in suspicion, “You have your own backpack, why do you need mine?”

She grinned and pulled something out of her backpack, holding it in the palm of her hand next to the lamp to illuminate it. There was a glittery american flag patch in her hand that sparkled as she shifted it around in the light.

He shook his head, “You are not putting it on my bag,”

A pout formed on her lips, “I am very injured here Walker, are you really going to deprive me this sliver of happiness? Don’t you want to be less boring?”

He let her put the patch on his bag. It was stupid but she got an unnecessary amount of joy out of it. Ava settled next to him, crossing her legs and leaning back against her arms. There was a healthy space between them and the other two. Bob hadn’t left Yelena’s side since the two women came back. He was leaning against her, head resting against her shoulder as he watched her meticulously sew the patch onto John’s backpack. John still didn’t understand their bond. Were they really good friends? Were they in love? The thought of that made him feel icky.

“I see you didn’t kill him,” Ava said quietly.

John smirked, “Didn’t kill her either,”

Ava’s eyes flickered back over to the blonde across from them before looking back at John, “She has her uses,”

Yelena laughed just then, a snort coming out of her mouth. Whatever Bob had said was clearly hilarious. They were speaking too low for John or Ava to hear what they were talking about. John grimaced when Yelena turned her head and pressed a kiss to the top of Bob’s head. Something ugly turned in his stomach. He laid down then, using his arm as a pillow as he turned away from everyone. It was late anyway. Ava looked down at him, eyebrow raised but nothing coming out of her mouth. She simply patted him on the shoulder before standing and joining the other two.

They spent the next few days getting out of Toledo. It was a slow and painful process. John wished they could’ve moved quicker but with Yelena’s ankle, his side, and Bob’s…well Bob’s everything it made that task difficult. He remained patient, tempering himself despite Yelena and Ava’s teasing. They could be real pieces of work when they wanted to be. The train tracks were reliable as they followed them North. His ribs were killing him but he kept quiet, bracing the pain with every step. There was no point in him complaining either and the girls didn’t need to know how messed up he was.

He didn’t bring up Bob’s ‘special business’ with Valentina. There was a silent understanding between the two of them that the others didn’t need to know. The less people that knew the better. He didn’t know if they would try to kill Bob or if they would try to stop John from taking him to Valentina. So for now, it was their little secret.

Before they reached the Michigan border they made one last stop for a night. It was an old brick and mortar church with pretty stained glass windows. They cleared it before finally deciding to settle for the night. The setting sun outdoors cascaded rainbows through the coloured windows into the main room. Everything was dusty and old, just like every other place they’ve been in. John had been keeping to himself, trying to stretch out across one of the benches in a way that didn’t cause him pain.

“You look like you’re hurting,” Bob said, head popping up over the bench in front of him.

John rolled his eyes and carefully shifted again, “I’m fine,”

Bob frowned for a moment, “Sorry again man, I didn’t think the fall was going to be that far,”

He shook his head, waving his hand to brush the statement off. John didn’t need Bob’s continuous apologies for this incident. If he hadn’t broken that window they’d both be dead right now. Bob looked around, curls bouncing as he tried to spot Yelena and Ava. The two had wandered off earlier to nose around in the back rooms of the church. They hadn’t come back yet but he probably figured they were up to no good. Bob then turned back to him, the frown turning into something more serious.

“About what happened at the restaurant…” he began, trailing off to see if John caught his drift.

John sat up quickly, wincing at the pain that shot through him before turning to glare at Bob, “Shut your mouth about it,”

“Yelena already knows,” Bob sputtered out.

John’s eyes widened. Was it shock or…no, he wasn’t shocked that Yelena knew. The two of them were thick as thieves. He bet she’d known since the lab with the way the two of them acted. The way she babied him made sense now. Bob was treated like a fragile package and that was because he is. John’s eyes narrowed back into a glare, “Did you tell her that I know?”

Bob shook his head.

“Good. Keep it that way. We don’t need to mention it or talk about it,” John finalized.

Bob looked bewildered, “But why, I mean I don’t understand why we all can’t talk about it. This is like a pretty big deal and -”

John reached forward and grabbed the neck of his hoodie, pulling him harsh against the back of the bench, “Keep your mouth shut about it,”

Maybe it was the gravelly tone he used or maybe he just wasn’t scary anymore because Bob didn’t seem all too phased. His eyes lit like a spark, something mischievous. They were quite close, John could see the tiny freckles that dotted his cheeks. Bob’s gaze flickered down then back to John’s eyes, his lips drawing up into a smirk, “Oh yeah? And what are you going to do about it if I don’t?”

“I’d have to straighten you out,” he hissed in reply.

Bob’s smirk widened, “I’m sure you-”

“What the hell are you two doing?! Can we not leave you alone without fighting?” Ava barked from the stage as her and Yelena came out of the side door.

John released the hoodie, pushing Bob backwards so he wasn’t hanging over the back of the bench anymore. The brunet’s gaze was heavy on John even when Yelena came up behind him. Bob leaned back against Yelena, head falling back against her stomach while his eyes stayed locked on the man across from him. The gaze was burning without any actual heat. John could feel it worming underneath his skin. He stood up from the bench and grabbed his bag, heading to one of the confessional booths. The wooden door slammed behind him, he sunk down onto the tiny bench inside.

It was the only way he could get some peace and quiet. He sat for a bit in the silence, revelling in the dim light. His body felt better to be sitting up then lying down. Silently his hand reached under his shirt, fingers curling around the metal tags and ring. Bob had him frazzled, he made John feel like he was losing control. He brought the ring to his lips, pressing a kiss to it and closing his eyes.

“Praying for forgiveness?” Yelena’s voice came from the booth across, a mesh partition separating them.

John scoffed, “If I’m praying for anything it’s for peace of mind from you idiots,”

“Oh come on Walker, I know under that mean exterior, very, very, very deep down you care for us,” she replied, he could practically hear her grin.

He shoved the tags back under his shirt before crossing his arms, head resting back against the wood wall, “Oh yeah and what gave you that idea?”

“You kept Bob with you when you could’ve left him,” she said, a creak sounding as she shifted on the bench.

“Bob is a job, if I don’t deliver him -”

“Ah ah save me the heartless hired muscle spiel, I don’t want to hear it,” she then sighed, “Now come on out, Ava and I found some goodies in the old Priest’s cabinets,”

Even after he heard the door to Yelena’s booth close behind her he stayed another minute. Unconsciously he grabbed at the tags again, pressing another kiss before stuffing them away and exiting the booth. The three of them were sitting on the edge of the stage, legs swinging off the side as they passed around a bottle of tequila. John’s eyebrows raised in surprise, he wouldn’t have taken the Priest for a tequila guy - maybe scotch if anything but tequila? Definitely not.

Ava smirked and held the bottle towards him, “Care for a drink Captain?”

John rolled his eyes and took the bottle, staring at the gold liquid, “Maybe it’s not a great idea to get plastered -”

“Don’t be a little bitch Walker, take a drink,” Bob said, that telltale mischief shining in his eyes.

He took a healthy swig, feeling the liquid burn as it went down his throat. It had been a long time since he had actual proper alcohol. The new moonshine shit people made wasn’t the same. Yelena held her hands out greedily, he passed the bottle to her without a second thought. The four of them sat on the stage and drank for a while, passing the bottle between themselves. There was heat in his face and he could feel that familiar list to his mind whenever he’d turn his head. Now John wasn’t drunk but he wasn’t exactly sober.

“So what did we all do…back then?” Yelena asked, she was lying flat on her back now staring at the ceiling.

John took another sip, “Lotta military shit, went to Afghanistan and stuff,”

“I worked in a lab,” Ava said, reaching out and taking the bottle for another sip as well.

Yelena’s head lolled to the side, “I was a bit of a little shit, caused Nat a lot of grief,”

“Nat?” Ava asked.

A fondness washed over Yelena’s pink face. It was as if an old memory overtook her, eyes warm in that dreaminess kind of way. Then everything hardened, reality seeping in through the alcoholic glaze. She pushed herself up onto her elbows, “Natasha was my sister, I haven’t seen her in a long time,”

The mood went dim, John elbowed Bob in the side. “What’d you do?”

Bob looked up from his daze, cheeks flushed a light shade of red, “Oh uh, drugs. Mainly a lot of drugs,”

John cringed, “Jesus Bob, are you serious?”

As if the mood couldn’t get any worse. The tequila was supposed to bring a bit of fun to their group, not induce trauma dumping. There was a nervous smile that formed on Bob’s lips as he scratched the back of his head, “I um, don’t do them anymore,”

“Well no duh, I’d be impressed if you were able to score some hard shit in this current world market,” Ava quipped, her sarcastic tone got a laugh from the other three.

“You’d be surprised,” Bob mumbled.

Yelena was the one who got the last sip of tequila. The group quietly mourned the now empty tequila bottle. John knew that in the safe zones bottles like that would go for a pretty penny. Maybe they should’ve saved it? He felt a warm fuzziness within him. The drink had softened his usual harsh edges. Bob was on his right, leaning close enough he could feel the heat radiating from his body. The other man seemed to burn hot like a fire. He wondered if Bob was uncomfortable in the thick hoodie and sweats. In the autumn it would be better but in the summer it was probably brutal.

Sleeping was easier when he felt like this. His usual paranoia was dulled to just a whisper in the back of his mind. All four of them didn’t move from the stage. They were spread around and Yelena was snoring loudly. John turned on his side late into the night. If he squinted hard enough he could see the outline of Bob’s body across from him. He was sure if he reached his hand out far enough he could just touch the other man’s back. Something bugged him about Bob and it wasn’t the whole being immune thing. The man was hard to read and everything he learned about Bob took him off guard.

Any further untrustworthy thoughts slipped from his mind as he was lulled back to sleep.

Chapter Text

Travelling on foot was a pain in the ass. Everything took so much longer and they were out in the open more too. They were following the one-twenty-seven north, he thinks. There weren’t a lot of legible road signs around and the maps they were working with at times were quite limited. With the confusion and walking it took the group just about a month to reach the top of Michigan. They needed to cross the lake to continue heading north which meant another bridge, much to the other three’s dismay.

“Well would you like to swim across?” he suggested, pointing towards the open water.

Yelena rolled her eyes, “This bridge has been sitting here rotting for years with all this weight on it, how do you know it won’t collapse?”

John’s hands now fell to rest on his hips, “Yelena it’s a goddamn suspension bridge, I don’t think it’s going to collapse if four people step on it,”

The weather had already started turning. No longer were there the long stretch of hot days. Instead it was much milder with more cool winds blowing through. There was a bit of a chill today, especially now that they were near the lake. Yelena’s nose had a pinky flush to it and she had her arms crossed all day. The t-shirt she wore didn’t seem to be cutting it in this weather anymore. Once they crossed the bridge maybe he would suggest they find a store to grab warmer clothes? Ava was already walking ahead of them with Bob.

John jogged to catch up with them, “Ava tell her I’m right!”

She shook her head, “The day I admit you’re right will be the day I die,”

The bridge was quiet. The four of them weaved between the rusted vehicles that had been rotting here since the infection first started. John climbed over the hoods of two cars that had smashed together. He kept his eyes scanning the vehicles ahead to make sure there were no infected lurking around. Yelena yanked the door to a car open with a resounding screech, she leaned in and grabbed something.

“Look Walker, this would go perfect on your bag,” she said with a grin, holding up a yellow smiley-face patch.

He shook his head, “No smiley faces,”

There was no heat to his words. His backpack was quickly becoming smothered in a variety of random patches Yelena had been finding. There were even a few that Ava and Bob had found as well. John would always put up a fuss about her adding them but he never actually stopped her from doing it. He knew that the act of adding them to the backpack brought her a great deal of joy. It was some of the only times he saw Yelena so quiet and focused. Yelena and Ava scouted ahead, both being nosey and going through some of the vehicles on the way. John hung back a bit, slowing his step to match Bob’s pace.

Bob was talking quietly to himself, under his breath, while twisting his fingers. It was something he did when he was nervous. John noticed the way the other man would close himself off to the others when he got in these ‘moods’. Bob hadn’t breathed so much as a word to the others about his immunity. He knew that Yelena knew but he told Bob to keep his mouth shut, she didn’t need to know that John knew either. Ava especially didn’t need to know about Bob’s weird little immunity thing. Was it even immunity or was he just not as vulnerable to it? John still had a ton of questions he wanted to ask Bob about it, but he knew he needed to find the right time.

He purposefully nudged his shoulder against Bob’s, “You good?”

Bob looked up, hands shoving into the front pocket of his hoodie, “Yeah I’m fine, just thinking about things,”

John rolled his eyes, “You’re always thinking about ‘things’ Bobby,”

Bob tensed ever so slightly at the sentence. Now John wasn’t the smartest man in the world but he did pick up on some things. Specifically he recently picked up on the fact that Bob would react in some way towards that nickname. He looked ahead briefly and spotted the two women going through a nearby bus.

“Not a fan of the nickname huh?” John asked.

Bob looked conflicted, eyes drawing back downwards to the pavement. The slight rippling of fabric on the pocket of his hoodie meant he was pulling and twisting his fingers again. John sighed, loud and dramatic to draw Bob’s attention again. He stopped walking, crossing his arms like a sulky child. Bob stopped walking as well, head tilted to the side as he waited for whatever John had to say.

When he spoke it was like pulling teeth, “Look…I know I’m a dick but I’m not that much of a dick. I won’t call you Bobby if you don’t like it,”

Bob’s eyes widened for a moment, he turned and continued walking, “It’s fine man, not a big deal,”

“It’s clearly a bit of a deal, you react like I’m about to hit you every time I say it,” John pointed out, now following him.

That same nervous laugh that always bubbled up whenever Bob felt cornered fell from his lips. John’s eyes narrowed in to study the side of the man’s face. The way his brows were drawn together and his eyes were glazed over as if lost in thought. He had that look about him a lot, as if he were replaying old memories. John nudged him again, drawing him back to the present.

Bob shook his head, gaze hardening, “Let’s just go,”

Before John could continue pestering him he jogged away. Bob made it to Yelena just as she and Ava jumped out of the bus. The walk across the bridge was slow. John carried up the back end of the group, grateful for the bit of quiet as the three walked ahead of him. When they neared the end of the bridge a blockade was set up. There were a number of abandoned military vehicles in front and behind it. He figured they were drawing close to the border so main arteries like this bridge meant blockades.

“We could walk through the water,” Ava suggested.

He looked to the water lapping the road next to them. The bridge had slanted downwards on the second half and went back down towards the water. Now it was more like a road with a mere median separating them from the lake. It didn’t look too deep. Then again, he couldn’t see the bottom so for all he knew he’d be swimming if he stepped in. They all heard Yelena’s evil laughter before it happened. The blonde unceremoniously shoved Ava over the median so she toppled backwards into the cold water.

The splash was loud and John felt some water hit the side of his face. Ava resurfaced and clambered out as quickly as a water resistant cat. Her dark hair clung to the sides of her face, chest heaving as she breathed heavily through the anger. John took a step back, grabbing the hood on Bob’s hoodie and pulling him back as well.

Yelena was laughing, “You look like a rat,”

“You’re such a bitch!” Ava yelled, reaching out to grab her.

They chased each other around for a minute, Yelena was running and dodging Ava’s grabby hands. John being the shit disturber he was stuck his foot out as Yelena ran by. She tripped and fell on the pavement. Ava grabbed her then and with her anger-induced strength lifted her up into the air. John knew never to piss Ava off, her looks were deceiving and she was in fact quite strong.

“Bob, save me!” Yelena yelled while kicking her legs in the air.

Bob raised his hands in surrender, “This is all on you Yelena,”

There was another big splash. It was safe to say after that they did not go swimming.

By nightfall they had made it into the outskirts of the little city. They set up camp on the roof of an apartment building, a little fire burning. Yelena was sitting quietly with John’s backpack, busying herself with sewing the new smiley face patch onto it. She had a small smile on her face as she did it. Ava was leaning against her, eyes trained on the handiwork. There was a cool breeze that would rattle the fire every now and then. Bob was keeping to himself. Yelena had found a book earlier in the bus she and Ava searched. The man was lying near the fire using its bit of light to read.

The oranges of the flames gave his face a new warmth, highlighting the darkness of his hair and eyebrows. His usual blue eyes were dark, almost black as they flickered across the weathered pages.

“So Captain, what is the plan tomorrow?” Yelena asked, nickname said in a teasing tone.

John sighed, “Continue heading north Yelena, same as yesterday,”

She finished sewing the patch on, smiling down at her handiwork before tossing the bag over to him. John caught it, eyes wide as he hadn’t expected the abrupt pass. The surface of the bag was becoming bumpy with patches. The yellow smiley face stuck out against the black material, he absentmindedly ran his hand over it.

John couldn’t sleep that night.

Well he usually didn’t really sleep that well anyways. Yelena and Ava were curled together across from him, smoldering fire separating them. It was surprising seeing how quick that got over that little squabble on the bridge earlier. He turned his head when he heard a shuffling sound. Bob’s shadow passed over him as he headed to the edge of the building. John rolled over, watching quietly as the man stood at the edge of the roof. Bob didn’t move, merely teetered as he looked down. They weren’t on a particularly tall building but John knew if he were to fall he’d probably die…or at least be extremely broken. After a minute of Bob not moving he decided to haul himself up and quietly approach.

“You good Bobb-” he stopped himself from finishing that sentence.

Without thinking his hand darted out and grabbed Bob’s arm, wrapping tightly around his bicep to keep him rooted in place. Only then did Bob acknowledge him, arm tensing beneath his touch. He looked back, a sadness deep in his eyes. Only when he took a step back from the ledge did John let go of his arm. John looked over the ledge into the darkness. Everything was so much darker nowadays with no electricity. The shadows seemed to almost reach for him. Bob sitting down in his peripherals stopped his stare into the void below. He sat down next to him, allowing his legs to hang over the edge mirroring Bob’s.

He nudged his shoulder against Bob’s, “You good?”

“Yeah, everything’s fucking peachy,” Bob mumbled.

John snorted, “Now you’re sounding like me and I hate to say this Bobby,” he stopped a moment, mentally hitting himself before correcting, “Bob, there’s only room for one sarcastic dickhead in this group,”

Bob raised an eyebrow, “Oh yeah and who’s that?”

John smirked, “Ava obviously,”

The laugh that came from Bob was like music to John’s ears. It was something he had recently found himself seeking. There was just something so joyful about Bob laughing. Maybe it was because he seemed so sad all the time? That was probably it. The joy was short lived and that hollowness returned to the other man. Bob looked down to the darkness below, fingers twisting in the fabric of his hoodie. He seemed troubled.

“What’s your family like?” Bob asked suddenly.

That question took John by surprise. He found himself going to reach for the chain around his neck but stopped midway, dropping his hand back into his lap. There was a long silence, he didn’t usually talk about himself. Ava asked earlier on when they first met but John shut her out. It was best that way. But Bob seemed so sad, he had this kicked puppy look about him. John didn’t know why but talking to Bob felt so unarming. He didn’t feel like he had to keep everything in, if that made any sense.

Bob shook his head, “Sorry, stupid question -”

“My wife’s name is Olivia, we met back in high school. And yeah I know what you’re going to say and yes it’s true, we’re the stereotypical ‘high school sweethearts’ or whatever the saying is,” he said quickly, a fondness taking over his tone.

Bob brightened a bit, “Didn’t peg you for a romantic,”

John felt his face grow hot, he quickly looked down, “I don’t exactly advertise it,”

“Is she…?” Bob trailed off, not sure of how to finish the sentence.

John took a moment, briefly looking down to the darkness then back to Bob’s face. The other man was waiting intently for John’s answer. Whatever seemed to be bothering him before was on the back burner. A small smile pulled at the corner of John’s mouth, he threw an arm around Bob’s shoulders and pulled him against his side. Just to be a dick he pushed his hand into the brown hair and began to mess it up.

“She’s in Washington D.C. with our son,” he replied easily.

Bob pushed away from him, face red from embarrassment, “You’re a Dad?”

He nodded. John didn’t think he was very deserving of the title but that was a discussion for a different day. Bob didn’t need to know the nitty gritty details of his relationship with his family. He leaned back against his hands, looking over his shoulder for a moment to see the fire was almost dead. Yelena and Ava were still sound asleep. He was amazed how the two of them always seemed to find the ability to sleep at night without a care in the world. God how he wished he had that same ability. Bob went quiet again, hand briefly raising to his mouth to bite the cuticle of his thumb.

“How about your family?” John asked, in the back of his mind he knew the answer.

Bob shrugged, “Probably dead,”

“Sorry,” his reply was automatic, it felt sour on his tongue.

Everyone’s family was usually dead. That was just how it was in this world. Apologizing for someone’s dead family was just an automatic thing that rolled off his tongue now. Bob laughed bitterly, “I wouldn’t be sorry,”

John ground his teeth, jaw set tight. It bothered him to no end how elusive Bob was. He was incredibly hard to read. Ava and Yelena were pretty easy but Bob was an anomaly. He assumed that Bob’s family was shit by the way he reacted. John’s own family was strict by any regular outsider’s standards. His Dad was in the military and he used to run his home like his very own military base.

He reached out again, slinging his arm around Bob’s shoulders, “Shit mom or shit Dad?”

Bob seemed to deflate, “Both,”

“Sorry Bobby - shit, Bob,” he sighed, “I suck at this shit,”

Bob laughed, “It’s fine Walker…it’s not bad when it’s coming from you,”

Before John could fully register what was said Bob leaned against him. The other man was warm against his side, heat radiating through his clothes. John kept still even when Bob’s head dropped onto his shoulder. It was weird, he felt weird. People weren’t usually this close to him willingly. Sure in the past he and Ava had shared a bed but they tried to keep to themselves as much as possible. But this was different, Bob wanted to be near him. He felt warm inside, much like the smoldering fire behind them. It was quiet for a while, John was too scared to speak in case Bob would leave his side.

It was stupid and selfish, probably a bit childish too. He didn’t know how much he really craved someone’s warmth until now. It felt greedy. John shook his head and dropped his arm from Bob’s shoulders. With the absence of his arm Bob sat back up properly. He could barely see the hint of a smile on Bob’s face in the dark as he stood up. A yawn escaped the man’s lips as he looked down at John now, mumbling something about getting sleep before walking back towards the dying fire.

John sat there by himself for a while, hand squeezing the chain around his neck while his eyes were trained on the dark abyss below him. If he closed his eyes he could hear Olivia’s laughter, smell the sweetness of her perfume. The previous conversation with Bob brought up a lot of old memories he kept buried. For the first time in a long time he reminisced about his family and of how his life was before. It felt so long ago now, something so foreign. When he dragged himself back to the group he settled on the ground, gathering his backpack under his head to use as a pillow. The patches were rough against the side of his face, finger finding the new addition to trace the smile. Against his better judgement he smiled, he’d blame it on the exhaustion.

Chapter Text

In what he assumed was now October they reached Wisconsin. They were trying to reach Minneapolis, mostly because they needed to find some food. Yelena had the idea that there was either a safe zone at the city and if there wasn’t there would’ve been and there might still be some rations left behind. Her rationale was pretty solid. Apparently she and her family used to scavenge dead safe zone areas for supplies. It was morbid but Alexei would sit scrolling through radio channels listening quietly to updates from surrounding areas. Whenever there was chatter about a zone falling they were quick to head there.

“Isn’t that like grave robbing?” he asked, scratching at his beard in thought.

She narrowed her eyes at him, “Who do you think we are? It’s not like we are taking their valuables off them!”

“I don’t know Lena, sounds pretty grave robbery,” Bob added, a smirk on his face.

She huffed, “Well if it wasn’t for people like us the other safe zones wouldn’t survive,”

Ava smirked, turning around to walk backwards so she could look at the three, “I mean Yelena has a point. We wouldn’t have half the shit we had if they weren’t providing Val with the goods,”

Minneapolis was uncomfortably quiet. There was a wall up signalling a safe zone was in place at one point for the city, however, there were no guards at the wall. In fact, they were able to slide right inside. Everything was set up pretty standard with checkpoints and whatnot. They easily climbed through them as they were now abandoned. It was a bit overgrown with weeds but from what they could all see there were no infected around. They walked for a bit up a long stretch of road. All things considered they were pretty sure there was no one left around.

“What do you think happened?” Ava asked aloud, finger tracing the dusty window of a store front.

John shrugged, adjusting the grip on his rifle, “Don’t know. There aren’t any bodies and we haven’t run into any infected…maybe they shrunk it?”

“Shrunk it?” Bob asked curiously.

“When zones get too big to handle they fall back, build a new one deeper inside. Usually when they’re low on man power. It’s easier to keep things in check if you have less space to worry about,” he explained.

Yelena scoffed and rolled her eyes, “Yeah, more like dictate,”

Up ahead they stopped upon a small pool of blood, droplets led off to the right towards a building. It was quite curious. There didn’t seem to be anything around that belonged to the blood. Yelena stepped over it, squatting down and tilting her head to get a better look at it. The trail indeed led into a building, glass door busted open. Perhaps it was a person after all? She dipped two fingers into it, sliding them back against the pavement to drag the blood. John squatted down then as well, eyes focused on the trail leading to the building. He was careful not to smack his head into hers.

She stood back up, “It is still war-”

Blood splattered on John’s face, and he could taste the iron in his mouth as it touched his tongue. He shot to his feet in an instant. Yelena fell forwards into him wheezing in surprise. His hands grabbed her shoulders, ears ringing as he looked around. It was broad daylight, nobody was around them. Another shot rang out. This time it caught Bob in the arm. Ava began shooting in the general direction the gunfire came from. John’s brain kicked into gear, hands firmly gripping Yelena and dragging her towards the building. No wonder why there was a trail of blood leading into here.

He helped her down onto the floor, eyes scanning her body. His rifle was thrown to the side. Blood was staining the right side of her sweater at her waist . She was going to be quite upset with the stain as she just found this grey knit sweater in a house the other day. His hands were firm as they pressed down against the wound. A yell ripped out from her throat as she writhed on the ground beneath him. Bob appeared across from him, almost butting his head against John’s when he slid to his knees next to Yelena.

“It’s gonna be fine, she’s gonna be fine right?” he asked urgently.

His head snapped up, eyes narrowed in a glare, “Get away from her,”

Bob was confused until John glanced down to the blood running down the sleeve of Bob’s hoodie. Immediately Bob backed away before his blood could get near the open wound. John’s hands were turning red as blood seeped through the cracks of his fingers. He didn’t know what to do. What was he supposed to do? Yelena slammed her fist against the ground and heaved a deep breath, “Pack it, gauze in my bag,”

None of them moved. Her hand reached up and grabbed John’s sleeve gripping it hard, “John you have to pack it,”

Ava looked over from her position at the door, “Walker snap the hell out of it!”

His fingers were dyed red and shaking as he opened her bag. Her sweater was a deep shade of crimson as he pushed it up. The slight pressure on her skin caused Yelena to cry out in pain. John briefly looked up to see Bob sitting with his head in his hands, eyes squeezed shut. He looked petrified and not even phased by his own wound.

“I’m not gonna lie this is gonna hurt,” he said to Yelena who could only nod in response.

The sounds she made were awful and the pleading to stop was almost worse. He had to hold her down with one hand while the other stuffed gauze into the wound. It looked like it had gone clean through, which was good. John knew minimal first aid. When he was in the military he wasn’t a part of the medical team so he only sort of knew what he was doing. Yelena had tears in her eyes, some had escaped and trailed wet tracks down her cheeks.

“I’ve gotta turn you over,” he said, hands moving to her right side to roll her over, “I’m sorry,”

A pitiful whine ripped through her throat as he turned her over. The entrance wound on her back was a lot smaller. He didn’t need as much gauze to pack this one. When he rolled her back over, Yelena wasn’t moving. Quickly his hand grabbed her wrist, pressing down on the pulse. A relieved sigh escaped his lips, she had just passed out.

“What the hell - Walker?!” a new voice said.

Bob reacted quicker than John, grabbing the discarded rifle and standing to point it at the new person. Ava turned as well, her back to the front door now with her pistol trained on the intruder. Did Bob even know how to use a gun? John had to blink a few times because he thought he was seeing things. The corridor connecting to the main room they were in had a man standing there. He was tall, long brunet hair tied back in a bun that was falling apart. What stood out the most was the lack of a left arm.

“Bucky?!” John said surprised.

Ava and Bob both looked down at John, just as shocked that he knew who the mysterious man was. Bucky held his right arm up in surrender, pistol in hand pointing to the ceiling. John nodded at the two, watching as they lowered their guns.

“We can chat later, right now we need to get her out of here,” Bucky said, nodding towards Yelena.

John picked her up, cradling her like a child, “Lead the way,”

They followed Bucky through the building. It was a string of connected stores that eventually connected to a larger office building. Bucky took them up two flights of stairs before leading them into a side room. Upon entering John caught sight of another familiar face. Sam Wilson. God John hadn’t seen him or Bucky in years. What the hell were they doing here of all places? Sam looked injured, propped up against the wall with a hand pressing a rag against his shoulder.

“You brought strays,” Sam said to Bucky.

Bucky shrugged, “Yeah, it happens,” he motioned to a cleared desk, “You can put her here,”

John gently laid Yelena down on top of the office desk. He even went as far as to take his jacket off, bunching it up and putting it underneath her head to act as a sort of pillow. Now that his hands were free he turned around and yanked his rifle back from Bob’s hands. He was sure Bob didn’t know how to use it anyways. John could see how uneasy he and Ava were, both of them standoffish. His eyes flickered over to Bucky who was on one knee checking the wound on Sam’s shoulder. The other man winced as the rag was briefly moved.

Sam finally noticed John, “No shit,” he laughed in surprise, “I thought you’d be dead,”

John glared, “Yeah well same to you,”

Bucky sighed, “Save the pleasantries for later, we’ve got shit to deal with right now,”

“Oh yeah and what shit is that? Because we just got ambushed out there!” Ava yelled.

The air was tense. Usually Sam was more snappy but by the looks of the sweat coating his forehead and the hollowness of his cheeks he was unwell. The room they were in wasn’t particularly big but there were no windows which meant the shooter couldn’t get a lock on them. He wondered if they were military or someone else? Maybe this zone was overthrown and being run by psychos who shoot on sight? The intense atmosphere was shattered with a groan coming from Yelena. Bob was at her side in a second, eyebrows knit together in worry as he looked down at her with a frown.

“She can’t stay like this,” John said, turning his attention to Bucky.

Bucky nodded, “Sam’s sick, we came here looking for medicine when we were ambushed on the street,”

Sam coughed, “Should’ve kept going like I said but you just had to be greedy,”

“It’s not greedy if it helps you,” Bucky bickered back.

Ava pinched the bridge of her nose, “We seriously don’t have time for whatever this is,” she motioned between the two men, “We’re going to need antibiotics and sutures, probably some more gauze too,”

“Well this is a city right? There has to be a hospital or doctor’s office, a pharmacy maybe?” Bob chimed in, he seemed desperate.

John felt uneasy again. Hospitals were the top of his no-no places to go in the apocalypse. Not only would they be crawling with infected but they were also probably cleared anyway. Still, it was probably their best bet. Sam began coughing again, doubling over and covering his mouth. Doing so caused the rag to fall off his shoulder, Bucky grabbed it easily and pressed it against his shoulder. It looked like he was shot as well. John wondered how sick Sam was. By the concern on Bucky’s face he knew it wasn’t anything good.

He opened his backpack and grabbed the notebook, tearing a page out and grabbing a pen off a nearby tab;e. John passed it to Ava, “Write down everything you need,”

“What are you doing?” Bob asked, hand holding Yelena’s.

John took the list from Ava, “Getting groceries Bobby, what does it look like?”

“Be nice,” Ava barked, swiping him in the back of his head with her hand.

Bucky cleared his throat, “There’s a hospital nearby. It was the reason we came here in the first place,”

Bucky then stood and checked his pistol before placing it in the holster on his hip. When Sam coughed again and a veil of concern clouded the other man’s eyes. John approached the desk Yelena was on, looking down at her and feeling the frown tugging at the corner of his mouth. The packing wasn’t going to last forever. He quickly emptied his backpack on the next table, he’d need as much room for these supplies as possible.

John looked to Ava, “Try not to kill her,”

She flipped him off in return, “Don’t joke about that, dick,”

He put Ava’s list in his front pocket, “I’ll be back, just keep your heads down and that door locked,”

“You’re with me Walker,” Bucky said.

Sam’s hand shot out and grabbed Bucky’s wrist, holding him in place, “I can’t ask you to do this Buck, it’s dangerous and stupid,”

Bucky smirked, “It’s fine Sam. Plus, Walker’s stupid outweighs my stupid,”

“Not what I want to hear, Bucky,” Sam grumbled before reluctantly letting him go.

The two slipped out the door and to John’s surprise a third followed. He turned around, face hardening into a glare immediately. Bob stood in front of the now closed door with what looked to be Yelena’s gun in his hands. His arm was still bleeding, did he even know he was shot?

John shook his head, “No, absolutely not, get back in there,”

Bob stepped up to him, something severe in his eyes, “I’m not asking you for permission,”

He brushed past John, banging his shoulder into his, and heading towards the stairs. Bucky was already ahead of them and was almost at the bottom floor. John cursed under his breath, turning on his heel to follow them.

“Will you fucking stop and stand still a moment,” he barked at Bob.

They stopped on the landing of the stairs between the first and second floor. Bob didn’t say anything as John opened the bag on his back and rummaged around. God Bob had a lot of junk in here. He’d have to talk to him later about what things were worth keeping and what things were not. Thankfully he had a roll of bandages at the very bottom of the bag. After zipping it up John grabbed his shoulders and turned him around. Bob looked annoyed and refused to meet his gaze as John grabbed his arm. The other man winced ever so slightly when the pressure of John’s hand was applied to his right bicep.

Briefly he looked over his shoulder, seeing Bucky lingering at the bottom of the staircase. John shifted his body, blocking Bob from potential prying eyes. He tried to be gentle as he pulled the broken fabric of his upper sleeve away. Luckily it seemed to graze the side of his arm, nothing that would cause permanent damage. He’d definitely need some stitches later though.

“Take your arm out,” he said quietly.

Bob’s eyes went wide, “It’s fine, I’m fine,”

John squeezed his arm, “Just take it out Bobby, can’t have you bleeding out on the way there,”

Reluctantly Bob lifted the side of his hoodie up, slipping his arm out so half the hoodie was bunched up on his shoulder. The white t-shirt he had on underneath was a bit grey from age and wear. The sleeve was torn and dyed red, blood beginning to stain the side of the shirt as well. John worked quickly, wrapping the bandages tightly around his bicep. As he was tying it off his eyes wandered down the bare arm in front of him. Numerous teeth scars and scratch marks dotted his skin. It still shocked him to see how real this was. Bob looked like he was a chew toy for infected.

He finished tying it off and spoke quietly, “There,”

Bob quickly dragged his hoodie back down, shoving his arm through the sleeve. He rushed past John, heading down the staircase to meet Bucky at the bottom. The man seemed to be locked in on this mission. Given how much Bob cared for Yelena he wasn’t shocked. Would someone go to such lengths for him? Probably not. John shook his head and followed the other two, hoping that Bucky either had an alternative route to the hospital or that the shooter got bored and left so they could walk the streets freely.

Chapter Text

John was weary travelling with Bucky. His eyes were trained on the back of the one-armed figure that walked ahead. He trailed behind letting the other man take the lead, Bob was walking in between the two of them. The hospital was a few blocks away from where they were. When he glanced out the windows he noticed the sun was a bit lower in the sky, well past midday. He was sure they probably had a few hours of daylight left at most. John really didn’t want to see what this city looked like at night.

“I think they’re gone,” Bucky said after surveying out the window as well.

John shook his head, “You can’t just know that,”

“We don’t have time for this,” Bob said, walking out onto the street before either man could stop him.

He felt his stomach drop to his ass. The gods must be on his side because Bob wasn’t immediately shot. The brunet stood there on the road, raising his arms in the air and spinning around dramatically. He then turned back to the two still standing in the doorway, head tilting to the side with a cocky grin, “See, no shooter,”

Quite frankly he didn’t know if he wanted to pat Bob on the back for bravery or throttle him for being such a reckless idiot. John had never been to Minneapolis before so he reluctantly had to let Bucky take the lead on this one. The three stuck tight to the outer walls of the buildings and tried to slink between the shadows as much as possible. He wondered if there was more than one shooter around, more than likely. In the distance he could see the hospital standing tall and withered.

Bob was quiet. Well Bob was usually quiet but this was a different type of quiet. It was a more angry, focused type of quiet. John knew it well. Getting into the hospital was easier said than done. There were old military barricades set up, doors were boarded, and faded spray paint told people not to enter. Of course, they were doing the opposite of what the writing instructed. John tried the doors but they were stuck tight. It was Bob who had the idea to climb on top of the ambulance bay roof. The two of them climbed up with ease, using the old ambulance that was parked halfway out from the overhang.

When John was on top of the roof he squatted down, stretching his hand out to the third person on the ambulance below. Bucky seemed mildly annoyed, climbing things with one arm was probably irritating. He looked at John then the hand that was stretched towards him. Reluctantly he took the offered hand. Bucky’s hand was rough and calloused, he remembered the few times his face was graced with those scarred knuckles. They used to scrap a lot back in the day. He hauled the man up onto the landing with them. Bucky let go and walked towards one of the nearby windows, briefly grumbling a ‘thank you’ under his breath.

These windows weren’t blocked like the ones on the ground floor. It was daunting. Any fear was shattered when Bob smashed the window. The sound of the glass breaking echoed loudly. Bucky grabbed Bob and shoved him back against the wall next to the window, pinning him in place.

“Are you insane?” he asked, then looked back at John, “Is he insane?”

John rushed over and separated the two, shaking his head at Bob, “Stop doing stupid shit Bobby,”

“Yelena doesn’t have time for this bullshit, let’s go,” Bob hissed, climbing through the broken window.

John fought the urge to snap back at him, instead grinding his teeth in silence. Arguing wasn’t going to do anything for them right now. He knew Bob was just pissed at the situation and upset about Yelena. When they were inside the hospital John felt that familiar chill of fear brush over his skin, raising the hairs on his arms. It was quiet in an uneasy way. The room they entered through was pretty barren. One of the beds had curtains surrounding it, none of them risked taking a peek behind. John knew it was likely a skeleton anyways.

Upon entering the corridor the three of them were stopped in their tracks. It was dark due to it being an interior hallway. John luckily had his flashlight, turning it on and attaching it to the end of his rifle. The long stretch of corridor was dirty. Knocked over carts, dried blood turned brown with age smeared the floors and walls, a few skeletons varying from civilian clothes to scrubs littered the hall as well. He didn’t really know what he was expecting coming in here. A part of him wished it was empty, he didn’t want to think about what happened to cause this carnage.

“What do we need?” Bucky asked, his voice bouncing off the walls.

John took the crumpled list out of his pocket, squinting to read, “Um…I think this says gauze, suture kit, antiseptic - does that stuff expire?”

“I’m sure everything’s expired by now,” Bucky said matter of factly.

“Can’t we just get a bottle of vodka from a store on the way back?” Bob suggested.

John shook his head, “Whatever, if we can’t find this antiseptic shit we’ll go with Bob’s suggestion,”

As they walked through the hospital John tried to memorize key details, markers for their exit. The building was much like a dark maze and it gave him a similar uneasiness that the museum did. John and Bucky both moved carefully and quietly, their movements in sync as they cleared corners and rooms. For a while it brought John back to his days in the military. The two had a silent way of communicating, one that Bob wasn’t akin to. There were a few times he had to steer Bob in the correct direction or stop him from stepping into a room without checking first. They slowly made their way to the main floor, down the stairs of a side stairwell at the corner of the building. John figured their best bet to find these things would be in the ER.

“Do you think there’s any of them in here?” Bucky asked as they descended the last staircase.

Bob raised his head, confused, “Whose in here?”

“Infected. And yeah, probably. Sick people go to hospitals,” John said, slowly prying the stairwell door open.

The ER was more disastrous than upstairs. He was mindful of where he stepped, eyes flickering from the ground to the path ahead. Some of the exam rooms were blocked off which seemed for the best. A few shadows roaming inside them made a chill roll down his spine. The air was stale and dusty, something snapped underneath his foot causing the three men to jump in surprise. John pointed his flashlight to the ground, light fanning around his foot to show a boney hand crushed under his boot. Carefully he raised his foot, eyes trailing up the skeletal arm to the body attached to it. The person looked to once be a nurse by the dusty blue scrubs. Man he was going to hell, crushing a dead nurse’s hand probably had some serious bad luck.

“Any ideas of where these will be?” Bucky asked, surveying the chaotic area.

Bob answered without a second to spare, “Nurse’s station,”

John scoffed, “What, were you a doctor in your past life?”

Bob didn’t acknowledge the joke, breaking away from the two men and heading towards a big curved counter. In the dark Bucky had trailed off. A minute later some light flooded into the emergency room. John turned around to see Bucky had pulled down the tarps covering the glass walls at the ER entrance. The tarps crinkled as they fell in a dusty pile at the floor. John blinked, eyes adjusting to the sudden light.

He wished Bucky kept the tarps up.

With the light now inside they no longer needed to grope around in the darkness, relying solely on the flickering flashlight on John’s rifle. No, now they could see everything. He drew in a sharp breath at the large words painted in dried blood on the floor.

WE TRIED. I’M SORRY.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered.

To their right the double doors that he presumed led to the main foyer of the hospital was blocked with large boxes, a few uniformed skeletons were propped up against them. He could tell by the pattern on the camo that they were ground infantry. The quiet was probably the worst part of this excursion. A drawer being yanked open made his attention snap to the Nurse’s Station. Bob was haphazardly going through the drawers and cupboards. It made quite a lot of noise. John rushed over, smacking his hand down against the counter.

“I get it, you’re worried, but you need to keep it down,” he hissed.

Bob glared at him, “They’re all empty anyways, look for the supply closet,”

“How do you know all this anyways?” Bucky asked as he slowly walked around the main room of the ER.

Bob shrugged as he walked around the curved counter, “Been in a lot of hospitals,”

John raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything, he kept that nugget of information to himself for later. There was still a lot about Bob he didn’t know so any little bits of information Bob decided to divulge was almost like a reward. Maybe he would solve the puzzle that is Bob Reynolds before they got to Washington. Bucky began to go through some of the medical carts strewn about. Perhaps he would find something useful for Sam. John noticed Bob’s retreating figure slip around the nearby corner, he followed quietly. Not because he worried but because he knew the other man had a knack for getting himself into trouble.

Bob stopped at a closed door, “It’s this one,”

The corridor continued onwards, a dark doorway lay at the very end. Bob didn’t seem to notice the ominous brown streaks of dried blood that led to it. John rolled his shoulders, his uneasy gaze flickering to Bob’s face, “I’m getting bad vibes here, can we just hurry this up?”

“Give me your knife,” Bob said, holding his hand out to John.

John looked bewildered, “No,”

“The door is locked, I need to open it. Give me your knife,” Bob sounded more demanding now.

John shook his head, he felt like he’d been doing that a lot lately, “Are you being fucking serious?”

The other man stepped up to him, his gaze firm on John’s as he kept eye contact. John felt Bob reach behind his body, hand grabbing the handle of the knife to pull it from its sheath on his back. They were close, if he leaned in an inch more their noses would touch. John felt almost like he was in a trance, unable to look away from that steady blue gaze. Then Bob was away from him again, using John’s knife to shimmy the door open. It didn’t look like this was the first time Bob was breaking into something. It was amusing, when Bob concentrated his eyebrows would draw together and his eyes would squint to focus. For a moment his tongue poked out the corner of his mouth.

John leaned on his side against the wall, arms crossed, “So is breaking into things a recently acquired skill or..?”

Bob snorted, “I’ve been pretty desperate before,”

“Well that doesn’t answer the question,” he said, just as the door popped open.

Bob’s face visibly paled as he stared into the tiny room. John pushed himself off the wall and looked to see what had shocked the other man. It was grim. There were a few people that looked like they tried to barricade themselves inside. Two of the skeletons were too small for John’s liking. He thought about his son at the sight of them. It suddenly made a wave of nausea wash over his body. John swallowed it down, tearing his gaze away from the pile of bones at the back of the slim room.

“Are you okay?” Bob asked. It was ironic because usually it was John asking Bob if he was the one that was okay.

John nodded stiffly, “I’m fine,”

“Hey Walker?” Bucky called from out in the ER.

John took the list out from his pocket and handed it along with his bag to Bob before stepping out. He was glad to not be in that room anymore. Those small bones he knew were going to haunt him for a while. Bucky was by the Nurse’s Station flipping through an old notebook, he looked up when John approached. The notebook was turned and slid across the counter for him to read. John scanned the contents, feeling the start of a frown etch into the lines of his forehead.

“So what, they just locked everyone in here and left them to die?” John said aloud after reading the last entry from a doctor.

Bucky sighed, “It’s shitty but I was more focused on the fact that people were left in here,”

It took John a second but then he understood, “Oh,”

That uneasiness returned. If this place was locked up tight with people then that meant there were a number of infected roaming around. Ones they had not encountered yet. It didn’t take Bob long to gather the list of items, stepping back into the main area of the ER. Bob tossed the backpack over to John who caught it easily, sliding it back onto his back. They began to make their way back to the stairwell. Bucky took the lead while John lagged behind to match Bob’s pace. He seemed to be a bit slow again.

“How’d you know where we’d find everything?” he asked curiously.

Bob shrugged, “I told you, I’ve been in a bunch of hospitals man,”

John felt a laugh fall from his lips, “Were you one of those sick kids? Or were you…what is the word - a hypochondriac?”

Bob shoved his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie, “Lots of overdoses, a few times I was brought in after getting the shit beat out of me too,”

The answer had John put at a full stop. Seriously? What was with this guy? The kicked puppy look he had on his face made a bit more sense. They finally got back to the second floor and John couldn’t wait to get out of this place. Hospitals always gave him the creeps. There was another corner and then a stretch of hallway before they would be back at the room they entered through. Just as they came to the corner he heard a skittering across the floor. John took the lead, peering around the corner. There was nothing there.

He stepped ahead, Bucky and Bob still at the cornerstone of the wall, “You guys heard that too right?”

“This place is creeping me out,” Bucky said, he looked around them uneasily.

A tray on a cart crashed to the ground behind John as a rat jumped off onto the ground. John jumped what felt like five feet into the air. The other men both laughed, Bob was practically doubled over on himself. John took a deep breath to try and settle his nerves.

“This place fucking sucks,” he said, hand over his beating heart.

Then the floor beneath him crumbled.

Chapter Text

He must have hit his head because the next minute was wiped from his memory completely. His eyes fluttered open to the hole in the ceiling above him. Dust and god knows what else rained down on him. A blurry face suddenly appeared over him. John couldn’t hear what they were saying as his ears were still ringing. Strong hands grabbed his shoulders to pull him up into a seated position. He blinked and squinted to focus in on the man in front of him.

“He’s fine!” Bob yelled, it definitely was Bob.

John blinked a few more times to get his vision to focus. How did Bob get down here? Did he fall too? There was no way, he and Bucky were standing at the corner still when the floor collapsed. Bob leaned in closer and his hand snaked around John’s head, fingers delicately pressing against the back of his skull into his hair. The flinch gave it away. Well that and when Bob pulled his hand away there was blood on his fingers. John blinked a few times again, everything felt so disjointed.

Bob wiped the blood on his pants and waved his hand in front of John’s face, “Hey, are you with me?”

John ignored his question, “How’d you get down here?”

“Jumped down. You weren’t moving and I wasn’t gonna send the guy with one arm to get you,” Bob retorted, now standing and pulling John to his feet with him.

He looked up to see Bucky still on the floor above them, looking down through the gaping hole. John bent over and picked up the rifle, stumbling as he stood back up. Bob reached out and grabbed his arm to steady him. He probably had a concussion but that was a later problem to deal with. The flashlight illuminated Bucky when John pointed the rifle upwards, he looked a bit annoyed.

“I see you still have a hard head,” Bucky asked from above.

John glared at him, “Yeah Bucky, I’m fine. There’s no point coming down here, just head back to where we came in and,” he sighed, “Bob and I will figure a way out,”

Bucky smirked, “Wasn’t planning on coming down anyways,” he then nodded towards Bob, “Make sure he knows how to use that gun,”

“It’s not rocket science, point and shoot right?” Bob interjected.

John sighed again, his head was throbbing. This detour was going to be a pain in the ass. When he looked back up Bucky was gone, likely heading back to the room they entered through. The way Bob was holding the pistol was almost more of a headache than the laceration to the back of his skull.

He reached out and grabbed the gun from his hands, “Okay stop, let me show you how to use this shit before you get us both killed,”

Bob glared at him, “I know how to shoot a gun,”

John scoffed and handed it back, “Shoot it, right now,”

Bob shook his head, “Are you crazy -”

John didn’t have time for Bob’s bratty behaviour, “Shoot the gun Bobby,”

The gun clicked but no bullet fired. Then it kept clicking as Bob kept pulling the trigger. When he raised the gun to look at it John finally intervened and put his hand over Bob’s, pushing it downwards so he lowered the gun. It was like trying to teach a child how to use a water gun. Was he seriously that stupid to raise a loaded gun to his face?

“First off,” he began, taking the safety off, “You’re not going to shoot anything with the safety on,” he then grabbed Bob’s other hand and put it on the gun to properly hold it.

Bob listened patiently, he actually looked like he was listening. John droned on explaining briefly how to use the weapon in a way that wouldn’t get them both killed. At one point he stood behind Bob, reaching around him to move his elbows so they were bent. This reminded him of his days in the military teaching the new recruits. Bob’s body was warm against his and John had to resist the urge to squeeze him in his arms. He really missed having someone to hold, he shook his head banishing those thoughts from his mind. This was a serious situation after all.

“Like this?” Bob asked quietly, raising the gun.

John spoke next to his ear, “Yeah, just like that. Make sure that you actually want to shoot whatever you’re aiming at,”

Bob nodded and lowered the gun. It took a moment but John quickly realized his teaching was no longer required so he stepped away. They headed down the corridor to what he assumed was eventually going to be the front foyer of the hospital. Absent-mindedly he reached back and touched his head. The pain made his jaw clench, teeth grinding together in his mouth.

“Head okay?” Bob asked from next to him.

John sucked in a sharp breath and nodded, “Yeah, just fucking hurts,”

They came upon a set of double doors at the end of the long hallway. It reminded John of when he and Bob were trying to escape the museum. This time there were no windows for them to escape through if any herd of infected appeared. He pressed his hand against the door. It didn’t budge right away but whatever was on the other side was able to be pushed. He moved the rifle to hang over his shoulder so he could use both hands to push. The doors were pretty heavy.

“A little help here Bobby?” he said, huffing and puffing.

Bob looked at him with his arms crossed, he seemed amused, “Come on Walker, you’re supposed to be strong,”

John narrowed his gaze, “Quit being an asshole and help,”

“That’s crazy coming from you,” Bob quipped, but nonetheless moved to help him with the doors.

With a few hard pushes whatever was blocking the other side was pushed enough out of the way for them to slide through the gap between the doors. It was a bit of a tighter squeeze for John but he made it work. Before he could get a word out he was pulled down to the floor in such a hurry it made his head spin. The dizziness with these fast movements were really starting to get to him, he felt like gagging. Just as he went to open his mouth Bob pressed his hand overtop, silently Bob shook his head before removing his hand. Then he heard the shuffling and wheezing nearby.

It looked like a bit of a blockade was formed in front of the doorways that led further into the hospital from the main foyer. The two of them were hidden behind some crates that were stacked up by the door they just entered through. Carefully he peered around the side to survey the rather large room. There were a number of infected lingering around, he noticed a few on the second floor as well. They were all wearing military uniforms. A series of thumps reverberated through the room when one of them stumbled and fell down the main staircase. The sound alone drew a few of them over to the stairs. He looked back at Bob and tried to figure out the best way to communicate.

If it were Bucky or Sam he’d be able to tell a whole story with just his eyes. But this was Bob and Bob was not any sort of trained in the art of silent communication. The asshole side of him wished they just left Yelena and continued on. It would’ve been the rational decision. This was why John didn’t stick close to people, he began to care. He gave up on trying to figure out what to do and instead leaned close to whisper into his ear.

“Doors are a few feet away on the left, chained shut so we’ll need to break the glass,” he whispered.

Bob looked at him alarmed, “I think that’s a very bad idea,”

“Well I’m open to suggestions, Bob,” he hissed in return.

A long silence. Bob crawled around him and peered around the crate himself. John knew their options were limited. The doors were chained shut and the last time he checked he didn’t have any super strength to break them. He’d throw something from far away to break the glass but he was sure the windows were two-ply. Which meant shooting them was an option but they’d have to throw their bodies against it to fully break them. It was an option, their only option at this point.

Bob crawled back over, he looked annoyed, “So we break the glass,”

“We shoot the glass,” John corrected.

Bob visibly paled, “Do you see how many infected there are? They’ll shred you,”

John shrugged and crossed his arms, “Well we could sit here and starve to death,”

Okay maybe that was too mean. He really wished he had Ava with him right now, she was always good in a fight. Her aim was almost as good as his, almost. Could he even count on Bob to land a shot on one of them? One of the infected stumbled towards the crate. It was gurgling and wheezing. The sound always made his skin crawl. He reached for the rifle but stopped, instead reaching behind to unsheath his knife. Its shadow cast over them as it looked over the crate. If either of them moved or stood up it would definitely spot them. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Bob move, he looked nervous.

John reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly. He held his breath and kept his eyes trained on the shadow cast on the door in front of them. The infected’s shadow twitched a few times before it seemed to turn. As John went to move into a squatted position to grab it from behind he nearly fell back. His head was throbbing from the blood rushing up to his brain. Bob swiped the knife from his hand and jumped up to grab the infected from behind, dragging it down to the ground with him. John watched in surprise as Bob wrestled it, plunging the blade up under its jaw.

There was a quiet darkness in his eyes as he stared down at it, arm wrapped firmly around its neck to keep it from moving. When it went limp he took the knife out, wiping the blade off on the tattered shirt the infected wore. The darkness in his eyes faded as he looked to John, handing the knife back to him. Silently Bob nodded, an understanding sort of way that made John feel useless. He was supposed to be the one protecting Bob, not Bob protecting him.

Bob settled next to him, banging his shoulder against John’s as he whispered, “Think you can run?”

John took a breath to settle his nausea and nodded, “I can do it,”

He peeked around the crate again to take count of all the infected. There were a few up on the landing of the second floor and a bunch that lingered around the staircase. John knew as soon as they fired the gun all the infected would be on them in a second. His head was really starting to fucking hurt. Bob nudged him again, looking at him with big blue eyes so full of concern. Why did he have to look at him that way? John looked away from him, leaning forward and grabbing a can off the ground. He grit his teeth as he turned, pushing himself to be at least on his feet in a squatted position. When he went to throw the can he felt a hand against his back, steadying him as he threw it.

The sound of the can hitting the ground and clinking as it bounced drew the infected to it. Thankfully he managed to throw it far enough for it to give them enough space to run. He barely remembered getting out of there, his head was throbbing. Thank god Bob remembered to take the safety off to shoot at the window. The other man was practically dragging him out, throwing them through the window to break it. John kept counting the steps as they ran, pushing himself to move. Bucky was waiting for them, he was standing a few feet away from the hospital entrance. He held his gun up, shooting around them with a demeanour as cool as stone. John wished he looked that cool.

“I scouted from the roof before coming down, we can lose them up the next street in that building,” Bucky said as they ran.

John nodded, fighting the way everything started to double in his vision, “Yep, got it,”

Somehow they got back to the others by sunset. John was barely able to stay upright at that point, hand pressed to the back of his head as they walked up the stairs. He’d already puked twice on the walk back, the concussion was definitely a bad one. He handed his bag to Bucky to run the supplies up to Ava. Bob surprisingly didn’t run off to Yelena immediately, he lingered just ahead of him on the stairs. When John continued moving slowly Bob skipped down a few steps and reached a hand out to him.

“Do you need help?” he asked, he sounded so sincere.

John’s head was pounding and Bob’s stupid face was pissing him off, he glared and hit his hand away, “Fuck off Bob,”

Much to his dismay Bob did not go away. He stepped down onto the same step as John and lifted his arm to drape over his shoulders. Bob began to begrudgingly pull him up the remaining stairs with him.

“Stop being a prick,” Bob muttered as they got to the top of the stairs.

John bit his tongue, keeping further retorts to himself. When they entered the room Ava was already getting to work on Yelena. The blonde was laid out on the table with her arm draped over her mouth, teeth biting into the thick sleeve of her sweater. There was sweat beading on her forehead, her hairline already damp. Ava turned around as Bob lowered John to sit on the floor. An array of emotions went over her face, anger, surprise, confusion, then annoyance.

“And what the fuck happened here?” she asked, gesturing to John’s head that was covered in blood.

Bucky laughed, “Took a nose dive through the floor,”

John flipped him off and laughed sarcastically, “Ha ha - fuck you,”

“You wish,” Sam retorted.

Yelena finally chimed in, her voice strained and annoyed, “Can you all shut the fuck up,”

Ava turned around, resuming her work on Yelena. He knew Yelena was in good hands, Ava had fixed him up a few times in the past. She was more skilled than him when it came to fixing people. Bob drifted over to Yelena and ended up sitting on the edge of the desk by her head, hand holding her free one. He looked over to Sam and Bucky who were situated in the corner of the room. Bucky was going through some meds he had stuffed in his backpack showing them to Sam. The man was occupied with the sorting but John didn’t miss the fond look Sam gave Bucky as he read out every medication. They always had a weird vibe, something akin to a grouchy old married couple.

He began to drift a bit. Now that he was sitting down and there was no immediate danger he was able to shut his eyes for a bit. He awoke when someone nudged his leg, upon opening his eyes he saw Bucky standing over him. The man motioned with his head for John to follow, he held out his hand and helped John up to his feet. John stumbled a bit but managed to get across the room. When he looked back over his shoulder he saw the blood that was stained on the wall now where his head previously was.

Sam patted the ground next to him, “Sit your ass down Walker,”

“Not gonna finish the job are you?” John joked, it didn’t land by the unimpressed look on Sam’s face.

When he sat down he noticed Sam’s shoulder was now stitched up. Did he do that himself? Could Bucky help him do that with one arm? Sam motioned with his hand for John to turn around so he did, feeling a strong hand grab his head to jerk it to the side.

“Hey, gentle,” John groaned, feeling the pulsing in the back of his head.

“Stop whining, you’re fine,” Sam said, using a rag to try and wipe some of the blood away.

Bucky sat in front of John, probably to keep him company and to make sure he didn’t jerk his head around while Sam stitched him up. He balled his hand into fists, nails sinking into his palms, when the rag dipped in alcohol was pressed to the back of his head. It hurt like a bitch. Bucky rolled his eyes, smacking John lightly in the knee, “You can take it Walker,”

John rolled his eyes, nonetheless he changed the subject, “Didn’t think you’d be out this far,”

Sam spoke from behind, “We’re out helping actual people, not that you’d know what that’s like working with Valentina and all,”

John’s eyes drifted to Bob’s back at the mention of Val. He was still sitting with Yelena, speaking quietly to her. Knowing Bob he was probably saying some nonsense to try and distract her. And knowing Yelena he figured she was probably trying really hard to be nice and not tell Bob to shut up. He was a bit surprised that Sam and Bucky knew about his business with Valentina. How much more did they know?

He shrugged his shoulders, sarcasm on his tongue, “Well not all of us are as heroic as you,”

Sam laughed bitterly, “Yeah, you’ve got that right,”

“So what’s the deal with you guys anyways? Didn’t think there were people who needed saving in Minneapolis,” John continued.

“We were on our way home -” Bucky began to say.

Sam interjected, his tone tense, a warning, “Bucky,”

Now this was intriguing. Home? He wondered where home was for them. Was it somewhere super secluded? Did they have a secret compound they were a part of? The second option sounded a bit more accurate for them. John grit his teeth on the last stitch. It was particularly rough, he figured that was Sam’s doing. He knew he wasn’t Sam’s favourite, probably his absolute least favourite. John didn’t think he was anyone’s favourite. Bob looked over his shoulder then, catching his eye. His eyebrow raised, eyes dodging between Bucky and Sam before landing back on John.

John simply grimaced and gave him a thumbs up. That minimal response seemed to appease Bob enough to go back to tending to Yelena. Once Sam was finished with stitching his head John was finally able to relax…a bit. He leaned back against the wall with his arms crossed, careful of his head against the wall. It was still a bit tender. The bandage Sam wrapped around his head felt goofy but the two men didn’t let him take it off. Apparently he wasn’t tough enough to fight an infection so it needed to stay covered for a while. Whatever. John was in and out of sleep, mostly due to Yelena’s pained groans as Ava stitched her up. He figured that was for the best anyways, sleeping too long with a concussion was never good.

Chapter Text

John was in and out of sleep, mostly because Ava kept waking him up. After Sam had stitched his head up she checked on him herself. It was irritating because right when he felt like he was getting into a deep resting state he was torn out of it. The intrusion stopped when Ava fell asleep, she was exhausted after tending to Yelena all day and most of the night. Only then was John able to get some sort of sleep. He knew he probably should’ve stayed awake but his body ached and his eyes burned begging for rest.

He dreamt of her for the first time in a long time. Olivia was clear as day in his mind. Her smile being so warm and open, her touch as she held his face was so soft. It felt like she was really here with him. He didn’t deserve to see her, to feel her touch on his skin and the smile in her voice when she whispered his name. When his eyes opened back to reality he could feel the familiar burn at the corner of his eyes. There was a lump in his throat and his arms ached to hold someone that wasn’t there.

“Dreaming about her?” Bucky asked quietly, he was sitting across from John.

The room was pretty dark, dimly lit from Yelena’s flickering lamp that was up on the desk next to where she was lying. It cast a flickering blue light into the room, casting harsh shadows on Bucky’s face. In this lighting he looked scary, every bit the part of the haunted soldier. Sam was leaning against his shoulder sleeping, brows drawn together in a serious expression. He always seemed so serious even in his sleep. There was a light sheen of sweat on his forehead, likely from whatever illness he was plagued with. John turned his head and sneakily raised his hand to wipe the tears that had formed, his body betraying him.

“It’s nothing,” John said, his voice slightly hoarse even while whispering.

He could see in the dark that Bob was still sitting by Yelena. Bob had pulled a chair up to the desk she was on, arms folded on the table next to her head with his head buried in them sleeping. Yelena’s right hand was resting on his head, fingers tangled in his hair. She was probably petting him, she did that a lot. Olivia used to do that to John whenever they were lying together. There was something so comforting about someone running their hands through someone’s hair. If he closed his eyes he could probably remember that feeling. He stopped himself from doing so, turning back to look at Bucky.

“Do you regret it?” Bucky asked, his voice flat and hollow.

John felt that lump in his throat form, “Everyday,”

Everything suddenly felt too suffocating. The room was too small and warm and despite ninety-percent of the room sleeping it felt like he had too many eyes on him. Bucky’s gaze was intense, he could read John like a book if he wanted to. John, despite the aching of his head, pulled himself up off the ground and left the room. The office building was empty and he wandered the floor to try and settle his mind. Everything was left as it was the day everything happened. Papers were left on desks, dusty photos of loved ones or dead plants tucked into corners. It was still something that was hard to look past.

His long shadow cast against the floor as he walked past the tall windows. The street below was empty and the city seemed quiet. In the distance, not too far from here, there was a light on in a building. Was that the shooter from earlier? He wouldn’t be surprised. John sat down at one of the desks in the old chair. Its squeak echoed through the floor as he leaned back and propped his feet up on the desk. He reached for the chain around his neck, toying with the ring between his fingers. Bucky really knew how to hit him where it hurt.

A gunshot snapped him out of his lull. He had dozed a bit, hand squeezing the ring against his chest. John shot out of the chair, feeling a sharp pain in his head from the quick movement. He quickly made his way back to the room, hand gripping his knife as he had forgotten his rifle earlier. Ava was standing outside the room, spitting blood onto the ground.

“What the hell happened?” John asked, hand falling onto her shoulder.

She sharply shrugged his hand off, wiping the blood from her mouth, “That asshole that shot at us earlier came back,”

John saw the anger on her face and the bruise forming on her jaw. The guy must’ve hit her pretty hard. He stepped inside the room, thankfully the lamp was still on. His eyes flickered over everyone, taking count.

“Where’s Bob?” he asked, looking at Bucky and Sam who were loading their guns in the corner.

Bucky grimaced, “The guy tracked us here, probably followed the blood. He got your friend pretty good in the face then Bob shot him in the shoulder, chased him out of here,”

John shook his head, “Okay but where the hell is he?”

Sam finished loading his gun, dropping it into the holster on his hip as he walked up to John, “He chased after the guy and if we don’t get him that guy will kill your friend,”

“Walker,” Yelena called from the desk she was on, she sounded hurt.

John walked away from Sam, heading to where she laid on the nearby desk. She was trying to sit up, pain etched onto her face as she moved. Immediately he put his hands on her, stopping her from straining herself further.

“Woah Yelena, you have two gunshot wounds you can’t be moving like this you’ll pull your stitches,” he warned, pushing her gently to lay back down.

She shook her head, “No, no. Walker I have to go after him, you don’t understand -”

He stared down at her, his look a knowing one, “I understand. I’ll get him back Yelena, I promise,”

Ava came back into the room and shoved him to the side, “Quit moving, I’m not stitching you up a second time. They’ll get Bob out of whatever trouble he’s got himself into,”

As John turned to leave, Yelena's hand shot out to grab his, she gave it a tight squeeze. He turned around to look at her, seeing the pleading look in her eyes. It was an unusual look on her face. She was usually so cocky, sarcastic even. This just seemed desperate. She squeezed his hand again, “Please bring him back,”

He squeezed her hand back and nodded, “He’ll come back,”

“You coming or not?” Sam said from the doorway.

John dropped Yelena’s hand and grabbed his rifle, “Yeah, let’s go,”

The gunshot had drawn out a few infected from the nearby buildings. They were quick and quiet about it, taking them out one by one along the way. John had a feeling the shooter probably would’ve headed back to his hideout, especially since he was injured. In the distance he could see the building he spotted earlier with the light on in a room on the fifth floor. It wasn’t far from them.

John pointed to it, “They headed there,”

“Y’know, for your friends sake I hope he’s not dead,” Bucky said, turning to head towards the building.

John pushed past him, taking the lead, “We’re not friends,”

It was a small commercial building with only five floors. As soon as they entered through the front doors they could hear the skirmish echoing from the floors above. John moved quickly, heading up the nearby staircase. The pounding in his head was manageable, he was focused on other more pressing things at the moment. Like Bob not being dead when he got up there. If Bob was dead then everything they worked for up until this point would’ve been for nothing. When he got to the fifth floor there was light spilling into the corridor from a room near the end of the hall.

Before he could exit the stairwell Sam grabbed his shoulder, “Keep it cool man, we don’t want any surprises,”

John gave a curt nod, burying the growing anxiety deeper within. The three crept down the corridor, Bucky and Sam flanking him. There was a loud bang like something heavy falling followed by more thumping. It sounded like they were fighting. John peeked briefly around the doorframe into the room. What was an old office space was decked out to be a makeshift living quarters. He moved back when two bodies went tumbling to the ground in the center of the room. He shared a look with the two men before nodding for them head into the room.

“Put the gun down,” Sam said firmly as he and Bucky headed inside.

When John entered the room he saw how disastrous it was. It looked like they had done a number on the place, furniture overturned and papers and other items strewn about. Sam and Bucky had their guns pointed at the two men in the center of the room. Surprisingly Bob was the one standing, gun in hand against the shooter's forehead. His chest was rising and falling in rapid succession, blood smudged from the corner of his mouth across his cheek. For a moment Bob’s eyes briefly flickered to John. They were dark and angry. There was barely a scratch on him but the older man on the ground was bruised and bloodied. Bob had really beat the shit out of this guy.

Bob’s voice was devoid of emotion when he spoke, “He’s killed other people, takes their things as trophies,” his dark eyes returned to John’s face, “He was going to kill everyone,”

Sam slowly shook his head, “You don’t know that,”

“Infec…iece a..hit,” the man mumbled, spitting blood onto the ground.

Bob’s head tilted as he looked down at the man, “You don’t belong here anymore,”

John knew it was coming, and could see it a mile away. He didn’t even wince when Bob pulled the trigger. Blood splattered back against Bob’s face, his eyes wide and unmoving as he watched the man’s body slump and fall to the side. Sam cursed loudly, throwing his gun to the side in frustration. Honestly John stopped paying attention to what the other two men were doing at that moment. He was more focused on Bob’s face that seemed to be so void of everything, darkness seemed to loom over him. The man was usually so meek but this was, well this was different.

The static from a nearby radio in the corner cut through the tension that had swallowed the room. Sam was on it immediately, drawing Bucky over with him. The two began to fiddle with it, he was sure Bucky said something to him about it but John wasn’t listening. Bob stood unmoving, eyes downcast on the body at his feet. John walked up to him and carefully took the gun out of his hands. Bob didn’t fight him and released it willingly.

“Come on,” John instructed, grabbing a bunch of fabric on the corner of his hoodie to pull him out of the room.

The air was much lighter out in the corridor. He could hear Bucky and Sam just vaguely in the room behind them. Bob was quiet and seemed as though he was stuck in a trance. When they were far enough away that the voices from the room seemed more like whispers he stopped them. John tucked the gun Bob was using in the back waistband of his pants, rifle already being slung over his shoulder. He took a deep breath but Bob interrupted anything he would’ve thought to say by turning to look at him.

“I had to do it,” Bob said quietly.

John didn’t respond, instead raising his hand and using his sleeve to wipe some of the blood that had splattered across Bob’s face. It was hard to even say anything about it right now. The look in Bob’s eyes as he carefully wiped away the red specks was like a shot to the gut. The darkness in his eyes melted away to something much warmer. It reminded him of how Olivia used to look at him. John quickly pulled his hand away and turned around to lean against the banister, staring down to the lobby five floors down. Moonlight was cast downwards in a pillar from the skylight above. When Bob moved to stand next to him, mirroring his stance, John had to close his eyes.

Bob began to pull at his fingers, “You weren’t there, he tried to shoot Yelena when Ava jumped on him. I had to protect everyone. You guys are the closest thing to fam-”

“We’re not family, we’re not even friends, you’re a job.I don’t care if any of us are being shot or held up, you fucking stay put. If you do that stupid shit again I’ll break your goddamn legs,” John hissed, pushing himself back from the railing and heading back to the room.

He didn’t need Bob getting all attached. Hell this whole situation reminded John to get his head on straight. This was a job he was doing, he needed to stop getting emotionally involved. He stopped a few steps away when he noticed Bob hadn’t moved from leaning against the railing. John looked over his shoulder and barked, “Let’s go,”

It took a moment but Bob followed as they headed back into the room. John stepped over the pool of blood that was forming around the man’s head and walked to the corner of the room. Sam was fiddling with the radio while Bucky sat on the edge of the desk holding an old microphone. Static was filling the room as Sam moved through the radio channels.

“So are we going to keep playing Inspector Gadget or can we go?” John asked, hands on his hips in an impatient stance.

Bucky glared at him, “We’re calling for backup,”

“Backup?” John questioned, eyebrows raised in confusion.

Sam rolled his eyes, twisting the knob on the radio again, “Our base is a few hours East from here, we’ve got good people there. Someone’s usually on standby at the radio station, we’ll make a callout for transport,”

So his suspicions were correct, they did run with a group of others. But East was the wrong direction for them. They needed to continue West if they were going to get to Washington in a timely manner. In his peripherals he could see Bob on the other side of the room going through a box of old vinyls. John took the opportunity to speak quietly to both Sam and Bucky. Bob didn’t need to hear any of this conversation as he knew the man would only argue. Once satisfied he grabbed Bob to head back to Yelena and Ava. Sam and Bucky would follow suit later, for now spending the time to try and contact someone back at their home base.

Bob and him didn’t speak on the walk back. It was for the best anyways. John could feel the weight of the ring against his chest under his shirt. Why did Olivia have to reappear in his head now? He buried thoughts of her away for now as it was only a distraction. When they got back Yelena was overjoyed to see that Bob was alive, pulling him into a tight hug despite her injuries. While they were speaking John pulled Ava outside the room, walking down the corridor to put some space between themselves and the other two. He didn’t want anyone listening in.

“You’re going to need to go with Yelena,” he said, keeping his voice somewhat low.

Ava for a brief second looked surprised, “What are you talking about?”

“Sam and Bucky have some of their people coming, they’ll be here by morning. She’s not fit for travel and we don’t have time to -”

Ava poked him hard in the chest, “You mean you don’t have time to deal with her. And what am I Walker? Just some shit you can throw away too?”

He hardened his gaze despite the uneasiness in his stomach, “It’ll be better for you to go with her, watch over her and make sure she’s okay,”

She scoffed, “Better for me or better for you?”

Ava turned and headed back to the room before he could continue the conversation. It had to be done anyway. After what happened here he couldn’t risk Ava getting sick or injured somewhere further along the road. Sam and Bucky wouldn’t be there to bail them out with a ride to their home base. This was the best thing for Ava, she’d be safe there. Then he could focus solely on delivering Bob to Val. Once that was done he could do whatever the hell he wanted. It was frustrating, he could feel it bubbling up inside of him. Before he could think otherwise he had punched a hole into the wall, drywall crumbling around his fist.

It burned but it was a good burn, one he could focus on to stop his raging thoughts. The blood rushing to his head from the adrenaline of the punch made him dizzy. For a moment he leaned against the wall, forehead pressed against the chipping paint with his hand dripping blood at his side. Between his head and his now bloody hand he didn’t know what was worse. He stayed in the corridor for a while, only heading back to the room when he saw Sam and Bucky return. When he finally re-entered the room the atmosphere seemed to be a touch lighter, however, the animosity returned when Bob and Ava’s hard gazes landed on him.

“They’ll be here in a few hours,” Sam said, he turned to John who was lingering in the doorway, “We’ll take your friends,”

John nodded, “I appreciate it,”

Truly he meant it. Despite their differences he did somewhat respect Sam Wilson, he was an honourable man. John knew that he wouldn’t turn down helping people. He knew Ava and Yelena would be in good hands. Everyone tried to settle for the rest of what was left of the night. They closed the door and blocked it this time with a desk to stop any other people from entering unannounced. John sat in the corner away from everyone, one leg propped up with the dingy notebook pressed against his thigh to scribble. He squinted, using the dim light from the lamp to copy the coordinates on the last page of the notepad onto a separate piece of paper.

Later on when everyone was sleeping he crept over and snuck the folded paper into the bottom of Ava’s bag. John knew he was being an asshole sending her away like this. He knew she probably definitely hated him now if she didn’t already before. The note was a precaution. Should she ever want to figure out where they went she would have the location. Ava was capable and he knew she could get there by herself if she wanted to.

Someone kicked his foot, “They’re here, let’s go,”

John opened one eye and looked up at Bucky standing above him. He had a bag thrown over his shoulder and despite the neutral look on his face John could see the relief in the man’s eyes. Yelena was fast asleep on the table. Ava was taking a needle out of her arm when John walked up.

He raised an eyebrow, “Knocking her out for the trip?”

“It’s less painful this way,” she replied vaguely.

He wasn’t sure if she was referring to physically or emotionally. They didn’t tell her she and Bob were being separated. He could only imagine the fit she was going to pull when she wakes up and sees he’s not there. John carried Yelena down the stairs. It almost felt like carrying a corpse with how still she was, he hated it. Parked outside the doors of the building was a military jeep. It chugged loudly and he could smell the diesel in the air from it. Sam was chatting with a younger man who sat in the driver's seat.

“No shit, is this the guy?” the kid asked, pointing very obviously at John.

Sam grimaced and slapped the kid’s hand down, “You need to brush up on your subtly Torres,”

“You can put her here,” Bucky said, stopping any further progression of that conversation.

Bucky opened the back tailgate of the jeep and moved out of the way when Ava brushed past him to jump in. The truck bed had some supplies and a sleeping bag on the floor already laid out. John was careful when placing Yelena down onto it, being mindful of the severe injuries she still possessed. Ava sat down next to her, reaching over and brushing a few strands of blonde hair from her face. Her dark eyes snapped up to John, narrowing into a pointed glare.

“He’s not like the rest of us, you better bloody take care of him,” she warned.

He rolled his eyes, “He’s not a fucking toy Ava I’m sure he won’t break,”

He knew by ‘him’ she was meaning Bob. Whatever, the guy killed a man last night there was no way he could get broken. John moved out of the way when Bob appeared. He let him say whatever goodbye’s he needed to say. If John were a crueler person he would’ve knocked Bob out and had everyone leave before he woke up. He figured Bob wasn’t stupid enough to throw a fit and try to run away with them. John found his way back to the front of the vehicle where Sam was still talking to the kid in the driver’s seat.

Bucky walked up to join as well, sarcasm heavy in his voice, “Nat’s gonna love those two in the back,”

“She’s going to ban us from leaving if we keep bringing home strays,” Sam joked.

Clearly this was some inside joke that John wasn’t understanding. He leaned back to peer around the side, Bob was talking to Ava in the back still. Sam nudged John in the side with his elbow just then, “Better hope he won’t try and kill you next,”

John snorted, “Bob’s harmless,”

“He executed a man last night,” Bucky pointed out.

“Wait, that wimpy guy did what?!” Torres piped up.

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. The sign of a disappointed parental figure, John knew that stance well.

“I hope you know what you’re doing Walker,” Sam finally said.

A smug smile pulled at his lips, “I would think I’m pretty well trained for things like this,”

They stopped talking when Bob walked over to them. He looked absolutely miserable, head hanging low to try and cover the fact that he was just crying. John wasn’t stupid he could see the puffiness of his eyes and the wet smudges on his face. Their goodbye’s were quick, Bucky nodding to him from the bed of the jeep as it pulled away. The silence that was left behind was almost insufferable. John could feel the hatred pouring off of Bob in waves. He didn’t know how he was going to entertain this little arrangement without Yelena and Ava as buffers. So John did what he did best, ignored what just happened and continued on.

Chapter Text

Bob didn’t speak to him for two weeks.

The scenery of the concrete city was quickly exchanged for luscious amber coloured trees. The days were growing cold and the nights even colder. Bob didn’t speak to him, hell he didn’t really look at him either. It was starting to get under John’s skin. The worst was the lack of push back from the other man. He would follow him silently, do what he was told even if it was something stupid. It felt like there was a storm cloud hanging over them both and it made John feel icky.

They were camping out in the forest just off the road. It wasn’t something unusual for them to do now. He had been learning a lot about Bob the past two weeks. Like the way he’d sleep intermittently between nightmares, he got those quite a bit. Or how he’d perk up ever so slightly when there was something cool to see and when John would notice he would stubbornly go back to his pissed off expression. Recently Bob seemed more down than usual, some mornings he didn’t want to move from his spot on the ground. Eating food was becoming a rarity. If they weren’t actively moving somewhere Bob was sleeping, or at least pretending to sleep.

It’s not like John cared. Although the bad vibes in the air were starting to make even John feel depressed. He also couldn’t have Bob starving to death before they got to Washington. The crying was a new thing. John perked up from where he was sitting against the trunk of a spruce tree, eyes locking in on the figure lying on the other side of the fire. It wasn’t as loud as a sob, more like a miserable heaving and sniffling. The familiar tendrils of discomfort wrapped around him. John was not good with words, or comfort, or emotion, and fuck Bob for forcing him into these situations.

He was actually sort of regretting getting rid of Yelena now, okay maybe he had been missing her and Ava for a while now but he’d tucked that to the back of his mind. Yelena always knew how to comfort people, especially Bob. John felt a little bit like shit because he knew Bob was only upset because of Yelena and Ava leaving him behind. Hell he couldn’t blame him, John wouldn’t want to be stuck with himself either.

John stayed put for the night.

In the morning Bob didn’t move, still in the same curled position as the night before. He always curled in on himself like that. Despite his better judgement John walked over and placed a bag of granola down in front of Bob’s head. Was he even awake? It was hard to tell with the hood pulled up and a mess of curls covering his face.

“You have to eat Bob, I’m not gonna let you die of starvation,” he said, sounding more sarcastic than he meant to.

Bob didn’t move.

Was he dead? No, John’s eyes could see that his body was rising and falling with every breath. It was staggered as well so he was definitely awake. What was he supposed to do now? Olivia was always good at dealing with things like this, her softness and warmth helped wear down the cold sharp edges that was John Walker. He decided his next best bet was to go for a little walk. Maybe Bob just needed some time to wake up? Whatever, John just needed to get away for a bit before he’d lose his mind.

The forest was vast and quiet save for the rustling of the leaves. He wandered for a while, hand clutching the chain around his neck. The ring was heavy in the palm of his hand. Everything was so messy since everything with his family happened. John was a shitty husband, shitty father. He was sure if Olivia was here Bob would be in a way better mood. She was always the better half of their relationship. When he wandered back to their camp area John’s heart fell to his stomach.

An infected had found its way to their camp. Bob was sitting up with his back to John, hand shaky as it held a gun up to the body standing over him. Then he dropped it, hand falling to the ground next to him. John picked a rock up off the ground and threw it without another thought, stone striking the infected’s chest. It stumbled back a step, clouded eyes refocusing to try and discern what just happened. Bob still didn’t move, head hanging low now. John ran over and bent down, swiping the pistol from next to Bob to shoot the infected in the head.

“Jesus Christ!” he yelled, turning to look down at Bob, “Are you trying to fucking kill yourself?”

Bob looked up at him and scoffed, his eyes red rimmed, “Like you fucking care,”

John felt frustration flare within him, “Oh so now you talk -”

“Fuck you,” Bob hissed.

He wished Bob would’ve kept his stupid mouth shut. The attitude was nauseating and gave him whiplash. How does someone go two weeks without breathing a single word to suddenly lash out so viscerally? John huffed and took the bullets out of the pistol before throwing the gun down onto Bob’s lap.

“Now you’re being a dick,” Bob grumbled.

John shook his head and turned his back to him, “Yeah well you’re being a fucking idiot, you’ve lost your gun privileges,”

He heard Bob stand up off the ground, “And what am I supposed to do if one of those things come back?”

“You’re immune and have hands, I’m sure you can figure it out Bobby,” John snapped, picking his bag and rifle up off the ground.

The excitement seemed to have somewhat jumpstarted Bob for the day. They followed the road for hours. This was probably one of the more boring routes John has ever taken. If they had a working vehicle it would make things so much easier. He kept an eye on the man trailing behind him, even slowed his pace so Bob could keep up. The dark cloud seemed to come back around the afternoon. Bob was moving slower, almost dragging his feet at times. Even with his hood still pulled up John could see the dark circles under his eyes.

John kept looking ahead as he spoke, “You can hate me for it but sending Yelena and Ava away was necessary, I get she’s your girlfriend and all but -”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Bob interrupted, a hint of bitterness in his tone.

That piqued John’s interest a bit. Yelena and Bob were so close and shared such an intimate bond that it sometimes made John gag at how lovey dovey they were. Really it just sort of reminded him of how he and Olivia used to be and it’d make him sick to his stomach at the thought.

“Whatever she is to you, she had to go. We couldn’t take care of her anyways, I saved her life by having Sam and Bucky take her,” he affirmed.

Bob’s lack of response was irritating him again. How hard was it for the guy to agree with him? John knew what he did was right. It was the correct tactical decision to ensure the best outcome for them in the long run. God if Bob was this miserable with Yelena away from him and alive John didn’t know what he’d do if she had died.

That night was more of the same. Silence, a fire, John finding an acceptable enough tree to lean against. The only difference between tonight and all the other nights thus far was where Bob was sleeping. It had started to rain a bit earlier and the only spot where the ground wasn’t turning muddy was underneath the tree John was sitting up against. It was an old tree that had a wide fan of leaves to somewhat keep the drizzle away. Bob was curled up on the ground next to him, arms tucked under his head as he laid on his side. With the rain the temperature had dropped significantly to the point where John could see his own foggy puffs of breath.

The fire helped a bit. For a while he sat there fiddling with the ring on his necklace, thumb smoothing over the worn gold band. If Yelena was here she probably would’ve made a joke about him self-soothing. John didn’t know why he did it; he just knew when he did he felt a little lighter inside.

“You do that a lot,” Bob’s quiet voice rang out from beside him.

John quickly shoved the chain back under his shirt, “I thought you were sleeping,”

There was a long silence. In his peripherals he saw Bob shift next to him, pushing himself up so he was now sitting against the tree next to John. He threw his head back against the trunk and stared up, presumably at the dark branches that loomed above.

“I saw you drop the gun earlier,” John said quietly, almost apprehensive to even ask.

Bob shrugged, “Doesn’t matter,”

This irritated John somewhat, he turned to look at him, “You’re immune you’re not indestructible, it would’ve torn you apart if I wasn’t there,”

Bob’s voice was hollow, “I know,”

A dark feeling spread within him as those words settled in his brain. John hadn’t felt that darkness in a long time but he remembered it well. It was suffocating and felt never-ending. Ava’s words were echoing in his mind, to take care of Bob. How was he supposed to do that? John hadn’t had to care for someone in a long time. A drop of water fell on his head from above, he could feel the cold liquid settling on his scalp. It caused a chill to rake through his body. Bob shifted closer to him, enough so that their thighs were gently pressed together. The other man burned hot like a furnace and he could feel the warmth seeping into him from where their bodies were connected.

“Do you think she’s okay?” Bob asked quietly, he was looking down at his hands now.

John nodded slowly, eyes studying the side of the man’s face, “Yeah, she’s fine Bobby. I know we don’t get along but Sam and Bucky are good guys, I’m sure they’ve got a compound full of good people to care for her,”

Bob sniffed and squeezed his eyes closed, probably to stop any tears from falling, “I hate you,”

“Get in line,” John grumbled in response.

When Bob went to stand up John grabbed his arm and yanked him back down. The action was quick and rough, Bob being pulled back down against his side. It was still raining and John knew he was going to try and sulk in the wet. Bob yanked his arm from John’s grip as if it burned, wet eyes narrowing into a nasty glare.

John matched it with his own, “Hate me all you want but I’m not letting you sulk in the rain, I made a promise and I draw the line at taking care of your sick ass,”

“A promise?” Bob asked, all the animosity dropping away in exchange for confusion.

John huffed and crossed his arms, “Doesn’t matter,”

Bob slept like a leech. His cheek ended up pressed against John’s shoulder, left hand clutching the sleeve of his jacket. The warmth was an upside. John’s entire right side was smothered in the warmth that was Bob. The heat just seemed to exude from the other man. It wasn’t so bad like this, he actually felt somewhat relaxed. He dozed off after a while listening to the crackle of the fire and steady hum of the rain falling on the trees above.

Chapter Text

Montana was a horrible experience. It was cold and desolate for the most part. Bob wasn’t well, physically he was fine but mentally there just seemed to be a lot going on. John didn’t really know what to do. Thankfully they came upon a farmhouse in the middle of this nothingness road they had been walking for what felt like years. It was pretty abandoned but after some digging around he was quite impressed by his findings.

“They’ve got a lot of cool shit down there,” he said while eating from a can of peaches.

Bob was sitting on the old couch, looking down at his lap and only just barely being able to nod his head. He seemed so tired. Slowly but surely Bob was starting to hate him less and less, at least that’s what John thought. The hostilities were pretty minimal and Bob would sometimes have whole conversations with him. There were a lot of bad days and this most recent one has been going on for at least a week now. It was driving John crazy because he felt absolutely useless. Nothing he did seemed to even crack a smile on the man’s face.

He held the can of peaches out until Bob took it from him, “They’re pretty sweet, you’ll like them,” he then turned and headed back to the corridor, “I’ll be back, just gonna see what other things are around here,”

So this farmhouse was pretty decked out. Whoever used to live here must’ve been doomsday preppers because the farm was pretty self sufficient. John was practically grinning when he realized the water was working. Well he had to mess with a few things first but he managed to get the water on and the basement even had a generator. At one point he ended up on the second floor of the farmhouse. It was pretty small, two bedrooms and one bathroom. He paused in front of a room on the right, a nursery for a baby boy. It felt like he was paralyzed, hand squeezing tightly around the brass doorknob.

The memory of his son giggling, lying in a similar crib staring up at him, made him feel sick. Quickly he shut the door, leaning forward to press his forehead against it. His insides were twisted and he felt like the peaches he ate a bit ago were going to come spilling out.

“Fuck,” he whispered, feeling the tears in his eyes.

It was a disgusting feeling inside, so useless and weak. Why was he like this? The anger was like a flip of a switch. The fear of being emotional always triggered an anger response within him. John drowned it out by heading down the stairs and out the front door. He kept opening and closing his hands as he walked along the outskirts of the farmhouse. The chilly air was helping to quell the hot anger coiling in him. It was hard to keep his past stuffed down and out of the way. Sometimes it just came back up unexpectedly and every time it happened he felt like he was drowning.

Once he was sufficiently cooled down he headed back inside. Bob was lying on the couch and the can of peaches was left untouched on the dusty coffee table in front of him. In this semi-normal setting it was a sad sight to see. John knew they were both dirty and needed new clothes. Now that he knew there was working water he could feel his skin crawling and itching. By the way Bob’s chest was rising and falling it seemed like he was asleep. John snatched the can of peaches back and finished it off on the way upstairs.

The water was a gift he didn’t deserve. It wasn’t hot, was barely lukewarm, but it was such an undeserving treat. For someone who had done such shitty things he really didn’t deserve it. But god was he going to milk it. There wasn’t a shower and the bathtub was old, he had to fill it up twice because of how murky the water became. He sank down into the water and closed his eyes. If he didn’t have to go all the way to Washington he’d probably stay here until he died. When he left the bathroom he left smelling like flowers. He had no problem getting rid of his clothes and exchanging them for what he found in the closet and dressers.

He had forgotten all about Bob until he re-entered the living room downstairs. The man was still curled up on the couch in his torn hoodie and pants. They hadn’t gotten him any new clothes yet.

“I’m giving you five minutes,” John warned before disappearing again.

True to his word after five minutes he came back and grabbed Bob. Now that John was clean he could admit Bob smelled awful, he was sure he himself was no better an hour ago. Bob didn’t put up a fight, used to John dragging him around by now. It wasn’t until Bob realized where he was being dragged to that he started digging his feet in. Really it was more of a firm stop at the stop of the staircase, not letting John push him any further.

“I can’t,” Bob whispered.

John shook his head and tightened his grip on the man’s shoulders, “You either do it yourself or I do it for you ‘cause you are fucking ripe right now,”

That comment didn’t seem to help because Bob only seemed to curl more into himself. In his impatience John picked Bob up like he was nothing. It wasn’t like Bob weighed nothing per se but John was a lot bulkier than him. He threw Bob over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carried him the rest of the way. Once inside he dropped him back onto his feet, hands once again firmly gripping his shoulders. Bob couldn’t even look at him, actually he looked a bit upset. Which wasn’t surprising because that seemed to be his default emotion lately.

“We doing this the easy way or the hard way?” John asked, hands on his hips now and eyebrows raised.

“Don’t go far,” Bob said quietly, eyes flickering to the floor now.

John nodded and motioned with his thumb to the closed door on the right, “I’ll be in the next room, just yell or something if you need anything,” he headed to the door and paused, looking over his shoulder, “Don’t do anything stupid, I’ll be checking in every few minutes,”

He eyed the water level of the bathtub before leaving the room. Maybe he shouldn’t have put it so high, what if Bob tried to drown himself? John was becoming paranoid with Bob’s depressive behaviour lately. He still hadn’t given him the bullets to the pistol back, still safely hidden in his backpack. Now he didn’t think Bob would actually try to do it himself but if the situation arose John noticed that the man sort of gave up most times. He didn’t have a sense of urgency or self-preservation in these dangerous situations. It was a bit alarming.

While Bob was presumably bathing John continued rooting through the bedroom. The windowsills and dresser were covered in a thick layer of dust. He picked some clothes out that seemed like they would be good for Bob. There was a blue knit sweater so soft Yelena would be jealous that he found it. The blue would go well with Bob’s eyes, he wondered if they would become a sharper shade of blue with this complimenting them. John shook his head and folded the sweater and jeans before placing them on top of the dresser. His eyes briefly caught the photo frames bordering the back of the dresser. He had to look away when he saw the pictures of the baby, reminding him too much of his own kid.

He went back to the door and knocked, “Bob?”

“Yeah,” Bob said, barely audible.

It was enough to allow John to go back to his noseiness for a bit. The side table on the left of the bed had a pocketbook calendar in the drawer. The writing was a bit faded, he smoothed his fingers over the penmarks indented into the pages. Sometimes he had to remind himself that people actually used to live here. He flipped through the pages and found where the entries stopped. It looked like they were headed out on a little vacation when the outbreak happened. No wonder why nobody was here. John didn’t think he could take seeing another dead baby, even if it was just bones left.

“Almost done?” he asked aloud.

No response. John sighed and entered the washroom, he wasn’t too worried about seeing Bob naked. Wouldn’t be the first time he saw a naked man he was sure it wouldn’t be the last time. Bob was hunched over sitting in the murky water, he didn’t look like he had moved since he got in. This was the first time in a while John had seen the marks on the other man’s skin. His back was marked up with scratches and teeth marks. It looked like he’d been through hell and back. John sat on the edge of the tub, hands gripping the edge as he looked down at the sad person sitting inside.

“You okay?” he asked, Ava’s words ringing in his skull - take care of him.

Bob was looking down at the water, hair shielding his face, his voice was a whisper, “Sorry,”

John leaned back and grabbed the little plastic bucket sitting on the side of the tub, he stood up and walked to stand behind Bob, “Y’know when Olivia was pregnant she had the worst nausea in the beginning, she was sick all the time. I’d have to help her in the bath ‘cause sometimes all the movement would make her queasy,”

This wasn’t the first time John’s had to take care of someone, that was really what he was trying to get at with the story. He had a tendency to ramble when uncomfortable and mostly he just didn’t want Bob to be embarrassed. The guy already felt like shit John didn’t need to add embarrassment on top of that. When he poured the water over Bob’s head the man shivered. The water had grown quite cold.

When he went to scrub the shampoo into Bob’s hair he flinched. Was John being too rough? Was Bob scared? John paused, “You sure this is fine?”

Bob nodded once, “Stupid habit, sorry,”

“Stop apologizing, I don’t want to hear it anymore,” John joked, it fell flat.

Bob’s hair was getting long. John made sure he was gentle as he scrubbed the shampoo against his scalp. It was surprising how relaxing this was. When he got to the base of Bob’s head his fingers brushed against a bite mark that was partially hidden in his hairline. Absentmindedly he ran his thumb across it feeling the raised marks against his skin.

“What the hell happened to you?” John whispered, not realizing the words had left his mouth.

Bob jerked away from him, “I can do the rest,”

John jumped at the sudden movement. Bob had moved to the other side of the tub, dark eyes looking up at him as soap ran down the side of his face. He looked like a scared animal. John gave a curt nod, drying his hands on the nearby towel before heading to the door. He could feel Bob’s eyes trailing him, watching his every movement acutely.

“There’s clothes on the dresser, I’m gonna sort something out downstairs to eat,” he said before exiting into the corridor.

John lingered in the corridor for a moment, right hand closing into a fist as he tried to get the feeling of Bob’s skin under his fingers off his mind. The scars he could see were mapped into his brain like a twisted puzzle. John didn’t know why he felt so bothered by it. Was it curiosity? No, if it was he wouldn’t feel so terrible. He busied himself with going through the canned goods in the basement. Some of them had gone bad but there were a few that were still good. He was quite pleased with himself when he got the oven working, even more pleased when he found canned spaghetti and meatballs.

“What is it?” Bob’s voice popped up from behind him.

John jumped, whipping around to see Bob standing behind him, “Jesus Christ Bobby, you scared the shit out of me,”

Bob’s hands were in the sleeves of the blue sweater, hair still damp and hanging in front of his face. When he finally looked up John could confirm that the colour of the sweater did wonders for his eyes. His racing heart finally settled so he turned back to the stove, stirring the sizzling pot.

“Spaghetti and meatballs, from a can unfortunately. Y’know I can make a really good homemade version,” he drawled on, eyes focused on the food.

“You can cook?” Bob said, he sounded surprised.

“Okay don’t be a dick, what do you think the only thing I know how to do is shoot and give directions?” John retorted.

Bob’s lack of response made John’s face flush red in embarrassment. Was the guy being serious? John totally knew how to do things besides shoot guns and give directions.

“I don’t know Walker, I mean your directions aren’t that great,” Bob replied, voice light with sarcasm.

Despite the comment being a dig at John he couldn’t help but smile. It had been a while since he’d heard a sarcastic comment come from Bob’s mouth. He’d take the sarcastic sassy attitude over silence any day. They sat at the kitchen table to eat, mostly because John demanded it. Sitting on the couch with warm plated food just felt wrong. The blue sleeves on Bob’s sweater were scrunched up so they wouldn’t get sauce on them. John’s eyes traced the marks on the pale skin, he knew he shouldn’t be staring but he couldn’t help it. A few ideas had been rolling around in his mind since he left Bob in the bathroom.

Was this Val’s doing or did Bob just run into a bunch of infected? Was he naturally immune and Val found out or was this some result of an experiment? He knew Val was using infected for something, he just didn’t know exactly how she was using them. All he knew was that dead or subdued infected were being brought through the back door every other day.

Bob pulled his arms back and dropped them to his lap so they were hidden under the table. “Look I know this,” he then pointed to himself, “me is just a job for you. You don’t need to waste your energy pretending to care for me, Valentina probably told you I just need to be alive anyways. Never said what condition I had to be in,”

John put his fork down and leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, “I know I can be a dick but I’m not cruel, I’d rather not have you fall apart on me,”

Bob slowly nodded, his eyes cast down to the table, “Thanks for the food,”

“No problem,” he forced out, he felt awkward.

He let Bob have the bedroom upstairs, he seemed like he’d get better use out of the bed then John anyways. For the night he camped out on the couch, staring at the ceiling and toying absentmindedly with the ring hung around his neck. Sometimes when he and Olivia got into arguments he’d be turfed to the couch for the night just like this. In his dreams he could see her beautiful face frowning. This house was dragging out even the deepest memories he tried to keep hidden away. John awoke with a jump, hand tightening around something that had touched him.

When he turned his head he saw Bob standing over him, his hand frozen on John’s shoulder. John let his wrist go, pushing himself up onto his elbows, “What the hell are you doing down here?”

“You were yelling, I thought something was wrong,” he explained, sitting down on the coffee table, “It was a nightmare,”

Sweat was rolling down his back and his whole body felt like it was on fire despite the cool draft in the room. His face was burning, he was embarrassed. Why did Bob even care anyways? John laid back down and turned away so his back was facing the man, “Go to bed Bob,”

Maybe it was against John’s better judgement but he let them stay at the farmhouse for a few days. Bob seemed to need it anyways, moving constantly had been breaking him down to nothing. The man didn’t leave the bedroom much, staying cooped up inside buried under the blankets. John would check in occasionally just to make sure he was still alive, which he was. At least Bob was sort of eating consistently now which was a bit of a relief. He went to check on Bob one last time before heading to bed, maybe they’d head back out on the road again tomorrow.

Bob was sitting up on the bed when he entered the room, immediately his eyes snapped to John’s figure in the doorway. His right sleeve was pulled up and it looked like he was tracing the bite marks on his skin with his finger. An embarrassed shade of red flushed on his face as he quickly pulled the blue sleeve back down. John wondered if he did that a lot. He stayed in the doorway, leaning against it with his arms crossed, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah everything’s fine. Just thinking,” Bob replied evenly.

John gave him a single nod, “We’re probably going to head back out tomorrow, hope you’ve gotten some rest,”

A bitter laugh escaped his lips, “Rest? I haven’t slept in days I feel like shit,”

And here John thought they were getting somewhere. He really thought staying in this place would somehow fix Bob. Clearly not because the guy wasn’t sleeping, so what was he even doing with his eyes closed anyways?

“Well you’ve got until tomorrow morning,” John said, getting ready to leave the room.

“John?” Bob called out.

That caused John to pause in place. Bob didn’t really ever use his first name to address him. A spark of warmth flickered for a brief moment within him. People usually called him by his last name, a thing that caught on from the military. It had been a while since someone last called him by John. He looked back at Bob to see the man was now looking down at his hands, fingers twisting together nervously in his lap. He waited for Bob to continue speaking.

“Can you stay?” Bob asked, almost afraid of the answer.

Stay? This was throwing John through a loop right now. People never asked him to stay, if anything they asked him to leave. He crossed his arms and scoffed, “Why would you want me to?”

“It’s not as bad when there are others around,” Bob explained, now pulling at his fingers.

John knew he should go back downstairs. The couch was ready and waiting for him and it would be so much easier to just go there. But Ava’s words within his head kept beating his better judgement into submission. Bob looked startled when John climbed onto the bed next to him, a respectable space lying between them. John was sitting up against the headboard, arms still crossed almost like a sulking child.

“And this’ll help you sleep?” John asked before adding, “Me being here,”

Bob nodded slowly, “Yeah, a bit. When I’m alone it reminds me of the lab and my head just starts to fuck with me,”

“Oh,” was the only thing John was able to say.

The other man sunk back down onto the bed, pulling the blanket up to his shoulders. He turned so his back was facing John. There was a long awkward silence. John was not good in situations like this.

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to, I wouldn’t want to stay with me either,” Bob whispered.

John doubled down, “No it’s fine. The couch wasn’t all it was cracked up to be anyways,”

A small laugh, “Yeah well I don’t bite, you don’t have to sit on top of the sheets you can get comfortable,”

For a moment John considered it. The mattress was soft and the blankets warm and he knew Bob ran hot like a furnace so it would be nothing but warmth underneath. He didn’t dare move an inch, instead surveying the room and occasionally glancing down at the figure next to him. His eyes caught sight of a bite mark on the curve of Bob’s neck between his throat and shoulder. John wanted to reach out and touch him, run his finger over the markings like he did in the bathroom a few days ago. His hands curled into fists, nails digging into the palms of his hands. That trail of thought died then and there.

Chapter Text

Bob wasn’t that bad to be around. Of course, John would never say that aloud because he knew the other man would find too much joy in that. When he wasn’t in a super depressive state he was actually great company. Maybe John was deluded because Bob was his only company but he would live in that delusion until they came across other people to speak to. With the weather becoming colder it was becoming more difficult to travel. The long roads and lack of signage to lead the way had John feeling like they were going in endless circles.

The first sign of snow was a grim day. He made sure they had jackets when they passed through the next town. Of course, they weren’t proper winter coats but anything was better than nothing. Infected weren’t too much of an issue, although there were a few times where Bob had some close calls. He wasn’t as proficient at fighting as John was, sure he had the enthusiasm but he lacked the skill.

“It’s getting fucking cold,” Bob said from behind him, teeth chattering.

They were trying to find a place to go for the night, one that wasn’t falling apart. A lot of the buildings they had passed so far were down to the bones. The other problem with the winter coming was the minimal daylight and it was getting dark fast. John paused and brought his hands to his mouth, blowing hot air against them. They ached from the chill making it hard to hold his rifle. He was almost out of bullets for it too.

“I think that one’s fine,” Bob said, pointing to a random store and heading in its direction.

“You can’t just decide something’s fine by looking at it -”

Bob scoffed, “Yes I can, I just did,”

It wasn’t a very large store, one of the tiny corner ones you’d see in the middle of nowhere just before a small town. The sun was quickly sinking beneath the horizon casting the sky in a deep purple colour. Thankfully the windows were all still intact and there didn’t appear to be any infected inside. At least none that he could directly see. Bob barreled in and hopped over the checkout counter at the back, settling to sit on the ground behind it. John detached the flashlight from his rifle and held it up. The light flickered on as he walked around the counter, not as cool as Bob’s hop and slide.

The light landed on Bob who was sitting on the ground with his right side pressed against the wood siding of the counter. It wasn’t as cold as outside but it was still pretty damn chilly. John was missing the farmhouse from a while back. A bed would’ve been nice right about now. Instead he dropped his bag on the ground and sat down next to Bob, squishing between him and the wall. There was an unspoken agreement between the two of them that staying next to each other at night when it was cold was beneficial. John for warmth and Bob…well Bob was probably just lonely.

“This is so shitty,” Bob muttered, hands up to his mouth to blow warm air onto them.

John rolled his eyes, “Well thanks Captain Obvious, here I thought this was a five star accommodation,”

Bob snorted in response and banged his shoulder against John’s, “Oh yeah and what would be your best example of a five star accommodation?”

John had to actually pause and take a moment to think about that. Where was the last fancy place he’s ever been? He never had time to truly indulge in the finer things. Right out of high school he joined the military, he and Olivia didn’t really have a honeymoon either because they married right before he was shipped off to Afghanistan. Then there was the baby and everyone knew with babies there was no time for sleep let alone vacation. John was stumped.

“You got me there,” John said while reaching for his backpack to dig into it.

Bob sighed, “There was this one time where this super rich guy, and I mean loaded, invited me back to his hotel room. He had the whole penthouse to himself, I just remember being able to see the whole city from up there,”

John paused his search and raised an eyebrow, “A guy invited you back to his penthouse?”

It went quiet for a moment before Bob laughed, uncomfortable more than anything, “He was offering me coke,”

John rolled his eyes, “Uh huh, I’m sure that was it,”

A shit eating grin appeared on Bob’s face, “Okay and maybe a little bit of sex,”

He had to turn his head back to focus on his backpack, his face already feeling warmer than the rest of his body. Did Bob do that a lot before? He knew about the drugs but was he just sleeping with random men all the time? It was odd to think about for someone like John, he had only ever been with Olivia. They were high school sweethearts after all. The thought of ever being with anyone else never occurred to him before because it was always just Olivia. He pulled out a bag of stale crackers from the bottom of his bag. It was better than nothing, they’d need to find some more food soon.

“Sorry,” Bob said as John handed him the bag to take some crackers.

John sat back against the wall and bit down on one of the crackers, “For what?”

“You seemed uncomfortable,” Bob pointed out before taking a bite himself.

“I wasn’t - uncomfortable? Me? I was not uncomfortable,” John sputtered out, he sounded like an idiot.

Bob chuckled lightly and reached over for another cracker, “Was it the drugs, sex, or me being gay, that bothers you?”

Now John felt mortified, his face had never been so hot. It was good that the only light in here was his shitty flashlight because he was sure if it were daylight he’d look like a cherry tomato. He swallowed the cracker, the dryness of it in his throat caused him to cough. God he was such a mess.

“You can relax, Walker. If it makes you feel any better I don’t want to fuck you,” Bob said, popping another cracker into his mouth with a grin.

John rolled his eyes, “Jesus Bob you might as well just say I’m ugly,”

Bob leaned over him then, grabbing the flashlight next to him and then shining it onto John’s face. It was blinding, he had to raise his hand to momentarily block it. Just barely could he see Bob’s face behind the flashlight. The way his eyes flickered across John’s features then down his body. He felt like a book being examined by scholars. Bob then turned the light off and handed it back to him, Bob’s fingers were warm for the brief second they touched.

“You’re just fine John,” Bob said, his smile hidden in the dark.

“Just fine?!” John repeated, exasperated.

He heard Bob chewing his last stale cracker. Then he felt the weight against his right shoulder as Bob dropped his head down onto him. He could feel the curls of Bob’s hair tickling the side of his neck. John sat there unmoving as the wheels turned in his brain. Was he seriously just fine looking? Maybe it was the beard? Why was he even bothered by this in the first place? It was just a stupid comment. He didn’t need to worry about being attractive in the apocalypse. There was nothing sexy about the end of the world. Begrudgingly he popped the last cracker in his mouth before tossing the bag back into his backpack.

Bob’s arms snaked around his right arm then, holding onto him like a precious stuffed animal. He was really clingy, especially at night time. The warmth was appreciated. The man was like John’s very own space heater. He could feel the heat seeping through Bob’s clothes into his own. He was still locked in on the fact that Bob said he was just fine looking.

“I can hear you thinking,” Bob said, his voice ringing in John’s ear.

“You can’t hear jack shit,” John spat back, now he was sulking.

He felt Bob shift around next to him, likely trying to get more comfortable. There was only so much comfort one could get on the dirty tile floor of an abandoned shop on the side of the road. When John went to cross his arms Bob didn’t let him, hands firmly holding onto his right arm. Sometimes he forgot how strong Bob was, his looks were deceiving.

Bob yawned, “Go to sleep Walker,”

“Yeah, whatever,” John grumbled in response.

It still bothered him even into the next day. Why was he so obsessed by what Bob thought about him? John never usually cared about what other people thought, maybe because everyone he knew hated him. If Bob harboured any hatred for him still he was very good at hiding it.

“There’s infected up ahead,” Bob said, motioning with his head to the road in front of them.

John raised his head and squinted to get a sharper look at what lay in the distance. He hadn’t really been paying attention a lot this morning, too lost in his own thoughts. There were a bunch of rusted cars on the road up ahead with infected lingering between them. It looked like a pile up. He checked the ammo in his rifle, only a handful left inside. Shooting would be the last option because out here the sound travelled far. The last thing they needed was a swarm of infected or worse, people.

“So are you going to give me a loaded gun or should I chuck rocks like an idiot?” Bob asked, sarcasm laced in his tone.

Five or six infected, John sighed, “Fine, you remember how to shoot right?”

Bob took the gun and rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah. Make sure the safeties off and don’t blow your head off or some shit,”

“I’m serious Bobby, only shoot if we have to,” John warned.

Bob nodded, smirk on his lips, “Yes sir,”

There was a light dusting of snow on the road, he knew by midday it would be melted but right now it provided a slight crunch to their steps. The closer they got his ears began to pick up on the wheezing and screeching. It always made him feel uneasy. There was something so unnatural about the way the infected breathed. He kept one hand on Bob’s backpack solely because he knew how clumsy the other man was. If he needed to pull him back or stop him it was a lot easier with one hand on him.

A gunshot rang out and John froze, yanking hard on the backpack in front of him. The tug was so harsh Bob went teetering backwards, falling into him. Both of them fell to the ground. John grunted at the weight suddenly pressed against his body. They were hidden behind a van and could hear the infected on the other side scrambling to figure out where the sound came from.

“Did you fucking shoot your gun?” John hissed in a whisper into Bob’s ear.

Bob shook his head, climbing off him, “No, do you have any faith in me at all?”

“No, not really,” John admitted dryly.

He winced when the passenger window above them shattered, glass rained down over them. They both shared a look, one that said ‘what the hell is going on’. Clearly someone was nearby. John needed to figure out if they had spotted them or if whoever it was decided this place was a good area for target practice. The infected were agitated and he was hoping they would freak out in the middle and not walk around the van to where they were.

“Are they shooting at us?” Bob asked as another shot rang out, striking the front of the van.

John grit his teeth, “Just one problem after another,”

Bob shrugged his backpack off and dropped down to his stomach, starting to crawl underneath the van. John grabbed his leg and pulled back, “What are you doing?”

“Seeing what the hell’s going on, it’s not like you can fit under here,” Bob retorted.

John had to stop his mouth from falling open at that comment. It’s not that Bob was exactly wrong. If he had to squeeze under the van it would be an embarrassingly tight fight. Bob was a lot more lean and could fit into smaller spaces. He released his hold on Bob’s leg and let him crawl the rest of the way under the van. Another shot was fired at the van, shattering the windshield this time. Whoever was shooting was not letting up. He tensed when an infected scrambled around the front of the van. Its clouded gaze locked in on him within a second, its teeth snapping as it went to lunge.

A gun suddenly fired directly from behind him, a bullet going straight into its head. The force knocked the body backwards onto the ground. Then he felt the cool barrel against the back of his head. Slowly he raised his arms, dropping the rifle onto the ground next to him.

“We don’t get a lot of people out in these parts,” an older woman said from behind him.

John briefly glanced to Bob’s backpack that was still in front of him, “Just passing through, didn’t mean to interrupt the party,”

“Where’s your friend?” she asked.

John shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t have any friends, better to travel alone,”

Another infected came around the front of the van, briefly the gun moved from the back of his head to shoot the next one to the ground. It quickly returned, pressing a bit harder against the back of his head. A deep ache from where he’d cracked his head open before spread through him, a headache starting to form.

“Don’t bullshit me, I don’t do stupid,” she grumbled.

He tried to weigh his options. With his back to the woman it was harder to figure out an advantage he’d have over her. Especially with the barrel of the gun pressed to the back of his head. It didn’t feel like it was a rifle, likely a handgun by the shape of it.

“Get up,” she instructed.

John slowly stood, hands still held up in surrender. She marched him around the front of the van, stepping over the two bodies. The infected that were lingering around earlier had all been gunned down. Some were dead, others were gurgling and squirming around. Three other people appeared, one young man and two women. He wondered if it was just them or if there were more lurking around where he couldn’t see them. The man walked up to the van and reached under, dragging Bob out by his boot. John cursed under his breath.

“Get the fuck off me!” Bob yelled, kicking at the guy.

The woman walked around John now, gun still trained on him, “He’s got a little more spark then you,”

She was an older woman, brown hair peppered with bits of grey. A jagged scar went across the right side of her mouth down to her chin. Bob kicked the guy again, this time getting him in the knee. When his leg buckled and he fell Bob jumped on him, getting one good hit on him.

“Rich get a hold of him!” the woman scolded.

John wondered if she was his mother, her tone was that of a mother scolding her child. He grimaced when one of the girls walked over and grabbed Bob by the back of his hair, yanking him back. The guy, Rich, had blood gushing from his nose down the front of his face. The anger in his eyes resulted in him striking Bob across the face with the back of his rifle. John’s hands tightened into fists as he watched Bob fall to the side. The laugh that came from his mouth was surprising. Bob raised his head and spit blood onto the ground, his grin bloody and cocky.

“I thought you’d hit harder, little bitch,” Bob said, blood running down the front of his face.

Rich swung back his leg and kicked him in the stomach, “Fuck you,”

John grit his teeth, eyes returning to the older woman, “What do you want? If it’s our stuff just take it already,”

“Let me guess, you’re supposed to be the strong level-headed one right?” she asked, taking a step closer she put the gun under his chin and pushed his face up an inch, “I can see the anger curdling in you,”

“Just take our stuff,” John repeated, voice as calm as he could make it.

Rich laughed, “You think we want your stuff?”

“Hush now,” the woman barked at him.

The other girl made her way over to Bob, now that John looked at her closer she was identical to the other young woman. Both had long blonde hair, sharp features and cold eyes. The only difference to tell them apart was one of them, the one that just approached, had a missing ring finger on her right hand. She squatted down in front of Bob, taking his head in her hands and smoothing his hair back. The way she pet him was as if he were a beloved dog, cooing at him and continuously running her hand through his hair. It made John feel gross inside. She then pulled him close, holding his head against her chest.

She batted her eyes at the older woman, still carding her hand through Bob’s hair, “Can we keep him? He’s so pretty,”

“No, you’re not keeping anyone,” John interjected.

The girl glared at him, tightening her grip in Bob’s hair hard enough to make the man wince. She continued to pout, “Please, please, I promise I’ll take care of him,”

The older woman scoffed and looked at John, “You’ll have to excuse my daughter Thea, she has an affinity for pretty things,”

“Yeah well he’s not for sale, tell her to let him go,” John said, trying to calm the annoyed twang in his voice.

The woman shrugged, gun still on him, “You don’t have anything I want,” she then looked to her daughter who was still holding Bob, “Who am I to deny my daughter such a gift?”

A gleeful squeal came from the girl as she squeezed Bob in a tight hug. Bob shoved her off of him, wiping the blood from his face. It smeared across his cheek and down his jaw. Briefly his eyes flickered to John, searching for any sort of solution to the problem. Thea’s face twisted into anger as she sat back on the ground, surprised that Bob had lashed out like that. She looked up to Rich, “Well don’t let him do that to me!”

It was a quick scramble as Rich grabbed Bob, kicking him forwards onto the pavement and pressing his knee into his back. He pressed his face into the pavement, pinning his wrists to his back. Bob for a moment looked scared, eyes meeting John’s as the rifle was placed against the side of his head.

“Jesus Christ stop it!” John yelled, slightly lowering his hands.

The woman clicked her tongue, “It gets very lonely out here for my daughters, I feel for the poor things. Now we may be persuaded to let you go,” her eyes fell onto Bob, “For a price,”

John felt a wave of disgust wash over him. Who the fuck were these degenerate people? His blood was boiling in his veins as he fought to keep the disdain off his face. He began to shake his head, about to open his mouth to speak because how dare that woman even think that was an okay bargain.

“I’ll do it,” Bob said, his voice was hollow.

John shook his head, “No Bobby you’re not - this is fucked up you can’t just do this to people,”

“It’s fine John,” Bob replied, his gaze steady on his.

Never had John ever felt so horrified, so repulsed, in his life. These people were evil. He could see the glee on the twins’ face at Bob’s coerced agreement. One girl, Thea, even jumped to her feet and clapped her hands. Rich pushed Bob’s face harder into the pavement, leaning down to whisper something into his ear. Bob didn’t move, gritting his teeth as the gravel began to scrape his skin. Rich finally climbed off of Bob and grabbed him by the jacket to haul him to his feet. Thea’s sister grabbed Bob by the face and turned his head to press an excited kiss to his lips. It was sloppy, devoid of any love or care. John had to look away, he felt sick.

“Come, come, our place is just up the road from here. We can let you get comfortable,” the woman said, finally lowering the gun from under his chin.

When she turned her back to him John dropped his hands. Rich and the older woman were preoccupied with the twins’ glee. The two women were hanging off of Bob, pressing kisses against his face. John felt nothing but searing hatred flaring deep within him. How dare they even put their hands on Bob? Bob looked resigned to the whole situation, eyes out of focus as he let them do whatever. It was disgusting. He’d heard rumours in the zones of people in the outskirts that would do depraved things to passerbys. Never did John think he would witness it happen.

He could feel the anger coiling within him like a vicious snake. The older woman laughed and looked back at John, “He’s so well trained, I may have to try him out myself,”

It was like static in his brain as it took over. The older woman turned her head to look back at the twins, she was motioning towards Rich. John couldn’t hear what anyone was saying anymore, eyes locked in on Bob. They made eye contact and he felt his heart break. Bob gave him a weak smile as if to try and justify what was happening. John lowered his hands and reached behind his back. Before he knew what he was doing the blade of his knife was in the older woman’s back.

He decided then and there, nobody was allowed to touch Bob like that again.

Chapter Text

The woman stumbled forward as John twisted the knife in her back. She screamed and he yanked the knife out, grabbing the pistol from her hand while plunging the knife back into her right side. He used her as a shield, peeking out and shooting at Rich. A bullet caught the young man in the shoulder, knocking him backwards. The twins both screamed in unison, though it sounded more like a screech. John shoved the older woman to the ground and without a beat shot her in the back of the head. The blood was warm as it splattered across his face. He moved quickly, robotic as he shot the other twin in the stomach before she could raise her gun. Rich scrambled to grab his rifle and managed to get a shot on him.

John grunted, shooting at the same time watching Rich’s head fly backwards to smack against the concrete. It helped that John was well trained in the art of eliminating enemies in the field. When he turned to the last twin Thea she was holding Bob, her gun pressed against his neck. She was shaking, fearful tears running down her face. John didn’t have even a drop of sympathy for her.

“John,” Bob said, the name slipping out by accident, eyes wide and trained on him and him alone.

“You - you killed them,” Thea muttered, gun shaking in her hands.

John raised the gun at her next, “Let him go,” he then pointed the gun to her sister who was on the ground holding her stomach whimpering, “Or she’s next,”

When she hesitated he fired the gun. The concrete next to her sister’s foot exploded as bits flew upwards. Thea yelped, eyes wide with fear as she briefly looked down at her sister.

“Do it now,” John instructed coldly.

Another pause, she seemed weary. He could see the fear in Bob’s eyes, focused solely on John. The gun fired again, this time higher up on the pavement next to her sister’s head.

“Now!” he snapped.

“Fuck - fuck okay!” she yelled, shoving Bob away from her.

Bob stumbled forwards before catching himself and running the remaining few steps over to John. He felt Bob slide under his left arm, pressing himself against his side. John barely felt the hand that grazed over his stomach. Thea’s legs were shaking as she shuffled to the side over to her sister, eyes wide and watching John’s every move. It was like a cornered animal, trying her best to seem innocent. She was a sniffling mess and the worst part was that John couldn’t care less.

She began to sob, “Look we’re sorry - I’m sorry it was stupid I-”

Her babbling was cut short when John shot her twice in the chest. Her body fell back against the pavement. The pistol was out of ammo. It clicked as he continued to pull the trigger on the empty barrel. He looked down and saw the blood, and could feel it soaking the front of his jacket. His teeth grinded together as he drew in a sharp breath. It fucking hurt and he didn’t know what was worse, being shot or the horrified look on Bob’s face.

“It’s fine, you’re gonna be fine,” Bob mumbled, mostly to himself.

John hissed when Bob pressed his hand harder against his stomach, “Lot of noise…infected probably coming,”

“Just - fuck, just give me a second to think,” Bob said, briefly removing his hand.

The loss of pressure made it worse, he quickly put his own hand over his stomach. He’d been shot before but not in such a vulnerable place. Briefly he looked up to the twins on the ground. The nameless one had crawled over to her sister, blood dripping from her mouth as she grabbed Thea’s hand. John looked to the right as Bob came running back up to him, his backpack slung over his shoulder along with John’s rifle. He ducked under John’s arm again to help him walk, pressing his right hand on top of John’s against his stomach. Their fingers were slick with blood as they laced together, pressing tightly against the wound.

Snow began to fall from the sky, he could barely feel the cold. Blood was staining the white ground as they hobbled down the road. Bob was muttering to himself, probably trying to keep calm in this dire situation.

“Why’d you do that? It was fine - I could’ve just, fuck you’re an idiot,” Bob spat, trying his best to keep his shaking voice level.

John shook his head, “Couldn’t let you do that,”

He blinked and was on the ground.

“Get up,” Bob barked, hauling John back to his feet.

Was this how Yelena felt when she was shot? His mind was hazy, dark spots encroaching the corners of his vision. It felt like his insides were being torn apart with every step. He shook his head, “It’s fine, just leave me here Bobby, it’s fine,”

“Shut up,” Bob retorted, squeezing his hand on top of John’s.

Everything was hazy, he must’ve passed out. When he came to, someone was sitting over him, light casting down over him. Was he dead? He must’ve died. He tried reaching up towards the figure but he felt so weak.

“Olivia?” he whispered, tears burning in his eyes, “I’m sorry baby, I'm so sorry,”

A hand touched his cheek, “It's okay, you’re okay,”

He turned his face, pressing a kiss to the palm resting against his cheek. He missed her so much his heart ached. John didn’t deserve any of this.

The time he was out was undetermined. Consciousness was always brief and confusing, he couldn’t tell what was reality or what was a dream. Maybe this is what death was like? John had done a lot of horrible unforgivable things in his life, he wouldn’t be surprised if this confusing rollercoaster was his own twisted version of hell. Sometimes Olivia would call out to him, sometimes she would be screaming his name. Then there was Bob, his detached voice telling him everything was okay. The sight of Bob being pressed against the ground, his eyes glazed over as those girls touched him. John wanted to scream.

As the void of time continued it was less of Olivia and more of Bob. It was every horrible thing he ever said to the man, every fight he started. The worst was the choppy replay of the interaction with those people. If he could even call them people. Sometimes it was bad, a what-if scenario of what would’ve happened if he hadn’t stopped them. The things they would’ve done to Bob. The man’s hollow gaze haunted him. The image of Bob’s head to the side, eyes locked on John while those people touched all over him was seared into John’s brain. He wanted to scream, he felt like he was in hell.

When a clear-mind finally came it was daylight. His head was pounding and his eyes burned. As he sat up he froze, cursing under his breath at the splitting pain in his stomach. Bandages were wrapped around his middle stained red, an unbuttoned flannel hung off his shoulders. He looked around in a haze scanning the small bedroom. The dresser had a skew of medical supplies scattered across it. Painstakingly and with much effort he climbed off the bed, his legs shaking as he stood. He’d never felt so weak in his life. Despite the cold air he was sweating, likely from the sudden energy his body required for him to move.

He fell against the dresser, using it to hold himself up. Everything hurt. He didn’t even know how long he was out for. The last thing he remembered was walking down a long stretch of road. It was snowing pretty bad and Bob was helping him walk. His eyes widened as he pushed himself off the dresser.

“Bob?” he called out.

John explored what seemed like a small hunting cabin. Bob was nowhere to be found. It was cold and there was a dying fire in a nearby fireplace. He walked around with one hand on his stomach, hoping the pain would subside at some point. God he’d kill for some whiskey right now. Outside he could see the ground was covered in a thick blanket of snow. The chill was starting to get to him so he headed back to the bedroom. This cabin was pretty barren anyways, one moderately sized room with a connected bedroom and tiny bathroom. Calling it a bedroom was very giving as it was pretty cramped with the bed and dresser. He stepped into the connected bathroom on the side.

When he saw his reflection in the dirtied mirror he audibly gasped, he looked like shit. His face was pale, hair and beard unkempt. He used the rusted scissors in the cabinet to clean up his hair and beard, leaning heavily against the counter once he was done to take a breath. Just doing that alone sapped all of his energy for the day. He ended up stumbling back to the bed, groaning when he hit the tough mattress. There was still a deep ache that reverberated outwards from his stomach. John was too nervous to move the bandages to look at the damage underneath. He didn’t even know how he was alive.

His eyes opened next when he felt movement against his right side. The bed jostled a bit, he felt fingers against his neck and a weight on his right. He blinked a few times, warm air brushed against his collarbone. It was hard to see in the dark. The only light in the room was the dim orange that spilled in through the doorway, remnants of fire still burning in the fireplace out in the other room. Slowly he reached up, touching the hand that was on his neck. The single touch had the person next to him jolt awake, hand pulling back like it was burned. Only then could he see that it was Bob.

“Bobby?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

The right side of Bob’s body was cast in an orange glow. His eyes were wide as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. There was a long moment where they just stared at each other, no words shared. Everything that happened leading up to the injury came back to John. Bob being struck, being held down, being touched and kissed. A fiery anger coiled within him and he could feel it flaring upwards. He managed to sit up, hand grabbing his stomach when he felt the pinch of pain. Bob still stared at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Hey, are you -”

Bob jumped on him, arms wrapping around his neck. The force was so strong John fell back onto the mattress. He grunted, a heavy weight being dropped on top of him. Bob had pinned John’s hand against his stomach in between their bodies. He was so warm. For a moment he laid there and simply breathed him in, he didn’t know why he felt so relieved having the man in his arms. He snaked his right hand around Bob’s body, hand coming to rest on the back of his head to hold him close.

“I didn’t think you were going to wake up,” Bob murmured into his shoulder.

“I told you to leave,” John said quietly.

Bob sat up, now looking down at him and shook his head, “I couldn’t,”

John was able to sit back up with his help, resting his back against the wooden headboard. He still felt tired but he couldn’t will himself to try and go back to sleep. It felt like he hadn’t seen Bob in so long. He was sort of annoyed by how dark it was because he couldn’t properly see his face.

“Are you okay?” John asked, a weight to his words.

Bob laughed, it sounded uncomfortable, “I’m fine,”

He reached out and grabbed Bob’s wrist, thumb smoothing over the strip of skin that was there. Bob didn’t pull away. He could feel his heartbeat thrumming underneath the pad of his thumb.

“I told you I’m fine,” Bob repeated, he sounded like he was lying to himself.

John squeezed his wrist gently, “That wasn’t fine, it was fucked up,”

Bob shook his head frustrated, “You should’ve just let me do it, you wouldn’t have been shot if I had,”

“I wasn’t going to let them do that to you,” John hissed.

Bob pulled his hand away from him to throw them both in the air, exasperated, “Yeah well it’s not like it’d have been the first fucking time I’ve had to do that to get out of a situation,”

John blinked at him, his voice softening, “Bobby…”

Just thinking about Bob having to do that made his skin crawl. It was revolting. A new wave of anger coursed through him. It wasn’t aimed at Bob but more so at the universe because why the fuck would the universe allow such things to happen to him. How could people just take advantage of someone like that? Sure the guy had a questionable past but he didn’t deserve that. Bob sat there now with his arms crossed, unable to look John in the eye. He figured Bob didn’t mean to share that information, likely said it off the cuff out of frustration.

“I don’t need your pity,” Bob muttered.

“Wasn’t giving it to you,” John retorted.

“Good,”

“Fine,”

An awkward silence fell over the small room. He was suddenly becoming eerily aware of all the other things that had happened. Like the fact that Bob had been cuddled up against him when he first woke up. John wasn’t bothered by it as much as he thought he’d be. After all, Bob was warm and he probably had his hand on John’s neck to feel his pulse. All of that could be explained away easily. The flickering orange light caught Bob’s soft gaze. John felt the heat inside of him melt away.

“Don’t do that again, I don’t care if there’s a knife to my throat just…don’t give yourself up like that,” John said, his voice tender in a way it hasn’t been in a long time.

Bob nodded once, avoiding his gaze, “Yeah, okay,”

“How long have I been out?” he asked.

Bob shrugged, “I don’t know, maybe a month. It all kinda blurs together after a while,”

A month? They were very behind schedule. He couldn’t believe he’d been out for an entire month. Bob had seriously taken care of him for that long? That warmth within him returned, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. He hadn’t had someone care about him in such a way in a long time. If Ava had been the one with him he was sure he’d probably have died. It wasn’t that Ava wouldn’t have tried but, he felt like this was different. Bob seemed to give him his all.

“Sorry, I’ll uh let you sleep,” Bob said awkwardly, already starting to climb off the bed and taking the heat with him.

John reached out and grabbed his hand, “It’s cold,”

It’s cold? Is that seriously all he could come up with? John mentally kicked himself in the head for that one. Anything else he could’ve said would’ve been better than that. Luckily Bob found it amusing, a light laugh escaping his lips as he climbed back onto the bed. John still didn’t let go of his hand, holding it tightly. He was almost afraid Bob would try to leave again if he did let go. The last thing he wanted was for Bob to leave him right now.

Bob tilted his head to the side and looked at him curiously, “Everything okay?”

John let go of his hand quickly and nodded. He sunk back down onto the mattress, head sinking into the overly plush pillow. It was too soft, he was not used to comfy things. In his peripherals Bob settled down onto the bed next to him. It felt like the space between them was a vast ravine. Would it be weird to ask him to come closer? John was cold and the blankets only did so much. Beyond that Bob was lying on top of the blankets so he couldn’t even really pull them to bunch them up around him. He lay there scowling on the ceiling, unable to get any words out of his mouth. John wasn’t very good at expressing things that he wanted.

“I’m cold,” he managed to say, his face burning hot.

Bob yawned next to him, “Yeah well it’s winter, it’ll be cold,”

“No I meant,” he groaned in frustration, throwing an arm over his face to cover his eyes, “You’re warm and I’m cold,”

He felt like a toddler. This was stupid to even attempt to ask anyways. Being injured made him needy. Olivia always used to say when he was sick that he acted like a big sucky baby. Bob must’ve clued in on what he meant because he tried to muffle his laugh with his hand. Now John was mortified.

“Forget it,” he grumbled.

Bob shifted closer to him, closing the rift that was between them, “It’s fine, just wasn’t sure you’d be comfortable with it,”

John rolled his eyes, “Well you were already on me when I woke up,”

Bob squished next to him, blankets still separating their bodies. It was better than nothing, he could still feel the warmth seeping through. The man’s back was pressed along the side of his body. It wasn’t like how it was when he first woke up but he figured Bob probably didn’t want to be wrapped up in him now that he was conscious. Before it was probably to make sure he was warm and alive. Now that John was awake Bob didn’t need to drape himself over him anymore. Still, a part of John wished the man would’ve leeched onto him.

“In my defense, it gets cold here at night and it's easier to check your pulse when I can press my finger down instead of fumbling around in the dark for a pulse point,” Bob explained before yawning again.

Silence. John was still irritated. He didn’t know why he felt this way and that was also pissing him off. He never needed anyone before so he didn’t know why he wanted Bob now. Olivia used to tell him all the time that he was emotionally stunted. Now he could see what she meant by that because even he didn’t know why he was acting this way. It wasn’t the worst feeling being close to someone. He could admit that it was even a…nice feeling.

He sighed loudly, “I’m still cold,”

Bob shifted on the bed next to him, pushing himself up onto his elbow and turned his head to look back at him over his shoulder, “Just say it,”

John’s face burned in the darkness, “Say what?”

He was sure if he could see better he would’ve seen Bob rolling his eyes. John knew he was being stubborn but he just couldn’t get the words out of his mouth. Admitting aloud that he needed something, especially that something being a person’s comfort was mortifying. John was a strong man who prided himself on being independent and self-sufficient. He didn’t need people. Bob turned over and got closer, his arm carefully sliding over John’s middle. It was as if he were trying not to scare him, moving ever so slowly.

Bob carefully put his head down against his shoulder, “Is this okay?”

John nodded, “Yeah s’fine,”

Bob snuggled against him like a cat, cheek pressed against the flannel. He felt Bob’s hand slide underneath the outer flannel layer at his side, warm fingers pressing against his ribs. John soaked in the touch, reveling in the way Bob’s fingers pressed into his flesh. A breath escaped his lips he didn’t even know he had been holding. He felt Bob chuckle against his shoulder, amused by John’s audible relief. Before he went to sleep he placed his right hand over Bob’s forearm, holding it firmly against him. Only then was he really able to sleep because he knew in the morning Bob would still be there.

Chapter Text

Bob was gentle.

It was endearing in the way he would carefully check John’s wound. His hands were steady and slow-moving in a way that put John at ease. He secretly enjoyed the time of day when Bob would go to check his bandages. The gentle warm hands were a welcoming feeling against his skin. John could soak in that feeling for what felt like forever.

Recently it has become quite the opposite. Bob was more excitable than usual, he was more talkative as well. John in his state couldn’t leave the little cabin, especially with the weather. His stomach was still tender and if he were to slip and fall he’d likely tear his stitches. Bob had his ups and downs and he figured this was one of those times. The man was arrogant, energetic, and lacked proper reason. It was very different from his usual sarcastically quiet demeanor. John didn’t hate it per se but it was becoming worrying. Bob didn’t sleep, either didn’t eat or would eat too much, and would lash out when John pointed anything out.

The spiral continued into today. Bob’s usual gentle hands were rough and clumsy. John sat on the loveseat biting his fist, trying to fight any nasty words from coming out. Every time Bob pressed antiseptic against it, deep swipes against the stitches, it felt like a stab to the stomach. It really fucking hurt.

“You should just say it,” Bob blurted out.

John drew in a sharp breath at the next swipe, “Say what?”

“I know you’re pissed off at me, I can see it in your eyes,” Bob continued, purposefully pressing hard against the wound.

John hissed, “Fucking stop, you’re being a prick,”

Bob shot to his feet and threw the cloth at him, “Yeah well do it yourself then,”

Anger was always quick to flare in John. It was his most relied upon emotion, sometimes his default one. He knew that Bob’s brashness was likely due to a manic episode. John wasn’t a dickhead, he sort of knew how this thing worked. Sort of, he was pretty sure one of Olivia’s cousins had something similar. John took a breath trying to simmer the anger boiling in his veins. The other man was so infuriating at times, especially at a time when he was so unpredictable.

“Look you haven’t slept, you’re acting all cr-”

Bob laughed, “What, crazy?!”

He bit his tongue. Words were never John’s strong suit, his fists were. Fighting was a million times easier than talking. It required less tact. He pushed himself out of the chair, stopping his hand from touching his uncovered stomach. The last thing he needed was his unwashed hands causing an infection. John pinched the bridge of his nose, an annoyed sigh escaping his lips, “That’s not what I meant,”

Bob got in his face then, “Yeah well last time I checked you’re an asshole. You think I’m the crazy one?” he laughed again and ran a hand through his hair, “The only crazy one here is the man who fucking leaves his rockstar family to -”

John shoved him back a step, “Shut up,”

Bob took a swing, his fist grabbed by John’s hand, “Fuck you,”

“Keep lashing out Bobby, just another thing I can add to the list of dealing with your goddamn problems,” he retorted.

The man’s face was flushed red with anger, his blue eyes almost black as they narrowed into a sharp glare at John. The argument was stupid, hell the whole situation was stupid. When he released Bob’s hand he watched him storm off. When the door to the cabin slammed shut he swore the walls shook. On habit he kicked the wooden coffee table, lashing out physically was one of John’s nastiest traits. The wooden leg snapped and the table collapsed in on itself, likely from its age. It was so stupid and dramatic he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Fucking Bob,” he muttered to himself.

If Yelena was here he was sure she would’ve punched him in the face for being a dickhead. It was just so frustrating dealing with Bob sometimes. He knew the other man couldn’t help it. How his brain worked wasn’t his fault. John was just a chronic asshole who treated people with gentle hands and smiles of gold like shit. When he bent down to pick up the table pieces he hissed, quickly straightening his body. Looking down he saw the blood dribbling out from the far right side of his wound, stitch popped. His mouth opened as if he was going to call for Bob, his expression quickly souring as he remembered what just happened.

He ended up popping another stitch in himself, standing in the bathroom and using the dirty mirror for assistance. It wasn’t the first time he’s had to stitch himself up but it wasn’t his favourite thing to do. Ava used to shock him with a slap to the face before stitching him up. The surprise from it would distract him from the first few and if he whined at all during it she’d do it again. He was glad Bob had some sort of bedside manner. All the women in his life would’ve been scolding him right now, he could feel their energy in the air judging him. John knew he was probably too harsh and should’ve kept his mouth shut, shoving him was also probably not the best move.

When the sky outside began darkening John began to feel worry bloom deep in his chest. The bad thoughts were starting to overpower the good. Bob was gone for too long. Sure what John said was out of line but he didn’t think he’d be gone for this long. Did he leave John? Did he run into infected and couldn’t defend himself? Did he freeze? Bob didn’t bring a jacket when he abruptly left. God is this how Olivia felt every time he was deployed? Not that he and Bob were in any way like he and Olivia, definitely not.

The exhaustion was starting to pull at his consciousness. He knew he was still healing and moving around excessively like he had been doing only tired him out more. John was a stubborn man, he wasn’t going to let Bob just leave like that. So he got dressed, grimacing as he twisted and turned to pull his proper clothes on. The rifle felt foreign in his hand, he hadn’t held it since the incident with that freaky family. Briefly he peeked out the window and saw the snow falling heavily, the area blanketed in white. That caused the worry to bloom outwards, encircling around his heart.

“Goddamnit,” he muttered to himself, heading outside.

It was freezing. The cabin itself wasn’t overtly warm but it was significantly so compared to the outdoors. Everything outside looked the same. The snow was midway up his calves and already soaking through his jeans.

“Bob!” he yelled, voice echoing for what sounded like miles.

John didn’t even know where the hell he was. This cabin was in the middle of nowhere and everything around looked the exact same. The heavy snowfall made him feel like he was wandering through limbo. He called out to Bob a few more times, hoping to god he was just being a dick sulking somewhere and not dead. The ache in his stomach was growing to a more throbbing sensation the longer he waded through the snow. Really he should be resting and allowing himself to heal but Bob missing for this long was the new priority. If something were to happen to Bob he wouldn’t know how to move past it, another tier to the list of the unforgivable things he’s done.

It was then up ahead he could see a vague figure stumbling through the snow. He raised the rifle, feeling it slot against his shoulder, eyes squinted to look through the scope. With the snow whipping around it was still hard to get a good look. The blue knit sweater was his key indicator, he lowered the rifle.

“Bob!” he yelled, hearing his voice echo.

Bob tripped and fell in the snow. When he pushed himself back up John saw the red that stained the white. It felt like his ears were ringing as he ran through the snow to the other man. When he got to Bob he could see that he was sopping wet and shaking like a leaf. Bob’s right hand was bleeding, a bite in the side of the flesh of his palm.

“I’m s-sorry,” Bob said between chattering teeth.

John shook his head, already leading him back to the cabin in the distance, “I don’t care, let’s just get inside first,”

Stepping into the cabin was like being greeted by a warm towel after a cold swim. After being out in the snowstorm and feeling the sharp cold air on his face he wasn’t going to complain about the temperature of the cabin. Not anymore. Bob stood in front of the door, water dripping off of him creating a puddle. His skin was pale, nose and fingers a bright shade of red.

“Take it off, take it all off before you freeze to death,” John instructed before heading into the bedroom.

Thankfully there were extra blankets folded and tucked under the bed. He ignored the sting in his stomach after bending over to gather them. His mind was locked in and focused on ensuring Bob didn’t lose any extremities, or die from hypothermia. When he came back out Bob was standing by the fire in his boxers which were soaked and sticking to him like paper mache. John shoved the comforter in the other man’s arms, “I said take it all off,”

Bob gaped, “W-Walker I-”

“Fine whatever, leave them on. Your dick’s just going to freeze and fall off, when that happens I’m not helping you piss” he retorted.

A long silence, for a moment he thought Bob was actually considering it. John left the room again, more so for privacy purposes. All of the walking, twisting, and stretching was killing him. He paced the width of the small bedroom for a minute before stepping back out. Bob was sitting on the ground in front of the fireplace with the comforter wrapped around his shivering body, boxers now part of the pile of his sopping wet clothes by the door. John grimaced when he went to bend over to pick them up, stopping at the sharp pain that shot outwards from his stomach. His right hand instinctively curled back to rest against the wound.

John worked through it, ignoring the constant hot ache that covered his stomach. His mind was numb as he robotically moved through tasks. He only came back to himself when he was sitting in the loveseat with Bob’s hand in his lap. The man was sitting on the floor at his feet still facing the fire, arm stretched out up to him. John was inspecting the bite after having wiped some of the blood away. If he pressed hard enough into the fleshy palm dribbles of blood would spill out of the teeth indents. A part of the skin was pulled back from where Bob presumably yanked his hand away from the infected’s mouth, he was going to need a stitch or two.

“What happened?” he asked, eyes focused on the hand.

Bob sniffled, still ice cold, “Ran into i-infected, pushed me b-back into a pond,”

It was John’s turn to repay the favour to Bob. It was the least he could do considering the man saved him from death and took care of him. He also felt a bit guilty about the argument from earlier. John was always bad with words and was quick to gaslight, another horrible trait of his. Bob’s hand twitched when he dabbed at the wound with a vodka soaked rag. The cleaning was always the worst part.

“I shouldn’t have said that earlier,” he said, his meek attempt at an apology.

Bob shrugged, “S’fine,”

When he wiped the rag over one more time Bob hissed, hand instinctively trying to jerk back towards his body. John held his hand firmly, thumb pressing into the palm of his hand. It was warm, Bob’s hand. Then again all of Bob seemed to be warm; he was akin to a furnace, always burning hot. Even now his hand was starting to warm with John holding it. The bite itself wasn’t all that deep but the teeth indents were unmistakeable. It still amazed him how Bob was able to take all of this with no repercussion. He was careful sliding the stitches in, only two were needed after all. Bob barely even twitched when the needle bobbed in and out of his skin. Once that was done John grabbed the roll of bandages from next to him.

For once John moved slowly. He was ever so careful as he gently started wrapping the fabric around the man’s wrist, drawing it upwards towards his hand. It was like wrapping a delicate gift. Briefly he looked forward, catching Bob’s gaze. Those blue eyes were watching him intently, an unusual layer of softness to them. Why did Bob have to look at him like that? He treated him like shit and the man still looked at John as if he were a hero. Quickly he looked back down at his work, covering the bite mark up with the bandages. Once it was all fixed up John still didn’t let go, he almost didn’t want to.

“Are you okay?” Bob asked, head tilted to the side.

John blinked a few times, he had spaced out, “Yeah, I’m fine,”

Bob’s eyes flickered down then back up to his face, “I’m being serious, you’re bleeding,”

John dropped Bob’s hand, looking downwards at himself. The front of his shirt had been dyed crimson. Now that Bob brought it up the pain came back in full force. He knew he tore some stitches again but that was neither here nor there. Taking care of Bob was his first priority, anything other than that came second. He stood up and grimaced, hand coming to rest against his stomach.

He waved his other hand as if to be non-chalant about it, “Just stay here and warm up, I’ll deal with it now,”

It hurt and John’s hands were shaky at best. He’d already had to stitch himself up once today he could do it a second time. This time it was three that were pulled. It stung and in between his shaking hands and exhausted body it was quite difficult to do. He bit the inside of his cheek while he poked at his stomach with the needle. The needle fell, tinkering against the countertop.

“Just stop,” Bob said from the doorway.

John turned his head and saw him standing there with the blanket still wrapped around him. He shook his head, “I’m fine Bobby,”

Bob stepped up to him, face serious, “Please just let me do it,”

The way he spoke made it hard for John to refuse him, especially with the wide blue eyes that carefully studied his face. John relented and leaned back against the counter, hands gripping the edge of the countertop. If he didn’t have anything to hold onto he’d start fidgeting and he knew that would just annoy Bob. The man stepped up to him closer, left hand holding the blanket around him while the right picked up the needle.

“Shouldn’t you be using both hands?” John asked.

Bob’s eyes flickered up under dark lashes, “You’ll be fine. This isn’t the first time I’ve stitched things up one handed,”

John scoffed, “You’re gonna botch it then I’m gonna look even worse than ‘just fine’,”

The needle pinched his skin as it went through, a second pinch and pull brought one stitch together. John squeezed his eyes shut at the uncomfortable feeling. He focused on the warmth radiating off of Bob, and could feel it warming his bare torso.

Bob hummed, “I think the scar will be pretty cool,”

John’s eye popped open to see the flush of red on Bob’s cheeks. Was he finally warming up? His hair didn’t seem as wet anymore, drying in messy ringlets that hung in front of his face. He really wanted to reach up and push the hair back. Bob had a nice face and it was a shame it was always hidden behind such messy hair. The last two stitches were pretty easy, he spent the entire time staring at Bob anyways. The other man was so focused, eyes narrowed as he expertly maneuvered the needle through John’s flesh.

Suddenly Bob dropped down to his knees, face drawing close to John’s stomach. His eyes widened, hands squeezing the edge of the countertop as he stared down at the man.

“What are you doing?” John managed to say, his heart thrumming in his chest.

Bob chuckled and glanced up at him, smirk on his face, “Don’t exactly have scissors to cut the thread,”

Warmth air brushed against his stomach, skating across the lines of stitching. It felt like his skin had been set ablaze, warm spreading within him. Bob bit the thread, snapping it between his teeth. For a moment his lips brushed against John’s skin, just barely. The action was quick but to John it felt like seconds were dragged into minutes. His skin was hot, his insides were hot, Bob was hot - John retracted that last statement. Then just as if it never happened Bob was standing up in front of him again, excess stitching being left with the needle on the counter next to the other medical supplies.

“Are you feeling okay? You look a little warm,” Bob said, raising his hand and placing the back of it against John’s forehead, “Go sleep for a bit, you’ve done a lot of shit today and you’re still injured. You need rest,”

John could only hum in response, eyes locked in on Bob’s retreating blanketed figure as he left the room. Once he saw Bob had for sure left and gone into the main room of the cabin could he let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Everything was hot and dizzying but oddly it was in the best way possible. He didn’t feel like shit, he felt like he was on a high. Electricity buzzed through his veins beneath his skin. The only thing replaying in his head was the image of Bob on his knees in front of him. His face so close to John’s stomach and those mischievous eyes looking up at him through dark lashes. It was devastating. John refused to think about it any longer, heading to the bed for some well needed rest.

The only thing he could dream of was Bob in that bathroom with him. It was one thing to dream it, another for him to acknowledge it in a conscious manner. John was not going to do that.

Chapter Text

The next few weeks were insanely painful and mindnumbing. It was more and the same like every other day. Bob’s mania had subsided and he went back to fussing over John’s wound with extreme care. The problem was that John couldn’t stop watching Bob, he found himself captivated by the other man. That had quickly become his favourite pastime. John wasn’t exactly subtle with it and Bob had caught him staring on more than one occasion. The longer they spent together the more they learned about each other. He didn’t know yet if that was a good or bad thing.

As he healed the exhaustion that came with being injured slowly left him. Which meant that the nightmares were back. It wasn’t like John slept well in the first place but if he wasn’t exhausted to the bone his dreams would haunt him. He would describe it as being strapped to a rollercoaster knowing that at some point the tracks were broken and you’d go flying off. It was a ride that wouldn’t stop, every night it was like clockwork. He’d try staying up and sometimes he was successful but other nights he’d wake up in a cold sweat with a scream caught in his throat.

John started avoiding Bob at night when the nightmares began to become more consistent. At night he would lie and say he wasn’t tired, instead camping out on the loveseat by the fireplace. It killed him the few times Bob woke him up. That was before John started avoiding him, letting the other man have the entire bed to himself. The loveseat wasn’t the worst place he’s slept and the fire was nice, although it wasn’t the same as the warmth that would radiate off Bob’s body.

Tonight was the same as the others. He was fighting off the sleep that was starting to pull at the edges of his consciousness. His finger was hooked through the ring around his neck, rolling the gold band between his thumb and index. In his peripherals he caught sight of Bob trailing into the room, comforter wrapped around his frame. He sank down on the ground in front of the fireplace without a word, staring at the flames tiredly. John could see the look in his eyes, something haunted as the flames reflected in them.

Bob stuck his arm out from the blanket, rotating it to look at the scars, “Do you think I was meant to be this way?”

John hummed, shoving the chain back under his shirt, “Like what? An immune freak?”

Bob snorted, “No, I just mean like everything,”

What did he mean by that? John propped his head against his hand, elbow resting on the arm of the chair. Bob’s arm was bathed in amber light from the fireplace. The crackling of the flames filled the silence. John rolled the man’s words around in his brain for a minute or two. Truthfully he didn’t have an answer for him, not in that regard.

“How’d you even figure it out anyways?” John asked before adding, “The whole being immune thing,”

Bob shrugged his shoulders, arm drawing back into the blanket wrapped around him. The man sniffed and John could see the glassiness of his eyes. Was this still a no-no question? John couldn’t help that he was curious. But then Bob sighed as if the weight of the world were peeling off his shoulders. His chin rested on his knees that were pulled to his chest beneath the blanket, staring straight ahead at the fire. John was quiet, he could be patient when he wanted to be. He knew Bob required a lot of patience.

“My life was a fucking disaster before all this shit happened, didn’t change much after either. There was a lot of drugs - made me feel better. It’s hard to get food rations let alone drugs and man I was desperate. We’re not supposed to leave the zone but I knew there was a pharmacy just outside of the area…I didn’t think it’d be that bad out there,” Bob rambled, running a hand through his hair.

John understood the naivety of it. The man was an addict and addicts did desperate things to scratch that itch. Bob shook his head, “It’s stupid, probably don’t care anyways,”

“I’m listening,” he said, eyes calm as he studied the man a few steps away from him.

Bob frowned, not out of sadness but of consideration. He didn’t think Bob had a lot of people in his life that were willing to listen to him. John had been learning, studying Bob’s behaviours were the only thing he could do while stuck in this cabin. He knew how Bob would perk up when John listened to something he’d say, even more so when it was a suggestion for something. He wondered what the man was thinking at that moment. John kept quiet, counting the seconds of silence that ticked by. He feared any small movement or word would spook Bob from continuing the story. John didn’t even care about the why he was immune; he only really cared now about how it affected Bob.

“Didn’t get far, got jumped a few streets over by three of them. I managed to get away and I found the pharmacy, didn’t matter anyways ‘cause I was fucked. So I did the only thing I’m good at…got fucking high and waited to die,” Bob continued, he sniffed again.

A million thoughts were running through John’s head. He didn’t even know how he would react to being infected. Bob was a vulnerable person, he was probably terrified. John could hear the hurt in his voice when he spoke. Words were never his strong suit so instead he stood and sat down on the floor next to him, throwing his arm around his shoulders and pulling him against his side.

Bob seemed to deflate against him, “I thought I was going to die and - and I was fine with it,”

John closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. He’d had plenty of moments like that, sometimes it seemed easier to just let go than to continue. Especially when everything first happened.

“How do you do it?” Bob asked, he seemed genuine.

John’s eyes opened, his chest felt heavy, “You just keep going, one day at a time,”

“It’s hard,” Bob whispered, almost as if he meant it just for himself.

His arm tightened around the other man, “I know,”

The conversation died there. He still didn’t know how the Valentina connection came into play, he assumed some of her crew found Bob when they were searching for infected to bring back to the lab. There was no way three infected did all of that to Bob. The man shifted against him, head dropping against John’s shoulder as he tried to get comfortable. He could feel the curls of hair brushing against his neck.

“Do you miss your family?” Bob asked, he sounded a bit apprehensive.

John’s chest ached, “Every day,”

Suddenly Bob moved, sitting up and turning to face John. When he looked at Bob he could see the determination in his eyes. Pale arms stuck out from the blanket, Bob looked down at them tracing the scars with his eyes.

“Look I don’t know why this shit happened to me but I can at least try to do something good with it,” Bob said, he looked up and smiled, “Do you think after Val runs these tests she’ll have a cure?”

Honestly John wasn’t sure. He wasn’t a doctor, he could barely do basic first aid at the best of times. One thing he knew Valentina had was time, determination, and smart people around her. Surely she would have some doctors in Washington that would know what the hell they were doing. He assumed she would probably have a lab full of doctors waiting and ready to receive them once they got there. John was never a man to believe in hope, everything had been so goddamn horrible up until this point. But the shine in Bob’s eyes as he sat across from him, well, maybe John could have a little hope himself.

He nodded, “Yeah Bobby, I’m sure she can figure something out,”

Bob’s smile widened, hands dropping in his lap, “Your families in D.C right?”

He nodded again, “Yep,”

Bob playfully punched him in the shoulder, “Well when this is all done maybe we can go to them?”

John forced a smile onto his face, “Yeah, sure,”

After that Bob went back to bed, he seemed a lot lighter after their conversation. John was glad he was able to comfort him in some way. The man always seemed so torn to bits on the inside. He sat by the fire for a bit longer, fingers toying with the ring around his neck. Thinking about his family was something he tried not to do very often. He and Olivia had a real nasty fight the last time they spoke. John said some things he wasn’t proud of. He could feel his eyes begin to burn. Why did Bob have to be so nice? He dragged the guy across the country through some of the most treacherous conditions and he was willing to go back across it with him.

For the first time in a long time he cried. The tears wouldn’t stop and he felt absolutely raw inside. He kept quiet, muffling his heaving breaths in his arms as he buried his head in them like a coward. John didn’t want Bob to see or hear. It felt like if Bob were to see him this way the illusion would break. He would no longer be the strong one. It was undeserving the amount of care and kindness the other man laid on him. John didn’t deserve any of it. He cried until he was weary. When he stood his stomach wasn’t aching in the usual manner, sure it was tender but it wasn’t painful.

He knew they would need to continue on soon enough. They couldn’t stay here forever cooped up in this shoebox of a cabin. He wiped at his face, tears soaking into the sleeve of his shirt. For the first time in a while he went back into the room and climbed onto the bed. Bob was sleeping soundly, arm hanging off the side of the bed. John stared at his back for the longest time, at one point he reached out but paused. Instead he let his hand fall against the mattress in the void between their two bodies. The heat radiating from the other man was just touching the tips of his fingers.

The ache in his heart made him selfish, he just wanted the pain to stop. He knew this was dangerously bordering on codependency. At the moment he didn’t care, hand finding Bob’s waist to drag him backwards across the bed. Bob’s hand landed on his, signalling that he was awake.

“Cold?” Bob asked, voice tinged with sleep.

“Mmhm,” John hummed, settling in behind him.

In the back of his mind he knew the cold excuse was just a cop out. He was sure Bob knew it as well but was just being nice. John sighed, arm around Bob’s middle holding him against his chest. The man whispered something unintelligible before falling back asleep, head slotted under John’s chin. The warmth and weight in his arms was comforting. The ache in his heart melted away with every breath that escaped Bob’s lips as he slept soundly. He laid like that for a while just listening to him breathe. John didn’t know how it came to this, becoming so dependent on someone like this.

When he awoke in the morning it was strange. He was warm and his body felt well rested. He blinked the sleep from his eyes and noticed the comforter that was thrown over him. Warm breaths brushed against his neck and when he looked down he saw Bob’s face pressed against his neck. One of his hands was tangled in the front of John’s shirt holding him in place. John couldn’t help but watch him. There was something so endearing watching the peace on his face as he slept. An intrusive thought sparked in his brain at that moment, whispering in his ear to lean down and kiss the top of his head.

That thought alone scared the shit out of him. Perhaps it was the hammering of his heart in his chest or the way he shifted but suddenly Bob was awake. Blue eyes flickered open as consciousness slowly expanded. John laid there frozen, did Bob somehow know what he was thinking? The front of his shirt was released and Bob looked up at him, blinking a few times before a lazy smile appeared on his face.

“Morning,” Bob said quietly.

John’s face was warm, unable to utter a word. He quickly removed his arm from around the man and rolled onto his back. In his peripherals he could see Bob stretching out like a cat, a yawn escaping his lips. John turned his head, eyes tracing the man’s frame as he stretched his arms out. Bob’s hair was mused, one sleeve rolled up to his elbow to reveal the crescent shaped marks that marred his skin. When he sat up and stretched upwards the bottom of his sweater rode upwards. John’s thoughts were bouncing off the walls of his skull, urging him to reach out and touch the strip of exposed skin.

What the hell was wrong with him? Bob lowered his arms and looked back over his shoulder, a small smile on his face. The smile was innocent enough. For John it was like a strike of lightning that rattled his bones in the best way possible. Bob was going to be the undoing of John Walker, he knew it. Instead John shook his head and sat up.

“We’re leaving tomorrow,” he said, shattering the peaceful morning.

Bob frowned, “Already?”

“Yeah, we’ve been here too long anyways and it’s pretty much healed now,” he said, more so trying to convince himself.

“The stitches are still in and there’s a lot of snow and -”

John snapped, “We’re leaving,”

He didn’t mean to snap that way, it just sort of happened. Bob went quiet, turning away from him and nodding to himself. They needed to continue on anyway. They couldn’t stay here forever, clearly they needed to go because John was starting to go crazy. The intrusive thoughts sparking in his brain were distracting and embarrassing. Bob jumped off the bed and headed out of the room, head hung low and fingers twisting together. Mentally he cursed himself because what the hell was wrong with him? Why did he always lash out when he was in a crisis?

Begrudgingly he left the warmth of the bed and headed into the main room. Bob was lingering by the kitchenette looking out the cracked window over the sink. He seemed a bit lost, likely stuck replaying their last interaction over and over again. John noticed that he tended to do that a lot, he figured it was the anxiety. Bob didn’t really acknowledge him when he appeared at his side, leaning back against the counter next to him.

John crossed his arms and looked down at the ground, “Sorry,”

Bob hummed in response, still looking out the window.

John reached out before he could stop himself, hand touching Bob’s chin and moving his head to turn and look at him. Bob leaned into the touch ever so slightly. It was magnetic and John found his hand moving up his jaw to rest against his cheek. His thumb ran across the stubble there causing Bob to hum again.

“We leave tomorrow?” Bob asked, eyes now closed.

John nodded, “Yeah,”

Bob opened his eyes, “Okay,”

The moment ended just like that. He pulled his hand away and crossed his arms, watching as Bob left his side to head to the fireplace. His hand curled into a fist under his armpit, palm burning from where it held Bob’s face. He bit the inside of his cheek and tried to look anywhere but at Bob. In the back of his mind he knew why this was happening to him but to say it out loud meant it was real. John didn’t want it to be real, not yet. He didn’t know if he could handle it.

Chapter Text

The winter was always the worst. It was harsh, cold, and devoid of any colours. John was never a fan of the cold weather. His legs were cold and achy from the snow melting against the bottom of his pant legs. Hell his pants were practically stuck to his legs, he’d be shocked if he didn’t get any frostbite. The two of them walked at a manageable pace. His stomach ached after the continuous trudging through the thick snow. He kept quiet, not wanting to prove Bob’s point that they should’ve stayed at the cabin longer. John was stubborn in that way.

A snowball hit the back of his head, snow sliding down his neck beneath his coat. It made him go rigid, turning around and glaring at Bob who was many steps behind him. The brunet had a mischievous glint in his eyes and a grin on his face. His fingers were bright red as he balled up another batch of snow and threw it in John’s direction. This time John ducked as the ball went over his head into the snow behind him.

“Are you seriously doing this right now?” John asked, unimpressed.

Bob laughed, “Yes I am, it’s quite fun actually,”

“We don’t have time for this,” John said as another snowball broke against his chest.

“I actually think we have plenty of time for this,” Bob argued, bending over to grab more snow, “Y’know it’s not like anything’s out here anyways, I think you can have a little fun…if you know how,”

It was childish. John hadn’t played in the snow since he was like ten-years-old. Yet he couldn’t seem to resist the challenge of it. Bob was quicker and able to dodge a lot of his throws. However, Bob was not as good at aiming when his target began to actually move around. He only hoped that his aim with a gun would be better than his throws. It was an odd feeling settling inside of him. John found himself actually having fun. At one point Bob tripped in the snow and fell face first to the ground. When he pushed himself up and turned over to sit, John launched another snowball at his face.

Bob spit snow out onto the ground, “You’re a cheater,”

“It’s not cheating,” he countered.

Bob wiped at his face with the sleeve of his jacket, “I would think hitting someone when they’re down is cheating,”

John rolled his eyes, now standing over him, and held his hand out to him, “Yeah, yeah, all I’m hearing is ‘sore loser’ coming from your mouth,”

Bob took his hand, cold fingers curling around his, and was pulled to his feet. They stood there for a moment face to face, foggy breaths mingling together in the air. John’s fingers were near numb at this point. There were specks of snow in Bob’s eyelashes, blue eyes staring back at him. It was quiet, nobody was out here but them. The only thing that could be heard was their heavy breaths. For a moment Bob’s eyes flickered down and then back up, he drew in a breath. John quickly looked away, releasing Bob’s hand and shoving his own hands into the pockets of his coat.

“Okay enough shenanigans, we’ve got a lot of land to cover before sundown,” he said, clearing his throat.

The man next to him scoffed, “Who even says the word ‘shenanigans’?”

“Uh me, maybe I’m just the smarter one out of us, big vocabulary and all,” John responded, turning around to continue onwards.

Bob snorted, “Yeah Walker, I’m sure it’s the vocabulary that separates us, we’re definitely miles apart,”

“Wow and here I thought we were starting to get along,” John said sarcastically.

Bob caught up to him, smacking his shoulder against his. That then caused John to push back against him a bit harder. It was stupid, they were being childish. The shoving didn’t last long and it ended when Bob tripped him causing him to almost fall into the snow. After that they continued on. They walked for a while longer, trudging through the snow. A deep ache was starting to form in his stomach, he knew they’d need to stop soon. Instead of reveling in the pain he opened his mouth to distract himself.

“What does it feel like?” he asked aloud.

Bob raised an eyebrow, “What does what feel like?”

“You know,” John motioned to Bob’s body, “That stuff,”

Bob smirked, “And I thought you had such a large vocabulary,” he paused and looked down at his hand where the healing bite mark was on the side, “For one it fucking hurts, just as much as any other bite or cut,”

“Okay well I don’t have people biting me so I wouldn’t know,” John retorted.

The smirk on Bob’s face grew devilish, “Now that can’t be true, I’m sure you and Olivia -”

“No,” John cut in, halting the conversation then and there.

He could feel the heat in his face and was glad it was so cold out. The embarrassed flush could easily be played off as the chill affecting him. Briefly he looked to the side and saw Bob still smirking to himself, hands shoved in his pockets. Their conversation was interrupted by a few infected that shakily stood up from the snow. John lowered his rifle, slinging it over his shoulder and exchanging it for his knife.

He opened his mouth, ready to repeat his usual rules before taking on infected, “Don’t -”

“Don’t shoot or whatever, I know already,” Bob interjected.

John rolled his eyes but on the inside a sense of pride filled him. Clearly his knowledge was being absorbed by Bob, even if it meant the man was using it to mock him it still meant he was listening. The infected weren’t too difficult to deal with. One plus for the cold weather was how slow the infected moved because of it. They seemed to be almost sluggish. For John it made it a lot easier to kill them, especially with his stomach hissing with every strained movement.

At one point day transitioned into night and the two of them were left wandering around on the dark snow covered road alone. With the sun below the horizon the air was near frigid, his fingers shaking around the flashlight. Sometime between the sun setting and now Bob had grabbed his hand, even with their hands joined together it was still cold. The snow crunched under their boots as they continued along the road, wind kicked up the top powdery layer spinning it around them.

“How are you not scared?” Bob whispered, his head on a swivel.

John shook the flashlight to stop the flickering, “Didn’t say I wasn’t scared, it’s pitch black in the middle of nowhere this shit’s creepy,”

Every howl of wind or sound in the distance shot bolts of anxiety through his body. He could feel Bob jump every now and then, sometimes even banging into him. They stayed quiet, only exchanging a few words through whispers. The last thing he wanted was infected jumping them in the dark like this. It was too cold to stay outside all night and they had yet to find a building to camp in for the night. He hoped they weren’t too far away from anything, although he was starting to get worried with how long they had been walking with nothing in sight.

“Nothing’s out here right?” Bob asked, voice low.

John smiled in the dark, “Don’t worry Bobby, I’ll make sure you’re safe,”

A snap coming from the trees on their right put him on high alert. He turned the flashlight off and pulled Bob down to the ground with him, snow up to their knees. Bob laced their fingers together, squeezing his hand likely out of fear. He dropped the flashlight in his lap and held the rifle up with his right hand, shoving it under his armpit. The moonlight filtering in from the clouds above was just enough to provide a low light. He squinted and looked through the scope and scanned the treeline. Maybe it was the darkness but everything seemed so much more horrifying out here.

They waited for what felt like forever. He could practically feel the anxiety rolling off of Bob in waves. When no further sounds came and nothing was spotted on the scope he stood, pulling Bob up with him. From then on Bob stayed glued to his side, not breathing so much as a word. Thankfully after ten minutes of walking they came upon the outskirts of a neighbourhood. John picked the first house closest to the road they were on. The garage was old and he was able to pry it open with Bob’s help, both of them sliding under and inside. It wasn’t much warmer than outside but the lack of wind made it a bit better. As soon as John stood up Bob was immediately at his side again, taking his hand in his.

John gently ran his thumb over the back of the man’s cold hand in an attempt to ease his nerves. The house was easy to clear. They avoided the upstairs because the roof had been leaking, water turned to ice on the steps. It looked weak and he didn’t want to risk them falling through should they attempt to climb it. He stood at the edge of the staircase leading to the basement, the flashlight shining down into the darkness. It was like a setup to every horror movie he’s ever seen.

“You can’t be serious,” Bob muttered.

John started walking down the stairs pulling Bob along with him, “I mean you have to admit, this isn’t the worst thing we’ve done,”

Bob shook his head, “I don’t know what’s worse, going from whatever the hell was going on out there or this creepy ass basement,”

“I would argue the hospital was worse,” John retorted, finally getting to the floor.

Bob squeezed his hand again, “Yeah well I’d take that hospital over this anyday,”

The flashlight and darkness made the place feel way creepier than it probably was. The basement itself was half-finished. There were walls but the ground was still concrete, a bunch of boxes were shoved to one side. In the corner there was some workout equipment with old clothes hanging off it on hangers. Bob let go of his hand and at the sudden loss John whipped around. When the light found Bob he was sitting on an old couch. It reminded him of the furniture that would be in his grandmother’s house; tacky fabric but super broken-in and plushy.

“I call dibs,” Bob said with a grin.

John rolled his eyes, hand falling onto his hip, “If anyone gets dibs it should be me, after all the searching and shit I just did,”

Bob patted the spot next to him, “We can share,”

His eyes narrowed, “Fine,”

“Fine,” Bob replied just as easily.

They definitely could’ve found a better way to share the couch. If they were normal individuals one of them would’ve slept on the floor or they would’ve slept sitting up. For the two of them it was almost like a game of chicken. How far could they go before one of them chickened out? It was a silent communication of sorts, no words being spoken from either of their mouths. In the dark they fumbled around until John was lying on top of Bob, body between the man’s legs. John would’ve been the one lying on his back but he didn’t think his stomach could take Bob’s weight on top with the ache it currently had.

When Bob wrapped his arms around him John soaked in the feeling. The other man was solid and warm beneath him. A brief flash of him lying on Olivia like this shot through his brain. Absent-mindedly he toyed with the furry edge of Bob’s hood that stuck out from underneath his neck. He paused when a hand carded through his hair. Bob gently dragged his fingers across his scalp in the best ways possible. It turned him into putty. The feeling was sleep inducing and he could feel the heaviness in his eyes as he blinked in the darkness. Bob’s fingers suddenly paused over the scar on the back of his head.

“Does it still hurt?” Bob asked, voice quiet.

John hummed, “Not so bad,”

It was embarrassing how malleable he was from Bob just holding him and running a hand through his hair. He hadn’t had such affection in such a long time. Bob seemed to grace him with soft gentle touches. John was such a fool. He closed his eyes, memorizing the feeling of Bob’s fingers dragging across his scalp. A sigh escaped his lips, he couldn’t help it.

Bob laughed, “Didn’t know this was all it took to get you to shut up,”

“Fuck you,” John yawned.

Bob rolled his eyes, a smirk on his lips and sarcasm on his tongue, “Yeah you wish,”

A silence fell over them. It wasn’t an uncomfortable one. The air around them was still as if Bob had frozen time with his very words. John laid still on him squeezing his eyes closed. Suddenly he was hyper aware of every one of Bob’s movements. The way his chest rose and fell under his body, his fingers mindlessly dragging through his hair, warm breaths that escaped his lips. An intrusive thought entered his mind at that moment. What would it feel like to kiss the other man, to swallow him and breathe him in like it was the only oxygen he needed? Would Bob even want to kiss him? If he did kiss him would he taste like every bit of warmth and gentleness that he possessed?

He laid awake for hours, unable to close his eyes in fear of what else would appear in his twisted mind. At one point he had to think of Valentina and Valentina only to rid any other thoughts of Bob from his mind. It felt wrong, especially when Bob was lying underneath him like this. The guilt over these intrusive thoughts were even worse because John felt like he was somehow taking advantage of him by thinking about him this way. It made no sense but in his tired mind at the time it was the only thing he could focus on.

It was an inner turmoil that he fought within himself for most of the night. A part of him felt like he was betraying Olivia. He fought the urge to reach for the necklace, feeling the ring pressed between their two chests. The feeling of warm fingers carding through his hair and strong arms securely wrapped around him were so comforting. John had been alone for so long he hadn’t realized how much he missed this. He convinced himself for years it was something he didn’t need, something he didn’t deserve. The last part was maybe still true but god he wasn’t going to not indulge when he had the chance.

Bob was asleep now, he knew by the way the man breathed. One hand was still tangled in John’s hair while the other was around his shoulders. The man was like a radiator emitting enough heat that John wasn’t freezing in the cold basement. Selfishly he snaked his arms underneath Bob, holding him close. Bob mumbled something in his sleep, arm around John’s shoulders briefly tightening before falling loose again. It was so selfish but for one night John closed his eyes and let himself believe that Bob was his.

A light tug to his hair and the feeling of gentle fingers dancing across his scalp was what woke him up. It was an unusually good way to wake up. There was a small amount of light filtering in through the egress windows around the basement.

“You talk a lot in your sleep,” Bob said from above him.

John blinked and glanced up, noticing that Bob was in fact sitting up now on the couch with John’s head resting in his lap. Immediately John scrambled to sit up, moving to sit on the opposite side of the couch. Bob chuckled to himself before crossing his arms and leaning back against the arm of the couch.

John looked anywhere but at him, “Could’ve just woken me up,”

“It’s fine, I didn’t mind,” Bob said, his tone was warm just like everything else about him, “Plus, you need the rest anyways,”

It was hard for John to make eye contact with the other man. The guilt from the intrusive thoughts was still eating him alive. Bob scooted closer to him, probably sensing something was off. John could only keep his head down, instead staring at his hands as he could feel the heat melting away from where they were shoved underneath Bob earlier.

“Is it your stomach? You probably need to change the bandages, I have some extra in my bag,” Bob said, leaning over the side of the couch to grab his backpack.

John shook his head and finally looked up, “No, I’m fine,” he stood from the couch feeling the ache in his legs, “Daylights limited, we should head out now,”

Bob frowned ever so slightly, “You’re still healing I think you should rest for a bit longer,”

“I don’t need you nagging me, you’re not my fucking wife,” John hissed, grabbing his backpack from the floor and heading towards the staircase.

He knew it was a nasty thing to say but he couldn’t stop the words from coming out of his mouth. His heart was pounding in his chest and the guilt was eating him alive. The last thing he needed was Bob fussing over him, gentle hands touching his stomach. He had to shake his head to rid the thoughts from continuing, his face felt hot enough to melt the snowflakes falling outside. John walked ahead at a brutal pace, trudging through the snow out of spite. He felt like he was one kind touch away from spiralling.

Bob was glaring daggers into the back of his head, he could feel it. The angry cloud behind him followed quietly, silence quelled by anger. John knew there was going to be a fight at some point, he could feel it brewing. Why did he have to be such a dickhead? It’s not like he meant it. But telling Bob that he’d probably jump him if he laid another hand on him was not the best course of action. So lashing out at him instead was the only way John knew how to keep him at arms length.

The ache in his stomach grew to an uncomfortable burning sensation. His quick pace and trudging through the knee deep snow caused the stitches to rub against the inside of his shirt. John bared it, gritting his teeth and clenching and unclenching his hands. The pain was the one thing he could focus on, blocking everything else from his thoughts. When the sun began to dip towards the horizon like clockwork they found a jewelry store in the town they were passing through to rest in for the night. John paced back and forth, cold hands shaking and stomach burning.

Bob appeared in front of him, hands grabbing the zipper of John’s jacket and dragging it down, “You’re so fucking stubborn,”

“What are you doing?” John asked, breath catching in his throat as Bob’s cold fingers grabbed the bottom of his shirt.

Bob shook his head, continuing his rant as he pulled John’s shirt up to reveal the blood stained bandages, “A little bit of comfort and it’s like a switch flips in your brain telling you to be a shitty person, well guess what dipshit you don’t get to do that with me,”

“Bob I -” his words were cut off by a hiss as Bob took the bandages off.

The wound looked irritated, red and splotchy with blood weeping from the gaps between the stitched areas. He had been straining himself, doing it on purpose to feel the pain. It was something he could focus on. Bob’s face was twisted in equal parts anger and disappointment. The cold air against his stomach was a stark difference from the burning of the wound. In a way the cold was almost a relief. Bob dropped his shirt and took his backpack off. When John tried to move away from him his hand landed on his chest halting him from doing so.

He ended up sitting on the glass countertop, Bob standing between his legs. John looked down and to the right, focusing on the diamond rings displayed beneath him. The ring hanging around his neck never felt heavier. Bob dropped one hand onto his thigh while the other dug through his backpack on the counter next to John. For Bob it was probably nothing but for John it was driving him crazy. He was hyper aware of the way Bob’s fingers gently pressed into the jean material stretching over his thigh. The man was unaware of John’s heavy gaze on him, eyes tracking every miniscule movement.

Bob removed his hand and began to clean the blood from around the wound with a soaked rag. The vodka on it was ice cold yet hot at the same time as it glided across the wound. Goosebumps rippled across his skin, hands squeezing the edge of the glass counter. If he were any stronger he’s sure the glass would’ve cracked. The cleaning was always the worst. Then it was just Bob’s hands, gently dancing across his stomach as he inspected the stitches. None of them seemed to have pulled out. When Bob went to wrap new bandages around him he had to lean in close to get it around him.

“I’m not your wife but I am someone that cares about you so stop being such a prick,” Bob said while tying the bandages off.

John’s voice was low when he spoke, “You’re right, you’re not my wife,”

The words alone caused Bob to finally look at him. It was then and there that John finally allowed himself to search Bob’s face. His eyes flickered across studying the deepness of his eyes, slope of his nose, the few freckles that dotted his skin. He fought the urge to reach his hands up to grab his face, instead keeping them on the cracked counter. Bob took a breath and looked back down to pull John’s shirt down over the bandages. It felt unnecessarily slow, like a reverse strip tease. There his brain went again, what the hell was wrong with him? John leaned forward and dropped his forehead against Bob’s shoulder. The guilt was back again.

“Sorry,” John said, his apology echoing through the shop.

Bob’s arms snaked around him, pulling him into a hug. The apology had no weight to it for John wasn’t sorry. If he had less self restraint he was sure Bob would’ve been pressed against the counter under him already. The thought alone stirred something hot deep within him. Desire like that was something he hadn’t felt in a long time. He really didn’t know what he was going to do with himself and these feelings. John was never good with feelings.

They settled in the back room of the shop. It was like the other times they’ve slept in shops where they’d find a corner to huddle in and Bob would press against his side. Bob’s arms were wrapped around John’s right arm, anchoring him in place. There wasn’t much John could do besides sit there with Bob’s warm body on his right and the solid wall on his left. Some light was afforded from some gaps in the roof where the moonlight was able to get in. He was able to watch Bob sleep for a while. Being alone with him felt like a dangerous thing. Then there was the guilt that settled in his stomach like a heavy stone. Just because he felt this way didn’t mean Bob did too.

So he did what he always did and buried it deep down and away. He could indulge in the small gifts of Bob’s gentle hands and warmth. But to indulge in anything further would lead John astray. In truth, he was scared of who he might become if he was able to have Bob in that way.

Chapter Text

The more he healed the less tired he became at night. No sleep meant John would sit in an endless cycle of thinking about every terrible thing he had done in his life. Whether it be things he did before the infection swept the nation, letting down his friends, his family…himself. Some nights he would’ve rather sit alone in the cold to let the numbness swallow his body whole. Other nights he would be holding onto Bob as if he were his one and only lifeline in this world. The cold and snow was only getting worse and the closer they got to Washington state the worse the terrain became.

Everything was heavily wooded with vast amounts of trees they had to weave through. Sometimes they would come across a few infected but mostly it was just them. John tempered himself, making sure his gaze wouldn’t linger too long on the other man. He could hardly bear it. Bob would look at him in a way that made John feel like he could save the world. The amount of trust the man had in him was way too much. It was undeserving. He feared letting him down. It wouldn’t be the first time and it certainly wouldn’t be the last time.

A particularly dense snowstorm forced them to stop their journey short for the day. There was nothing around them and with a white sheet of snow wrapping around them it was hard to see where they were going. Up ahead they had spotted an overturned transport truck half buried on the edge of the road. It was John’s idea for them to take refuge in the trailer. There were a few boxes inside the trailer that they climbed over to get to the back.

Bob picked up one of the small boxes and shook it, “You think there’s anything good in here?”

John shrugged, not really paying it any mind, “Probably useless shit,”

Bob frowned and placed the box back down, eyes raking over John’s body as if he was looking for something. It was hard to hide things from him now. They had been together for so long they could read each other like a book. John shoved some boxes out of the way and took a seat, pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes. A headache was forming and had been for the last thirty minutes. He didn’t even need to open his eyes to know Bob was now next to him, warmth travelled with him wherever he went. John craved it, he wanted to soak it in and let it bleed throughout his body.

“What’s wrong?” Bob asked.

John shrugged again, still covering his eyes, “Nothing’s wrong,”

“Well something is wrong. For someone who’s always on about looking for things to use you don’t seem super amazed by this truck of mystery boxes,” Bob pointed out, nudging the man with his arm.

The irritation was slowly but surely starting to set in. John was trying to be better and temper himself from lashing out. It was hard but he was trying. There were a lot of things wrong with him but he didn’t want to say any of it. If he spoke some of the things in his head out loud they would become real.

He sighed and finally dropped his hands from his eyes, “Sorry, I’ve just been doing a lot of thinking,”

“About Olivia?” Bob asked without a second thought.

John’s gut twisted, “About a lot of things, yes she’s one of them but there’s just a lot going on,”

A sincere smile spread across Bob’s face, he had such a lovely smile. Bob was smiling more often nowadays, most of it aimed towards John. It made him feel a bit better. There was something so infectious about Bob’s smile. He felt the man nudge him in the side again. Bob was grinning now, “She’ll be happy to see you,”

John looked away from Bob, he couldn’t look at his smiling face anymore. It was starting to physically hurt him. Olivia wouldn’t want to see him, she hated him. The worst part is that John could never blame her for it. He couldn’t get any words out, only being able to muster up a tight smile. The twisting in his gut turned into a stone, settling hard and cold within him. It was an awful feeling. It was like Bob had a sixth sense for these things because he touched John’s arm, a comforting squeeze on his bicep. John shook him off, keeping his mouth shut. The man got the message and could probably see the annoyance on John’s face.

“I’m sorry,” Bob whispered, shifting away from him.

John pressed his hands against his eyes again, “Yeah, me too,”

That night it was cold and the trailer rattled as the wind outside whipped against it. The metal wall of the trailer beneath him was like sitting on ice. Bob couldn’t sleep either with all the noise. He was sitting on one of the overturned skids, John’s flashlight in one hand while the other dug through a box. Curiosity got to the better of him earlier on and he had been rooting through a bunch of the boxes to pass the time. John sat in the dark watching him, tracing the way the light carved shadows onto his face. It made him look more severe, his usual boyish charm sharpened by the dark shadows.

“Anything good?” he asked, voice echoing down the trailer.

Bob smiled to himself in a way that softened those harsh features, “You were right, it’s a lot of useless shit,”

John scoffed, “I’m always right,”

Bob rolled his eyes but the smile was still on his face, “Yeah, sure we’ll go with that,”

John felt like he was a million miles away from him. It was a mere few feet but from where he currently sat in the cold dark Bob may as well have been on another planet. He longed to reach out and hold him, sink into the warmth that was Bob. His eyes trailed down his arm to where he was holding a book he got from one of the boxes. John stood, legs aching from the cold, and walked over to where he was sitting on the skid. He crowded in behind him, peering down over his shoulder.

“I thought you said this stuff was shit,” he pointed out, a hand coming to rest on Bob’s shoulder so he could lean in closer.

Bob sighed, “You don’t look like you do a lot of reading,”

“Psh, I do so much reading,” John tried to play off.

He in fact did not do a lot of reading. It wasn’t that he couldn’t read, he just couldn’t get his brain to focus on something like that. John also never had the time to really sit and read a book, everything was always full speed ahead with him. He remembered earlier on in their journey when Yelena gave Bob a book she found. Bob would curl up at night by the fire to read, always so engrossed in whatever story it was. John admired his patience and dedication to the hobby. Just then Bob reached beside him, pulling out a children’s book. It was colourful and the cover had a number of goofy looking characters on it.

He narrowed his eyes, “I’m not five years old I know how to read,”

Bob laughed and shook his head, “You’re an idiot,” he held the book up towards him, “I know we don’t have a lot of room in the bags but I was thinking we can keep it and bring it for your kid when we see him. I think it’d be a good peace offering,”

The heaviness in his stomach grew tenfold. John felt physically ill and must’ve reacted that way because Bob hissed from the sudden strong grip on his shoulder. He immediately let go and took a step back, stumbling over a few boxes on the ground. The trailer was really quite the tripping hazard. Bob put the book down and swung his legs off the side of the skid so he could face him now. There was concern on his face, eyes soft in a doe-like way that made John want to die.

“I didn’t - sorry I just, sorry,” Bob said, head dropping as he scratched the back of his head uncomfortably.

John could feel his stomach turning, a thousand thoughts racing through his brain at once. He practically ran out of the trailer, falling into the snow outside. When he landed on his knees he felt the vomit crawl up his throat. It couldn’t be helped. The wind was brutal and the snowflakes felt like tiny razors slicing his skin. John sat back and wiped his mouth, his eyes burning and mouth sour. He heard the banging noises behind him as Bob stumbled to chase him outside, nearly falling out of the trailer himself.

“Oh fuck, sorry I shouldn’t have said anything,” Bob said from behind him, his voice dropped lower, “So fucking stupid, you’re always making this worse,”

The self-admonishment was painful to hear. John squeezed his eyes closed for a moment and breathed in the icy air. It made his lungs and throat burn. The images wouldn’t leave his brain no matter how hard he tried. Bob was pacing behind him, he could hear the creaking of the trailer door as he walked on top of it from where it fell open. The man was speaking low enough now that John couldn’t hear him over the sounds of the wind. When he opened his eyes all he could see was white. The snow storm was bad, trapping them in a white void. He couldn’t do this anymore.

Shakily he stood, feeling the way his legs buckled beneath him. Bob was still mumbling to himself, hands shaking as he picked at the skin around his nails. He could see the droplets of blood appearing. John reached out and placed his hand on top of his, ducking and pulling him with him back into the trailer. It was a bit quieter, Bob had stopped talking but he clearly wasn’t all there. The man’s hand was cold and stiff, he hoped he wouldn’t get frostbite. They climbed back to the back end of the trailer. The flashlight was abandoned on the skid next to the children’s book. John paused and looked down at it, fingers grazing the hard colourful cover.

“It was a stupid idea,” Bob said quietly from beside him.

John shook his head, “No, your hearts in the right place Bobby,” he paused and turned his head to look at him, “It’s just me, I’m all fucked up,”

The smile on his face was shaking, he could feel the way his lips trembled. It was the only thing holding off the burning that had started in his eyes. Bob squeezed his hand and leaned forward, forehead resting against the side of his shoulder.

“We’re both fucked up,” Bob concluded, he raised his head and gave him a sad smile, “I’m sorry, I won’t bring that stuff up anymore,”

“Stop saying sorry, it’s my fault anyways,” John said, grabbing the flashlight and pulling Bob back to where he was sitting on the ground earlier.

He was still holding Bob’s hand when they sat down. John turned the light off, smothering them in the darkness. A sigh escaped his lips, weight so heavy in his chest he felt like he was suffocating. Bob’s fingers slipped between his, pulling their joined hands into his lap so he could place his other hand on top. John didn’t move, eyes falling closed as he tried to focus on the warmth and the touch alone. The darkness made it easier, he could feel the tears running down his face. It was better this way. Bob couldn’t see him fall apart in the dark. It was an overwhelming storm swirling inside of him, he just needed to get everything out.

His voice shook as he spoke, “They won’t ever forgive me,”

“Look I don’t know what you did but with how shitty everything is in this world, I really don’t think your family will just toss you away like that. I mean she’s your wife, you have a child, they love you. Once we finish with Valentina we can go see them, they probably miss you so much,” Bob said, his words soft and slow as he tactfully tried to craft his words.

John sniffed, head falling back to press against the wall, he felt defeated, “We’re not seeing them Bob,”

Bob shook his head, “You’re upset, I get that. You think you fucked up, trust me I get that. But this is your family, people that love you. They’re not going to -”

“They’re dead Bob,” his voice was devoid of emotion when he spoke.

It felt like all the air in the trailer was sucked out at that moment. The creaking of the trailer from the wind outside was the only sound. He felt like the darkness before him was a void sucking him in. It was like it was happening all over again. His chest felt like it had been split open. Bob didn’t say anything, probably too afraid of what John might do. He pulled his hand away from him, running it through his hair. If he had anything left in his stomach he probably would’ve vomited again. He drew in a shaky breath to try and settle his nerves. All he knew was that he just needed to get it all out in the open. Maybe then if Bob knew how shitty he was he wouldn’t continue to believe John was some hero.

“We were getting divorced before all this shit happened, I had a lot of crap in my life and instead of dealing with it I just ran away from it. My uh, my best friend died while we were on a recon mission during deployment. It was my fault really, he took the hit to cover me and then just like that he was gone,” he laughed albeit bitter, “She wanted to talk y’know? The night everything happened, I let all her calls go to voicemail ‘cause I was too scared of what she was going to say,”

Everything was playing back in his mind like it had just happened. She had shown him the divorce papers earlier in the day and he freaked out and left like a coward. Then when she was calling him later he turned his phone off. The fear of his perfect life being over was more than he could bear. He stayed in some shitty motel thirty-minutes away, wallowing in self pity while flipping through the same bland channels on television. When he woke up to all the sirens and gunshots he figured something was wrong. Never had he ever ran out of a place so fast in his life. Every call on the drive home to Olivia went to voicemail.

“The door was wide open when I got home and,” his breath hitched, he tried to calm himself with a deep breath, “I think one of the neighbours got hurt or something which is how they got in, fuck I don’t even know. They were in the bedroom closet and -” he couldn’t even finish, feeling himself collapse inside.

The image of her wrecked body holding their child huddled in that closet was stained into his mind. There was so much blood the carpet and walls ran red. Then there was the goddamn phone that she still had in her hand. He had a dozen missed calls from her on his phone. John couldn’t stop the tears, chest heaving as he tried to breathe. It was a fucking awful feeling, he felt like he was going to drown. Bob’s hands grabbed onto him, tangling into his coat and dragging him into a brutal hug. It hurt so bad and John couldn’t stop crying no matter how hard he tried. Why did he have to be so fucking weak?

“It’s not your fault,” Bob whispered, soothingly carding a hand through his hair.

John shook his head, his words not even making sense at this point. Many years worth of pent up grief spilled out of him. It was like a broken faucet that couldn’t be turned off. Bob kept whispering the same reassurances over and over again like a mantra into his ear. John held onto him like he was the only thing keeping him sane.

“It’s not your fault, John,” Bob repeated.

John kept shaking his head, “No, no if I just, if I just stayed or picked up the goddamn phone it wouldn’t - they wouldn’t -”

Bob suddenly held him back at his shoulders, staring at him in the dark, “It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t condemn them, a lot of bad shit happened to good people that day. You didn’t do it on purpose knowing that’s what would’ve happened,”

John drew in a shaky breath, “You don’t understand, if I was there then I could’ve done something,”

“You would’ve died,” Bob said, voice serious and hands tightening on his shoulders.

John wiped his face, “Maybe I should have,”

The silence was near crushing. If he hadn’t been so self-absorbed in his own self-pity then nothing would’ve happened to them. He could have been there to protect them. The chain around his neck was a weight too heavy, ring burning a hole into his chest. John reached up and pulled it off, throwing it towards one of the skids. It skittered across the smooth surface of the trailer wall and disappeared in the dark. He couldn’t even look at it, he didn’t deserve the ring or those tags.

“I need a minute,” he said, voice stuffy.

He stood up and felt Bob’s hands slide from his shoulders down his arms. When he went to walk away he was stopped, hand being held firmly. He looked down at Bob still sitting on the ground staring up at him with those wide eyes full of concern.

John let go of his hand, “I’m not gonna do anything stupid,”

He sat by the end of the trailer feeling the cold air whirring in from the half door being open. Snow was starting to enter and build up small smooth hills on top of the door. The tears had stopped by now, he was numb to the feeling. He hadn’t cried like that in years. Maybe Bob finally realized how big of a piece of shit he truly was. John hadn’t even told Ava that before, he didn’t even know why he really told Bob. It had been building up within him for a while, especially with all the hopefulness in the man’s voice when he spoke about them going to see John’s family. There wouldn’t be anything left if they did, just bones and scraps of clothes.

The sound of the other half of the trailer door creaking with the wind put him into a lull. He turned his head and looked down into the dark trailer where he could see the flashlight was on now. Bob was somewhere, he couldn’t see him with all the overturned skids and boxes in the way. He tightened his shaking hands into fists, anything to stop the tremors. Protecting his family was something he failed at but protecting Bob? That was something he could still do. It was the one good thing he could do in this world. He sat there for a while longer until he couldn’t take the cold anymore. When he finally made it back to the front of the trailer he saw Bob sitting and waiting, hands nervously twisting in the way he did when he was thinking too hard about troublesome things.

“I know you don’t think it but you’re not a bad person John,” Bob said, unable to meet his gaze.

John didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how Bob could still bear to speak to him. Maybe there was something wrong with the both of them. He sat down next to him, a sliver of space between their bodies. The flashlight was pointing away from them, lighting up the pile of boxes that had spilled off one of the skids in front of them. Between the cracks of the broken cardboard he could see the colourful book spines within.

“I haven’t told anyone that, not since it happened,” John said, his voice felt harsh to his own ears from not talking for so long.

Bob raised his head to look at him, “Why’d you tell me?”

“Because you’re you. I couldn’t keep lying to you,” John admitted.

Bob laughed but it felt more out of surprise than anything. The brunet slowly nodded to himself before looking back down at his hands. His fingers were red and dry from the cold, scratched up from him picking at the cracked skin. He continued to nod to himself as he let John’s comment sink in. It was an honest admission. John really couldn’t keep lying to him anymore about it. Every time Bob brought up John’s family it made him die a little more inside when he’d lie about it.

“My whole life I was told I was useless, nothing, just a waste. When Valentina found me she said I could help, I could save the world,” Bob said, briefly looking down at the bite scar on his hand, “There were a lot of tests and a lot of drugs, so much trial and error, but it had to be done,”

“What do you mean, trial and error?” John asked.

Bob shrugged his shoulders, “I’d be put into a room with them sometimes, after a while it stopped hurting so bad,”

John was hoping what he was thinking wasn’t true, “Put in a room with them?”

An uncomfortable smile formed on Bob’s face, “It’s fine, really. Most of the time I was high anyways so it’s not like I could really feel it when they were biting me and stuff,”

What Bob was describing sounded akin to torture. Did they seriously leave him in rooms of infected to be picked at like food? Bob must’ve seen the look on his face because he purposefully banged his shoulder against his, smile still present albeit a bit smaller now.

“The after was the worst, not because of the blood or the pain but I was just…alone. Most of the time it was just doctors around and they were busy doing other things. There’s this voice in my head when I’m alone, I can’t get it to stop. I’ve always been by myself but in there it was worse, I wasn’t a person, not really,” Bob sighed, sinking in on himself a bit, “It got a bit better when I met Yelena, she’d bring me things sometimes when she made deliveries. She’d even hangout with me, Val fucking hated it,”

John snorted, “Couldn’t imagine why, Yelena’s such a joy to be around,”

He reached over and dropped his hand on top of Bob’s, fingers curling over and squeezing to stop him from the incessant picking. If he continued he’d only hurt his hands more. It grew quiet again. This time it wasn’t as suffocating.

“I can’t infect other people, at least the tests they ran said I couldn’t,” Bob said, eyes flickering over to briefly look at John before back down to their hands.

John had actually forgotten about that aspect. He had been so absorbed in his own issues and Bob being well Bob that he forgot about the infection. The amount of times he’d patched Bob up and vice versa - he never thought about it. Gently he ran his thumb over top of Bob’s left hand. It was something to distract him from all the other flurries of thoughts that were still racing around in his brain.

John raised an eyebrow after thinking about it for a moment, “So what, did they test your blood or something?”

“I don’t really remember, I think so? Bodily fluids like saliva and stuff were a no, not sure about the blood. Sorry, I just uh, can’t remember a lot of what they did in there,” Bob said, he sounded foggy.

A few thoughts sparked in his brain at that moment. He squeezed Bob’s hands one last time before letting them go. The exhaustion was starting to eat away at him, especially after that emotional outburst. Breakdowns were always so draining. He yawned, louder than he meant, and settled back against the wall. The trailer was still cold and unpleasant all things considered. But just like the sun a warmth was suddenly pressed against his side as Bob closed the small gap previously between them. John couldn’t even hide it, raising his arm and wrapping it around the man’s shoulders to keep him close.

He was tired and decided then and there that the trauma dumping would cease for the night. It was an unspoken agreement between them. He shared his dark secret with Bob and Bob shared something dark about himself in exchange. Silently he mulled over Bob’s words in his mind. John wasn’t a doctor, he didn’t know how this testing stuff worked. It still seemed cruel though to subject someone to such things. He’d keep it in mind for when they would eventually see Valentina again, he was going to lay some ground rules. Another yawn escaped his lips as the emotional fatigue was slowly beginning to set in.

“Y’think it’s still gonna be snowing in the morning?” Bob asked, he sounded just as tired.

John yawned again, “I’ll be shocked if we aren’t digging our way out of here,”

Bob settled close enough against him that his head was tucked just underneath John’s chin. The warmth radiating off of Bob was divine, especially with how cold his ass was sitting on the metal wall of the trailer. Bob shifted again and this time partially unzipped the front of John’s jacket before slipping his left hand inside. Strong fingers curled into the fabric of his thick sweater underneath, holding onto him firmly.

“Comfortable?” John mused, a touch of sarcasm to his tone.

Bob hummed in response, slowly nodding his head underneath John’s chin. It still surprised him how easily Bob was able to look past his faults. John had so many transgressions in his life he didn’t think the other man would be able to look at him the same way. It was hard for him to keep his eyes open and he tried fighting it off for a while. There were dozens of thoughts flitting around inside of his head, some bad and some good. All he knew was that he was eternally grateful for whatever god’s crafted Bob as the kindness and level of understanding he bestowed on John was unmatched. He simply felt unworthy for the man’s affections.

He was firm in his silent promise though. John wasn’t able to be there to protect Olivia or his kid, a failure he would live with forever. But he knew now he would spend the rest of his life protecting this miracle cure that was Bob. It was the only way he knew how to try and balance the scales.

Chapter Text

It was still snowing the next morning, though not as bad as the evening prior. John hadn’t slept well. Then again he never slept well even on days he would consider ‘good’. Even with Bob latched onto him his extremities were still cold. The winter was always the worst and it was times like these where he missed when life was considered normal. He didn’t move for the first thirty minutes after he woke up, too afraid to stir Bob from his sleep. The man was still curled against his side, hand resting between John’s jacket and sweater. Despite the cold and uncomfortable place they were in, John wouldn’t trade this moment for even the softest of beds.

There was just something so comforting having someone to hold, he didn’t realize how much he missed it until this last month. Bob’s touch alone could make John melt like putty. He was sure Bob could shape him into whatever he wanted and John would let him. For a while he sat there, cheek pressed against the top of Bob’s head. Some thoughts from the night before were still swirling around in his head. Bringing up Olivia and his son reopened a wound he thought he had sealed. The inside of his chest ached but he didn’t feel the same smothering weight on him like he did before. Maybe it was because someone finally knew his secret.

He was still amazed at how easily Bob took it, not even so much as a judgmental glare. The thought of Bob being so willing to just accept John for his mistakes was something surprising in itself. He knew he liked Bob, he had grown quite attached to him. The man curled against him had somehow defied all odds and wormed his way underneath John’s hard exterior. He’d be more irritated if he didn’t find Bob so endearing. People didn’t make the effort to stick around him anymore and John couldn’t blame them, he was a dickhead. Then again he figured it was inevitable, they had spent a lot of time together.

Bob shifted against him, a sigh escaping his lips as his eyes blinked open. The trailer was dim from the light shining in from the one open door at the other end. John raised his head and removed his arm so Bob could sit up. It was a groggy start, Bob wasn’t really a morning person. When Bob’s hand was removed from the inside of his jacket John immediately felt the absence. He almost wanted to grab him and pull him back but he refrained.

The brunet stretched and yawned, “Could’ve woken me up,”

“Couldn’t sleep anyways, thought it’d be better that one of us was rested,” John said, his excuse was so lame.

Sure it was true he hadn’t really slept well but really he was just greedy and wanted to hold Bob for a bit longer. In his mind he could pretend for that small stretch of time that Bob was his. He briefly wondered in the back of his mind if he ever would’ve met Bob if this infection hadn’t happened. John didn’t like to dwell too much on the what if’s of this world, whenever he did it always led him down a dark pathway. He could feel the warmth in his chest as he watched Bob yawn again, face scrunching in that tired way that made him seem so soft.

Bob opened his eyes and smiled, catching him staring, “Something on my face?”

John quickly shook his head and climbed to his feet, “No, you’re just fine,”

“Just fine? I mean I know you’re fine but I think I’m a bit better than that,” Bob said in a cheeky quip.

John rolled his eyes, his face burning as he quickly gathered his things. The snow outside was tough to walk through and nearing up to their knees. They practically had to dig their way out of the trailer from the snow that had slid in through the gap of the one door being open. John was freezing from the moment they stepped outside. The only drop of colour on this white landscape was Bob’s backpack, once yellow now starting to turn more of a greenish-brown from the dirt and wear. Bob waded in the snow ahead of him, taking the lead as John trailed behind him. With time his stomach was healing but wading through the thick snow still took a lot out of him.

“Do you think we’ve passed Christmas already?” Bob asked, voice echoing through the trees.

John shrugged, “I don’t know, I’ve sort of lost track of time,”

“So what if we say it is Christmas,” Bob suggested.

What was he on about? John wasn’t a super big holiday person. Well he used to be but then everything happened and he no longer found it worth celebrating. What was a holiday anyways without loved ones to celebrate it with?

“So what, are you like a big fan or something?” he asked, mostly out of curiosity.

He could imagine Bob bundled up in a scarf and mittens with a hot chocolate, probably walking around New York City. Yeah, he’d probably be window shopping too. Preferably with John at his side. Maybe they’d even go skating under the big Christmas tree?

“The holidays were the only time everything was good,” Bob said, he sounded so melancholy.

John got the vibe before that Bob didn’t have a great home life. It wasn’t like John had the best one either but Bob’s seemed significantly worse in comparison. He swallowed the ache in his stomach and walked faster to catch up until he was wading in the snow alongside him. Bob seemed like he was reminiscing, eyes focused ahead but soft in a way that looked like he was lost in a memory. The last Christmas he had with his family he had come to dinner late after being held up on the base. Olivia had spent all afternoon cooking and was waiting at the kitchen table for when he came home, most of the food was cold. He felt like shit that night. She was always so excited about the holidays.

“So…Christmas huh?” John said, watching as Bob came back to reality.

Bob turned his head and smiled warmly, “Yeah, if you’re feeling festive,” his smiled morphed into a smirk, “Although I don’t know, you seem more like the Scrooge type,”

John playfully pushed Bob’s face away, “Yeah and you’re such a Christmas delight,”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m the most delightfully spirited person you’ll ever meet,” Bob retorted, sarcasm heavy in his voice.

John shook his head, bringing his hands to his mouth to blow hot air onto them, “Next place you see we’re going to stop, I’m fucking freezing,”

Bob turned and saluted, “Aye aye Captain,”

They entered a small town not long after. It didn’t seem as abandoned with all the snow, just…quiet. Some of the cars were buried halfway up to their doors. Bob had the idea to break into a hotel, much to John’s dismay. It wasn’t anything fancy but it was a large building and with large buildings came the possibility for more infected. Bob was attempting to pick the lock on the side door. The front entrance was a no-go as it had completely collapsed in on itself. It had begun to snow again and the wind was picking up adding to the chill of their already frozen bodies.

John grabbed Bob’s shoulder pulling him back, “Move,”

“Hey I’m almost do-”

John kicked in the door without another thought. The bang of the door swinging backwards striking the wall was loud and echoed down the corridor. Bob stood and glared at him, putting the lockpick tools back into his backpack. They ducked inside, closing the door behind him. Although now that it was sort of busted he had to block it shut with a nearby table that he dragged over. When he turned around Bob was standing with his arms crossed.

“You’re impatient,” Bob pointed out.

John scoffed, “You’re just too slow,”

Bob threw his hands into the air, “Well sue me for following your lead with the usual ‘be quiet and discreet’ bullshit,”

John elbowed him in the side, “Quit whining, we’re inside are we not?” he paused, a smirk forming on his face, “I thought you’re supposed to be all jolly, no?”

Bob shoved him away, fighting a smile on his face, “You’re a prick,”

They followed the hallway to the end where it opened to a larger room. It seemed like the main check-in area. There were a bunch of abandoned suitcases and bags, a few skeletons lying on the ground towards the front entrance. John shone his flashlight in that direction and saw that the area had collapsed down on top of a pickup truck that had driven through the front doors. He took the moment to pause, hand resting on his stomach as he drew in a deep breath. The pulsing pain was a constant but it wasn’t excruciating. Suddenly something hit him in the chest. A pair of keys attached to a plastic tag fell to the ground in front of his feet, jingling as it did.

He turned his head and glared in Bob’s general direction, “What the fuck was that for?”

“You were supposed to catch it,” Bob replied as he sauntered over from the front desk.

John bent down and grimaced, picking the keys up, “Y’know you’re supposed to say ‘catch’ when you throw shit at people,”

“Catch,” Bob said, suddenly in front of him when he stood back up.

John’s eyes widened, any further retorts dying in his throat. Bob stood in front of him, ever so close. The man didn’t so much as break eye contact as he reached between them and took the keys from John’s hands. Then he was gone, sliding past him easily and heading towards a nearby corridor with the keys spinning around his finger.

“Coming or not?” Bob asked, head tilted with a small smile on his face.

John swallowed and nodded, following him quietly. All things considered the small hotel seemed pretty safe. He hadn’t seen or heard of any signs of infected besides the few skeletons in the front foyer. The hotel itself had a lodge theme going on, pretty rustic and fitting for the surrounding forest. Bob was far ahead of him, a pep in his step as he led them to the room the key belonged to. John was far more leisurely, hand pressed to his stomach to try and stop some of the ache. His eyes trailed Bob’s lean figure as he continued on ahead, he was a man on a mission.

A corner came up and then Bob was gone. John sighed and picked up the pace, gritting his teeth as the ache vibrated upwards. When he rounded the corner he could see Bob stopped in front of a door up ahead, key in the lock as he jiggled it around. John came up to him and leaned against the wall, looking down at the key stuck in the lock.

“Do I need to kick this one down too?” he asked, one eyebrow raised upwards.

Bob scoffed and pushed the door open, “See, sometimes you just need a little patience,”

“Yeah, whatever. My way is always faster,” he retorted, stubbornness vibrating through his very being.

The room was pretty large and even had a little fireplace in the corner. It smelled stale and dusty. Upon opening the curtains he winced and coughed, from being both blinded by sunlight and smothered with dust. He heard Bob snort in a laugh from behind him, probably amused by the reaction. John had to admit after surveying the room it was pretty nice. His eyes then fell onto Bob who was sitting on the edge of the large bed, a sweet smile on his face. With the light shining on him the way it was he seemed so carefree. It almost seemed dream-worthy.

“Think you can check this off your list for the nicest place you’ve ever stayed?” Bob asked, head now tilting to the side.

John took a seat in a nearby chair across from him, “Yeah, sure,”

Bob stood from the bed, dropping his bag on the ground to the side of it. He crossed the room and stood in front of John, looking down at him. His gaze was burning into him in a way that reminded John that it was just the two of them in here. Bob’s eyes swept over him heavily, “Come on soldier, time to check your wounds,”

It took John’s brain a minute to understand the words that came from that sultry mouth. The atmosphere felt different but maybe it was just John reading into things that weren’t actually there. He stood and shed his jacket and then pulled his sweater and shirt over his head. It felt like he was on display with the way Bob watched him. As soon as he dropped his clothes onto the chair behind him Bob’s hands were on him, fingers already pulling at the bandages wrapped around his middle. John couldn’t help himself from staring, watching the focus form on the man’s face. He was sure by now Bob could do this with his eyes closed. When the cold air hit his middle he hissed.

Briefly Bob’s eyes flickered up to meet his gaze, “Cold?”

“No it’s a pleasant twenty-degrees in here, of course I’m fucking cold,” he retorted, his tone softer than what he meant.

“After this is done you should rest for a bit,” Bob said, fingers grazing just underneath the wound.

John grimaced, “No, it’s fine. I’m fine,”

Bob flicked him in the stomach before turning to grab supplies from his backpack, “It’s Christmas remember? You have to relax,” he then turned back around to face him, “Plus, you’re pretty bad at hiding it, you’ve been in pain since we left the trailer,”

After the bandages were changed Bob made him lay down for a bit. He was trying to fight off sleep, mostly out of spite. But then Bob had reached over and his warm fingers found their place in his hair, gently massaging his scalp. John was a goner. It was probably a few hours he was out for. All he knew was when he woke up it was much darker and Bob was nowhere to be found. That immediately set off a number of alerts in his brain, anxiety already pumping its rounds through his body. He could feel it travelling through his veins. The next thing he noticed was that his flashlight was gone.

“Fucking Bob,” he mumbled, pulling his jacket on.

Luckily he vaguely remembered the path they took to get here, touching along the wall of the corridor to guide him. His ears were on high alert, hand gripping the handle of his knife as he slowly walked down the hallway. Were there infected in here after all? Why would Bob just leave without saying anything? A number of thoughts flooded his brain, none of them being good and all of them ending in Bob being dead somewhere around here. It made him feel sick at the thought. As he found his way back to the front foyer he heard a voice and upon listening closer he relaxed recognizing that it was Bob.

When he finally entered the front foyer he looked around confused. There were quite a number of lit candles precariously placed around the large room giving it a warm orange glow. A few boxes were by the front desk that weren’t there when they first got here. Bob was muttering to himself as he dug through one of the larger boxes. John slid the knife back into the sheath on the back of his belt, slowly looking around at the lit room. It was then that he noticed the decorations. There wasn’t much but some of the furniture had red and green garland wrapped around it. One of the luggage trollies was stacked full of luggage with garland and candles wrapped and balanced on it. He was mildly impressed to see a star was secured down on top with some of the red garland tying it down.

“So is that supposed to be the tree?” he asked, voice filling the room.

Bob jumped in the air and yelled, “Jesus Christ!”

Immediately John locked in on the bruise flourishing across Bob’s right cheek when he turned around. His eyes narrowed, walking up to him and reaching over to touch the side of his face.

“What happened?” he asked, knuckles brushing the violet tinged skin.

Bob swatted his hand away, “Some of the boxes fell when I was pulling them out of the basement storage,”

“You went to the basement?” he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “There could be infected around, you shouldn’t be wandering off without saying anything,”

“Well for the record, there were two and I took care of them. The only fight I lost today was with the boxes of decor,” Bob said, he seemed proud of himself.

John on the other hand couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Not only did Bob run into two infected he also went into a basement for stupid decorations. The meaner side of him wanted to make some stupid comment but the bruise on Bob’s face made him pause and think better of himself. It seemed like whatever this was seemed to be important so John would play along to the best of his abilities. Bob turned around to grab something and when John tried to lean over his shoulder to look he was met with an elbow to the stomach. He hissed, taking a step back and rubbing the tender area.

Bob turned around and shoved a hat on John’s head, “Stop being nosey,”

He reached up and touched the fluffy rim of the hat now snug around his head. John didn’t even need to take it off to know what it was just by the touch alone. The last thing he needed was a stupid Santa hat on his head. He frowned and crossed his arms, eyes narrowed to try and seem unimpressed.

“Hey you agreed on it being Christmas, you’ve gotta wear the hat,” Bob said before turning back around to the boxes.

John scoffed, “I agreed to saying it was Christmas not decorating and dressing like mall Santa Clause,”

Bob laughed, “Well you’ve got the beard so if the shoe fits…”

He took the hat off and shoved it on top of Bob’s head before walking away. It seemed like Bob spent a lot of time decorating the place. The candles made the space have a sort of ethereal kind of feel. It was very different from how he remembered Christmas being decorated, especially with some of the skeletons near the entrance still. John sat on the couch closest to the weird trolly-tree, arms crossed as he sulked. As if on instinct he reached up to touch around his neck, feeling nothing. A pang of guilt struck through him, remembering how he had thrown the chain away back in the trailer. He felt it spread within him like an infection taking over, guilt riddling his bones.

“Found something fun,” Bob said, suddenly sitting in the chair across from him.

His eyes blinked a few times, looking around the lit room. He must have spaced out. When his eyes landed on the bottle of liquor Bob held out to him he felt the glee return. Drowning his sorrows and guilt in booze seemed like a great idea at the moment. He took the bottle and popped the cork, nearly being blindsided by the strong peaty scent. Definitely scotch, where the hell did Bob find this? Without another thought he took a long swig, feeling the liquid burn down his throat.

“Where’d you find it?” he asked, handing the bottle back over.

Bob took a sip, “Hotel has a bar, extra stock is in the basement,”

“Smart man,” John complimented, taking the bottle back for another swig.

Before the infection he was never really a heavy drinking sort of guy. He was always locked in on being the best soldier he could be. Then Lemar died and he and Olivia started fighting…then they died too and suddenly liquor seemed not too bad an idea. It took a few swigs before it started to hit him. That familiar warm buzz that settled just under his skin and when he’d turn his head it felt like the room was also shifting. Bob looked, well the only way John could describe how he looked in the candlelight was divine. Especially with the flush of red to his face and the way his pupils were blown wide swallowing the blue with black.

“Do you like all holidays or just Christmas?” he asked, mostly out of curiosity.

Bob propped his head against his hand and sighed, “I mean they all seem cool but Christmas was my Mom’s favourite. My Dad he uh, didn’t like me very much and he and my Mom were always fighting. But when Christmas came along suddenly everything felt…I don’t know, normal? There wasn’t any yelling, or hitting, or - it just was good,”

As a kid John’s family was obsessed with the holiday’s. It was sort of similar, his strict father would soften a bit when everyone was over for Christmas. He remembers being dragged to church and then coming home after to get ready for dinner, sometimes his cousins would come over and they’d all play with the new toys they got. John never got a lot of toys so sometimes he’d start fights when trying to play with the ones his cousins got. He rolled the scotch around in his mouth as he reminisced. His didn’t seem as bad as Bob’s. It actually felt wrong to compare the two, he was sure Bob would’ve killed to have his family.

Now that he looked at Bob again he had to pause. Why was Bob so pretty? Could he call a man pretty? Would Bob take that as a compliment? John felt his heart flutter in his chest, mouth growing dry as he stared. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe Bob just always looked this damn good. He leaned forwards and passed the bottle of scotch back. The brief moment their fingers brushed sent electricity through John’s body. His head began to tingle and John had to lean back into the couch, eyes still focused on Bob as he leaned his head back to take a sip. It was hard not to trace the bite marks that peeked out from his sweater when he stretched his neck back.

John had to lick his lips, they were so dry, “Why’d you do all of this?”

“What?” Bob asked, taking a second sip.

He motioned to the decorations around them, “The decorations and shit,”

“Needed to, everything started getting bad again,” Bob explained, his words having underlying meanings to them that John understood well.

Traveling all the time, especially with this weather, was getting depressing. Adding on the trauma dump from the night before and John could truly understand the need for some happiness. Especially for someone like Bob who could go from one extreme to the next so easily. He hated seeing Bob so upset, all he wanted was to keep him happy. Would John be able to even do that? He wasn’t good at bringing people joy, only misery. It was hard to keep his mind on track. The alcohol had made everything warm and fuzzy in the best way possible. It also drew out this intense want from within him.

It was Bob, he wanted Bob. The drunken pout on the man’s face and the soft light from the candles made him look somewhat adorable. Was that the right word? John didn’t even know how to describe him properly. There were no words to describe Bob. He was talking but John didn’t hear a word he was saying, too busy focusing on the way his lips moved when he spoke. Yeah he really wanted Bob. It was embarrassing actually, he was sure he would do whatever Bob asked as long as the man promised to give him at least a kiss. No, that was wrong. The guilt popped up in small clusters throughout his chest. He shouldn’t think of Bob like that, it was wrong.

Not in a homophobic way but a ‘I shouldn’t think of you like that ‘cause I feel like I’m taking advantage of you’ type of way. That was the last thing John wanted, especially with everything Bob went through. It seemed like the man had never known a soft touch in his life. John could fix that if Bob let him. Yeah, he could give Bob whatever he wanted if he asked.

“You’re not even listening,” Bob said, suddenly standing in front of him.

The touch was like a breath of fresh air dragging him out of the mud this drunkenness had buried him in. Bob’s hand grabbed his chin, gently turning his face up to look at him before further moving down along his jaw. Before John could stop himself he was already leaning into the touch, eyes closing for a moment. It was quiet and his head was swimming with just Bob. When John was drunk he turned all needy and eager to please. The hand on his cheek was warm, fingers sliding through his beard. His eyes flickered open to look up at Bob who gave him the most sinful of looks. John thought then and there he could melt.

Bob sighed, “It’s a pretty shitty Christmas, I don’t have any gifts,”

“No gifts, just you,” he whispered in return.

Bob snorted at him, amused. What did he say again? His brain was hazy and the warmth from the hand holding his face was so distracting. Bob looked almost intrigued, staring down at him with his flushed face and dark eyes. It was so intriguing how such blue eyes could grow so dark, almost black at times. Bob finally dropped his hand from his face and took another long swig of the bottle before putting it on the nearby coffee table. John reached out, finger hooking into one of the belt loops of Bob’s jeans to pull him back towards him. He had gone too far for John’s liking, even if that version of ‘too far’ was two steps away.

All he wanted was to be loved. He missed the feeling of someone wanting him, needing him. Bob was always so kind to him. Quite frankly John didn’t deserve any of it, especially with how much of an asshole he had been. But that was neither here nor there now. No, now it was just them and Bob was looking down at the finger hooked into his belt loop with intrigue. John didn’t want to scare him. Oh god did Bob think he was going to force him into anything? He dropped his hand and crossed his arms, hands curling into fists under his armpits. His face was burning he had to look down at his lap to avoid Bob’s eyes. Then he felt the hand on his face again, pulling him to look up.

“What do you want?” Bob asked, thumb running along John’s cheek.

His words felt like they were caught in his throat. It felt like his body was on fire and his head was spinning. Was Bob asking him that question? It took him a second to realize that there was no one else around that Bob would be asking that to. His tongue was like lead in his mouth, he didn’t know how to form words. Then Bob was climbing into his lap, straddling his thighs and looking at him with false innocence. Bob who was so apologetic and nervous at times never seemed more sure of himself. John’s heart was thrumming in his chest, sighing when Bob’s hand slid along his face and then back into his hair.

It was disgusting how well this was working on him. If John was sober he’d be reprimanding himself with the way he was acting right now. Bob seemed to find it endearing, dragging another sigh from John’s lips as his fingers curled into the back of John’s hair. The weight in his lap was heavy and warm, he had to keep his hands under his arms to stop himself from reaching out and touching. John knew he was greedy and if he started touching Bob he wouldn’t stop.

“I don’t have any mistletoe,” Bob said quietly, a smile growing on his face.

John’s muddled senses were suddenly sharpened. Now he may be drunk but he wasn’t that drunk to not know what it meant. It was mortifying how much he came to life at Bob’s words. Was a kiss so bad? John uncrossed his arms, letting his hands go free from the trap they were in. He raised his hands and then paused, should he even touch him? Was that okay?

It was as if Bob was reading his mind, “It’s okay, you can touch me,”

Hesitantly he touched Bob’s face, he thought for a moment the other man would be able to feel how fast his heart was beating through his fingers alone. It had been so long since he’d touched someone in such an intimate fashion that he almost forgot how.

“Don’t have to do this,” John mumbled, face flushing from embarrassment.

Bob leaned in, mouth just a breath away from him, “Stop being a coward and kiss me already,”

The words barely left Bob’s mouth before John had pulled him in. Bob’s mouth was hot and tasted smoky from the scotch they were drinking. The feeling was addicting, he was sure he could kiss Bob forever. Bob shifted forwards drawing a sigh out of his mouth from the weight and friction between them. John’s hands trailed down to his waist before slipping underneath the sweater. It was driving him crazy with how long he had been waiting to touch his skin like this, to feel the ripples of scars beneath his fingers. He idly wondered if there was any place on his body without a scratch or bite mark marring it.

Bob was the better kisser, he let the man kiss and lick into his mouth without a fight. John was too drunk and excited anyways to properly focus on the act itself. He was practically buzzing with Bob just sitting in his lap. Bob’s hand curled into the back of his hair tugging lightly. In response John wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him closer. The pain that bloomed in his stomach caused him to hiss. Bob chuckled in the back of his throat and pulled away, hands resting on either side of John’s face.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself,” Bob laughed, leaning in again and peppering kisses to his face.

John smiled warmly, “S’fine,”

“Y’know I thought it’d take a lot longer to get you to kiss me,” Bob admitted, pressing a searing kiss to his lips.

“Didn’t think you’d want me,” John whispered against his mouth.

Deep in his soul he knew he wouldn’t be enough for Bob. The man needed someone kind, soft, loving. John wasn’t that person; he was rude, brash, and sometimes downright mean. His hands only knew how to fight, not love in the way Bob deserved. Bob leaned in again, resting all of his weight against him as he kissed him hard. It was like he was trying to pour every bit of want and desire into that one kiss against John’s mouth. Everything was hot and electric. It made John’s skin buzz like lightning was crawling across him. He wanted more but he was too drunk and his stomach was already hissing with Bob just leaning against him.

Bob pulled away again when he felt John hiss against his lips. Much to John’s dismay Bob pushed himself back, sliding to sit further back on his thighs. The gap between them was too much. Bob yawned and rubbed his eyes. How late was it? Warm hands reached forward and grabbed at the bottom of John’s sweater, sliding it up slightly underneath his jacket. The cool air on his skin was unwelcoming. Bob, despite being drunk, poked and prodded at the bandages wrapped around his middle.

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” Bob said, his concern sounding hot like honey.

John grinned, “I could take it,”

Bob’s face flushed a deeper shade of red, dropping John’s shirt and pushing his smug face away, “Not the point,”

John grabbed at his waist again pulling him closer so he was flush against his chest. He leaned in and kissed him again. This time it was a lot slower. John could be soft when he wanted to be. His hands crept up the man’s back underneath his sweater, feeling the points of his spine and marred skin under his fingertips. Bob sighed against his mouth allowing him to lick inside and swallow him whole. His head was buzzing with only Bob. He wished his thoughts were like this all the time. Kissing Bob wasn’t all that different from kissing Olivia. He didn’t know where he got this thought in his head that kissing a man would be different. Bob grinded down against him and it felt like his world exploded.

John pulled away, “Yeah I’m too drunk for this,”

Bob leaned in and dropped his head onto his shoulder, face squishing against John’s neck. He had to blink a few times, mind still hazy from the scotch. The alcohol was making him tired and hot and really he would love to continue touching Bob. But he knew his limits and he was way too drunk to keep going. Bob pressed a kiss against his neck before extracting himself, stumbling when he stood. If the man before him were a god John was sure he would be one of his number one worshippers. He batted his tired eyes and smiled softly down at him. John grimaced when he pushed himself to his feet, having to grab the arm of the couch to steady himself. His body was a mix of heat, pain, and sparks of pleasure. It was confusing.

They leaned against each other, stumbling back down the hallway towards the room. John had a fleeting thought about the bunches of candles left burning in the main room of the hotel. Those thoughts quickly left his mind when Bob turned his head and pressed a chaste kiss to the side of his mouth.

“I promise I’ll keep my hands to myself,” John swore as they got to the room.

Bob smirked, “You can touch me a little bit,”

“A little bit?”

Bob yawned, “Yeah, just a ‘lil,”

John wrapped his arms around him when they got in bed. The soft mattress and pillows made him sleepy. John pressed a kiss to the back of Bob’s head, feeling the way the other man shivered against him. It was a delicious feeling. Bob slid his hand up the sleeve of John’s right arm, holding his forearm. John held him tighter, afraid he might somehow disappear at some point in the night. The last thing he remembered was pressing another tired kiss to the base of Bob’s skull where his hair met his neck. Right overtop of the scar that disappeared into his hairline. Idly he thought that one day he would kiss all of those marks.

Chapter Text

The splitting headache was what struck him first when he woke up. It had been a long time since he’s had that much hard liquor in one go. His hands were warm and when he pressed down he felt the soft flesh beneath them. Everything was slow moving and his brain felt like it needed a good kick start. He blinked a few times and let his eyes focus on the daylight that had streamed into the room from the glass sliding doors. The curtains were still partially covering most of them allowing a column of yellow light into the room. In the back of his mind he knew he was holding Bob.

Everything from last night flooded back into his brain like a dam opening up. He kissed Bob? Or rather, Bob actually let him kiss him? The adrenaline that coursed through his body made any trace of sleep vanish from him. His arms were around Bob and had crept up underneath his sweater to hold him firmly. His right arm was trapped under the warm body, slightly numb from the weight resting on it. Slowly he withdrew his left arm from underneath the man’s sweater. John was a bit greedy with the way he let his fingers drag down his torso over the raised marks on his skin.

He was able to roll over onto his back, carefully pulling his right arm out from underneath the body next to him. Bob was still fast asleep and didn’t move a muscle at the sudden loss of John’s solid presence behind him. Internally John was struggling. His sober brain was screaming at him for his stupidity. What the hell was he thinking getting involved with Bob like this? It just made this journey one-thousand times more difficult. Emotional attachments were always a problem. Sure Bob couldn’t get infected but that didn’t mean he still couldn’t be hurt or killed. He let out a ragged sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. Why was he so stupid?

The man next to him shifted, turning over and groggily reaching out for him. Bob was half asleep and scooted across the mattress until he was able to glue himself against John’s side. Unintelligible words left his mouth as he snuggled against John’s side like a stray puppy. John automatically wrapped an arm around him, something that just seemed so natural. His racing heart seemed to calm significantly. Ah yes, this was why John selfishly did this. He didn’t want to be alone anymore.

He let Bob sleep for another hour. While he did, John wandered the quaint cabin-esque hotel. Thankfully none of the candles lit the place on fire. That was another stupid and reckless thing that they did. He mentally berated himself for that too. John was supposed to be keeping them safe, not getting drunk, being selfish, and almost burning them alive. There was a lot of pacing up and down the corridors to be done. It wasn’t as big of a hotel as he thought so there were a lot of repeat hallways. He really liked Bob but a part of him felt like he would be ruining him like this. John didn’t know if he knew how to be a good partner, hell he couldn’t even keep his wife happy or his family alive.

When he got back to the room Bob was awake sitting on the edge of the bed. His shoulders were sagging and his gaze was downcast to the floor. John could tell he was upset. This was why he shouldn’t have done what he did last night. He knew he could never treat Bob the way he should be treated. At the sound of him clearing his voice Bob looked up, a bright spark in his eyes.

“Thought you left,” Bob said, his eyes a bit red.

John stayed clear of the bed, lingering by the dresser as he nodded, “Yeah I uh, just needed to walk around a bit,”

There was an awkward silence that filled the room. It was damn near suffocating. John absolutely hated this and he hated that he had upset him. Bob looked back down again, unable to meet his gaze. Slowly his head bobbed as if he was trying to reassure himself of something.

When he looked back up again his eyes were watery and he had a strained smile on his face, “I’m sorry about last night. We were drunk and it got out of hand, won’t happen again,”

“I uh - yeah,” John managed to say.

Words were never his strong suit, or rather, emotional situations requiring words was something he was awful at. John felt like he was at a crossroads being torn either way. The logical part of him knew stepping into this uncharted territory of entanglements would be a liability in the long run. Having someone to care about meant he was worrying about someone other than himself. The ache in his heart was strong and swaying. He craved the companionship, the intimacy, the kind words - he wanted all of it.

Bob was pulling at his fingers now, head hung low so his hair was shielding his face. He sniffed and quickly raised his hand to wipe the wetness from his eyes with his sleeve. John pushed away from the dresser and walked over, settling on the bed next to him. The mattress sank underneath their combined weight. He reached over and dropped his hand on top of Bob’s to stop him from the incessant worried twisting. It was hard to even look at him. John sucked at talking.

“I’m not good at this,” he admitted, “Everything in me has been telling me not to do this, not with anyone and especially not with you,”

John could feel how still Bob had gone, hands no longer moving. He could feel the gaze burning into the side of his face and could see in his peripherals that Bob was looking at him. The logical part of his brain was being drowned out by the ache in his chest. He let out a sigh, closing his eyes for a moment to try and straighten his thoughts out.

“You don’t have to soften the blow or anything, I can take it. Wouldn’t be the first rejection so it’s not a problem,” Bob said while trying to pull his hands out from underneath John’s.

He quickly squeezed his hand over his, turning to finally look him in the eyes. Just the physical feeling of Bob pulling away from him was enough to make him scared. He shook his head, “The problem is that I like you, I like you too much and you deserve better than a piece of shit like me,”

Bob scoffed, “Yeah well I don’t want anyone else,”

“Then you have a shitty taste in character,” he retorted, his tone lacking any real seriousness.

The mood got a bit lighter, he could feel the atmosphere shift. Bob’s eyes were less sad and he seemed to perk up a bit more. He wanted to take the sadness from him and seal it away. A part of him wished that was somehow possible. If he could take Bob’s pain away he would in an instant, even if it meant bearing it all himself. There was a silent communication between them and for the first time in his sober mind he leaned in. Bob was still but there was a smirk that had formed on his lips.

“I guess I just like shitty people,” Bob whispered, leaning in to close the space between them.

Kissing Bob sober was a million times better than kissing him drunk. It was just as warm and dizzying as the night before. Except this time he could focus without his mind feeling like it was a second from drifting away. He thought kissing a man would be weirder. It really wasn’t all that different from kissing a woman with the exception of Bob’s face being a bit rougher with stubble. He pulled away when he began to feel that familiar heat pooling in the pit of his stomach. If this was going to become a thing then he’d need to take baby steps.

Bob fell back dramatically on the bed, legs still hanging off the side. He seemed very pleased with himself, “You kiss with purpose,”

“I - what?” John asked, confusion quite evident on his face.

The brunet laughed and looked up at the water-stained ceiling, “You put a lot of feeling and effort into it, like you care,”

“Well I’d hope it feels like I care, I’m not kissing you as a fucking science experiment,” John snapped back, his face felt ever so warm.

There was a lazy smile on Bob’s face and kindness shining in his eyes when he looked back at him. Bob looked the best when he smiled so genuinely like this. It made John think he could single handedly save the world, especially when the smile was directed at him. Bob reached out and grabbed the sleeve of his shirt, massaging the material between his fingers.

“Sorry, I’m just not used to this,” Bob said as his watery eyes resurfaced.

John frowned, could feel the crease in his forehead as he did, “Not used to what? All I did was kiss you,”

“Yeah and you did it ‘cause you like me, I haven’t really had that before,” Bob explained, he threw his other arm over his eyes to cover them, “It’s fucking stupid - don’t even know why I’m upset about it,”

Oh. John had been sort of putting a lot of puzzle pieces together about Bob’s life with the small bits of information he’s been getting throughout their journey. It sounded a lot like the man didn’t get a lot of care and attention from other people. Bob seemed to get used a lot by people. He couldn’t imagine anyone hurting someone as kind as him and the thought of it made him angry. John pulled his arm up so Bob’s hand fell from his sleeve. He grabbed his hand and pulled it up to press a kiss to the back of it. When Olivia used to be upset he’d do the same thing, he hoped for Bob it would work too.

Briefly a flash of Bob being pressed into the asphalt with his arms pinned behind his back entered his mind. He had nearly forgotten about that encounter and how willingly Bob was to give himself up. The thought of Bob having to do that in the past to get out of situations made his blood boil. John has always been a fiercely protective person over people he cares about, he’s sure he’d die by it as well. He cared about Bob and just thinking about people taking advantage of his kind nature pissed him off. It was an unconscious act squeezing Bob’s hand, just something he did automatically.

Bob’s arm shifted up so he could peek out from underneath, his gaze watery as he looked up at John. He squeezed his hand back, “Thank you,”

“For what?” he asked, head tilted to the side in confusion.

A warm smile curled on Bob’s lips, “For caring about me,”

For any other person it would be a sentiment easily brushed off because of course John cared about him. But he also knew that Bob didn’t have the experience of people in the past genuinely caring about his well-being. It secretly made him giddy inside knowing that he was probably one of Bob’s favourite people. If they ever saw Yelena again he’d rub it in her face for sure. Damn, now that he thought about it he kind of missed her and Ava. They would probably be poking fun at the two of them right about now. He’s sure Bob missed Yelena. After all, they seemed pretty close.

Later on in the early afternoon they packed up to leave. It wasn’t like they brought much with them in the first place. John was already grimacing when they got back to the door he kicked in the day before. Bob pushed the small table out of the way so they could slip back outside. Of course, it was still just as cold and just as snowy. The sun was blocked by thick grey clouds that screamed an imminent snow storm. In the back of his mind he figured they should probably stay in the hotel another night. But another part of him said that if he had a proper bed to share with Bob while sober for another night there may not be a lot of sleeping. John needed some self-restraint.

He reached out and grabbed Bob’s hand, simply because he could. Plus it was cold and his fingers were already starting to freeze. There was a lot of walking they still needed to do and John wasn’t exactly sure where they were. He figured they were getting close to Washington state but he had yet to find any signs directing them in that direction. All he knew was that they needed to keep heading West.

Bob cleared his throat, “So if this cure thing really works and we can get the world back to normal -”

“Okay well I don’t think there’s ever going to be a real ‘normal’ again,” he interjected.

The man rolled his eyes, “Not the point,” he paused for a moment and looked up to the sky to try and find the words, he then looked back down, “If it did go back to ‘normal’, what would you do?”

John had to think hard about that. The thought of things being normal again wasn’t something he ever dwelled on. It always seemed to be an impossible thing in the distance, a dream. But now that there was a possibility that everything could be fixed it didn’t seem so surreal to believe. He briefly glanced at the man on his right. Bob’s cheeks and nose were flushed red from the cold, foggy breaths escaping his lips. What would John do if everything went back to normal?

He shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t know, I’m not really the same person I was before this all happened,”

“I’d probably get a cheeseburger,” Bob said, a grin on his face, “Like one from a really shitty fast food place,”

Curious. Then again, Bob always had a different outlook on life. He never had the same opportunities as John in his life. The thought of a shitty cheeseburger sounded good. John was never big on fast food, he used to cook a majority of the time. Olivia used to say that was one of his best features. Maybe if things did become normal he’d make Bob a cheeseburger. Or something better, a real home cooked meal. It didn’t seem like he had a lot of those.

“Fast food junkie?” he mused, mostly curious as to what Bob would say.

“Well when you’re poor your food options are pretty shitty, so yeah I would say I’m a fast food junkie,” Bob answered.

John scoffed, “I’d just have to cook all the time then, you’ll be singing my praises and you’ll never want fast food again,”

“Oh so you’ll cook for me all the time?” Bob asked, eyebrows raised.

Did John say that? He could feel his cheeks growing warm against the harsh cold. He rolled that brief thought around in his mind. He could see them in some cozy apartment with Bob curled up on the couch with a book while John made dinner in the kitchen. The thought was far from unpleasant. If everything went back to normal he’d still want Bob with him. He’d grown too attached to let the man go.

He nodded, now sure of himself, “Every day, I’ll even teach you,”

“What, you think I can’t cook?” Bob retorted.

John smirked, “I wouldn’t put you past burning the house down,”

“Oh so we have a house now?” Bob continued, he looked like he was having way too much fun with this hypothetical scenario.

“Apartment actually,” he corrected, his face was surely well flushed now.

Bob smiled to himself, probably a little too happy with this, “I’d like that,”

John was too embarrassed to say anything else. His face was flushed a bright shade of red because of it. What the hell was wrong with him? He kissed the guy for the first time like what? Twenty-four hours ago, and now he’s planning their hypothetical future living situation? John was a romantic in that way. When he first fell for Olivia he fell hard. It seemed to be the same with Bob. One kiss and he was deep in the murky waters of affection. For some reason he didn’t hate it. The warm feeling that came with being with Bob outweighed every other rational thought in his mind. It was the first time in a long time he’s felt good.

Up ahead was a rusty road sign. It was bent and near sideways from the car that had crashed into it ages ago. The vehicle was still sitting there buried in the snow. He squinted to read it, pleased when it stated that they were nearing the border for the next state. Slowly but surely they’d get there.

“Do you think we’re going to run into anyone else?” Bob asked, his eyes drawn to the sign as they walked past it.

John really hoped that wouldn’t be the case. He shifted the rifle strap hanging over his shoulder, “Hope not, I’ve got like one shot left on this rifle,”

Bob hummed in response, “We could always throw rocks at them,”

Why would Bob suggest that? John was so confused, “We’re not throwing rocks at them. Why the hell would we throw rocks when I’ve got a knife and you still have the pistol,”

The man laughed so hard it vibrated down to their conjoined hands. Bob then playfully elbowed him in the side, “I’m fucking joking, we’re not going to throw rocks at people I’m not a moron,”

He let out a sigh. This was going to be a long walk until the next stop.

Chapter Text

He didn’t know if it was the brutal cold weather or the exhausting journey that did it. All he knew was that Bob was sick. It started with sniffling and sneezing with a light fever, something Bob easily brushed off. Sometimes it was hard to tell what was wrong with Bob. Whenever he went quiet it could’ve always been for a number of reasons. In John’s defence he was focused on figuring out where the hell they were. Bob was pretty quiet and the few times John checked in with him the man always responded with a small smile or a nod.

The weather had only been worsening. It grew colder every day. The sky above them was a grumpy grey but John knew by the temperature that it was too cold to snow. His legs were near numb from trudging through the almost knee-deep snowy terrain. Everything in Washington state looked the same. Endless stretches of sky high pine trees followed by heaps of snow. The lack of signage and places to stop were becoming troublesome. He could hear Yelena’s voice nagging him in the back of his mind about them being lost. It was definitely something she’d be pointing out right about now.

A hand gripped the sleeve of his jacket, “John,”

At the sound of his name he immediately snapped to attention. It was like a switch setting off in his brain as his thoughts went from path-finding to everything Bob. He turned around, eyes raking over the brunet’s appearance. His face was unusually pale, sweat was dotting his hairline like a crown. Bob took another step towards him, knees buckling as he did. John grabbed him out of habit from how clumsy he usually was. However, this seemed different. There was a cloudiness in his gaze as if he was not all there. Bob shook his head, hands gripping John’s arms that held him in place.

“S-Sorry, I just,” Bob blinked a few times slowly, he looked confused, “I just don’t -”

John raised his hand and pressed the back of it against the man’s forehead, it was hot to the touch, “Fuck you’re burning up,”

“Don’t feel good,” Bob whispered, his eyes now downcast on the ground.

John frowned at him as worry began to bloom in his chest. Had he been pushing them too hard? Should they have been resting more? Was it too cold out? He pulled the man flush against his side, keeping him close with an arm around his shoulders. Bob leaned heavy against him and kept quiet as they continued on, his hands clutching onto John’s coat like it was a life line. The only thing on his mind now was finding a place for them to rest for a while. It felt like they were walking forever. Bob stumbled a bit and there were a few times that John had to hold him up so he didn’t fall over.

They came across a grocery store off the side of a road. In the back of his mind he knew that meant they were likely reaching the outskirts of a town. By now he was pretty much dragging Bob along. He paused and looked between the store and then further down the road. How far would the town be from here? The snow was getting worse and it was becoming harder to see. His gaze quickly lowered to the man leaning against him. Bob was barely conscious, he wouldn’t make it that far.

“Don’t worry Bobby, I got you,” he said quietly as he began to head towards the grocery store.

It was nerve-wrecking stepping inside. The store was pretty large and the front sliding doors had long since been smashed in. His eyes swept the initial entrance which was in shambles. A large hole in the ceiling let a bunch of snow and water inside. If it was warmer he was sure there would probably be mold around. Luckily off to the right by the registers was a staircase that led up to an office. He sat Bob down on the bottom step and squatted down in front of him, once again pressing the back of his hand to his forehead. He was warmer than earlier. His hand slid down from his forehead to cup the side of his face. Bob sighed and leaned into it, eyes barely open at this point.

His thumb gently swiped across his cheek, “I’m just gonna clear the office, then I’m gonna come get you,”

Bob hummed in response, leaning his head against the wall when John stood up. As he ascended the stairs he was carefully testing the weight of each step. The last thing he needed was one of them, especially Bob, falling through. Surprisingly they were still in good shape with only a few creaks. The door had an old pin pad which he bypassed by shoving the blade of his knife next to the handle in between the door and the frame. After a few wiggles he heard the click of the lock lifting. He was cautious as he opened the door, peering inside the dim office. It wasn’t anything special.

There weren’t any skeletons or infected. The corner had a two-way window that allowed him to see out over the grocery store. Underneath it was a long stretch of desk that was cluttered with monitors, likely for security cameras, and other paperwork. Near the back was a separate room divided by a single wall. It appeared to be a staff room with a few tables and chairs. When his eyes spotted the small sofa his nerves settled a bit. Once he confirmed there were no other places any infected could be hiding up there he headed back down the stairs. Bob hadn’t moved, in fact his eyes were closed now as he rested.

John pulled him to his feet, much to Bob’s dismay. The man groaned in protest, shaking his head as he was pulled up the next step. Bob shook his head again, “I can’t,”

“Yes you can, come on just a few more steps,” he coaxed, lying through his teeth as there were definitely at least ten more steps to go.

It was a hassle getting him up into the office. John felt terrible for dragging him up them as Bob’s face was twisted in pain and his bottom lip was starting to wobble as if he might actually cry. That was the last thing John needed right now. Thankfully the actual office space wasn’t huge so it was a quick walk to the sofa in the break room. He sat Bob down and helped him lay down, frowning as the man grimaced at every slight movement. Once he knew Bob was safe and resting comfortably he disappeared, heading back down into the store. He made sure to sweep every aisle and even checked the warehouse.

There were a few bodies around but they had long since deteriorated. The important thing was that there was nothing fresh. Along the way he gathered a few items. The food aisles were pretty much ransacked which was unsurprising. However, there were plenty of household items left on the far side of the store. This corner was a bit darker and he needed his flashlight as the daylight from the front didn’t stretch as far back here. He grinned to himself when he turned down the corner of the bedding aisle.

“Always a fucking genius,” he whispered, hyping himself up as he grabbed a few pillows and blankets.

Bob was sleeping when he got back up to the office. His eyes were squeezed shut, eyebrows drawn together in tension. John threw a comforter over him, tucking it around him to keep him insulated from the cold room. Fussing over him was something that came naturally to John. Acts of service were always more of his thing anyways, words never came easily but actions were natural. He still remembered all the times he took care of Olivia when she was sick. She used to get so mad at him because he seemed to be so resistant to most bugs that went around which meant she was usually the sick one.

He sat on the floor next to the sofa for a while, leaning his head against the armrest while he watched Bob sleep. Bob being sick was quite worrying. John would reach over every once in a while to check his fever. His body was warmer than usual and he hoped by covering him in blankets he’d sweat it out. Olivia did that a few times where she’d bundle herself up and then would hide in their room for hours until her fever would break. John really hoped that would work for Bob as well.

The grocery store, or rather department store with the amount of different types of items around, was quiet. John never minded the quiet as he had become quite accustomed to it. There was still a lot of unopened stock in the warehouse. Thankfully due to time and the frosty environment any actual produce had long since rotted and turned to dust. His one big jackpot was a skid of water that was up on some racking. In any normal circumstance he’d probably not risk climbing it but he knew Bob needed water.

It was a test on his body more than anything. As he pulled himself up onto the first layer of racking he could feel the tender pull at his middle. It wasn’t inherently painful but it was a pinch that made him acutely aware of his past injury. When he got onto the second layer the whole rack squeaked in protest. Idly he wondered how Bob was doing as he cut a few cases out and tossed them down onto a skid below. As he climbed back down he felt the rack shaking, thankfully it didn’t collapse on him. He grabbed the cases, one in each hand, and headed back to the front of the store where the office was. John wasn’t a doctor but he was hoping some fresh water would do Bob some good.

Three days had passed.

Bob wasn’t doing any better. In fact, he was probably getting worse. John wasn’t a doctor, he only knew the very basics of first aid as it is. It was times like these where he really wished Ava was here. She’d probably know what to do. Bob was in and out of consciousness, he barely ate let alone drink anything. He didn’t know what to do and it was frustrating to no end. John didn’t know if it was the weather that made him sick or maybe something he ate? Then again, there wasn’t much around to eat that would make him sick. During this time all he could do was wait, sometimes he’d walk around the store below to look for things. Mostly though it was just him waiting and watching Bob.

He was sitting on the sofa with Bob’s head in his lap, he had been running his fingers through the sweaty curls for the better part of an hour now. His right hand had the notebook Val gave him pinned to the armrest while he scribbled away in it. He has been writing a lot lately. It helped him think and vent his frustrations at times. It was better to write it out than explode later on at some minor inconvenience. Bob was having a rough go of it. He could feel him twitching and hear him mumble something from time to time. The fever was starting to worry him as it had yet to break.

“John?”

Hearing his name was like music to his ears. He paused his scribbling and looked down, “Feeling okay?”

Bob reached up and grabbed the hand in his hair, pulling it to the side of his face so the palm was resting against his cheek. John felt Bob turn his head beneath his hand, chapped lips pressing against his palm. Bob held his hand there and sighed, he shook his head after a moment, “E-Everything hurts,”

“You need water,” he pointed out, if he had a headache it was likely from dehydration.

When he tried to get up Bob squeezed his hand, “Don’t leave,”

Much to Bob’s dismay John did in fact move. Bob was getting a bit wishy-washy over the past twenty-four hours. Whenever he was semi-conscious he didn’t want John straying too far from him. He wasn’t gone long, only walking to where he put the cases of water to grab a bottle. It was ice cold which would probably help with the fever if he could get Bob to drink it. When he turned back to the sofa Bob was curled in on himself, he looked miserable.

He kneeled down next to the sofa and touched the bottle to Bob’s head, “Come on, you need to drink something,”

“Not thirsty,” Bob mumbled.

John shook his head and twisted the cap off to take a sip himself. It tasted a bit plasticky but what could one expect from plastic bottles that had been sitting baking in a warehouse for years. He was sure whatever chemicals were in the water outweighed dying of dehydration.

“Bob come on, get up. You have to drink something,” he repeated, this time shoving the bottle of water in the man’s hand.

“Sorry,” Bob whispered, he sounded sad.

John frowned, “For what?”

“M’not strong as you, I’m weak,” he said, eyes wet and red like they were both frustrated and burning with disappointment.

Really he didn’t know what to say. This was just as miserable for the both of them but he was sure for Bob it was getting worse by the day. He sat back on the floor and turned his back so he was leaning against the sofa, head falling back against the armrest so he could look up at the ceiling. The ceiling tiles were yellowed with age, some of them were cracked or were missing completely. He reached up to pull at the chain that was no longer around his neck, guilt once again blooming in his chest. Behind him he heard the pop of the water bottle as Bob opened it and took a few sips. At least some things were looking up if he was willing to drink some.

He began picking at the end of his sleeve where it had begun to unravel, “You’re not weak Bobby,” he laughed to himself, “You’re actually pretty fucking strong,”

Another crinkle as he squeezed the bottle, “I’m not,”

“You are, and I’m not just saying that shit ‘cause you’re immune. I actually mean it,” he said, confirming what he had always thought out loud.

When they first met it was a definite jealousy. He didn’t know what the hell made this guy special, especially for being so meek and mild-mannered. But as they travelled across the country together and he had witnessed countless times his wit, charm, kindness, not to mention the way he would sacrifice himself for those he cared about. Well, it was a lot to admire. John wished he had even half the spirit Bob had. Sure Bob had his own personal demons, everyone did. That didn’t change the fact that the man was strong, no doubt about it.

“I don’t want to die,” Bob whispered, he sounded a bit shocked he even said it.

John turned around, wide-eyed because where was this coming from? He smiled and shook his head, “You’re just sick, you’re not gonna die,”

Bob looked up at him, “Don’t wanna die, not anymore,”

It both broke his heart and put it back together hearing that. Clearly it was the delirium from the fever talking. This wasn’t something Bob would say out loud, at least not so easily. John reached forward and smoothed the hair out of his face, “I don’t want you dying either,”

Bob’s smile was frail, “You can’t either,”

“Can’t what?” he asked, still trying to make sense of all this emotional sick-driven babble.

The man shook his head, “Can’t die John, I need you too much,”

That fuelled him in a way that John didn’t know was possible. Having Bob say he needed him? Well, John couldn’t be any more giddy at the thought. John knew he was built to serve and protect. That had been his whole life and he had failed at it numerous times before. He didn’t know why he was wired this way. Maybe that’s what made him a good soldier. Having someone need him was all John ever wanted. He just wanted to be useful in any way, shape, or form. If Bob needed him then he would live as long as he needed him no matter what.