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Katsuki thought he was doing pretty great in the zombie apocalypse. Fewer people. No obligations. He could drive any car he wanted if the engine was intact. He got to break shit whenever deeply repressed emotions floated to the surface of his mind. Slept in. Ate junk. Partied as the dead banged and snarled outside the building because the of quiet where the drop of the needle blasted through the air like an atom bomb.
Peace and quiet, which you might think would be a godsend after living in his house where his parents did nothing but scream at him, drove him insane.
But no it—
Solidified everything.
No parents.
No friends.
The little structures of society he loathed felt like fairytales now.
Survival.
Well hello, repressed feelings, right on schedule.
Katsuki sucked on a beer until it left his mouth sour and popped the head off a zombie clown. Not that zombie clowns were a mutated creature developed in a video game but an actual Carnival clown who got bit during the whole Z fiasco.
He felt better.
He hit repeat on the CD player—good luck powering your mp3 or iPod in this era— and closed his eyes as the lyrics drowned out the zombies, the dark, dark sky, and irony that the one thing Katsuki really excelled in more than beating up shitheads he didn’t like was killing zombies.
Tonight I'm going to have myself a real good time
I feel alive
And the world I'll turn it inside out, yeah
And floating around in ecstasy
So don't stop me now
Don't stop me
Cause I'm having a good time
Having a good time
[x]
Katsuki walked on the roof of the bus and sat with his legs dangling off the ledge. He kicked some ass. Stole some food. Raided clean stores. Drove a car or two into a storefront because it was a hobby of his now. Not like anyone would need them. He saved the cool cars though, not even the zombie apocalypse could erase his appreciation for nice rides.
“Hey, King Explosion Murder!” A voice shouted.
Katsuki shot to his feet and swirled the barrel of his AK until the scope landed on a tall, stocky guy with cherry red hair and crooked, sharp teeth. He lowered the gun and jumped heavily on the hood of the bus. “What the fuck, Eijirou? You survived?”
“Hell yea,” he laughed. “Call of Duty, bruh. So how is everything?”
Katsuki pointedly scanned their surroundings so Eijirou could maybe realize the stupidity in that question. How are things; like DEAD, dude. “Like besides these dead fucks, not much. I drove a Lambo.”
“For real?” He asked, hitching his elbow on the hood and acting like they were a couple of old friends catching up on lost time while not in the middle of a zombie apocalypse.
They were but, this wasn’t Navy Prier or the boardwalk of a beach.
“Yea. I crashed it.” Felt good to take this once-prized object worth more than his life and smash it into a wall so hard the bumper curled into the axel and popped a hole in the tire. He had the scar on his forehead where it hit the steering wheel from the impact.
“Same old Bakugou, causing property damage.”
“You?”
“Cruising,” he said. “Hey, where you headed? Got any plans?”
He shrugged. What was there to really plan for now? Katsuki planned far enough to have something in his belly, something in his hand, and something to lay on that wasn’t the ground. “Dunno, crash at an Ikea.”
“Come with me. I’m going to the Hills. Gonna live in one of those A-lister’s home.”
Katsuki thought about it, Eijirou was a good friend of his back in the day but teaming up meant two things: attachment and loss.
“I have a car,” Eijirou jingled the keys in front of his face.
It was kind of dull being on the road alone and his feet ached from walking from city to town to deserted stretches of emptied highways. Plus a second person meant he didn’t have to sleep with one eye opened.
“You got a full tank?”
Eijirou lifted the canister. “Actually I’m scavenging for gas.”
He screwed his mouth and hopped off the hood, landing coolly. “The car I just crashed still has some gas. Let’s go before it explodes.”
Eijirou followed his lead. “Look, I don’t wanna call people out for coping with the whole zombie thing but you might be one of those deranged psychos from the ‘Walking Dead’.”
“Would you shut up. I’m not fucking psychotic.” He unscrewed the fuel cap. “You know how to siphon this shit right?”
“Yea.” Eijirou stuck the tube through the opening and grabbed the other end and lined it to his mouth. “Just like sucking cock, right?”
“Try not to swallow. We need that shit.”
“I’ll try to control myself,” he joked, winking goofily to which Katsuki could only roll his eyes at.
“I’ll drive,” Katsuki decided once they filled up the tank of old red Mustang. He held his hand out.
Eijirou clutched the keys. “Bruh, Imma stop you there.”
“I can drive,” he growled. “I just chose to crash those cars.”
“Nice to see you worked past those anger issues,” he muttered dryly.
“Shut the fuck up,” he snapped coldly, acidly, suddenly like a chased dog.
Fear and hurt flickered in Eijirou’s bubbly face so vividly Katsuki had to glare elsewhere.
See that, that was not how a well-adjusted post-zombie apocalypse person talked to other people.
Silence lapsed. A few zombies wailed and stumbled to them. Katsuki found a chunk of rubble and chucked it huffily at the zombie’s head. “When was the last time you talked to someone, bruh?”
“I don’t know,” he gritted, counting the days. Last person he saw was his mom and dad and spoiler alert, they were currently very dead. No un-anything. Katsuki flung his arms out, packed tight with emotions. “The fuck, why should it matter?”
Eijirou watched him. Eyes reading Katsuki’s anger and loneliness and replaying it back. Seemed to say, I understand. I’m alone too. I’m scared too.
“Here.” He threw the keys. “Don’t crash it or at least give me a heads up to tuck and roll.”
Katsuki opened the driver side and slipped in. “Nice choice,” he said to bring an ounce of happiness to Eijirou’s face.
“Thanks. This is actually my car. Kinda shitty but this babe got me through a lot. She’s gonna get me through this.”
Katsuki turned the key and the engine purred exquisitely. The paint job was shabby and the leather had cracks in it from lack of proper care and it smelled like it aged with Eijirou from eight grade to now, all Axe body spray and Mountain Dew. But it had one hell of a rumble to it.
“Nice. Now for some music,” he said.
“Wait—“
Katsuki turned on the radio.
I know this pain
Why do lock yourself up in these chains?
No one can change your life except for you
Don't ever let anyone step all over you
Just open your heart and your mind
Is it really fair to feel this way inside?
“You complete tool.”
“I’m sorry! My radio is broken so it just plays that one song on an infinite loop. I never got around to fixing it!”
Katsuki twisted the dials frantically to lower the volume. “It won’t shut off!”
“It’s really glitchy!”
“I’m crashing this car!”
“No, please. It’s my baby.”
[x]
Third Loop.
Katsuki clenched his mouth.
Some day somebody's gonna make you want to
Turn around and say goodbye
Until then baby are you going to let them
Hold you down and make you cry
Don't you know?
Don't you know things can change
Things'll go your way
If you hold on for one more day
Can you hold on for one more day
Things'll go your way
Hold on for one more day
“This is the worst,” he said.
Eijirou bobbed his head to the beat, the city blurred away to tall pines and abandoned cars. “Don’t worry. You’ll feel it.”
[x]
Twentieth Loop.
Eijirou drummed out madly on the dashboard. “Someday somebody's gonna make you want to turn around and say goodbye!”
“Say goodbye!” Katsuki chanted, headbanging violently, blonde bangs streaming over his eyes.
They turned in their seats, belting out the lyrics, uncaring. “Until then baby are you going to let them hold you down and make you cry.”
[x]
Hundredth Loop
Some day somebody's gonna make you want to
Turn around and say goodbye
Until then baby are you going to let them
Hold you down and make you cry
Don't you know?
Don't you know things can change
Things'll go your way
If you hold on for one more day yeah
If you hold on
“UGH.”
“Wait, wait, it’ll come back!”
[x]
Katsuki punched the wheel, “Someday somebody's gonna make you want to turn around and say goodbye!”
Eijirou smiled, singing along.
[x]
“My baby!” Eijirou lamented, sinking to his knees. “Damn you. Damn you all to hell.” He curled and hammered his fist to the cement.
“See. I told you I wouldn’t crash it,” Katsuki said as he watched the spectacle that was Eijirou mourning his platonic car partner.
“I got my first handy in that car,” he sniffed.
“Ew.”
“I smoke pot in it. Puke in it. Shit myself in it.”
A respectful pause for the dead, then Katsuki said. “Wow. Now I’m really glad its dead.”
“Too soon,” he cried.
Katsuki adjusted the strap of his book bag. “Stop fucking around. We gotta find a ride or a place to camp at.”
“Hey,” a guy called.
Katsuki was quick on the draw and had a barrel between the guy’s brown and blue eyes. “Whoa, whoa, fuckboy. Hands up.”
He raised them, steady. Face impassive, you know, for a gun in his face. It ticked Katsuki off fast the way his eyes stared back coolly but it took little to do that, his anger was as sensitive as trip wire. “Sorry I’m just—“ He cut off as he recognized the car and pointed carefully at them. “Wait, were you the guys blasting Wilson Phillips?”
“What, no, not us. We’re manly.”
Hello, gun.
In.
Your
Face
“That was us!” Eijirou answered, an actual overgrown puppy in the zombie apocalypse. “Put the gun down, man.”
Katsuki glared, hellfire burning in his eyes as he communicated via grunts and spiteful eye contact that he was not lowering the gun and Eijirou could fuck himself for entertaining such a dumb idea.
Eijirou frowned. “Katsuki!”
“Eijirou,” he mocked.
The guy bounced his eyes from Katsuki, Eijirou, and the barrel. Stayed on the barrel. “I was just wondering if I could hitch a ride.”
“Car’s dead,” Katsuki said, lowering the gun, and started for the opposite direction. “Let’s go, Eijirou.”
“Fuck,” the guy cursed.
“Come with us,” Eijirou suggested. “We can find a car together.”
“Hell no.” Katsuki stormed. “You, fuckboy, push on.”
“Stop calling me that,” said fuckboy in his dark blue jeans, white shirt, and unbuttoned blue flannel top. “My name’s Shouto, dick.”
“Listen, Fall Out Boy, this is a two-person group.”
“Katsuki, stop being mean. He needs help.”
“I just want a ride,” Shouto explained rationally. “To Columbus. After that, you can go on.”
“What’s in Columbus?” Eijirou asked, bubbly
“Family.”
The word sobered the air around them. The air howled. Crows soared in the sky, looking at the ground for a feast. Katsuki thought if it was crueler to point out the reality to Shouto that any family he once had were dead or to drive him personally to find his dead family.
Eijirou was one exception but this random stranger—the hell was the worth of helping him besides adding another mouth to feed.
The survivalist, the intellectual part of his brain told Katsuki to kick Manic Panic to the curb.
Yet, looking at him, seeing him in clothes stained in red and brown. Being able to categorize them all with a scary accuracy he’d never possessed before.
“Fine. Columbus, then you fuck off.”
[x]
“You know what I fucking love about the end of humanity,” Katsuki shouted.
“There’s something to love?” Shouto asked.
“Sleeping in?”
“Free Caddies.” Katsuki slithered his hand along the black hood of a Cadillac. “How’s that song go ‘we drive Cadillacs in our dreams’?”
Shouto blinked. “Was that a Lorde reference?”
“It’s fancy.” Eijirou tapped the dull rims with his boot. “But keys?”
Katsuki poked his head out the driver window and jiggled a small ring heavy with keychains of Hello Kitty. “Wanna bet this car belonged to a sugar baby? There’s some blood on the seats but hey, that’s the zombie apocalypse.”
“You guys are insane,” Shouto said because now, Eijirou was hopping in the passenger seat, oh-ing and awing at the eggshell white leather, at the elegant console , at the sunglasses that came tumbling out the glove compartment.
“Dude.” He donned the fancy Gucci glasses and made kissy faces at Katsuki. “Do I look pretty in these? Do you wanna pay me a thousand for anal sex?”
Katsuki shoved his face. “You look like an idiot.”
“But a fancy idiot.” Eijirou adjusted the glasses
“Hey, Fall Out Boy—“
“Shouto,” he corrected.
“Yea. Whatever.” Katsuki reached behind the seat and the door swung open. “Get in. Just mind the blood.”
Shouto wondered if backpacking to Columbus with a horde of zombies as his companions would be far safer and saner than hitching a ride with these two maniacs.
“Kacchan. Dude, dude! Look, disco. It’s about to get funky in this ride.”
“I will take anything over Wilson Philips.”
Eijirou popped in the CD.
The beat started for Dancing Queen and Eijirou let out one hell of a scream.
“Son,” Eijirou wiggled in his seat.
“Hurry fuck up, Fallout!”
Shouto threw his gear over the dried spot of blood, slammed the door, the dead city blurred out the tinted passenger window.
[x]
“Eijirou, hurry up!”
“I can’t fucking believe—“ Shouto drove his foot hard into the zombie’s chest, a once living employee at McDonald’s. “We’re going to die for Snowballs!”
Katsuki twirled his bat elegantly and covered Shouto’s back from a gurgling zombie. “Any Twinkies, Eijirou?”
“Nah, son!”
“Fucking, never any god damn Twinkies.” Katsuki stood over a zombie, clubbing it.
“Are we done—fuck!” Shouto jolted back, caught off guard from the sudden zombie bull rushing him from the slushy machine.
“Heads up,” Eijirou called and spiraled a football to the zombie’s head, interrupting its ravenous jaws from clamping down on Shouto’s arm.
Katsuki shoved Shouto to the ground and brought the bat upward, sailing the zombie briefly in the air before gravity zipped its weight down.
“That’s for passing me on Varsity!” Eijirou hooted, then cocked the crossbow and fired compact arrow through the final zombie’s temple.
Katsuki laughed. “Pass me a stupid Snow Ball, Katniss.”
Shouto stood on the dirty floor of the gas station, chest moving up and down rapidly.
“Did you shit yourself?”
Shouto scowled. “No.”
“Yo, Fall Out Boy, shit himself.”
“Do you wanna stop by a Target, Shouto? No judgment, bruh.”
Shouto shot to his feet, feeling like he was back in college and suffering his friend’s jesting comments. “I didn’t shit myself!” He snarled before he could control it.
He read Katsuki’s shock at his raised voice. Eijirou whipped his head away guiltily.
“Easy. Just trying to get you normal, man,” Katsuki said, then offered the packaged Snow Ball. “Here. Eat. You look fucking malnourished and I’m not carrying your ass if you pass out.”
Shouto blinked as Katsuki turned away, bashing in the skull of every zombie while Eijirou scanned the dusty shelves for salvageable food and gear.
“Bitching, hot chips!” Eijirou chirped, raising the bag in the air for Katsuki and Shouto to see.
“Nice. I’m gonna get some smokes.” Katsuki busted the locked door partitioning the register and the back room from the rest of the store with a thick layer of bullet proof glass. He tapped the end of his bat to the backdoor, and edged it open when the door gave easily.
“That’ll kill you,” Eijirou scolded like the six bags of cheddar cheese, barbecue, and hot chips were going to do him any benefits with his own health.
“Oh. Ha fucking ha.” Katsuki mocked, flattening his back to the door then walked inside. “Yo, Shouto, stop standing with your dick in your hand and loot up.”
Eijirou tapped his shoulder. “You good?”
“I just don’t see the point in risking our lives for this shit.”
“Me either.” He shrugged. “But I like it better than living in my dorm with barred windows and shit.”
Shouto ran his fingers on the plastic wrapper, a temporary reminder of world so far from now.
Katsuki walked back to the register with blood smeared on his face. “We’re clear now.”
“My boo, he takes care of me.”
“Shut up.”
[x]
Shouto stood on the curb.
Katsuki and Eijirou watched him from inside the Cadillac, struck silence from the gaping front door with blood on the wood and the knob. The windows on the ground floor were smashed, the curtains fluttering outside it stained with dirt and blood. The mail box behind the white picket fence read: Torodoki.
Katsuki didn’t have to step foot inside that house to know everyone was dead or long, long gone.
He curled his fingers around the steering wheel.
Dip.
Dip.
Dip.
You took him home.
He should’ve expected this.
Fucking Shouto was as brilliant as they came, an all-star student with brains and brawns and a face for knock-off Grey’s Anatomy’s soap drama, a comfy dorm at Harvard paid in full by dad, full honors classes—this prick should’ve done the math from the start.
Katsuki punched the horn, the image of Shouto on his own without their eyes watching him turned his stomach something awful and acidic. Fuck it; fuck the rules again. Stupid manic panic would die in a week without his ass.
He rolled Eijirou’s window down, set his hand loosely on the wheel. “Get inside, asshole. We’re going to Hollywood.”
Eijirou smiled and wiped his runny nose down on his sleeve, blinking with wet lashes. “Let’s go, Shouto. You can even pick the celebrity too!”
Shouto’s blue and brown eyes welled up. “Guys,” he said tightly.
Katsuki honked again and forced a smug smirk. “There are no tears in the caddy, Fallout.”
Just another day in the Zombieland.
Found out so and so was dead as shit, and that all you had now were memories that would fade like old Polaroids.
Then moved on.
Rinse. Lather. Repeat, but don’t get anchored down by your ghosts cause zombies didn’t have emotional handicaps.
[x]
See, the apocalypse made you all wonky. Twisted morals here and there. Justified barbaric acts in your head. Desensitized you to the smell and sound of gunfire and rotting bodies. Like a wrapped box shook violently by a toddler on Christmas Eve after mommy said ‘okay, you can open one present’.
That was them, the aftermath of a violent shake in a box. Lopsided.
They laughed when they shouldn’t and cried over the tiniest thing.
Shouto didn’t sob after they drove into the next state. Didn’t cry the week after.
He cried, randomly, when they took a small detour to a park and kicked the woodchips by the swing set.
He had a firm grip on the chain and broke, folding in half with his head between his legs and his two-toned hair spilling over his face. Droplets fell to the ground. Snot, tears, and spit tracked unattractive trails down his face and Katsuki didn’t do emotions. When he dumped his first girlfriend and she sobbed into his chest and begged him for a second chance, Katsuki walked away. When he cheated on his third boyfriend, who wailed and asked Katsuki why he wasn’t good enough for him, Katsuki walked out of their apartment.
Emotions arrived, Katsuki dipped. That was his nature.
He walked over, touched the back of Shouto’s head and let the guy curl his arms around his waist and sob into his shirt. Eijirou wailed with him, so emotional, such a mood ring. He, on the other hand, stood there like a wall. A warm one. Offered the most he had given anyone in a long time.
Huh, it only took the zombie apocalypse for him to act like a decent human being.
Ah, irony.
[x]
“How funny would it be if one of us fell into the crayon?” Katsuki asked, then toed a rock over the edge.
“If it’s you, then it would be so hilarious,” Shouto answered drily, and teasingly shuffled closer to Katsuki.
“Hey!” He ran from the edge back to the guardrail. “You were gonna push me.”
“Please. You have the keys. I would take those, then push you.” He waved him over. “Stand right here.”
“Fuck that.”
Eijirou sat on the hood, reading a pamphlet from the cork billboard with his thousand dollar Gucci glasses and a flannel button up he lifted from an Abercrombie & Fitch. “Guys is the Grand Crayon man-made?”
“Don’t answer that.” Katsuki collected dirt and tossed it at Shouto.
“Is it?” Eijirou asked.
“Yea, bud,” Katsuki shouted in response, bumping Shouto weakly when he tried to correct him.
“You’re such an asshole,” he growled when Katsuki clamped a sweaty hand over his mouth.
“The pilgrims made it.”
“Legit?” Eijirou perked like an overgrown pup.
“So legit. See, you gotta pay attention in class, man.”
“Oh boy.” Eijirou lifted his crossbow. “Zombie. Don’t worry I got him. Hey, he looks like one of dem dorky Canadian Rangers. How you doing, eh?” The bolt made a wet crunch drilling in the zombie’s skull. “Headshot.”
Katsuki’s shoes wondered to the zombie, spurring up a small cloud of clay red dust, then squatted and closed a firm grip around the shaft, and twisted. “Here, Daryl.” He threw it with an overhand.
[x]
Shouto slammed the door, trailing Katsuki to the back of the Cadillac. Weeds slithered out of the cracks in the asphalt. One car wrapped its hood around a pole. Two more were tipped on the side and another curbed the small island of dirt and grass. Someone busted the glass of the store’s name.
“An Aldi’s, don’t tell me you’re still—“
“Hunting my Moby Dick, the elusive Twinkie.” Katsuki opened the trunk, rubbing his hands together. “You’re fucking right I am.”
“Why would it be here, this is mostly non name stuff.”
Katsuki looked over their growing arsenals of zombie killing gear—basically whatever could bludgeon or poke a person. “There’s probably some bootleg brand here.” He grabbed a pair of large garden shears, snapping the air, shrugged and tossed it back. “ And I don’t fucking remember the last time we saw a Target or a Walmart.”
“I want to repeat to you that you’re risking our asses for Hostess.”
“Then stay in the god damn car. Shit.” Katsuki grabbed a baseball bat; yes, yes, laugh at the zombie weapon cliché but when all else failed and your gun clicked dry, old batty here didn’t; he tested a mock swing, building a fast swipe just to kill the speed in time.
“No. You don’t check your blind spots.” Shouto elbowed him to get his gear.
“One time.” Katsuki held up a finger, glaring at the side of Shouto’s face. “And he was a creeper. So I would’ve killed him before he took a fucking chunk of me.”
“I’m taking the shotgun,” he said, flipping the barrel to pop into two shells. He grabbed a box of shells, took 8, then combined it with a sizeable dagger and a 9mm on his belt.
“Go ahead, pussy. I like a personal touch.” Katsuki heaved the tomahawk in the air, catching it on its somersault to the ground. “Something that says ‘I’m Katsuki Bakugou and I’m here to fuck shit up’.”
“Guess it’s a real shame we don’t have a rocket launcher to match your ego.”
“Military base, why the fuck didn’t I think of that?”
“No,” Shouto said; sounding too close to his mother for his personal liking. No wrestling in the backyard, Katsuki. No porn, Katsuki. No you can’t drive your father’s Camaro. Fine, you can have a shot of tequila since it’s Christmas and Jesus is really busy with Santa.
“We are not raiding a military base. And why the fuck are you bringing a tomahawk, who are you, Rambo?”
“You’re taking a fucking knife!”
“As a precaution.”
“I ain’t need no precaution. I’m all the precaution I need.”
“Do you listen to the words that come out of your mouth sometimes? I think you should.”
“Can’t do shit in the apocalypse with you,” he complained, slamming the trunk close. “Worse than my fucking OG. Hey, Hawkeye, keep the engine hot.”
The window whirred down, Eijirou grinned in the driver seat, blasting Usher. “Hey while you’re in there, grab me some Ho-Ho please? If there’s not a ton of zombies and shit but it’s Aldi’s so it will be only seniors.”
“I’m sure the demographic is much larger than that,” Shouto corrected.
“We’ll keep an eye out and keep that shit down. I don’t want a fucking herd of zombies because you gotta grind to Fergie or whoever the fuck.”
“You love ‘London Bridge’, get out of here.”
“Shut up.” He snapped his fingers. “Fallout, let’s go.”
“Don’t die!” Eijirou waved, and cranked up the bass.
“Where would they be?” Katsuki asked, stepping through the busted door, glass crunched under his foot.
The store was in reasonable condition; the shelves stocked with a few items, a sign or two dangling ominously from a thread, the fluorescents lights flickering on and off, a smeared trail of blood here or there—in the zombie age, they called it prime picking here. The remote location helped to that.
Katsuki felt a hint of hope. Someone smarter, less angry, and with a fucking plan to live for more than a year would go for an item with a long shelf life—beans, anything packaged and condensed in a metal can—and not Twinkies.
“My parents shopped at Whole’s Food,” Shouto said, like he was answering Katsuki’s question except he wasn’t and it didn’t, and Shouto got ten times whiter and richer than his already pedigree level of rich 1%-ers, who paid full tuition for Harvard in spite of the fact Shouto could ride free on his academic scholarships alone.
But what rich asshole let their kid use some government aid or a third party pay for an education when they could shit out 90k in a light week?
Shouto’s dad.
“I dunno how you did it but I want to punch you the face harder than usual. Fuckin’ Whole Food,” he muttered the last bit to himself, well sort of, Katsuki didn’t go to great lengths to whisper it and earned a frosty glare from Shouto who was on his six with a double barrel shotgun.
Dumb, or confident Shouto had more affection for him than hate not to shoot him in the back of his head; you decide.
“By all means, go die for a pastry that’s half way decent.”
“Half way?”
“Zombie.” Shouto lifted the shotgun at the zombie, who was doing pretty well in the apocalypse considering its robust waist and bloody jowls.
It rushed at Shouto, yellow eyes frenzied and hungry.
“Don’t shoot—“ Shouto sidestepped the overweight zombie, tapping the barrel to the fat sack of skin between its skull and neck and decapitated.
Katsuki tossed his arms with a groan.
“What’s the problem?” Shouto popped in a shell; overly cautious. I.E exactly why Katsuki passed on double barrels or any gun that flagged after one or two shots.
“I could’ve taken that one.”
“Jesus, find your fucking Twinkies.”
Katsuki stomped down the aisle, knocking boxes to the floor and nursing a healthy rage ball as he scavenged through the store.
He heard footsteps as he reached the frozen section, and brought up the tomahawk for a throw. A gorgeous boy stared back at him, green eyes swimming with tears and mouth full and red from rolling his teeth over it.
Damn; what he wouldn’t give for a closet, a tube of lube, and twenty minutes with that guy.
Shouto skidded to a stop behind Katsuki, responding slower to the commotion.
“Please,” the boy sobbed. “You have to help us.”
[x]
Katsuki peeled away the ball up paper towels used to slow the bleeding and grimaced at the messy splash of gore and blood, and pulled her sleeve over the impromptu bindings. The woman looked up at him, searching for an answer. Or hope. Or sympathy. Katsuki squeezed her hand and walked to the other side of the room where Shouto and Freckles—he didn’t offer a name, Katsuki didn’t ask— talked in hushed voices.
“I’m sorry,” Shouto said, lowering his eyes.
Freckles blinked back tears, darting a glance at Katsuki.
He shook his head. “It took a good chunk of her.”
Shouto elbowed him.
“Eh. We can’t do, um, there aren’t a lot of options.”
Freckles pressed a fist to his mouth, nodding, but not speaking. His shoulders trembled and, fuck, Katsuki just ached for the guy. He’d been there. It was one thing when your loved one died far away and you came across the corpse or the zombie version of them, but to be there from start to finish, to watch them slowly fade away from themselves, to put the bullet in their head.
He sniffled. “It just happened so fast, you know. I…if I just…”
“Maybe she’s immune,” Shouto theorized, hazarding a thread of hope.
“Dude, come the fuck on.”
“Well, you don’t know,” he argued.
Katsuki grumbled. “I know there’s a bunch of dead people and not a lot of living. The thing would be to put her…out, you know. We can do it if you want.”
“Stop,” the woman said, pushing back her brown hair. “Don’t fucking talk about me like I’m not here.”
“Sorry,” Shouto apologized.
“You know how this goes, right? Ain’t a lot anyone can do,” Katsuki explained.
“I know. We didn’t have a gun, so…”
Katsuki dropped his head. “Yea. Sure. No problem.”
“Can I say goodbye?” Freckles asked.
Katsuki gestured loosely, and pulled Shouto aside while Freckles and the woman, a short busty brunette with apocalypse greased hair, hugged each other and whispered out tearful goodbyes. “I’ll do it.”
“You sure?” Shouto held the shotgun with a thin grip.
Nah, but, hey, someone had to play big brother to these assholes and well, Katsuki was big brother.
He clapped his arm. “Yea. I got this.”
“Here.”
Hands heavy, Katsuki took the shotgun, snapped the barrel to check it was loaded—which he knew already but no one rushed to kill a non zombie—and walked back to the couple. “Ready?”
The girl kissed Freckles once on the forehead, then his cheeks, and swept her thumbs under his big eyes with a bittersweet smile. “You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna make it.”
“Ochako,” he cried, burying his face in her chest.
“It’d gonna be okay.” She pulled him off, meeting his eyes under his wild bangs and spiky lashes. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” he said, sounding fragile. A cardboard box.
Katsuki wouldn’t get how a guy like him managed in the apocalypse for as long as he did. Survival was the best fitness coach out there and they all reflected that fact; lean, agile, muscled, large calves and thighs. The guy had none of that Z aesthetic though, the one that darkened your whole face, made you the ghost of yourself, carved hardness where it wasn’t before, took the kid and made the adult. He looked the type to smile and laugh. Katsuki lived with Eijirou for months so he recognized the sort; these abnormal people with sprinkles and light in the darkest hour.
She nodded. “I’m ready.”
Katsuki cocked the barrel, pressed it close to her forehead. He fingered the metal of the trigger, heart in his throat.
“Wait,” Freckles said, still breakable even with the hard determination set on his face. “I’ll do it.”
“I wouldn’t recommend that.”
“Please. She’s my best friend. I have to do it.”
He sighed, lowering the shotgun. “Okay.”
Freckles switched places with him, bringing up the shotgun to line with the center of Ochako’s face.
Ochako closed her eyes, new tears falling fast down her round cheeks.
Freckles cried with her.
They waited.
Katsuki walked up and asked. “Do you need some help?”
“Now that you mention it,” Freckles said, and whipped the shotgun on Katsuki and before Shouto could react in time, Ochako had already relieved him of his 9mm.
She clicked off the safety.
Two thoughts.
- Dead wrong about the innocent thing because, hey oh, he got played like a fucking fiddle.
- Okay, aside from rage he was feeling, Katsuki kind of got a little bit turned on. A little. Like, wow, gorgeous, quite the stage performer, and handled a shotgun like a pro. Take note, he said a little. Mostly he wanted to beat Freckles’ face in.
What a gorgeous, gorgeous boy. Katsuki picked a real bad time to develop a crush considering well, uh, the gun in his face and the fact that said gorgeous boy, who Katsuki fantasied about fucking at least twice, was holding him up at gunpoint.
Apparently, all that Katsuki needed to find someone who he had a deep interest was the dismantlement of society and rabid flesh eating zombies.
“What the fuck!”
“Car. Ammo. Whatever you got, we’ll take,” said Freckles with a smile.
“We have a third guy so if you fucking think for a second—“
Freckles and Ochako glanced to each other and laughed. “What makes you think it’s just me and her? You made a lot of noise. Now,” he tapped the barrel to Katsuki’s cheek. “Start walking. No funny moves.”
Katsuki rolled his eyes upward, glaring at the ceiling. “Son of a bitch.”
[x]
“Thanks boy!” Momo blew an air kiss from the passenger window right before Ochako took the Cadillac out the parking lot and on the street. He knew Freckles was in the backseat, smiling that cute boy next door smile, and getting a good laugh at them as they shrunk to the size of ants from his perspective.
“Ah, fuck,” Eijirou cursed, slapping a hand down his thigh.
Katsuki barked, more than a little volatile at being fucked over in Aldi’s. Not even a nice capitalist franchise like Target or Marshals. “What, what? What now?”
He scrubbed his hair, messing up the red locks. “My That’s What I Call Music 2009 was in there.”
Katsuki allowed a beat of silence to absorb that blip of stupidity. “Shut. The fuck. Up.”
“Why are you so mad, Shouto’s not mad?”
Shouto said dreamily, eyes not seeing the blue sky or the parking lot filled with dead cars or that one stripper zombie walking on a broken leg in a two piece. “I haven’t seen a girl in months, it was great.”
“They fucking jacked our ride!” He shouted like screaming it loudly might get his friends on the hate bandwagon. “Why is no one fucking mad, I’m mad.”
“We know,” they intoned dully.
“Kacchan, it’s the zombie apocalypse. We’ll hot wire another car, do you wanna pick it this time? Will that make it better?”
“No. What will help is me beating that cute little asshole’s head in. “
Stupid freckled prick with that stupid wild mane and stupidly green eyes. Whoopie-do, so you’re fucking attractive with your freckles and your eyes, fuck you, Freckle prick.
Shouto and Eijirou shared eye contact and communicated a whole conversation’s worth of a novel through the silent flickering of their eyes, something completely ignored by Katsuki as he glared down the road where Freckles sped down in his Caddy.
Zombie apocalypse, more than a third of the population currently dead or in the state of undead, and Katsuki still somehow managed to get his shit stolen by two chicks and Freckle boy. Fuck this new generation.
“But if we’re shopping for an upgrade, I want a Hummer,” Katsuki tossed out childishly.
Eijirou clapped him on the back and smoothed sweetly. “Alright, buddy. We’ll get you a nice Hummer.”
“Cool.”
“Any color?”
Not fucking green that was for sure.
“Red. For blood of that little shithead who I will murder when I find him.”
“…Alright, buddy. Simmer a bit, yea? Just another wild day in the apocalypse.”
“Well.” Shouto shielded his eyes against the dipping sun and adjusted the strap of his book bag. “We should get going and find something else. Probably be a day or two to the next town.”
“Great,” Katsuki mumbled, a few paces behind the guys down the highway. “More fucking walking.”
“Look now the bright side,” Eijirou said, breathing loud through his mouth as he sprinted and vaulted on the hood of a car, squealing his ass on the paint like an action hero from every movie ever. “It’s not raining and we met some new people.”
“Fuck your bright side.” Katsuki jumped on the hood of a Honda, denting it, then hopped off.
“You’re more depressing than the zombies.”
[x]
“Now for the finishing touch,” Katsuki announced, drawing the brush on the driver and passenger door. A thick, runny K painted in black completed the look. “K for king.”
Katsuki stepped back with his arms crossed and a proud smirk, watching the paint dry. The guys joined him. Eijirou mirrored his bright smirk. Shouto rolled his eyes.
“See, aren’t you a little happy we got robbed at gun point.” The redhead nudged suggestively, Katsuki was in too good of a mood to twist his nipple for thinking that Freckle boy and the two bitches were any sort of a blessing.
“How about A for asshole, you twat?” Shouto mocked.
“Shouto’s on bitch detail. Eijirou, you’re shotgun.”
Eijirou whooped, hugging Katsuki with one arm.
At the end of the lineup, Shouto acted like it wasn’t a big deal that he had to sit in the back. Like who cared. Not that he wanted to sit in the front with Katsuki who drove over every pothole like an asshole.
[x]
“Wake the fuck up, wake the fuck up,” Katsuki hissed, delivering a punch to Eijirou and Shouto who were in a pleasant sleep.
“Dude.” Eijirou winced, cradling his bicep. “We talked about this. Use your words.”
“Shouto?”
“You punched my shin, you dickhead. God.” Shouto sucked on his lip, hissing out in a whiny voice. “I hate you.”
“Assholes. Look.” Katsuki pointed at the long stretch of road flanked by acres of grass and large bales of hay, on the gravel was a black Cadillac with the hood propped open. In white pain, someone sloppily wrote ‘Help. Stranded.’
“There’s no way,” Shouto said in disbelief between the seats, hand still rubbing his shin.
“What are the chances?” Eijirou questioned, leaned on the dashboard to squint. “Do we stop and check?”
“Fucking of course. Our shit’s in there. And ,” Katsuki paused, cocking his head back with a curling smirk that reeked of bad intentions. “We get to have our revenge.”
“Look,” Shouto spoke directly to Katsuki with a stern tone of logic. “If it was in reserve, would you trust you?”
Katsuki turned his head, stared for a minute, then said. “Fuck you.”
“See, my point.”
“You just got the hots for that chick. If you jerked off like the rest of us then you wouldn’t get a raging hard on for the first thing with a pair of tits.”
His face hardened coldly at that comment. “Don’t talk about her that way.”
“Shouto. She. Fucking. Robbed. Us.”
“You don’t know her.”
God, one air kiss, a curvy frame, and black soft eyes was all it took to have Shouto batting against his own crew.
He shouted, incredulous. “Neither do you!”
“I’m not joining in on any revenge plan.”
“Fucking fine. You’ll stay in the car and we’ll go.”
Primly, Shouto crossed his arms. “Fine.”
“Fine!” Katsuki screamed like the grown man welding a crowbar tended to do and slammed the door hard enough to test the Hummer’s suspensions and stomped off, blonde hair whipping from the hard wind gushing down the barren landscape. With a pant and a few hurried steps, Eijirou matched his strides with his crossbow.
They circled the Cadillac, then approached. Eijirou covered his six as he threw open the doors and looked inside the car.
“Hey are my CDs there?”
Katsuki opened the glove compartment, clinking the plastic cases between his fingers. “Here.”
Eijirou slung his crossbow and went through the task of checking the CDs for scratches. “I guess they took off?”
Katsuki said as he stretched across the console. “Guess so. Just my fucking luck.”
“Well, I hope they’re doing alright. It’s tough out here.”
“I really hate that you’re such a good sport about everything. There’s nothing here.”
They checked the trunk. “They cleaned house. Fuck it, ain’t shit here for us.”
The road went on for miles forth and back, they were in no hurry to get to the car. Sunlight glared off the cases, which Eijirou could not stop beaming about and looking over; music was Eijirou’s out of Zombieland. It was one of the few thing preserved; books, films, music, clothes. Food rotted, cars rusted or the air in the tries sagged, the buildings eroded away under rainfall and unmonitored fires. Cats and dogs were feral now and skirted in the thick bushes at the sight of people. Zombieland offered little other than supplying ample opportunities to turn you into a human happy meal. So some people clutched to shit like that.
Music did that for Eijirou. Kept that airhead a 100 feet above drowning. Shouto turned to books and comics if they found legible copies. Katsuki had ass kicking for some time but that changed, now it was fuckheads like Shouto and Eijirou that gave him some stability. Weird.
Those three were no different than them, all part of a zombie motley crew with quirks and awful coping mechanisms. If they were in a bind, Katsuki would rob someone too for a ride and weapons. Clearly, Freckles was the leader, the hunter, the protector. He just played the game differently than Katsuki.
He wondered if the guy studied drama or something because those tears wrenched every vulnerable bone inside Katsuki. People had a lot of those but damn, Katsuki didn’t think he could actively feel all of them ache for one person.
“We probably won’t see them again,” Eijirou said.
“Yea. Don’t tell Shouto but the dude was hot.”
“I’m sorry you can’t live out your gay fantasies.”
Katsuki shoved him back with a bark of laughter that showed all his teeth. “Fuck you, dick.”
They hopped in.
Shouto said nothing, stiff as a board in the backseat.
“What?”
He chewed on his lip.
Katsuki shut his eyes. “They’re in the car, aren’t they?”
“Hello,” Ochako greeted with Shouto’s double barrel.
Momo appeared next, brandishing a 9mm handgun at Eijirou’s head. “It’s so funny that we keep running into each other like this. I didn’t get your name last time.”
“Uh, Shouto.” He blushed.
“What about you ginger?” Ochako asked politely, like she didn’t have the power to blow off his head in a nanosecond.
“Eijirou.” He waved. “Thanks for not scratching my collection.”
“Oh no problem. You got great taste in music.”
“Thanks!”
“Where the fuck is he?” Katsuki growled.
Ochako instructed. “Honk the horn…What’s your name?”
“Oh that’s Katsuki, our fearless leader.” Eijirou answered.
Freckles slinked behind a bale of hay with an AK-47.
“Bummer, man.” Freckles smiled at Katsuki through the driver’s window.
And Katsuki was pissed, dude. Mad.
Here, he was, bent over metaphorically over a barrel by the same guy. This jerk whose hair barely reached Katsuki’s chin had the jump on him. Twice.
Two times. That was one times too many.
And was it necessary Freckles do all this ass fucking while looking gorgeous, didn’t he have enough stealing Katsuki’s Cadillac, his ammo, his gun—he had to shop lift his heart too. Greedy asshole.
Katsuki confronted the black barrel and Freckles’ apple pie warm smile as any young adult surviving Zombieland would do. He seethed. “Eat dog shit, you freckled dickhead.”
“My name’s Izuku actually,” he corrected. “We need a lift. I hope you don’t mind us tagging along.”
Oh.
Oh!
By all means, car jack me again!
No, no, I insist!
[x]
Tense, the tension in the Hummer should crush them all to dust like Mercury’s gravity. Well Katsuki was tensed as dog in a waiting room; his crew didn’t share it.
“You guys are going to L.A.? So are we. This is awesome,” Eijirou laughed from the backseat, next to Ochako, who still manned the shotgun but had the barrel pointed down at the carpet.
“Yea, it’s the end of the world so I figured why not go to L.A. and steal all those expensive clothes and purses. Imma fight zombie like a queen.”
“I didn’t even think about that. Oh my god, this trip got a thousand times better.”
In the seat behind them, Shouto and Momo talked sparsely about their life before Zombieland. School. Life. Family. How the three of them roped into one group.
Momo had crowded in her dorm up at Norte Dame since the start of the zombie breakout and managed fairly well off the strip of stores around the campus once the horde of zombies ate most of the students and staff and went off further from the campus for more walking meals. She lived off of canned food for months. Momo was not much of a fighter, she said. She went up to Norte Dame for a business degree with a minor in creative writing. Her first encounter went a zombie left her paralyzed with fear so she didn’t dare to try to forge on her own. She figured the military would clear up this mess and the world would go back to normal.
But it didn’t.
Her food supply thinned.
She started to ration her food.
One day, a horde zombies flooded the campus and blocked the way to her hide out.
She couldn’t fight so she ran.
Lived in people’s house; wore their clothes; ate a rabbit or two—which shattered her poor heart and made her vomit into the bushes twice when she peeled its fur.
She was on the verge of starvation when Izuku and Ochako found her dirty and thin.
“I’m getting better,” she said, shyly. “But it’s hard to shoot them. I don’t know what I would have done without them.”
“I can help you if you like,” Shouto offered, averting his eyes when Momo fluttered her black doe eyes with warmth.
“Really? Thank you.”
Shouto picked at a loose thread from one of the holes in his jeans. “Yea. Sure. Everyone should, uh, know how to defend themselves.”
Momo’s cheeks flushed a pretty shade of rose.
When the fuck did this carjacking turn into the most obnoxious school trip?
“So,” Izuku started hesitantly. Reasonable because he issued control of the driver seat and Katsuki had reacted to that…poorly. Guy was cute, no doubt, but this was the second car Izuku jacked from him and it was starting to affect Katsuki’s ego that liked to be at a comfortable height of the Sears Tower. “What’s your story?”
“My story is that I’m going to kick your freckled ass.”
Izuku nodded. “Okay then.” He left it at that sensing Katsuki’s sensitivity and let the conversation die.
See, Katsuki though, could not.
“You robbed me. Took my Caddy, which you didn’t even keep clean might I add. Asshole. Did you raid a Willy Wonka’s cellar cause there was a shit ton of candy wrappers on the floor. And then you robbed me again and you’re driving my Hummer. I don’t know, man, but I don’t feel like telling you anything that isn’t connected to my fist.”
“Look, I understand where you’re coming from. But we’re not robbing you. Again. We’re tagging along.”
“And the Ak-47 is just a fashion statement.”
Izuku laughed. “Sorry. You look like a tough guy.”
“I am.”
“That’s why I’ll shoot you in the balls if you try to hurt us,” he teased.
“The balls, what the fuck? I didn’t steal your shit.”
“I feel like everything is getting mixed up between us. I don’t dislike you.”
“I dislike you! Greatly. With all my heart.”
“But I had to make a call. We were already low on food. We lost our guns. We had some very mean people on our asses. I had to think about them.” He jerked his thumb back; the others were too consumed in their own private conversations to pick it up.
“What people, you found others?”
Izuku worked his jaw with a dark energy, fingers squeezing the leather of the steering wheel. “Yea. Not the type you want company with.”
Those people had to be dicks to get someone who farted out sunshine and rainbows to turn cold and hard so swiftly. It wasn’t unheard of. Or unexpected. Zombieland homed your regular Joes like Katsuki and Izuku, who wanted to make tomorrow less shitty than the last; then you had these gangs of assholes, who wanted to reorganize the pecking order with hierarchy absent and gun laws looser before the whole U.S. went to shit. They stole, raided small groups, killed the living, etc.
Katsuki avoided them. He could read the odds and his own survival rate if he went against them. While he didn’t engage them in a firefight, he made sure the ignorant zombies in the area were tipped off to the human buffet in the café looking down a couple with a barrel.
“Wow. It really is the Walking Dead out here.”
Izuku’s somber expression melted into a small grin. “That’s a good joke. I like that.”
[x]
“If she is so lucky then why does she cry,” Eijirou sang,
Ochako finished the lyric. “And they say she so lucky, she’s a star.”
“But she cries, cries, crises, with her lonely heart,” Momo and Izuku chimed.
Katsuki grabbed his hoody and tried to smother himself in the backseat.
Shouto flipped through the stolen library copy of IT with his noise-canceling headphones on.
They were a group now.
Somehow.
Katsuki constantly forgot why he should be really bothered by time every time Izuku fell asleep without the AK-47 pressed to his chest, when he laughed with food in his mouth, when the sun silhouetted him with a golden outline, when the dimples on his cheeks deepened as he howled and snorted out his nose, when his soft voice broke the silence of the car at night as he drove down the black streets.
“Guys, we nailed it,” Izuku praised.
“Game plan, when the world goes back to normal we should all start a pop band.”
“Totally!” Ochako gasped.
[x]
“I have never seen Star Wars,” Shouto admitted.
The entire group gasped.
“You poor child,” Izuku comforted and reached between the seat to clap his hand soothingly up and down his arm.
Momo giggled.
Katsuki kicked Izuku’s leg for his attention.
“Once we reached L.A., we’re all watching it with Shouto. I will not stand for this crime,” Eijirou declared.
Ochako said. “I mean Star Wars is okay. Personally, I’m a Tolkien bitch.”
[x]
“Nope, bullshit. I’m the biggest Batman fanboy. Get the fuck out of my Hummer,” Katsuki barked, squishing Izuku’s into the door.
“Watch the road, you goof,” Izuku laughed.
Yea, he probably should watch it since it was jet black with the empty moon but something about Izuku’s face shadowed from the night demanded his full attention.
“No. Die, fanboy number two.”
“You mean number one.”
Ah, fuck it, who cared if they crashed.
Shouto.
He cared very much.
[x]
“Level with me,” Katsuki started, on the roof of an Escalade with a black full barrel shotgun splayed over his thighs. “How the fuck did you get good with that fucking con?”
“Someone’s curious about me all of the sudden,” Izuku teased, walking the perimeter.
The others were on scavenger detail for once, a task normally reserved for Katsuki and Izuku who worked the best under pressure, but Shouto wanted the others to get the experience for the future in case a horde separated the group. It was a total ghost town; he wasn’t too concerned with getting overrun.
“Shut up, dickhead. And answer my question.”
“Do you think I’m tough?” Izuku asked, toeing the curb.
He snorted, laughing crudely. “I know for a fucking fact your ass is one tough son of a bitch.”
“Yea, well, a lot of people didn’t so I just played into it, you know.” He shrugged; something about the movement revealed pre-Zombieland Izuku, a quiet guy with a baby face and wide shoulders. Insecure. Second guessing. Riddled with a brain the size of Jupiter with his fast thoughts. “Acted weak. Cried. Which is very helpful now. People don’t worry about the weak kid, they watch people like you.”
Well Katsuki couldn’t fault that logic. After all, he fell prey to it too at the start but where people saw a weak guy, Katsuki saw a pretty punk who looked ugly when he cried—he didn’t; Katsuki could stand for his tears.
“You’re not weak. Actually, you’re fucking smart. My dumbass wouldn’t think to do that.”
A smile hinted at his lips. “Then it’s a good thing we teamed up, right? You’re my muscle, I’m your brain.”
“Hey you still jacked my shit. You’re not getting off that easy, motherfucker.”
“Aw.” Izuku pouted comically, looking too cute for the AK-47 and the dagger clipped to his belt.
Yea, Izuku was the farthest thing from weak.
[x]
Katsuki twirled his nine iron confidently. “Imma have you all know that before my ass was kicking zombie ass across this beautiful, great country. That I was also kicking ass in miniature golf.”
“Fucking take the shoot, loser,” Shouto complained, already losing at an embarrassing rate.
He lined the fat head, lined it to the ball, and delivered a clean strike. Smirked as the ball ricocheted off the sides and rolled into the hole. Strutted over, fixing Izuku with a smug smirk. Anyone could blast away a zombie but to master miniature golf few held the title.
Speaking of the undead, one wandered the court with a fanny pack and a sun visor. It stumbled around on a twisted ankle and mistaken the tall elephant statue for a meal three times already so none of them were really bothered by it.
“I would like to challenge that title. For I, Izuku Midoriya, killed it at Wii golf.”
“Get the fuck outta here.” Katsuki bumped their chest with a sultry challenge in his eyes. Looked down at Izuku to find those green eyes of his staring back up, hot and flirty and 100% masculine that Katsuki pondered why he dated more chicks than guys when he could’ve got this. “You think you can fucking play this game, Midoriya?”
“Yea. And I can do it better than you.” He winked, bumping his shoulder past Katsuki to take his turn.
Katsuki pressed his fist to his mouth, watching Izuku’s round ass as he bent down. “Boy, you’re about to be fucking schooled.”
“Aw, they’re flirting,” Eijirou cooed privately to Momo and Ochako who spectated from the sidelines.
“Who wants to bet that Snickers we found on how long it takes before they fuck each other’s brains out?” Ochako petitioned.
Eijirou leaned back on the bench. “I know Katsuki, give it a week.”
“He’s also emotionally stunted as hell. Two weeks. Momo?”
“Should we really be betting on their relationship?”
“Um, yes. It’s the apocalypse. What else should we do, rebuild humanity? I think not.”
[x]
“Fuck!” Izuku shouted from the other side of the small local shop.
Katsuki, busied with burying his machete in the skull of a scrawny zombie, became immobilized by the sound of terror, shooting his eyes worriedly to Izuku as he drove his foot into the zombie wrestling with him and popped off a round into its head. Two more zombies charged from his six, Izuku whipped around to the wet sound of their gargles and his red sneaker slipped on the pool of blood trailing from the dead zombie.
Katsuki gripped the handle and gave it a vicious tug, heart thunderous and panicky as Izuku scrambled away on his back.
More wet snarls, less gunfire.
He could hear Izuku’s flustered mutters.
Fuck, fuck.
Propping one foot on the dead zombie—because zombies were, yea, bad joke—Katsuki pulled again, growling when the blade refused to give.
Come on, come on.
All that talk about ass-kicking and here he was, jittery with sweat on his palms and actual fear infecting his mind.
Save him.
God damnit, Katsuki, fucking save him.
“Izuku—“ A great force barreled into his side, tackling him down to the floor.
Katsuki clawed at the zombie’s face as it snapped for his throat. “Shit, shit, shit.”
Said zombie trying to bust Katsuki open like a piñata happened to be one of the fittest zombies he came across since his start in Zombieland. Gym rat tank with the white text ‘Training to beat Thor’, basketball shorts caked with mud and brown blood, and arms thick and veiny.
Jock zombie crushed its calloused fingers into his shoulders and pressed down on Katsuki’s hand, chomping savagely. Katsuki clenched his teeth, pushing back hard that his nails cut crescent moons on the zombie’s face.
More pressure, Katsuki was losing fast.
He lost an inch.
The jock’s putrid breath heated over his skin.
Saliva rolled down his neck.
“Katsuki!”
Katsuki saw Izuku’s red sneaker sail into the side of the zombie’s face right before the zombie rolled off with a feline snarl. Izuku stomped on its chest and fired.
“Oh my god.” He slid to his knees, tossing aside the AK-47, and ran his fingers frantically over his neck, checking it for bites. “Thank god,” he breathed, thumping his head on Katsuki’s chest. “Fuck. I was worried.”
Katsuki jolted, remembering Izuku’s previous situation. “Hey, are you okay? Lemme see.”
“I’m okay. Look.” He showed his bite free arms, then hooked his thumb on the collar of his shirt and flashed his sharp collar bones. “No bites.” He smiled, face suddenly closer to Katsuki’s. “Looks like I saved you this time.”
“This time,” he grumbled, ticked at himself for failing Izuku.
“I’m really glad you’re okay,” Izuku said, low and honest.
“Don’t get all fucking sappy.”
Izuku pressed the heel of his palm into his eye and forced back the tears. “Sorry.”
“Shut up. It’s okay.”
“Okay.”
Katsuki lost himself in Izuku’s apple green eyes, which was convenient for him because Izuku seemed pretty lost too and inched his face nearer. Katsuki brought his hand up automatically to cup the back of Izuku’s head, sighing softly at the majestic tangle of curls smoothing between his fingers. Fuck, it was so soft. He imagined it but, damn, to have it. To feel it. To fist it, now.
“Are we going to?” Izuku asked, wetted his lips in a way that wasn’t aimed to be inexplicable filthy, glossy, and downright nasty—the best nasty; not the gross kind—; and it pinned Katsuki in a awkward spot with thoughts about Izuku’s mouth on his own, but other wonderful places. Namely his cock.
And the problem with that, besides the fact Katsuki wanted to do a relationship in the normal order because he might kill the living dead but that didn’t mean he wanted to throw out all the rules of pre-Zombieland, was that the current shops littered with double dead bodies.
Zombies, yea, but they’re people at one point. This shop was busy at one point.
It seemed in poor taste.
Zombieland; home to zombies in G-strings and pastel nipples and this is a real awkward time and place to be horny right now but hey, zombies, man.
“Yea,” Katsuki said; because he could not not act on it with Izuku’s face and weight on him, the sun streaming with an afternoon bronzer on his freckled cheekbones, with their lives on a running clock. He would die; probably very, very soon with his temper; and he wanted a little bit of goodness before that time. “That a problem?”
“God, no.”
Inhaled; got a little pleasure spike worming fast to his cock at the confirmation that all those times in the cars, those fleeting looks, the sexual tension between them was not only mutual but euthanistic. Izuku wanted bad like him. Aching bad like him. Chewed up like him.
“Good,” he growled, almost a zombie himself in the moment, ravenous for food. “You drive me fucking mental.”
“Katsuki—“
Eijirou crashed into the display of tomato soup cans stacked into a pyramid. He picked himself up, cans spiraling on their sides in every direction. “I heard screaming, are you guys alright?”
Izuku blushed, looking away.
Katsuki’s head fell back on the ground,
Fucking cockblocker.
[x]
“Are you mad?” Eijirou pried, peeking hopefully at Katsuki’s silent profile.
Katsuki focused on the black road and the night sky heavy with stars. Darks woods blurred in the window. A zombie or two stumbled out the trees, hearing the noise, and stood there snarling at the red tail lights.
Izuku snored cutely in the backseat, wrapped warmly in a cocoon blanket.
God fucking damn it.
That could be him in the back wrapped around that cute prick.
But no.
“I feel like you’re mad,” he concluded after five minutes of silence.
“Eat a fiery cock.”
“Yea. You’re mad.”
[x]
Katsuki whistled. “Fuckheads, check it out.”
Izuku yawned, propping his chin on the back of Katsuki’s headrest. “What are you…We’re here.”
“Whoo.” Eijirou rolled down his window, stuck his head out, the wind rushing through his red hair. “L.A. home of the beautiful and the memes.”
“I can’t wait to rob every high end stole. Sephora, I’m coming for your 50 dollar eyeshadow palettes.”
“Alright, but let’s bunker down first. I have a damn curvature in my spine from sleeping in this damn car,” Shouto said, with Momo blinking awake on his chest. “Hey, pumpkin. We made it.”
“You’re not teasing me?”
“Nope. Look.” He hit the button, bringing in the sound of the Hummer’s heavy duty wheels zooming over the desolate bridge.
“Thank god. I can’t wait to shower.”
Shouto pressed a kiss to her ear, ghosting a small laugh over the cartilage. “You know what I can’t wait for?”
“You know what I’m thinking?” Izuku smiled, whispering in his ear.
Katsuki hummed. “Strippers?”
He hugged the seat, morning breath hitting the back of Katsuki’s neck. “Nah.” His tongue rolled behind his teeth. “Lambos.”
“You perfect little shit.”
He laughed, hands dangerously close to pulling Katsuki into a hug but instead drifted down, an inch away from gripping his hips. “Should I take that as an insult?”
“Nope. As a warning.”
“Oh?”
“Oh my god!” Momo shrieked, ducked behind her hands before everyone could see the terrible red flush masking her face.
Shouto grinned proudly, unapologetic.
“You’re so dirty,” she squeaked.
“We should probably check a mansion with a ton of rooms. With thick walls.”
[x]
A sharp whistled pierced the air, echoed in the empty mansion, to the tall eggshell white ceilings where crystal chandeliers shooting prisms of rainbows, down to the white blue-veined marble floor, to the grand foyer that fanned exquisitely to a spiraling white staircase.
“Damn son,” Eijirou admired it, spanning his arms out, amazed by the genuine crystals above their heads, the real stone at their feet, and the lush backyard with long pool and hot Jacuzzi.
Katsuki almost felt dirty stepping in it with his mud smeared boots. He dragged his hand across the wall, realized he developed one hell of a tan since the start of all this—road tripping, making a group he didn’t think he would ever want in the first but now they tethered his big head to the ground.
Shit, when was the last time they slept in a house with beds?
When the hell did he last see himself in a mirror not hooked to a car—the rearview showed him that his once short spikes fell into long bangs by his eyes and his chin was shadowed by dark facial hair.
“Ochako, there’s a pool,” Momo said, almost in tears at the sight. See, little random things triggered people.
“Yas.” Ochako clapped.
Shouto walked into the mansion rightfully cautious and with his 9mm gripped firm in his hand. He darted his eyes around the white. “Guys, we still gotta check—“
“There’s a fucking home theater here, let’s never leave!” Eijirou’s voice rumbled from somewhere deep in the mansion.
Him, Izuku, and Shouto held their breaths for snarls and meaty gargles and sagged with relief when they got the same silence of a big home with no people.
Shouto looked on edge though, maintaining a visual on Momo as she fawned over the large kitchen.
Katsuki poked him with his gun, inclining his head to the spiral staircase. “Me and Izuku gonna check upstairs.
“This sofa, ugh,” Ochako lounged on the leather section. “This is heaven.”
Izuku lifted her Coach shades. “Gonna check the top floor, make sure there’s no monster.” He pecked her forehead.
“Tell me if you see a walk-in closet with designer dresses,” she said, then motioned impatiently for Izuku to reset her shades. “Aw, much better.”
“You look ridiculous.” He laughed.
She waved off his ‘negative’ aura, hitching her shades down the bridge of her nose and wiggled her brows suggestively. “Whatever. Go ‘search’ with your boyfriend.”
“You little—“
“I might’ve packed your bag with lube and condoms when we looted that CVS.”
Izuku stood, speechless.
Ochako lifted her shades, and winked.
“Yo, Izuku,” Katsuki called at the top of the stairs. “You gonna let me have all the fun or what?”
“Yes, are you going to let him play by himself?” Ochako teased.
“Why don’t you mind your own beeswax, missy?” Izuku swatted her with one of the decorated throws, bolting to the top of the stairs with the heavy thought rattling in his brain and the lube and condoms in his backpack.
They walked the top floor, stopping to gape at the signed black electric guitar framed in a glass case. The signature was illegible but the band’s logo helped narrowed one the previous owner.
“Joe Perry,” Katsuki pointed, rubbing his fingerprints on the clean glass. “That’s his guitar.”
“Who?”
“Dude, fucking really? No Aerosmith? No Dream On? I don’t want to miss a thing? Angel?” He volleyed.
Izuku shrugged. “I’m one of those gays that listen almost exclusively to pop and hip-hop.”
“You have so much to learn,” he scoffed, flattening his palm on a closed door
“Well, sing me one of their songs. Maybe I heard of it.”
“Fuck no.” He twisted the knob, encouraged the door wide with a soft push.
It opened to a master bedroom complete with a balcony, walk-in closet, an electric fireplace, a 52inch flat screen TV, and a master bathroom.
“Whoa,” Izuku gaped, turning in a complete 360 to absorb the score of the room.
Katsuki ducked into the bathroom, then the closet and found nothing.
Izuku walked on the balcony, eyes closed to the sun. “God.”
Katsuki curled his fingers around the black rail, breathless with the way the world started and stopped whenever he looked at Izuku. This estate might be worth billions of dollars with its crystals on the walls and prized stone on the floors but Izuku managed to steal his breath a thousand times more than this overpriced box.
“I was worried I wouldn’t get here,” he said, draped his arms loosely over the black rail. Relaxed. Chilled. Katsuki kind of forgot about zombies for a few blissful seconds.
“Why come to L.A.?” He got Eijirou’s motivation—a big, untouched playground but Izuku, not so much
“Dunno, honestly.” Two shrieks of laughter gave them a start as Ochako and Momo ran to the pool in their underwear and cannonballed in. “It seemed like a faraway thing before everything. So with the world going to shit, I figured ‘L.A.’. You?”
Shouto’s voice complained at the side of the pool. “We’re not even done checking this—“ A soaked bra slapped his face.
Momo’s long black hair fanned out on the crystal water like inky tentacles. The rest of her body was warped by the moving ripples.
“I came in like a wrecking ball!” Eijirou leapt into the pool, naked, and splashed Shouto, permanently in a catatonic state from the fact that Momo was topless and batting those pretty doe eyes at him.
“Eijirou wanted to go,” Katsuki said, shaking his head at the idiot in the water as he floated on his back.
“Where did you want to go, though?”
“I never thought about it,” he said. It was just Zombieland 24/7 for Katsuki, didn’t matter the backdrop so why make the journey to find more zombies? “It was just living with bills and not giving a shit and then one day, boom, fucking zombies. So it was living with zombies and not giving a shit.”
Izuku laughed softly. “Are you going to stay?”
“Are you?” He snapped, voice rising with the implication that Izuku might abandon ship.
“Yea but I wanted to be here,” he clarified.
Oh.
So Izuku was…?
Oh hell that was cute—this carjacking, zombie killing, freckled knucklehead worried about him leaving.
“Well, maybe I started giving a shit on the way,” he said. Casual, making a point not to make eye contact.
“So how does it go now?”
Katsuki listed it off with his fingers. “Living with zombies, giving a shit about this dumbass group.”
“That’s all?”
“Should there be more?” Katsuki looked down to find Izuku looking up.
A wind passed through his hair. With the wild tall stark of trees, the white on black decor, and the parted French doors; it was a movie set. “Yeah. You should add ‘fucking Izuku’.”
“I’m getting laid?”
Izuku touched his bottom lip, drawing Katsuki’s attention to his small mouth and the teeth behind that hot grin. “If you play your cards right.”
Katsuki thought of something Hollywood to say. Cool. Like ‘I’ll be back’ but for the heart. “Okay, how’s this ‘you, me, that bed and nothing else’?”
He pursed his mouth, eyes crinkling with mirth. “Eh.”
“Did you just ‘eh’ my confession? You got some fucking balls.”
“It’s L.A. Sell me Hollywood love.”
“Ugh.” He scrubbed his face, face hot as a fireball. “I like your dumb face. You should push it and other parts of your dumb body against mine.”
“I like you too, Katsuki.”
“If you like me then you better get on to kissing me, cause I’ve been on your shit since day fucking one and I have to bust all the nuts.”
“So sexy,” he teased, straightening his back.
“Fuck, you’re making me fucking crazy.”
Izuku bridged the gap, their chest bumping, and traced the edge of Katsuki’s jaw with one finger. Then two. Soon his whole hand curved it and smoothed into the hair hanging low over his ear. “You make me crazy too.”
“Then kiss me, you fucking carjacking con artist.”
“I’ll take your heart this time,” he warned.
“God that’s gross and for your information, you jacked my shit way before today.”
Izuku kissed him. Sighing. Whining. Moaning. Breathing. Clawing. Crying. Into his mouth. The unspoken heartache of loving someone in Zombieland; that tumor of fear and dread because Zombieland helped you build deep bonds just to take them away. They lived with that nugget in the back of their minds. If I love him. If I kiss him. If I hold him.
How long do I get to keep him after?
How long do we get to play house with zombies in our backyards?
How long before I nosedive hard into loving him like I’ve never loved anybody?
How long until my heart becomes the next gourmet meal for the emotional zombies, the kind that ate you in your mind and heart?
How long?
How long?
How long am I gonna wait before I don’t get a chance to start any of it?
No one knew.
Katsuki would like to lie and say these questions didn’t need answers, to take the days as they come but they do. At one point, someone had to scribble the answer to these questions just not today. Not now. Not on this balcony, in the Hills, with Izuku eating him alive.
“Katsuki,” he moaned, when Katsuki’s hands joined in and grabbed at him. Pulling. Tugging. Hungry, hungry. Those fucking curls, greasy without a proper shower in weeks, were the best thing in his hand. Soft. Easy to tangle and knot. Fantastic to pull.
“I want to fuck you. I want to suck you. I want to take a hot shower with you. I want you in my bed, stealing all the fucking covers.” Katsuki bit Izuku’s lip, savagely like a zombie for everything, for the feelings in him, for taking his Caddy and his dark, angry heart and putting lights inside and filling it with marshmallow fluff.
He expected to die at the start, fighting and shooting until the horde outnumbered him or he crashed another luxury car into a wall. Didn’t anticipate all these people from different cornerstones of life, people he would’ve never met in the pre-Zombieland era, to find him. To get that compassion every other person begged him for.
“Bed. Now,” Izuku hissed, using his hands to push up the bottom of his shirt. Ran them under it, touching Katsuki fast and feverish “Put me on a damn bed.”
Katsuki groped his ass under his clothes and rubbed over his hole dry; the dirty little clench his hole made was fucking everything. “Fuck yea.”
Izuku shoved him off, pushed him with hot eyes.
Katsuki let it, stumbling drunkenly backward to the bed like an animal being cornered back into a cage. The back of his knees hit the California King mattress. Izuku pressed his palm on his stomach and knocked him back into the expensive sheets.
“Fuck, fuck,” Katsuki rasped, watching Izuku crawl over his thighs and straddle his lap.
Izuku started hiking up his shirt, rolling his teeth over his lip. “So hot. So pretty.” Katsuki’s shirt bunched up around his chest, more defined with the Zombieland diet. “I’m gonna take your dick out too, okay? Wanna see that too.”
“Hell yea. Do whatever you want to me.”
Ixuku’s fingers scratched down to his belly button. Katsuki groaned, loud and dirty, and reflexively cupped his cock through his jeans.
Izuku batted his hand. “You gotta ask first to touch it.”
“It’s my cock.”
“Nah, Kacchan. It’s my cock. This. All of you. It’s mine.” He popped the button, cut the air with the metallic slice of the zipper, and pulled his cock out.
Katsuki huffed, breathing loud. Normally, Katsuki grunted during sex but here he was, blowing air out his mouth like a horde covered his ass. “Izuku. Fuck. Come one.”
Izuku scratched his nails down his stomach again and his cock made no efforts to hide how hot the action made him, twitching and leaking a glossy mess where the fat head laid by his belly button.
Izuku braced one elbow, lowered, rutting gingerly against Katsuki. “Katsuki. I want you. Want so you bad. Wanna do so many things to you. To your cock.”
“Yea? What ya want, babe, hm? What’s going on in that dirty mind?”
“Wanna suck you so bad.” Izuku rolled harder, his jeans chafed on his cock. Thankfully the pleasure of Izuku on him and swollen at the zipper did wonders to his brain like numbing the pain and tripling the pleasure. “Your dick looks so good.”
Katsuki thumped his head, closing his eyes—fuck, it’d been so damn long. So damn long. Just breathe, don’t cum. You’re in your fucking twenties, finishing with a little dry humping was for teenagers.
“Dude. F-fucking gonna make me cum.”
Izuku whined, pressing his hips faster. “Sorry.” He hung his head, humping Katsuki like he had no control. “Feel so good. Fuck. Your cock feels so hard. God.”
“Take your dick out. We’ll fuck later. Just, come on, asshole. I’ve been fucking waiting too.”
Izuku sat on his heels, hands flying fast to open his pants. He rolled them impatiently under the swell of his ass.
“Shirt too. Fuck.” Katsuki admired his wet cock. “Wanna see that pretty ass body.”
Izuku grabbed the back of his collar and stripped, messing his wild curls as he popped his head out.
“Fuck yea. Fucking nice as fuck.”
“Crap. I should get the lube.”
Izuku bounced off the bed, waddled awkwardly with his jeans riding low on his thighs.
Katsuki pumped his cock as he watched Izuku squat down, his ass plump and white and del-fucking-ish.
Fuck, he wanted to eat that. Absolutely devour him. Lick Izuku until he fucking cried.
Izuku turned, mouth opening before it quirked into a smile. “You couldn’t wait.”
“There was a nice view,” he said, stroking slow for Izuku’s benefit and benefit he did because he chewed on his lip as Katsuki pumped down, pulling back the foreskin over the sensitive head. “I had no control.”
“What view?” He asked like his ass was a perfect fixture for the mansion, like he didn’t raise the value of it with his presence; though the housing market was at an all-time low this time of year, cause of zombies.
“Now you’re just trying to rile my ass up. You know it’s you,” he gritted, heat twisting harder and wetter in his gut cause each second apart was telling Katsuki why they should never do that. Ever. They were doing the zombie apocalypse to the end. “You and your god damn eyes. Why are you even wearing clothes? Fucking crime against humanity.”
“So no pants?”
“I’ll fucking murder you if you bring those pants.”
Izuku pushed them the rest of the way and toed out, sauntering over with his heavy cock. “Better?”
“Hell yea.” He sat up and kissed Izuku on his navel, pleased as a fat cat when Izuku shivered and dove his hand into his hair.
Izuku looked down with a soft moan.
Katsuki licked the skin over his cock, dragging his mouth lightly, and blew a moist breath over the wet gloss of spit.
“Please?”
Katsuki hummed, applying more wet kisses. “What?”
“Can you lick me?”
Katsuki licked to the base and laved his tongue around the girth.
“Katsuki.” His hips twitched.
Katsuki grabbed his cock to keep it steady and licked up, kissing the tip softly. Moaned lowly at the salty, bitter taste of pre-cum. Been damn long since he wanted someone as bad as he did with Izuku, wanting more than sex, more than sticking his dick in a hole and cumming. He wanted to give and do everything. Treat Izuku like the fucking gem he was.
So he did.
And mind you, there weren’t many elegant ways to suck dick—plenty of sexy ways—but Katsuki was downright sloppy about. Filthy. Licking, kissing, and sucking without any proper form. A horrible mess with spit and pre-cum on his lips, chin, and cheeks. And with Izuku quivering like a lamb in his hand did not help; it egged him on. Encouraged him to run his red lips up while looking Izuku in the eye.
He put his cock in his mouth and rolled his tongue ungracefully on the head.
Izuku cupped the sides of his head with a wince.
Katsuki pulled off. “Close?”
He thumbed the outline of his lips, eyes glossed out and dark. “Has anyone told you that you’re really good at that?”
“Actually, yea. I give great head.”
“Oh.” Izuku deflated a little
Katsuki hugged his hips and butt, and nibbled on the jut of his hipbone. “But you are my favorite person to suck off.”
“And they say romance is dead,” Izuku said, dryly.
“Nope just the majority of the population.”
“No zombie talk,” Izuku said, tipping Katsuki’s head for his mouth. Katsuki had no issue jamming his tongue between his lips and letting Izuku taste himself.
“Now I’m close,” he said when Izuku broke the kiss.
“I should take care of that,” Izuku purred, his knees sank into the mattress. The hot weight straddling his lap again had his hands feeling greed.
“Yea. You did rob me after all.” He touched Izuku’s thighs from his knee to the hips, reaching around to paw his ass; a lot of dense muscles sat under the skin, a few bruises and cuts too from climbing fences, falling back into a wall from the full impact of a sprinting zombie, squeezing through busted windows with the trim lined with broken glass teeth.
Katsuki was going to give him better marks.
“I get a feeling you’re going to keep throwing that in my face.”
“I am.” Katsuki flattened a hand on his spine and wrapped the other firmly on his hip and put Izuku on the bed.
Izuku moaned, knees opened automatically; Katsuki didn’t have an eternity to describe what that did to him—the blind trust, the hot need, the wet breath leaving Izuku as he looked up. “Does it help if I thought you were super cute when I stole your car?”
“Fucking cute?” Katsuki patted the bed blindly for the tube, snapping the top to get to the main event but the sound must’ve triggered some sex beast in Izuku, because he starting arching and rolling under him. Got off on the bite-size servings of friction.
“Stunning, handsome, hot.” Izuku mouthed up his neck all the way up to his ear. “Sexy. Beautiful.”
Nah.
You.
You’re all that, man.
Katsuki capped the emotions boiling in him at every successful touch. It was a limited world but he didn’t want that tag on their time together, so he was going to treat him, treat this time and the next—cause you know this sample size of sex and intimacy only developed a beast of dependency and longing—, and the mornings and the nights from this point like there was infinite days.
I’m gonna protect you.
Gonna have your back in this crazy world—you, me, zombies.
“Did you think I was cute?” He puffed out the question.
“Yea. Then you took my shit.”
Izuku tried not to smile but failed and breathed out a breathy laugh. “You’re so mean.” He pouted for effect.
Katsuki smeared lube on his hand, grabbed both their cocks, and stroked.
“Ha. Yes.” Izuku whimpered, curling from the pleasure, and reminded Katsuki of Playboy centerfolds naked and sexual on the bed with their body exposed and their nipples hard. His neck made an exquisite curve as he tipped his head back and sank his teeth harsh on the skin right beneath his lower lip. “Katsuki. There right, baby.”
“Am I still mean?” He kissed his neck, feeling each moan vibrate on his lips.
“Yea,” he grinned around a moan. “Big old meanie.”
Katsuki pinned their cocks down and fucked into his grip, dragging his dick wetly over Izuku’s.
Izuku latched his hands and feet all around like a spider, heels digging into his back and hands clawing his shoulder blades. His hips bucked, weakly adding to the rocking bed, but for the most part Izuku was content to hold on and let Katsuki take him on a ride.
“Katsuki, baby.” Izuku tattooed a hickey.“ So good. Fuck.”
“We wasted so much time sitting in that fucking car.” Katsuki turned his head, caught his mouth and gave his tongue for Izuku to suck on. “Gonna fuck you good every day now. Treat you real fucking good, Izuku.”
“Please,” he sobbed, shaking violently like he had a terrible fever.
Katsuki could feel sweat on his skin where Izuku touched him; felt his excitement leaking between their stomachs as he pumped faster, harder, falling deeper into the heat. “Want me to do that, fuck you and kiss each day?”
“Close. Katsuki, I’m so close. Please, please. Make me cum.”
And, yeah, there was no reality where Izuku purring that with his tight body running hot like furnace and twitchy would not make him cum on the spot.
Katsuki fucked forward blindly, then seized, feeling his cock throb a few more spurts of cum.
“Katsuki, did you—oh god, oh god, yes.” Katsuki was back on his cock, head positioned nicely between Izuku’s thighs and bobbing enthusiastically, red lips a perfect ring around his cock. He looked down, watched Katsuki work him fast, wet, and nasty, then slowly fed his cock to him, shifting his hips up with timid thrusts until Katsuki moaned thickly on him.
“Oh fuck. God. Please,” he bagged; green eyes fixed again on Katsuki.
Katsuki snapped his eyes open, looked back, growled like an animal with this dark, dark look on his face. Like try to stop me. I dare you. Then went back to it.
Izuku opened his mouth and moaned. “So good. Kat-Katsuki. You’re—don’t stop, don’t stop. Wait, I’m cumming.”
Katsuki swallowed, slipped his mouth off gingerly, and kissed Izuku’s sensitive cock.
He winced. “Don’t.”
“You big baby,” he mocked, tempted to do it again.
Izuku made grabby hands, face adorably flushed and pink. “Cuddle?”
“Sure.” He clawed up and settled on Izuku’s side, exploding with warmth when Izuku instantly curled his body to him. “Should’ve kissed you at the market.”
“Yea.” Izuku peeked his eyes slowly, the green shiny with the L.A. sun and his post-orgasm glow.
“We could’ve fucked like three times.”
“I know,” he snickered. “I thought about it.”
Now that was a thought to keep Katsuki’s hand and mind very busy at night; not that he would need any help anymore. “Dirty ass Izuku. Did you fucking use me as spank material?”
“Mmm-hmm.” Izuku covered half of his face, a little embarrassed by the admission. “I tried not to but…”
“Fucking zombies and you’re thinking about me. Good priorities.”
Izuku pinched him. “Shut up.”
He blinked, darting his eyes to Izuku and the spot where his nails imprinted half moons. “Bitch, you did not.”
Izuku slapped a hand over a shameless smile, not an ounce of remorse in him. “I did,” he squeaked, sounding almost excited.
Katsuki rolled over him, taking his mouth, and smirked as Izuku shivered, cock still flaccid after his climax but definitely twitching in interest. “Fuck the apocalypse, let’s stay here and fuck.”
Their lips smacked apart. Izuku played with his bangs, carding them back only for them to slide forward in his face, but Izuku seemed glad to do it again.
Katsuki legitimately forgot the world right then, turning into goo on Izuku’s chest as he played with his hair. He pillowed his head right over his heart, let Izuku have at it as he purred like an overfed cat. Couldn’t remember any relationship where he did this, stopped existing, laid out, willing to be taken care of.
Who would have guessed that prick who coned him, held him up at gunpoint, and sped off in his Caddy, would be here, precious beyond any measure?
“My hair’s too long,” he mumbled, head lifting with the rise of Izuku’s breaths.
“No. Leave it. You look so handsome with it long.” Izuku started braiding his hair with unpolished skill, the braids uneven and poking in odd directions. Katsuki was so deep in content he didn’t care what an ass he looked like with them.
They kissed again, taking it slow, moving their mouths with the pace of a snail. Added a little slick of tongue enough to encourage a moan or two and some lazy humping. There was no rush to get back to it. They had time now; maybe a few weeks if they’re lucky. Most homes in Zombieland had an expiration date—resources, zombies, other people.
Izuku sighed with pleasure; Katsuki didn’t apply the mental brakes as he entertained the word ‘love’.
The floor creaked, Katsuki huffed an annoyed breath and picked his head up to tell Eijirou or Shouto or Ochako to kindly find a cliff and fuck off it. The zombie looked back at him, equally surprised.
“Fuck!” Katsuki tripped over his own feet, scrambling for the shotgun he left on the balcony.
Izuku dug a dagger from his book bag a second after him, naked.
Katsuki flipped the safety and pumped the shotgun coolly.
“Wait, wait!” The zombie showed its big palms.
“Shoot it,” Katsuki barked as Izuku screamed, “It talks?”
“No, wait, please. I’m Tosh—“
“Toshinori Yagi? All Might?” Izuku finished off, lowering the dagger in shock., then hastily loosened his grip and wrapped the sheets around his waist. “Sorry we thought. Wow. This is so embarrassing to meet you like this, and I know this is out of place but I’m a huge fan of yours. I loved you in ‘All Might’. Like you were born to play that role.”
“Thank you,” Yagi breathed in relief. “It’s so refreshing to meet a fan. Everyone else tries to eat me…Sorry, bad zombie joke.”
“What’s with the?” Katsuki gestured to his own face, barrel pointed at the floor. Fight or flight instinct curbed, Katsuki recognized the beloved actor under the layers of zombie makeup. Tall, built, a defined chin and jawline, and sharp baby blue eyes.
“Oh!” Yagi pulled off the black wig, his natural blonde hair flat beneath it. “The makeup. I put this on when I want to go out for walks. Zombies are quite stupid.”
“That actually works?”
He discredited that trick as Hollywood bullshit since half the movies provided inaccurate portrayals of nearly every facet of life.
“Well, you do have to move like them and snarl and get some zombie goo on you but yes, it’s very effective.”
“Wow,” Izuku gushed. “So how’s everything?”
“Good, good.” Yagi nodded, very forgiving to the two naked guys making out lazily on his bed. “I ran into Will Smith the other day.”
Izuku perked up. “Oh yeah, how’s he doing?”
“He’s a zombie now.”
“Oh,” they chorused.
“Yea,” he agreed. “But on the upside, he is one fast son of a bitch. Almost got me too. Those fit zombies are something else.”
“We can leave,” Izuku offered.
“Oh no, stay please. All of you. I don’t mind the company.”
“Thank you. I’m Izuku.” He stepped forward, holding the sheet with one hand, and shaking Yagi’s with the other. “This is…”
“Katsuki.”
“Well, you already know me so hello. I’ll be downstairs. You kids take your time. I have condoms and lube in the bathroom.” He winked, then ducked out, thumping down the steps.
From the opened balcony, they heard Eijirou splashing out of the pool. “Oh my fucking god, it’s Yagi! Dude, oh whoops. Sorry about that little guy. I’m a huge fan.”
Ochako’s voice floated up next. “Yagi. Oh my god, like half of my tumblr was devoted to you. I wished I had my phone so I could ask for a picture.”
“I loved you in ‘Hero War!”
“Here, sign my boobs! Please.”
[x]
Eijirou flashed Katsuki at the table after he tapped him rapidly on the shoulder. “He signed my pec, dude. It was awesome.” Yagi’s cursive, illegible scribble was on his left pectoral. Good thing baths weren’t exactly a requirement in Zombieland or else that Hancock would be short-lived.
“You looks like those girls from ‘Girls Gone Wild’, remember those?”
“Oh yea. I miss those commercials. They always came on after midnight. Closest thing to porn for me.”
“Same,” he agreed, then grimaced when a sudden and sharp pain nipped his side.
Izuku had a thin glare waiting for him when he turned to look for the source. “If you were on ‘Girls Gone Wild’—“
He pushed him, chuckling. “Shut up.”
“Wanna make our own porn?” Katsuki’s mouth hovered close to his ear. “You’re a little fucking wild.”
Shouto flicked Eijirou’s ear, causing the redhead to wince and rub his ear with a frown. “Guy, we’re eating.”
Momo smiled as Yagi brought another dish of food to the table. “Thank you again. We haven’t had real food since forever.”
Yagi sat down at the head of the table. “My food is yours. No thanks needed. It’s nice to have some company again.”
“Surprised you still got electricity,” Katsuki said, passing the bowel around after he scooped his share.
“Ah, I stole a generator. Hooked it up to the basement. I only leave some of the switches on, too much and zombies will get curious. That gate won’t hold against a horde,” he answered, holding a bottle of water. “I lived on a farm as a kid so I’m familiar with living off the grid. Water works too but I would ration it.”
“A bath?” Ochako’s brown eyes shimmered with tears at the word. “Like with shampoo and conditioner? Oh my god, Momo.”
“I’m so excited,” she laughed, chewing on her food.
Shouto smiled at his girlfriend’s upbeat aura. “Thanks again.”
“Don’t worry, really. I got a lot of supplies in the basement. It should last you for a month or so, depending on how you ration everything.”
“Are you going somewhere?” Izuku asked, then explained at Yagi’s silent expression. “Sorry. The way you said it kinda imply it. You don’t have to tell us.”
“No. It’s fine.” He smiled, but somehow it came across somber as he stared down at his plate and moved his food around. “I kinda forget how it is to be around people but I am leaving. In a couple days, actually. I was out getting some extra supplies.”
“Where are you headed?” Shouto asked.
“Boston. I heard some rumors that it’s a clear zone there.”
The group paused, afraid to trust the words coming out of Yagi’s mouth. Izuku’s hand snatched his, squeezed, a quiet gesture with a loud message; can we have that? Is it possible?
He clenched back, supportive, but the words were an ugly ball of hopes and lies that rolled unpleasantly in his gut. A clear zone, ha.
“Free of zombies?” Momo voiced, threading the air cautiously.
The smile on his face was rueful, wishing to assure their fears but not wanting to put false hope. “That’s the word I hear, young lady.”
“So, you guys finished filming part one of ‘Infinity Wars’, right?” Eijirou hazarded.
The entire room brightened.
Yagi threw his head back, laughter even more voluminous and infectious than in the movies. “Yes, we did. It was in post-production stage.”
Ochako clapped her hands together. “Could you tell us what happened, please? I’ve been waiting forever for that film.”
He rubbed his jaw. “Sure. Now let me think, cause it was on dowsey of a film. It picks off a year after ‘Civil War’, Tony Stark…”
[x]
Knuckles rapped on the door, Katsuki hummed as he sat cross-legged on the bed with Izuku passed out in the sheets, their game of Life forgotten on the floor. Shouto poked his head in, hair hanging in wet clumps.
“Sup,” Katsuki greeted.
“Finished up with the bath if you guys wanna go,” he said, then checked out the master bedroom. Yagi was generous enough to let Katsuki and Izuku take the room; not that there was a shortage in this mansion but it was the most exotic and with a balcony overlooking the backyard. Everyone else holed up in their own room, except Momo and Shouto who bunked together as a couple.
Belatedly, Shouto noticed Izuku’s dark curls amid the sea of blankets.
Katsuki laughed, catching Shouto’s amused smile. “Yea. Passed the fuck out. He tried staying awake. Hopefully he’s not too tired to wash up.”
“Hey,” Shouto spoke low so not to disturb Izuku. “What do you think?”
Katsuki pressed his fingers to his brow, eyes looking at the floor and not where Shouto stood, face uncharacteristically optimistic. Normally, he had to fight Eijirou’s bright outlook in Zombieland, Shouto was more grounded, feet on the pavement.
“About Boston?” He exhaled through his nose. “Don’t know, sounds like bullshit.”
“It might be worth checking.”
Katsuki paused, curbed the reflex to ask Shouto when the fuck did he become such a fuckhead, and said calmly. “Everywhere got zombies, why is Boston different? And we just got here.”
“I’m not saying we leave today. L.A. got a lot of resources.”
“And plenty zombies. I know.”
He waited a beat for Katsuki’s anger to simmer down. “Maybe they have a set up in Boston.”
Katsuki scrunched his nose, gesturing flippantly. “What, like the Walking Dead, with gardening and shit.”
“You mean agriculture, yes. Jackass. This stuff is gonna run out at one point,” he waved his arm around. Food lasted for now, but three years, five, six; a lot of that prepackaged food would be hazardous to consume. Gas lasted so long too. At one point, cars and generator will be obsolete without it. There would other means to harvest energy but it wasn’t like Katsuki and the others knew how to make that shit. They were barely in their twenties.
So he got Shouto’s perspective. He thought long term. He was doing it for Momo more than himself. But Katsuki barely planned beyond the next hour. It worked his whole life and it made transitioning into Zombieland easier.
“Just think about it, talk to Izuku,” he said, seeing Katsuki had reservations about packing up and going in the opposite direction, almost across the country.
“Talk to him?”
“Yea, you’re his boyfriend, right? He’ll listen to you.”
Izuku smacked his mouth sleepily, adjusting under the sheets.
He couldn’t think like that anymore, he had Izuku to consider now and maybe Katsuki couldn’t care what happened to him, he did care what happened to Izuku.
He scratched his head. “Fucking guess I’ll do that.”
“Thanks for getting us here.”
“Alright. Get the fuck outta here,” he threatened with a pillow, stomach packed with air bubbles.
“Night, lovebirds,” Shouto said, then ducked behind the door, escaping in the nick of time before the pillow hit the air where he once stood.
“Asshole. Hey,” Katsuki leaned on his elbow, tugging Izuku’s hair.
“Wha?”
“Bath,” he said.
“Carry me?”
“You’re the worst,” Katsuki grumbled, getting off the bed to flip back the covers and hoist Izuku in his arms. “Look at you. Gross.”
Izuku kissed his neck, lapping softly. “Clean me, then fuck me, yea?”
“Okay. Less gross now.”
Izuku moaned into his skin, waking up fully up with a thick hard-on in his PJs. “Want you. Want you so bad. Fuck.”
Katsuki tripped, but righted his feet so he didn’t topple down.
Izuku’s mouth curled against his skin into a husky smile. “Want your cock inside me. Please. Give it to me.”
“Alright, you need to fucking chill with that. I can’t concentrate—“
Izuku moaned purposefully in his ear. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”
Man, he didn’t think boners would be a serious health concern in the zombie apocalypse but god was he wrong. “Me too, asshole. Me too.”
[x]
“And there,” Izuku giggled, moving back in the porcelain tub.
Katsuki reclined back with a bubble beard and a bubble Mohawk, unimpressed. “Real fucking cute.”
“You are my masterpiece. I shall call you ‘The Katsu-Lisa’.”
He slapped his palm on the water, grinning evilly when Izuku screamed.
“What’s this soap? Kinda fruity.”
“Pomegranate.” Izuku grabbed the floating loofa, and settled in Katsuki’s lap and dragged it across his chest. “My mom would get soaps like these. Smells nice right?”
He tipped his head on the ledge, feeling hard and relaxed at the same time. Izuku’s touches would do nothing but light him up from now on. “I’m an Old Spice kind of dude.”
“Better than Axe.” He laughed, soaping the loofa over his nipple.
“God, no. But in high school, all the time. I used the scent Firestorm nonstop. I fucking reeked.”
Izuku snorted like a piglet, and wow, no one had any right sounding cute and hot doing that. “You lie.”
“I swear it. My room smelled like Doritos, Call of Duty, Mountain Dew, cum, and Axe.”
“Ew.”
“Hey, fuck you, everyone loves Doritos.”
“You know what I love,” he purred, inching the loofah down his flat stomach, a throaty whine at in the back of Katsuki’s mouth.
He pumped his hips, not gaining any friction but helpless to the instinct to rub and buck against Izuku like a heated dog. “Izuku.”
The sponge dragged up his shaft, slightly callous but definitely pleasurable with the right pressure. “So pretty,” Izuku praised, watching Katsuki moan and buck under the water.
“Ah, fuck. Shouldn’t I be telling you that?”
“Maybe but it’s my turn.”
“Fuck,” he hissed. “Yea. Touch my cock, fuck.”
“So thick,” Izuku kissed under his jaw, hand wrapped around Katsuki cock as the loofa resurfaced and bobbed away on the ripples created by their movements. “Thick and pretty.”
“Wait. Imma cum if you continue. Lemme finger you.” Katsuki reached behind for the tube. “Do you want a condom?”
“We’re in water, does it matter?”
Katsuki popped the cap. “Water doesn’t stop STDs.”
“Oh, well, I practiced safe sex. I dated only one guy so. You?”
“I’ve been with guys and girls. Always wore a rubber though.”
Izuku’s face turned hard. “How many we talking?”
“Not enough to matter. I barely gave a shit. I wanted to get off.” What he didn’t say was, I give too much of a shit about you. It matters, all of this. I want to make love, I want you to scream, I want you to never forget how I feel in you.
Izuku scratched his neck. “Sorry. That was kinda petty.”
“Did your boyfriend fuck you?”
“We were pretty new to everything. We had sex once but it wasn’t very good.”
He made a face. “What an asshole.”
“No. It wasn’t like that. We just didn’t know jack about anal so yea.” He shrugged.
“Okay. Just a heads up, I do know about anal and everything else so I’m going to do it better than he did.”
He smiled. “Petty.”
“Fuck yeah, I am.”
Izuku smoothed his hand up his neck, cradling his fingers around the base of Katsuki’s skull, and guided him up. Katsuki opened his mouth, slid his tongue in. Izuku’s moved over his, wet and hot. “Show me how it’s done.”
Katsuki coated his fingers, still kissing him, and dipped a hand under the water, maneuvering Izuku closer so his cock slotted nicely between his ass cheeks.
Izuku gasped, breathing into his mouth, and rocked back. “Baby.”
“Gonna make you feel so good with that,” he rasped, nosing his cheek. “Gonna open you wide for me, Izuku.”
Izuku shoved his lubed fingers straight for his ass. “Stop talking and do it.”
Katsuki spread his ass one-handedly and slicked his finger inside.
Izuku arched, oh-ing loudly.
He started to fuck him slow with that finger, pumping out all the way then back in until Izuku was pushing back to meet it with a choked gasp.
Katsuki reached for more lube.
“Katsuki,” he whined as he rolled his hips greedily. “C’mon.”
He pumped in two this time and was rewarded handsomely by the sight of Izuku throwing his head back, wet curls clinging to his face and neck, and bowing his back with a moan that dropped heat faster and harder than the drop in dubstep. It was a legitimate concern. He might finish, watching him.
Izuku gripped his shoulder for leverage and worked his ass back. He had his eyes closed, in another world apparently because he started to moan louder and buck his hips with desperation.
Moving the one hand splayed on his ass cheek, Katsuki slicked it up his stomach. And stared at his wet chest, the swelling of strength in his pec and the bulge of abs on his sternum. His hands gravitated for his hard nipples next, pinching and twisting and drowning in this fucking wild, wild heat that made the water feel like actual lava and not lukewarm tap water.
Nails scratched like a harassed cat and Izuku moaned, outrageously pornographic; so those were very telling signs that Katsuki should try with his mouth next. He craned his neck, ghosting his lips around the other nipple and pinched it with his teeth, laving his tongue heavily on the bud.
“Katsuki,” he panted, eyes opened, hazy, and dark. Katsuki felt swallowed up, chewed, gnawed on to the bone because of those pretty greens. Cause of Izuku’s red lips moaning out, “Yes.”
That prompted a rumbly moan from Katsuki, sucking away, fucking away, creating tsunami waves in the bath. He fucking throbbed, feeling Izuku pulse and clench hot and wet on his finger with the tack thought that’s gonna be me in a second. Gonna die inside him.
Katsuki got a third finger in, roughly.
Izuku fisted his hair, so he figured the rough treatment wasn’t a foul. “There you go, Katsuki. Open me up. Get me ready for you. Ah, I want you so bad. So bad, baby. How long are you gonna make me wait for it?”
Aw man that was a real shitty thing to say if he wanted Katsuki to be civil, kind, and gentle. A real shit thing to do to a guy like him. How was he supposed to response—by fingering him slow and patient?
Slow and patient?
Katsuki Bakugou, hah, where’s the punchline for that joke?
So his fingers turned a little mean, a little aggressive, a little hot where they pounded inside him. And perfect ass Izuku just braced his thighs wider, fell into Katsuki, moaning right into his ear with praises.
“So good, baby. So perfect. Do it hard like that, please? Ah, baby.”
Katsuki gave his nipple a harsh suck, then let it slip out. “Fu-fucking kiss me, Izuku. Need your mouth.”
And fuck, not only did Izuku know how to handle a gun, the stick shift in an Audi, but his hands were trained in manhandling too. They went on Katsuki’s jaw, jerked it up, and held him in place. Izuku moaned into his mouth like it was the first time he’d kissed anyone and pressed all his weight on Katsuki, making his head swirly with the hot thoughts of Izuku treating him rough, dangerous, and hot. Of gasping under him with his knees to his ears and his back very familiar with the bed, Izuku’s hot green eyes swallowing him up.
“Th-that’s good right? Please tell me that’s enough,” Izuku husked.
Katsuki V-ed out his fingers, trying not to whine as he felt little tightness and resistance. “It’s good.”
“Thank god,” he groaned, and helped himself to Katsuki’s cock by positioning him under his ass and sinking down on the head. “God, yes. Your cock is perfect.”
Which, wow, no complaints but lube for one, and a rubber.
Katsuki full on quivered like a plucked string. His mind could pass for fuzz with the way Izuku was bouncing on him. “You don’t wa-want, ah fuck dude, a condom?”
He shook his head, really, really into riding him without any assistance. “No. I trust you.”
“Fuck. At least lube me up before you do that.”
Izuku lifted his hips, causing Katsuki to slip out with a breathy groan.
He kissed any part of Izuku he could reach while he grabbed the bottle and squeezed out a dollop of lube. Izuku reached between his thighs under the water and lathered him in quick strokes, then sat back on his cock.
Katsuki grabbed his hips, okay with watching and letting Izuku take control of it all. His eyes rolled so far to the back of his head when Izuku bounced up and down, jostling the water so it lapped up the ledge and over. With it being the master bathroom, everything echoed.
Everything. The water. Their hot breath. The meaty, wet smack of Izuku’s thighs slapping down on his.
The nails came back into play, coloring up his chest in red lines; and Katsuki had no fucking clue it was a thing of his—being made into an Izuku’s scratch post—but it was. And Izuku was going to have at it until Katsuki’s skin turned red. A fate he found himself very okay with—surprise.
Scratch away.
Bring out the claws.
Make him red and pink until someone noticed it.
“Katsuki,” he whined, eyes pleading like he wasn’t currently wrecking Katsuki’s shit six ways to Sunday.
He breathed through his mouth, cupping Izuku’s ass in his hands, smoothing his fingers to where his cock stretched Izuku wide and red. “You’re doing good, Izuku. You liking that cock?”
“Y-yes. It’s so good.”
“Yea.” He fucked up, chasing that heat. “Can fucking tell with the way you’re riding me. Damn, man. Fucking gonna make me cum if you keep doing all that.”
Izuku slowed his hips, circling them into a hot grind., with a fat teasing smirk. Katsuki didn’t cry ever during sex…and that was likely to change very soon with Izuku edging him close then ripping it away. “Wanna cum?”
Katsuki smacked his ass, smoothed it over obsessively. Felt instinctive, reactive, out of his fucking mind because of those grinding circles. “Fuck, yea.”
Izuku towered over him, gave him half kisses that had Katsuki’s mouth chasing and smacking. “Say please.”
“Please, Izuku. I’m so fu—fucking close.”
Izuku brought their foreheads together, adjusting all of his weight on Katsuki’s shoulders. “Fuck me.” He kissed the side of his mouth, lifting his hips just so out of the water that Katsuki could look down his long, wet spine and see his ass half in the water.
“Fuck.” He smashed their mouths, then pulled back. “Touch your cock, ok?”
Izuku reached between his legs and started pumping.
Katsuki locked his hands on his hips, ironing his handprint, and slammed up. “God fucking damn it.”
“Harder,” Izuku whimpered. “I want it hard.”
Why did he keep saying the hottest things; fucking hell.
Katsuki hugged his hard, pinning Izuku in place to ram without pause or grace for that matter. Lips tried to connect with his before they failed and moaned against his face. It wouldn’t have worked either way because the way he was drilling in jostled Izuku violently. Might have stopped too, because fucking hell he was demolishing him, but Izuku sobbed in pleasure.
Started sobbing into his ear. “Please. Please. So close. Don’t stop. Yes. Oh yes, Katsuki. There.”
And yea, there was no holding back this time. He came, voice topping Izuku’s in volume as he slammed in, filling Izuku.
Izuku worked his cock, rocking back even as Katsuki started to soften.
He let him, watching drunkenly with soft moans, sensitive after his climax.
“Go on, babe. Yea. Fucking cum, Izuku.”
Izuku cried, hand blurring up and down his cock. His breath hitched and he came hot and twitching on Katsuki’s chest. “Mmm,” he hummed as he melted against Katsuki. “That was good.”
“You’re a straight up slut,” Katsuki teased. “There’s no way you fucked one guy.”
“I’m good at other things.”
“Like?”
Izuku shifted his hips and Katsuki hissed as his soft cock slipped out. He went back to draping all over him. “Like sucking dick.”
“Man give me 15 minutes and I’m going to test that.”
“I like you.”
“Nerd. Like you too.”
“We should probably get out,” Izuku mumbled. “There’s cum in the water.”
Katsuki barked in heavy laughter.
[x]
“I would avoid these areas,” Yagi said, marking up a map of L.A. “That or have a car on you. These a lot of runners there.”
Katsuki asked, fingers dragging over the map as he tried to imprint the dead zones in his brain.“Runners?”
“Oh, like triathlon runners. Fast as a bullet,” he said.
The group watched him carry two duffel bags and toss them into a Wrangler. Shouto and Katsuki waited while the others hugged Yagi with tearful goodbyes. Katsuki shook his hand.
“Thanks,” he said. For someone they knew through a screen most of their lives, Yagi was too kind for Zombieland. Most people wouldn’t even direct you to a safe house and Yagi opened his mansion doors, cooked them food, and showed them the ins and outs of surviving L.A.
“I wish you the best.”
“Yea.”
“And if you ever change your mind, come to Boston.”
They closed the gates after him, hearing the Jeep crunched over debris. A zombie of two noticed it and chased for a mile or two before giving up.
“Man, we finally met a celebrity and he leaves.” Eijirou frowned.
Shouto ruffled his hair. “Let’s do something fun. Wanna show me the ways of the Jedi or force or sith, I’m not sure which one it is.”
Katsuki started walking up the driveway with Izuku’s hand in his, heart heavier in his chest. “Shouto and fun. The world really is ending.”
“Hush you,” he laughed, swinging their joined hands, before something sober and blue settled on his face. “I hope he gets there safe.” It came out like a spoken thought.
Katsuki could pass on it but he didn’t. “He’s All Might, if anyone could outlast the zombie apocalypse it’s that dude.”
Izuku looked up from his shoes. “I really like you.”
“Cause I’m super hot?”
“Katsuki.” Honest, vulnerable, seeking comfort. It came with a belated realization that their each other’s rock of support. No need for superhero strength of will and courage. They could be the humans in the crowd who were saved by the hero right before the chunk of the crumpling building flattened them.
He roped his big arm around his neck and brought his face under his chin, brushing his mouth against Izuku’s dark curls. He thought one day very soon his heart might be too big for his own body if Izuku didn’t fucking quit with the mushy shit. What a lame way to K.O. in Zombieland; death from an oversized heart.
“Like you too, nerd,” he said the words into his hair. Izuku hugged him back, face wet against his shirt.
I hope Boston’s legit, Yagi.
Cause I need walls and a home for this fucker.
[x]
“What the fuck?” Katsuki complained, waltzing in the bathroom where Momo and Ochako gossiped excitedly with strawberry daiquiris.
Eijirou turned in the chair, face in the process of being glammed out. The Ed Hardy shirt looked tight and ridiculous on him with his spiked hair and bold contours. Hard to believe this was the same guy who killed two zombies with one arrow. “Sup, dude. Do I look like Kylie Jenner yet?” He batted his lashes comically.
Izuku sat on the bath’s ledge, the first victim of the girls’ makeover with a blinding glow to his skin, glossy lips, and eyeliner that made his eyes incredibly green and sensual. “Hey Katsuki.”
He blinked at the modeled up version of Izuku. “Sup, sexy. You got yourself a man?”
Izuku brought his hands up and hid behind, absolutely a lethal red. “Oh Jesus, you goof.”
He batted his hands away, then kissed him. Strawberries and bitter liquor coated his tongue when Izuku dirtied it up by slithering his tongue in.
Fuck, still fucking pretty. Even in drag.
Katsuki got hypnotized with the light dragging across Izuku’s cupid bow.
“What the fuck is all this shit?” He raffled through the overstuffed bags thrown carelessly around the room.
“We raided a Sephora,” Ochako said, holding an eyeshadow palette in designer clothes and pink heels. Her room in the mansion had the same state of chaos—clothes, makeup, pops of colors “I’m thinking like Gryffindor red, “she said to Momo.
“Girl,” Momo whipped out a Harry Potter inspired palette.
“Did you take my Hummer?”
“Duh.”
“You’ve better fill that tank. Fucking make me fill the tank every time.”
Eijirou commented. “You remind me of my dad when you complain like that.”
“Fuck you. It’s like living with children.”
The girls waved him off. “Okay, go away. Unless you want to be next.”
Firm pass on that, very firm. Beside why mess with God’s work? “Fuck no.”
Ochako shrugged. “Not like I could fix your face away.”
“Excuse me,” he growled, halted only by Izuku who was lassoed around his hips and laughing hard.
Eijirou howled, slapping his thigh. “Burn!”
[x]
“Alright, grip it with both hands,” Shouto instructed, guiding Momo into the right grip on the 9mm.
“That’s what he said!” Eijirou whooped.
“Ignore him.”
“Grab the shaft!” Katsuki added, earning a scowl from Izuku. “You already know how to do that.”
“You’re so nasty,” Izuku chided, then dipped in for a dirty kiss.
Shouto snapped his fingers. “Hey, none of that here. This is the shooting range, no kissing in the range.”
“Fucking full of shit,” Katsuki muttered behind Shouto’s back as he went back into teacher mode. “Five hundred bucks, they fuck in here the second we leave.” He counted out the hundreds, useless and plentiful now with the zombie apocalypse. He had more cash in his pocket than he ever did in his whole life and it wasn’t worth a dime.
“Six hundred,” Ochako challenged, licking her fingers before counting the stack.
“This physically pains me,” Eijirou winced. “All this cheddar going to waste.”
“We can literally have whatever we want, what are you bitching about?”
“It’s not the same.”
“Good. Keep both eyes open, now fire.”
Momo squeezed the trigger, flinching at the recoil. The bullet buried itself in the wall.
“That’s like the tenth time,” Katsuki commented.
Ochako threw popcorn at his face. “Shut up, we all didn’t spend all our time playing Call of Duty.”
[x]
“You got that?” Katsuki pointed his shotgun at the zombie, now gunning for Izuku with a savage, wet snarl.
“Oh yea,” he ran up to the zombie, grounded his feet, and guided the metal bat into a powerful swing and knocked the zombie off its feet. Unsheathing his knife, he impaled it through the zombie’s skull.
Katsuki opened the trunk, sliding in the gas canister.
“Good picking or?” Izuku asked, sensing Katsuki’s annoyance as he slammed the trunk harder than necessary.
“Fuck no,” he inhaled, rubbing his scalp. “We’re gonna need to outsource it.”
“I mean there’s the dead zone,” he suggested.
“Okay but we would need someone to lead off the herd in small groups, then wipe out that group.”
To be fair, they weren’t dangerously low on gas or boxed food yet, but Zombieland made the most minimalist person a hoarder. Katsuki wanted fuel to last them a trip to Boston should L.A. get too hot for them.
“Momo’s getting better at shooting.”
“At fucking still targets,” he snapped, there was more to that sentence but Katsuki knew it would only upset Izuku and start an argument. Momo was still one of the weaker links in the group, offensive wise, and for an operation like that they needed all hands on deck.
And fine, you needed all types of people in the apocalypse but he appreciated brute strength over culinary skills.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Izuku assured, recognizing the teeth grinding and the jaw clenching as a sign of prolonged stress and not a case of mild annoyance. “We can go out of L.A.”
“And waste gas,” he countered, catty. Felt an ounce of guilt when Izuku’s brightness dimmed at the action
“Katsuki,” he sighed, forcibly intertwining their fingers with Katsuki bitching a fit, and snapped his body toward his. “Look at me,” he said, when Katsuki glared at the ground. “Everything’s fine. We’re going to be okay. And if something happens, well I got you watching my back and you’re the strongest guy I know. After Yagi. But he’s All Might so I mean, hard to compete really.”
Right, right.
He got his shit into a gross knot.
Stressed over what if, what if. Stressed about providing for the group, for Izuku; because he was waking up in a house now with them, having dinner, watching movies, playing basketball, doing this zombified version of Keeping Up with the Baku Team. He got these moments and at night he was getting these twisted nightmares where he fucked up, the group was a part of the z-team, and he had to drive the car empty on the road.
Fuck, life was simpler when he had to worry about his dumbass. Adding Izuku to his short list of concerns, made his skin itch and stomach churn in true rollercoaster fashion.
“Yea. Fuck. My bad.”
“It’s okay, Kacchan.”
He groaned, turning his head away. “Fucking awful nickname.”
“You love it.” Izuku pecked him softly on the cheek. “Now, how about we wrap this up early and try somewhere new tomorrow?”
“Yea. Okay.”
Izuku walked backward, facing Katsuki with an impish smile. “Can I drive?”
“Hell no,” he laughed, patting his front pocket where he kept the keys. “My Hummer, you carjacker.”
His smirk canceled out quickly when he noticed a stranger leaning arrogantly against the hood of the Hummer; Izuku read his posture and pivoted on the spot, timed the aim of his 9mm to Katsuki’s full barrel shotgun.
The stranger pushed his shoe off the tire, a hint of a slimy smile crossed his face, his hood shadowed his eyes. He raised his arms, approaching. The ways his clothes hung on him suggested a lanky body with no definition. “Izuku Midoriya? Well, small world, ain’t it? Looking good.”
“Tomura?” Izuku asked, lowering the gun with the force of realization.
Katsuki didn’t. Made sure his sight lined up pretty good with 8 Mile right here.
“Hey, Dabi.” Tomura waved to someone they couldn’t see past the height of the Hummer. “Look who it is. Izuku. You remember him, right?”
Dabi, was a tall, lean guy dressed in dark jeans, biker boots, and a leather jacket.
Dabi looked over with lazy, dark eyes; almost callous. “Yea. Kinda.” To Tomura, he said. “You got a gun pointed at you.”
“Oh, hey, I’m Tom—“
“Does it look like a giving a flying fucking about you?”
Dabi pulled a revolver and clicked back the hammer. “I think you should put that gun down, boy.”
See, you didn’t say shit like that to Katsuki cause he had one hell of a temper and he was seriously considering putting it to some good use through these assholes’ skulls with the way Izuku paled and gaped in awful shock. Horror movie shock. The sole survivor who walked from the defeated knock-off version of Leatherface with exhaustion weighed to their legs and relief in their mind, then for it to turn back into sulfuric fear when the monster got back up, revved the chainsaw, grabbed the machete.
They’re not friends.
They’re not people Izuku liked, who kind of took to everyone; i.e. Katsuki. He trusted Izuku’s instinct over any blame faith on a stranger with a honey voice and a stringy body.
Dabi cut his eyes to Izuku one time too many for it not to unhinge Katsuki’s supremely delicate patience meter.
“Boy? I wanna see you dodge my bullet, asshole.”
Dabi quirked his mouth into a cool smile, unafraid. Tomura took the face down as an opportunity to back out the line of fire. No bother, he didn’t look like much and judging by the dynamics between these two, Dabi did the dirty work on Tomura’s behalf.
“Oh boy, are we having a party?” A feminine voice asked first, then followed it with a gun to the back of his head.
That startled Izuku in action, aiming at the person behind him. There wasn’t time to appreciate the swell of pride in his chest from that. “I’m going to ask you to put that down.”
“Hmm, I dunno, your buddy’s got a gun on us so nope. Sorry,” she said with sweetness liable to give you diabetes.
“We don’t want trouble,” Izuku said, disliking Katsuki’s pinned position between two barrels.
“What trouble? We just wanted to catch up,” Tomura said. “We used to be friends. Remember, fed you, clothed you, taught you how to survive? Then you left. Took some of our supplies and guns without a goodbye.”
“Oh?” The woman hummed. “Even I think that’s in bad taste. What an awful thing to do to someone.”
“I had to go on my own.”
“I think you’re full of shit, Izuku,” Tomura hissed. “But I’m willing to let bygones be bygones if you hand over the guns and the gas you packed in the truck.”
“Fuck no,” Katsuki growled.
Tomura shrugged. “I mean it’s the least you can do, right? For bailing like that. You don’t think my heart was in pieces over that?”
“If you had a heart, I very much doubt it would feel anything.”
Tomura stumbled back, face wincing in mock pain, then he slithered back into Izuku’s personal space. “You used to be so polite. Zombies changed you.”
“Just go your way and we go ours. There’s no need for this to go bad.”
“No. I want your shit. Or,” He looked at Katsuki. “We kill him. Your choice.”
Katsuki yelled. “You forget that I got sights on your homeboy so unless you want him deader than a zombie, fuck off.”
“Shoot,” Tomura said without a hint of conflict over the thought.
“Boss,” the women grumbled.
“Shut up, Himko. What’s it gonna be, Izuku? Your supplies or him?”
Izuku lowered the gun and handed over handle first. “Here.”
“Izuku, fucking come on!”
“Let them take it. It’s fine. We’ll find more. Lower it.”
Katsuki gritted his teeth. “Mother fucker.”
“Katsuki, please,” he begged.
“Fine.” He brought the barrel down, saw Dabi’s gross smirk of superiority, then tossed the shotgun hard at his face, annoyed when Dabi caught it coolly.
Dabi held the shotgun out.
Himko appeared at his side, taking it.
“Keys?” Dabi showed his opened palm.
Katsuki pulled them out, and started walking to the back. “Like I’m giving them to you, shithead. Fucking follow.”
Tomura smiled at the scene, his gaze trained unsettlingly on Katsuki as he popped the trunk open. “Boyfriend, huh? You guys make a cute couple.” Something dark, cruel, and wrathful filled his eyes. “Don’t give me that look, I’m being nice here. Say thank you when someone compliments you,” he snapped.
Izuku chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Thank you.”
“Good.”
Their heads turned to Katsuki and Dabi when they heard Katsuki yell loudly. “You want me to suck your cock too, asshole? Grab it yourself, prick.”
“I would watch that mouth,” Dabi warned with a mafia level of casualty as he lifted the containers.
Katsuki stepped in front of him, so angry that his bones rattled with it. “You better watch your fucking ass cause if I see your limpdick again, I’m shooting your balls.”
Dabi sidestepped him, nodding to Tomura.
“See, no more bad blood now. I’m glad we got that past us. We’ll see you around, Izuku.”
[x]
Katsuki started the Hummer.
Izuku looked at him, hurt when Katsuki avoided it. “Can you drive around for a bit? They might follow us.”
“Okay.”
“Katsuki. I’m sor—“
Katsuki snapped. “Save it. I don’t want to fucking hear it.”
Izuku settled into his seat, aching deep. “Alright.”
[x]
Katsuki found Izuku by the pool with his feet in the blue water. He tapped his head, jerking his head toward the house when Izuku looked back. “It’s late. Get upstairs.”
“Oh. No I think I should—“
“And I’m saying its bedtime,” he said, tone harsher than he meant it to be and he saw the stubborn nature it set to Izuku’s back. Probably with his lighthearted version of a glare set on the water. Katsuki talked again. Less snippy, and with more of the softness he reserved for Izuku under the sheets with the moon out and the room inky. “Don’t make me carry you all the way cause I will.”
He sighed, scooting back and pulling his legs out of the water.
Katsuki grabbed his hand. It didn’t take much deducting to figure out Izuku wasn’t looking at him because he was close to crying and not angry. “Sorry. For yelling at you.”
Also, sorry for fucking up my one job; protecting you.
I know you can fight. You can survive without my ass but, like, it’s a thing in my brain and heart now with you—a virus—where I gotta keep you somewhere far and safe. The more I get of you, the worst it gets so it’s looking terminal at this point.
“I was worried they would—“ A tiny sob escaped him. He clapped a hand over his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
He tipped his chin up, watching the moon and the lights at the bottom of the pool illuminate the wetness in Izuku’s round eyes. “Hey. I’m not clocking out anytime soon.”
“You don’t know Tomura like I do. He’s…he’s a terrible person, Katsuki. The shit I had to do just to stay alive…They’re not good people.”
Yea, he caught a hint of it back there. Tomura threw his weight around to drive that statement home where he was capable and willing to off one of his own people without a second of hesitation.
Too bad for Tomura that Katsuki had weight with a tendency to throw a hook back. Then his reappearance put Izuku in this awful state; yeah, if he didn’t have the excuse of being robbed—again—and threatened then he would still want to beat Tomura’s Skeletor thin face in.
“Skeletor can go fuck himself if he thinks that shit is going to slide.”
“Katsuki, I know you’re used to fighting everyone but it doesn’t work here. Tomura uses zombies. He doesn’t care if it’s low or cruel. We can’t stay in L.A. He’ll be back now that he knows I’m here. We have to go.”
He couldn’t stand the pale color of terror on Izuku’s face so he hugged him, locked him in, and dug the bone of his chin to the top of his head. “Chill.”
Izuku resisted for a bit, determined to have a stare down but gave up when Katsuki’s arm had him effectively trapped. “Katsuki.” He hugged back. “You gotta take my word on this one, please.”
“Look, he doesn’t know where we are. That gives us time, okay? We can’t just dip without setting a plan up. Let’s plot a route out, pack up supplies long enough for the trip, and get a second car.”
“I don’t know.”
Katsuki nudged him out of the embrace to look him in the face. “Just a few days. Stay here. I’ll get the car and see if I can replace the guns we lost.”
Any progress he made in relaxing Izuku’s mind washed away at that. “No. I’m not staying if you go.”
“You are. He has it out for you. I’ll take Shouto. You and the others start going through our supplies.”
“I don’t like this plan.” The pout to that really fucking distracted him from the fact they had a knock-off Negan gunning for their asses. Maybe because Katsuki had so little of this that he was able to mute the chance of death.
Well, and living in Zombieland got you pretty comfortable with the reality of being turned into all you can eat buffet.
“You have a target on your back,” he reasoned, which he thought was ironic since that duty usually fell on Izuku or Shouto; but he’d be the brain in this situation “They’ll be looking for you if you’re right about Skeletor.”
Izuku experienced some difficulty balancing out his exasperation at Katsuki’s relaxed attitude on this subject to the small smile coming from the comment. “Stop calling him that. It makes it hard to take him seriously.”
“Good. I don’t you losing sleep over that fuckhead.”
“A few days?” He asked.
“Three at the most. Two if I find everything I need in a day.”
He breathed. “Okay.”
[x]
“How about this truck—nevermind. One of the tires is out of air.” Shouto slammed the pickup door close, hopping on the step stirrup.
The Hummer curbed a storefront a few blocks away. A total of ten zombies sniffed out their scent, or however zombies tracked walking Happy Meals, and charged with bloody hands or a twisted limb. In his mind, Katsuki had a personal search warrant for Dabi and Tomura, and was a little trigger happy on account of that.
The group knew. Everyone was in e-vac mode, switching out the eyeshadow palette, the Coach sunglass, the Anna Klein purses, the Timberlands; for knives on the hips, magazines, 9mm, rifles, AK-47, full barrels. Ochako looked like a princess warrior that Hollywood would market for a long-winded movies franchise if zombies didn’t occupy it. Izuku kissed him with reluctance, trying to give him the cold shoulder the whole time by not talking to him in the morning and avoiding his touch.
He surrendered as Katsuki stepped outside the mansion, and kissed him with violence. The violence that said come back, come back, come back, we’re not done with each other.
Shouto yawned for effect and told them to save it for the bedroom.
They hit up an Dick’s—try not to laugh, I know, who named their store ‘Dick’s’— and grabbed a few tents, air mattress with a pump, solar lanterns, fishing rods, a portable stove—located under a corpse wiggling with maggots; Katsuki gagged once, Shouto threw up outside; but yay, stove; and emergency glow sticks—Shouto debated him on it, Katsuki won.
“You think it’s a little weird that you keep getting robbed?” Shouto said.
“No. I think it’s annoying. Why are all these cars shit? The axle’s fucked on this one.” He busted one of the headlights with his foot. “Someone jacked the battery in that one.”
He shrugged. “Maybe try a dealership?”
“I want to shoot that guy.”
“Do you know the whole story about him?” The car door wailed as Shouto opened it, and looked in the glove compartment of a Nissan Pathfinder.
Katsuki cupped his hands to a tinted window. “I mean, kinda. Izuku’s fucking stressing. Me bringing it up won’t help. Way it seemed though, is they used to be a group, Izuku left, and Skeletor has beef. Either way he’s worked up.”
“Yes, how rude of him to be upset about someone trying to blow your head off.”
“Fuck you. You know what I mean.”
“Maybe you should ask him. It’s bothering you too, I can tell.”
“Yea, pretty fucking sure that’s not going to help. If anything it’s going to piss me off.”
“I meant more for him. You get me? Everyone kinda has some shit they keep to themselves cause of everything. I did. Then, I dunno, Momo listened to it and it wasn’t too bad afterward.”
Katsuki fired a sour look over his shoulder atop of a pickup truck, eyes on the number of abandoned cars littered on the street and sidewalk like discarded newspapers. “Thanks, Dr. Phil.”
He wanted to load up as much as they could for the road so all these four-door basic cars hardly caught his eye.
“There’s a Range Rover.”
“You know if it breaks down we can’t even fix it. You gotta order the parts for that overseas.”
He turned his head.
Shouto shrugged. “My dad had one.”
“I think I see a Nitro. No . A Jeep.”
“Worth a look,” Shouto agreed.
If you looked at the top of the building, you might see something—lens reflecting the glare of the sun as it followed Katsuki and Shouto down the street.
[x]
“Did you find everything?” Izuku asked, in the living room.
A bit of a mess at the moment with the duffel bags, the boxes of ammo and food, blankets, and coats occupied on the coffee table and floor.
He slumped into the couch, put his feet up on the small space granted on the coffee table. “Supplies, yea. No guns though. It’s too populated here so of course the guns went first. We got a spare. Someone’s going without a gun though.”
“Eijirou has the crossbow.”
“I was thinking Momo.”
Izuku got up, stepped into his viewpoint of the ceiling as he walked behind the couch. “She won’t learn if you guys keep babysitting her.”
“Fine.” He reached up and pinched his nose.
“Did you get the car?”
Katsuki fished out the metal ring and jiggled it. “We’re the proud owners of a Jeep.”
“We’re really leaving,” he said, relief pouring into his voice.
“I told you,” he snorted. “By tomorrow night, L.A. ain’t gonna be shit.”
“Thank you.” Tears were swimming in his eyes, grateful, so fucking grateful and fuck, some shit had to have happened with those people for Izuku to get like this and Katsuki wanted so badly to fight. To make them pay. “I know I didn’t really explain any of this or my past with Tomura.”
“I trust you so, yea, of course Imma take your damn side.”
“Do you want to know? About Tomura?” He sounded reluctant but willing.
Did he?
Yea, curiosity was gonna come knocking in any situation.
Yet, it was in the past.
Zombieland made assholes out of everyone.
And, he wanted Izuku to be comfortable about his past, not forced into a corner because his past decided to show up and fuck with him.
“No,” he said, feeling the fingers tracing from his ear down the bone of his jawline still. Izuku gaped at him like he was too impossible to be real right now.
“You left.” Shrugged. Tapped at Izuku’s rough hands to get back to petting him like a dog; fuck it, he liked being touched. Big deal. Not like zombies could post in on Facebook and get a laugh from it.
Izuku’s fingers got with the program. His eyes shuttered shut in bliss and away from the stupidly warm face Izuku got on. All gooey warm and sweet like cocoa by the fire. “Probably for a good damn reason. If you did shady shit, then you did it. It’s not like we’re any better living in people’s houses, driving their cars, taking their shit.”
“Okay.”
“Come on.” He straightened, cracking a stuff joint in his back. “Dinner’s gonna be lit. You better stuff your fat mouth cause you might not get another good meal like this.”
Izuku pretended to write down the instructions. “Get fat, got it.”
They walked hand in hand down the hall. “Then a nice bath. Then sex. And of course, sleeping in our big ass bed, since we won’t have it anymore”
“You’re trying to make me feel bad.”
“Alright. A little.”
“You jerk.”
“It’s gonna be so hard just trying to have sex.”
Izuku spat in laughter, then wiped at the drool of saliva going down his chin. “Shut up.”
“But then again, you do suck really good cock.”
“You’re so bad.”
Everyone gathered at the dining room—crystal dangled from the ceiling, while crystal sat on the marble table filled with red wine, food steamed; there was a palpable sorrow in the room. It was a good run here; but it was going to end at some point. Not exactly a fortress against zombies. A nice getaway though.
Talk spread. They’re still having a good time and they’re optimistic about making it to Boston. They got to L.A. with some small bumps along the way, but they did it. Going across the country twice was no big deal.
Eijirou belched loudly. Their plates were cleared, drinking the wine until the warmth infected their bones.
“Oh, man. Gonna miss this,” he said.
Katsuki snorted. “Take the fucking wine with you.”
“Ah, dude, I mean everything. The home theater. My bed. My Timberlands, ugh, they’re gonna get gross with zombie's brains.”
Ochako covered her mouth, guffawing loudly. “You big goof.”
“I saw you bringing makeup, don’t hate.”
“A girl has to look her best,” she hummed. “Might be a cute guy on the road and he’ll be really impressed that I kick zombie ass and my makeup’s on point. And besides, Momo’s taking her Tiffany jewelry.”
Discreetly, Momo tucked the sterling silver necklace with a fat stone cut expertly into an oval cut under her shirt. “I can’t believe you. Calling me out.”
Izuku giggled, leaning heavily on Katsuki’s shoulder. Alcohol had the best effect on him; he became ultra-bubbly, sweet, and clingy. And slutty. He had a hand teasing up the inside of Katsuki’s thigh, working him to half a chub, but occasionally cupped his cock directly. Just lazily relearning his long shape with a slowness Katsuki was figuring out to be as hot and sweet as fast, rough sex.
In his mind, he had Izuku twisted and pinned in several pornographic positions.
Hooked two fingers under his jaw and titled it up, slotting their mouths warmly with a slip of the tongue, telegraphing via spit swap the dangerous ways he was going to break Izuku apart and put him back a little crooked.
“And we’re gonna have to see that without a room between us,” Eijirou laughed.
Katsuki flipped him off. “We’ll fuck in the Hummer. You guys can ride the Jeep to Boston.”
“If it’s a rocking, don’t come a knocking.”
Then Katsuki heard it.
Someone fucking laying on the horn.
Tires screeching skid marks.
Heard it loud and clear because—
It was right outside the mansion.
Izuku jumped out of his seat, eyes wide, skin so pale like his blood evacuated his own body.
Katsuki pushed his chair hard. “Pack our shit.”
Momo looked panicked. “What’s going on?”
“No fucking time.” Katsuki chugged the rest of his wine. “Pack everything. Shouto, hit the lights outside. Eijirou with me, we’re getting personal.”
“No. I’m going,” Izuku said, voice seemingly recovered and packing dangerous intentions.
“Can you put a bullet in him if it comes to it?” He asked.
Izuku nodded. “Yeah.”
Katsuki eyed him. “Can you do it?”
The hard look in response was all he needed. “Don’t ask me twice, Kacchan.”
“Good. We’ll buy you guys some time to move everything.”
Ochako blurred past them. “I just wanted one more glass. Stupid zombie apocalypse.”
[x]
Katsuki walked to the closed gate.
Tomura and Dabi waited on the other side silhouetted by headlights. The person in the storage van laid on the horn once more. The other car was a lifted pickup truck affixed with armor to the grill.
“Hey. I was in the neighborhood,” Tomura said, “Thought I stop by and say hello to my favorite people. How’s your evening going?”
Izuku worked his jaw. “You said this was behind us.”
“Did I?” Tomura looked to Dabi for confirmation.
It wasn’t often when Izuku radiated this angry, menacing, scary, dark force; but when it arrived, you could feel in pulsating in the air. Like heat waves in the summer.
Katsuki added in, seeing as this was only going to head in one direction no matter what Izuku told Tomura, “I’m pretty fucking sure I said I would shoot you if I saw your ass again.”
Dabi shrugged, the LMG looked heavy and lethal where it shouldered coolly. “And I think I said something about your big ass mouth.”
“You might’ve but my mouth usually cuts off bullshit so, my bad, if I don’t remember.”
“Cool. I’ll remind you. You’ll be a lot less cocky when I shoot you in the kneecaps.”
A noise interrupted their intense stare off. Katsuki switched his eyes to the van, listening in. It came again. Banging on metal. Muted growls.
Oh fuck.
“If you cross this line, I can’t guarantee you’ll live,” Izuku warned
“Eh. The apocalypse is a drag anyway.”
“So that’s it then?”
“Seems so. I’ll let you have a second to get some cover before we ram this gate and release the zombies. Go on, I’ll be patient. “
They started back up the driveway, Katsuki scanned the property—cobblestone pathway, ornate lion statues at the start of the white steps, rose bushes, an attached garage, a little walkway to the back of it, five feet of brick bordered on all sides; not exactly a Fort Knox but those two thick marble columns looked equip for taking heavy fire.
Hopefully.
Well he would find it in a bit, right?
Cause they’re not going to wait around for zombies to dine on them like a 3 for 1 sale.
Eijirou opened the door, face expectant. “What happened?”
“You remember that episode in the Walking Dead where the Governor rammed the gate and unloaded a bunch of walkers?”
The twist to his lips hinted he really hoped Katsuki was overdrawing the parallels here. “I mean, yea.”
“That’s what happening.” Starring Tomura as their Governor and an A-lister’s mansion as their prison.
“Oh,” he said, eyes to the gate where Dabi and Tomura talked casually like they’re waiting on them to freshen up for a date. “So we’re kinda fucked, but anyway, we got almost everything loaded so…game plan?”
“They’re blocking the gate,” Izuku said. “We gotta let them ram it. Hopefully they spread their rides out so we can drive around them and escape.”
Good, except, the fight moved to the streets and common people outside of Hollywood films aimed for the tires first before the driver. Then they would be at square one just exceptionally more fucked than before because they had the mansion here and knowledge of the place, but that advantage ceased to apply outside.
Katsuki shook his head. “Nah. We need a decoy. If we all go, then they’re going to follow us.”
“And you want to be the decoy?” Izuku challenged, stern face of annoyance and exasperation.
“It’s my idea so yeah.”
“By yourself?” Izuku scoffed; if death wasn’t imminent and sitting outside the mansion, Katsuki might’ve laughed. Like they’re bickering over who threw their ass in the fire. Ah, the zombie apocalypse. “No. We’ll both be decoys.”
“You know just cause we’re couple doesn’t mean we have to fight as a couple.”
Izuku narrowed his eyes, the expression suggested it was in Katsuki’s best interest if he didn’t put up a resistance. “Shut up.”
“So, what do I do?” Eijirou asked.
“Let Shouto know the game plan. Then grab the sniper rifle and take point on the third floor. When I give the signal, you go.”
“What’s the signal?” Came the next question, frankly transparent with nerves.
“How about ‘fucking go or we’ll all die’?”
“Okay, okay,” Eijirou repeated, trying to convince himself. “Cool. Cool.”
Izuku bumped him with his elbow, hinted his eyes at Eijirou with a silent statement—talk to him. “You had the highest killstreak in Call of Duty, remember? The fuck you worried about. We got to level 30 in zombies, it’s just like that except harder, you know.”
“Right,” Eijirou said. Chirped up. Some false hope, some false confidence, some false pride The rest—legit, real. “Right! We got this!”
Katsuki thought of his stupid grin as he went back inside the mansion.
An engine revved. Like a chainsaw on steroids.
Katsuki went behind the column. Looked across the space between his pillar and Izuku’s, sketching to memory the freckles on his cheeks, a little below his under eye; the dark, fat freckles on his strong neck; the needle-thin ones on the back of his hand; the surprising ones under his clothes— his hips, navel, ass, and thighs. He could find them blind only because he worshipped them the most. His private freckles.
Thought about the shades of green his eyes went from dawn to night. How they looked when he was sleepy, hungry, happy, horny, fucked.
Thought about his hands.
His mouth.
His teeth.
His voice.
Thought this might be love, for real, because who cared about someone’s teeth.
And that was all the time he had for reminiscing as the truck screeched back in reserve, hummed menacingly in the dark night with its high beams on, and roared into the gate, taking the metal off its hinges and scratching it along the driveway. The driver shifted back in reserve, the gate screeching off the hood, and eased back on the road.
The storage van rolled up and parked, the trailer faced forward for the mansion. A guy hopped out, probably to open the latch and make them into a late night snack but Katsuki thought since they had no idea of honor, then shit, why should he?
He fired the M18, caught the guy in the stomach.
Rounds ate into the marble.
“That’s real impolite,” Tomura complained on an air horn.
Katsuki waited for the shooting to stop and flipped him off around the pillar.
They sent another guy, covered this time, so he had no problem reaching the back and throwing the door up but the zombies on the inside weren’t on anyone’s side and the guy focused too much on dodging iron than evading zombies, so.
Zombies climbed on him like a twisted version of ‘dog pile’. He screamed for a minute until he couldn’t. The zombie not dining out, sniffed the air, and scented out Katsuki and Izuku and ran, in a red rage.
They drew their weapons, snuck one glance to each other and lit up the night.
Katsuki did well, until one particular zombie bull rushed him from the left.
He brought his gun up as a barrier and was driven back out of cover as the full weight of the zombie crashed on him.
Tomura and his people were firing too.
At rogue zombies who spotted the sitting meals inside the cars and bashed their hands on the windows so hard, the glass smeared with blood.
The zombie’s neck strained against the gun, spit flying; Katsuki staggered back another step.
Where Katsuki wrestled his M18 between him and one former bodybuilder turned recent zombie, a bullet zipped a centimeter from blowing out his nose. He followed the trajectory, found Dabi with an LMG and a scope.
Cool, so not only did they invite all of the zombies of L.A. to their doorsteps, they were hanging out and actively trying to kill them too.
Fair.
Katsuki swore vengeance right then and there. Maybe Izuku had old ties, Ochako and Momo no experience, Eijirou with too big of a heart, and Shouto with too big of a mind to shoot a living person; but Katsuki’s brain and heart were the right size not to give a fuck about tipping humanity closer to extinction.
Katsuki wrenched the gun back, the zombie losing its grip and toppling a few unsteady steps forward, and blasted an iron between its brows. He flattened against a marble column in time to see a collection of bullets drill into the wall where he once occupied.
This Jared Leto looking motherfucker was getting on his damn nerves.
One zombie crept on his six, snarling loudly to announce its position.
Katsuki busted its nose with the stock, a spray of blood flying as its head whipped back, then fired. The zombie crumpled, dead. Like for real.
Bullets viciously chipped into the marble, spraying dust and bits of stone in the air.
“You sure you didn’t fuck this guy?’ Katsuki shouted.
Izuku stuck his gun under the chin of a zombie, fired, and glared as he went back to cover. “Is this really the time for this?”
“He keeps shooting at my ass!”
“Exactly because they’re psychos and they want us all dead!”
“Why aren’t you answering?”
Izuku rolled his eyes. “I asked you if you wanted to know and you said no. Just fucking shoot.”
“Well? Don’t think I’m letting this go because we got some dipshit—fucking excuse me, dickwad,” Katsuki glared furiously at the zombie hand on his shoulder. The zombie snarled, mouth opened. Katsuki fired. “I’m talking here.”
“Fine. I blew him.”
“What?”
“It didn’t mean anything,” he explained rapidly as he fired off shots while also making sincere eye contact. “It was just an in the moment kind of thing.”
“I can not believe this bullshit.” He squeezed the trigger, growled at the dry click, and flipped the gun and cocked the butt across a zombie’s head. Katsuki tossed out the empty mag, slotting in a fresh one.
Izuku performed a roundhouse kick and completed it with neat shot into the brain. There seemed no end to it. The gunfire and noise flashed out like a neon sign to every zombie in L.A. and they came in through the gates like an infestation. “Can we focus on not dying here?”
“I’m shooting him in the balls. Limp dick motherfucker.”
“Stick to the plan!”
“Fine. Eijirou?!”
A sniper round cracked the air, intense, like a canon. One zombie spun in a 180, pelted by the bullet mid run, and crashed. A final bullet put a stop to the neck craning back up. “Yea?”
“Let’s go.”
[x]
Izuku matched his fast pace down the hall. The gargantuan spaced echoed with the sound of the zombies on the other side, thumping and clawing on the windows and door. “I thought we’re being decoys.”
Katsuki kept his sight forward or else part of him would chicken out. One look, and there would fly his guts. “I got a better idea.”
“Better or insane?”
Katsuki pulled a face.
Izuku groaned. “Let’s just stick to the plan.”
Katsuki pushed through the door, heading toward the Jeep.
Shouto met him on the driver side. “We going?”
“Yea. I’m clearing a path. You go after me,” he said, sounding real macho and hero-ey like Batman minus a bank account with 12 zeroes; a butler with the skills of a cook, medic; his name on a building; cool ass next-gen tech to make the crew at Best Buy piss themselves. Internally, yea; can we just skip this— “Go all the way to Boston. I’ll see you there.”
‘I’ll see you there’; some real Terminator shit.
Silence stretched. Suddenly, Shouto was back in front of his parent’s house with the door a jarred and blood on the steps; confused and lost all over. “Don’t die.” He clapped him on the shoulder.
“If you insist.” Katsuki punched him in the arm, playfully. “Get your ugly ass in the car.”
“Katsuki, whatever you’re planning, I’m not—“
Katsuki slammed their mouths together. Passionate. Emotional. And final.
He booed it in the movies—the hero about to go off, not sure if there was an epilogue afterward, who turned to the girl, scooped her in his arms, and kissed. Like pfft, this get this romance out of my action film.
Now, well, he lamented the second he’d have to let go. He kissed angrily—Izuku might’ve known Katsuki the least but he read him better than anyone else; all his nonverbal cues. So he knew when Katsuki felt doubtful.
Broke the kiss like ripping a band-aid and tapped his forehead to Izuku’s. “I’ll catch up.” He kissed his forehead, stepped back. “Eijirou, grab him.”
“What? No!”
“Sorry, man,” Eijirou said, frowning as he hefted Izuku up and over his shoulder like a brute, and secured him in place with an arm around his waist.
“Put me down!” He yelled at him, then looked to Katsuki who was gradually shrinking with each progressive step. Tears welled, streaming hot and painful down his face. “Kacchan, don’t be stupid.”
Katsuki shrugged, watching with longing as Eijirou endured Izuku’s hard fist hitting his back. “I’m smarter than most of the population. Look I’m surviving the zombie apocalypse.”
“Kacchan—“ The door shut on his voice.
That stung.
Better for him not to hear the rest anyway.
Katsuki opened his palm where he pinched the keys hard into his skin.
Just pretend you’re in a Marvel film, he thought—cool action, bright colors, quips, big bosses, and successful endings—and hit the remote for the garage door, flashing on his headlights before he gunned it down the curved path, the Jeep rocking side to side under zombies. Swerved hard and fast around the van, and collided with the truck.
Tomura and Dabi, the current people in the truck, actually looked shocked right before he hit them. Head whipped to the side window. Eyes flinching from the light.
Now they looked pissed as he drove them straight into the brick wall. Backed it up, gunned it again, and bashed in the driver’s side so the metal buckled inward. In his rearview mirror, he saw the yellow of the Hummer throttling through the growing mob of zombies and past the gate. He heard the start of another car, but it was impossible to tell with all the noise.
One guy mounted the roof of the van, lighting up the sky with bursts of red as the zombies swayed the car from side to side. The one with some dexterity, clambered over the windshield.
Katsuki looked out his windshield, panicked because Dabi had a gun pointed at him, then ducked with the show of glass cracking fast.
He looked for his gun, which fell under the passenger seat—of fucking course.
Dabi fired off more rounds.
The glass finally cracked. Foam and glass rain on him.
He didn’t get why Dabi wasted the bullets when his head wasn’t there until he felt the Jeep jostle.
Oh.
You fucking—a hand reached for him through the bullet hole.
“Fuck, fuck!”
When the zombie couldn’t grab him, it slicked its arm back, now torn and red, and pounded the glass. Dabi helped it out by shooting around the zombie.
One more time.
Shooting around the zombie…
God, this guy was a huge dick.
Katsuki crawled over the console, desperately wiggling his fingers between the opening of the seat and the glove compartment which bulged in thanks to the ramming. Fingers fisted his clothes. The zombie pulled itself over his body, looking for a juicy bit to bite. He twisted around, jammed his forearm into the zombie’s throat, saving his face from a gruesome makeover.
His heart pounded so fiercely he felt in beating through his bones as his fingers fumbled over the sheath of his knife, working lamely over the clasp.
“Katsuki! Close your eyes!”
He did, redirecting all his strength into lifting the zombie up. Nails cuts through his skin. “Hurry!”
Blood splattered his face as a bullet entered out the front of the zombie’s head.
Katsuki wiped his eyes, blinking to the opened door where Izuku dragged the body off him.
“You fucking idiot,” Katsuki crawled out the car and kissed him everywhere; fucked the zombies around them, the gunfire, the guys they wanted their head cut and mounted. Fuck them. “You fucking idiot.”
“You’re okay?”
“Yea.” He nodded, thinking Izuku looked close to an angel that he wondered if he didn’t die in the car. Maybe your brain went on vacation when you turned. “Let’s get the fuck outta here. Come on. We’ll hop the wall.”
Izuku sprinted alongside him. “Here,” he passed a 9mm.
Katsuki checked the mag. “The others?”
“Another car followed them.”
“Fuck.”
“Let’s just get out of here,” Izuku comforted.
He shook his head, dislodging the grim thoughts hooked to his brain. “Yea. Fuck let’s go through the house and out the back.”
Katsuki hammered his shoulder through the door, a zombie on their heels snapping at the air, then they slammed the door shut, sliding in the deadbolt. “Alright. Just through the back and up the—“ A shoot rang, followed by excruciating pain that robbed Katsuki of his strength, collapsing hard on the floor.
He chewed on his lip, hand tenderly feeling down his thigh where the bullet embedded deep.
“We’re not done here,” Dabi stepped out of shadows, the barrel smoking in his hand as he looked down on Katsuki, a small amount of smugness in his dark eyes.
Katsuki spat, “Fuck you, limp dick fucker.”
“I said kneecaps right?” He cocked the gun.
Izuku raised his gun. “Your men are dying and you’re not far from them. Leave before it’s too late.”
“So? It’s the zombie apocalypse.”
“You guys never cared about anyone. Just yourselves,” he accused.
“Am I supposed to feel bad about that? Yea, I care about my ass. You should’ve too, now I’m shooting him, then you.”
“This is my final warning. Walk away.”
Dabi challenged the look, then smirked, looking down the barrel of the gun where he lined it up to the center of Katsuki’s head. “I would shoot then unless you’d prefer to have his brains all over the floor.”
What a shit position especially if you’re Katsuki with a bullet in your leg and the short fling of your current boyfriend pointing a gun at your head. Izuku would shoot…if the gun wasn’t pressed to his skin. He shared that concern; his liked his head too.
Between the awful pain and the blood pooling beneath him, Katsuki couldn’t think of a scernio where anyone made it out in one piece. Zombies all around the property, and one highly motivated gunman inside the mansion. If Katsuki reached for anything—bang.
If Izuku moved—bang.
If they waited out the clock—no bang, plenty of crunching and chewing
He didn’t think you could get fucked in so many ways in one day
But, apparently, there was a fourth option and it lurked in the dark halls of the mansion and fumbled quietly through the place until it spot three delectable meals and belted out a hellish cry of rage and joy and lunged. Tackled into Dabi, who failed to bring the gun up in time and lost it the second his back made contact with the floor. It skidded over the marble.
Katsuki belly crawled, grimacing, and picked it up. Thought about ending Dabi’s life but, an eye for an eye, right? He fired for his thigh, and Dabi shouted, losing the arm he had bracketed to the zombie’s throat.
The zombie fell over him, head bobbing; all they heard was Dabi’s inhuman cries.
Izuku ran over, hooked Katsuki’s arm around his neck, and lifted.
“Fuck, fuck,” he hissed, biting down on his knuckles so he wouldn’t scream.
“I know, I know,” Izuku whispered frantically. “Let’s get out before—“
A loud crash ricocheted in the empty mansion.
Then footsteps.
A whole pack of them.
Oh, yea, they totally left the garage opened.
They moved out the patio doors. “Don’t bother closing it, dumbass!” Katsuki shouted.
Izuku slammed it shut, then re-slung Katsuki’s arm around his neck and started a brisk run to the wall. “It will buy us some time. Here,” Izuku propped Katsuki against the wall and squatted, overlapping the flat of his palm with the other. “I’ll boost you.”
“You’re fucking short. I’ll boost you.”
“With that leg?” Izuku asked. “You can barely walk.”
“Fine.” Katsuki rested one hand on the wall, slowly shifting the weight of his body to his injured leg, and stepped on his palm. He bounced his good leg once, then nodded to Izuku to go with his second bounce. Pulled himself up and straddled the wall, leaning over it to offer his hand to Izuku.
Izuku stuffed the gun into his waistband and took a running start and jumped. Katsuki snapped his fingers fiercely around his forearm, and started to pull Izuku up.
“See I told—“
Glass shattered in the distance. Zombies trampled over themselves through the broken patio doors.
Katsuki pulled on the back of his shirt. “Hurry, fuck.”
Izuku threw one arm over the ledge, heaving a breath of relief, then he was yanked back down like a puppet on a string.
Katsuki managed to grab his arm in time, but one zombie clung to Izuku’s leg.
“Katsuki, shoot it.” Izuku tried to kick the zombie off.
“Fuck,” he grimaced, one arm gripping the ledge and his other trapped around Izuku’s like a vice and half way from falling over the ledge himself. “If I let go, we’ll fall.” His thigh ached. Heat from the stress of their bodies beaded sweat; he could feel Izuku’s skin starting to gradually slicken and slide.
Izuku stomped on the zombie’s head.
Fuck it; either they both over this wall together or they went down with the zombies. He wasn’t walking nowhere without Izuku. Releasing his other hand, Katsuki closed around his arm with both, legs pinched hard to the wall to keep him from tipping over, and pulled, grinding his teeth hard as the weight of Izuku and the zombie strained him
“Grab me,” Katsuki said.
Izuku closed his arms around him, barely batting the zombie’s mouth away from munching on him.
Katsuki slipped the gun from his waistband, and fired.
[x]
“Here,” Izuku said, carrying Katsuki into the empty store. “Let me check the place out.”
Katsuki nodded, lightheaded. Blood loss did that. His vision was fucked too, blurring at the corners. Izuku had to practically drag his dead weight from the mansion all the way to the outskirts of the Hills. Sleep called to him. He planned to blink for a second but that second became several minutes of Izuku shaking him by the shoulders.
He startled. “What? What?”
Izuku thumped his chest with his head, hands fisted in his shirt. “Sorry, sorry. I got worried—you looked like you were dead.”
“He shot my leg. This probably won’t kill me, right?”
“If I don’t treat it. I found Fireball.” The bottle glinted with the bright shine of the moon.
Katsuki wheezed. “Ha.”
“There weren’t any bandages but I grabbed some shirts and a thigh compressor. I got these too.” He brandished a pair of pilers, thankfully shiny and not coated with rust. “I dunno, do you take the bullet out? They do that in movies but I heard its bad to do that. Plus, I don’t even know what I’m doing or if the bull went through—“
Katsuki applied a filter—his hand— to Izuku’s spiel. “You fucking mumble, dude.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You blocked the doors?”
“Yea.”
“Okay, so no rush, alright?”
He nodded. “Yea.”
“Help me take my pants off. And don’t get too fucking excited,” he barked, popping the button of his jeans.
Izuku smiled, but it faded quick into a frown.
“So whiskey for my bullet wound and whiskey for the pain. Fucking nice.” Katsuki said, tipping the bottle to his mouth as Izuku finished up on his bindings.
A clean entry and exit. They got creative with a needled and yarn. Crooked, fuzzy yarn made jagged zig-zags and gave the wound a decent stitch. Temporary; they planned to venture out the city to smaller towns where the medical pickings might be better. The feeling of pilers digging inside of him was, um, unique. Running strong for the title for ‘one of the worst pains he’d ever experienced. Like he would prefer being shot again than having the sensation of metal tongs digging inside his body. The Fireball came in handy then, so he was plenty drunk by the end of it.
Izuku winced at his bloody hands. “I’ll get something to clean this and hey—stop drinking. I don’t need you hungover tomorrow.”
“Pfft, please. I’ll have you know I’m a functioning alcoholic so I’m immune to hangovers.”
Unconvinced, Izuku snatched the bottle and downed the rest. “Wow. It has a kick.”
“Eh,” he waved his hand side to side, eyes dragging up from the top of Izuku’s head all the way to his feet—fuck, this guy risked his ass to protect him. Fuck, he was in love while living in the zombie apocalypse.
Izuku got up, the light through the storefront windows streamed over him like a halo. “You’re drunk.”
“Nah, buzzed,” he hummed, eyes not focused on Izuku’s word but his face and his body and all the times Izuku covered his ass out there. Not just today. Katsuki narrowed his eyes, seeing a dark stain at the hem of his pants. It dribbled down his shoe in a dry track. “You’re bleeding?”
“What?”
He motioned for Izuku to come closer, heartrate spiking.
No.
He pulled on his leg and hiked up the fabric, his heart now dulling the world around him, muting Izuku’s panicked questions, the crash of the bottle hitting the floor.
Teeth marks.
Katsuki froze. “No. No. No!”
“Katsuki?”
“This is bullshit! Why, we fucking—we fucking did nothing to deserve this shit. Are you fucking happy, God or whoever runs this stupid ass planet? Fuck you. Fuck everyone. Just—fuck!” He sobbed into the bone of Izuku’s shin, his wet tears slicing through the dried blood around the zombie bite.
“Baby,” Izuku hushed, fingers carding so, so tenderly in his hair that it instinctively reminded him of his mother. The tears rushed harder. His body shuddered with violent sobs. “Baby.”
“No.” He shook his head, refusing it. Refusing this reality. “No. Fuck you.”
No, Izuku was okay.
They escaped.
They were gonna travel across the United States.
Boston would be zombie free.
Shouto and the others would ask him where he got that dumbass idea to ram the Jeep into the truck.
“I love you,” Izuku said.
“Fuck you. You’re okay. You’re okay, asshole. Tell me you’re okay, please. Be okay, Izuku.”
“Please, baby, let me hold you. Can you let me do that?”
“Okay,” he sniffed, releasing him, head down like a scolded child. Katsuki blinked through his wet lashes and watched the bite as though he could undo it through very intense eye contact.
Izuku rolled his pant back down and sat down. “Come here.” He opened his arms, and at any other point of his life, Katsuki would never crawl into someone’s lap like a broken thing and cry in their arms; but all those points in his life were in the pre-Zombieland time where his vulnerabilities laid low under the weight of anger, mind-numbing TV and video games, drinking, and the occasional—fine, regular—toke of weed.
But he crawled right on his damn lap and sobbed his heart out, pride be damned. Fuck it. It wasn’t going to save Izuku so who cared if he spent their last days coiled up like a copper wire.
“It’s gonna be okay,” Izuku whispered into his hair. “It’s gonna be okay, Kacchan. You’re tough.”
Fall
The trees were naked, exoskeletons with black bark and twisting branches. A few determined leaves fought against the howling wind. One caved, spiraled down—a burnt orange. Katsuki lived in a stretchy part of Chicago so grand master trees that touched the sky were scarce. They had those tiny thin trees, the one barely over six feet. It looked like a picture you would find framed at HomeGoods or Marshalls. At least the cold wasn’t too bad here. Chicago had that lake so it tended to be balls freezing the closer you lived too it. A blessing in the summer, but winter, fuck it was hell.
The leaves crunched under his boots. The Honda kicked the bucket miles ago; no gas; and no gears to fix the broken belt. Now he was going to sleep in a bag on the damn floor until a town or a city came up and the last sign suggested 50 more miles before that would happen.
A twig snapped, loud in the lonely woods. A zombie clawed up the slope, eyes fixed on Katsuki.
He waited, debating if it was wiser to waste a bullet or his energy by bashing its skull.
It got its feet under it, then sprinted.
The arrow through its temple stopped it a feet away from Katsuki and it slapped the asphalt.
“I had it,” he said.
Izuku pried the arrow out, his foot braced on the head. “I had to get the Daryl part of me out.”
Bull, but Katsuki didn’t call him out on it. With his newly discovered immunity to the zombie virus, Izuku took that as a green light to throw himself head first into danger. Odds were likely that Katsuki wasn’t gifted with that perk but if Izuku bothered to check their stats, he would see Katsuki already filled the role as ‘hotheaded asshole who self-sacrifices his ass because, dude, emotions, gross; I care through actions’.
So, rightfully, he was pissed. An immunity didn’t do shit if zombies munched on him.
Hashtag, annoying things your boyfriend does in the zombie apocalypse because he’s probably one of the few people unaffected by said zombie inflicting disease.
“Come on, nerd,” he started walking with his hand out to the side expectantly, Izuku’s filled it and, yada yada, filled his heart—did you get the picture? He was gone on this prick, alright? Colored him a hundred shades and they were all pastel and light. A gross shifting kaleidoscope. “And stop fawning every time you see a squirrel. You’re like a dog,” he said, noticing Izuku’s head do a 180 to the fluff of a tail.
Izuku snapped his head back. “Sorry,” he smiled, unashamed.
The cure for humanity liked to coo at squirrels…like did you need a punchline for that one?
Izuku’s gaze wandered again and he stopped completely, a whimsical childlike smile on his smile as two squirrels chased each other up the bark. “Dude,” Katsuki half laughed, half shouted at the back of his head.
“I’m sorry but look at his cheeks.” He pointed at the one Spiderman-ing on the tree, looking down at them with round black eyes. It twitched its fluffy tail, food bulged its cheek round. “Look at his big belly, aw, you eat up, Mr. Squirrel.”
“Christ.” He pulled Izuku along after four minutes of cooing and gross baby talk.
A hip check unbalanced him slightly. “Oh, shut your mouth,” Izuku chided. “You squealed when you saw a cat.”
“No. I just said ‘oh, cool. A cat’,” he said.
“Lies,” Izuku sang.
The road went on endlessly in front of them, black and framed by towering trees; even with each step it seemed they were no closer to a town.
Izuku inhaled sharply.
Katsuki rolled in his eyes with a fond half smile as his zombie immune boyfriend saw a rabbit.
[x]
“Kacchan?” Izuku asked, the little spoon tonight. Most nights they couldn’t afford to sleep together especially when they had only a sleeping bag between them and zombies, so they alternated shifts from midnight to dawn. Today they lucked out and scouted out an abandoned cabin, and barred the front and back with the furniture.
He hummed, finding it hard to open his eyes after the weeks of poor sleep. “Hmm?”
Izuku swallowed, the sound loud in the vacant cabin. “Are we going to tell anyone about my bite?”
“Just the group,” he said, pressing his nose to the base of Izuku’s skull.
Fingers coasted his arms, restless. A couple minutes passed before Katsuki heard the parting of Izuku’s mouth. “Do you think I can fix all of this?” He whispered; scared; hopeful.
When they realized Izuku had an immunity to the virus, his first thought wasn’t ‘oh my god, we can save everyone’, but ‘thank you, fucking thank you’. The reserve applied to Izuku. It came up in conversation—shit you had all the time in the world to talk your mouth off in Zombieland so it eventually reared its ugly head. Izuku wanted to be the hero. Katsuki wanted more days together until they died or the government fixed this mess themselves.
Was anyone even around to do something like that—create a antibiotic to the disease? That was the first defense plan; right after the offensive one of shooting everyone dead.
The hell was the process of that too; did they take Izuku’s blood and parts until something worked? Would it make him sick? Could it kill him volunteering his body for the world?
There were too many unknowns and few people with a good heart. The cure could easily become the modern day nuke codes—like you want the cure, you better give me all your supplies and weapons. He didn’t put it past anyone to monopolize the cure.
“Babe, you don’t have to fix anything. “
“And if I want to?”
“I’ll back you up then.” Back you up. Watch your back. The only person playing monopoly with you is me.
Somehow that sparked something in Izuku because he was rolling over to face him and kissing him languid on the lips. “Kacchan,” he rasped.
“Dude. I’m tired.” Yet he didn’t put up a fight against him or the hand trailing low and hot down his stomach and to the swell of his cock.
Izuku squeezed him, moaning at the sensation of Katsuki swollen and hard from his mouth. “Do you wanna have sex?”
“You went from zombie immunity to anal real quick,” he laughed, voice heavy with arousal.
That paused the hand groping his cock. “Is that a no?”
Katsuki rectified that unfair situation and put his hand under his clothes and directly on his cock. “No,” he husked harshly as Izuku thumbed the head of his cock. “But it’s a quick fuck.”
“That’s okay.” Lips nibbled up the apple of the his neck. Katsuki arched into it, head tipped back as Izuku worked him twice with his mouth and his hand. Now that they were messing around, Katsuki couldn’t escape his desire. He fucking wanted so damn bad.
“I grabbed lube—“
“Jesus. You’re a giant pervert.”
Izuku took his jaw, bringing Katsuki’s eyes on him. “I love you,” he said, and there went his heart—too big for him, too light for his body; changing from a physical thing that pumped blood through his veins to a ball of light. To something you couldn’t hold in your hand but felt in your soul.
“Yea?” He pressed their mouths together, connecting and breaking their lips so fast that Izuku couldn’t keep up. Could just take it and grow breathless and warm. His whimpery sighs had Katsuki gripping hard and fast under his clothes, over that freckled skin hard from traveling cross country and a calorie deficient diet. “Then show me, you perfect prick.”
[x]
So the most undignified sound just shipped out of his mouth and he felt grateful Izuku wasn’t in the room to see him scream at the cockroach in the cabinet.
Izuku’s head poked in, “Did you just scream?”
A small shape skittered up the wall, speedy and black, and Katsuki jerked away, keeping the scream under his tongue this time.
Izuku muffled a giggle.
“Fuck you,” he hissed.
“Oh my god, you did. You big old chicken.”
“Imma shot you in the foot and then Imma ask you to say that again.”
“Meanie. Here.” He dangled a plastic package in his hand.
Katsuki marched over, ripping it out of his hand. “Shut the fuck up. That’s a fucking—“
“Twinkie. Yup.”
One look—one look at that prepackaged, cream filled, pastry that could add pounds to his frame and deduct years from his life and this fucking Godzilla sized of a wave hit him with everything. Everything that should have hurt him but he refused to allow. Everything that made him grateful. Made him furious. Made him soft like dry sand.
Katsuki dropped on his ass, overwhelmed, staring at this little piece—an insignificant piece—that reminded him of the bigger pieces he’d lost at the start of Zombieland.
“Katsuki,” Izuku gasped, immediately sinking down too. “Are you—are you seriously over a Twinkie?”
He sniffed. “Fuck you.” All the times he cried and one of them was over a fucking Twinkie.
“Aw, baby.” He pecked his cheek and ran his thumb over the wet tracks. “I don’t think it’s weird that you’re sobbing over Hostess. It’s really good.”
“I love you,” Katsuki said.
“All it took was a Twinkie?” He teased. “I should’ve done that from the start.”
“Hey, asshole. Say it back.”
“I love you too, baby. I always have.”
Katsuki rubbed his face into the crook of his arm. “You wanna share it?”
“Yea. Let’s do that tonight. A little treat for us.”
[x]
“Hey.” Katsuki nudged Izuku, who was passed out in the passenger seat.
Izuku lifted his head, cheeks marked with red imprints from laying his head on the callous sleeve of his jacket. He looked at Katsuki through slits. “Huh?”
Katsuki pointed at the sign. “Check it out.”
Boston
50 miles
“How are we gonna find this place though?” He asked, looking at the side mirror as the sign shrunk behind them.
Katsuki tapped his finger on the wheel. “Look for something that’s put together? Yagi made it sound like it was a big set up. It should be easy to find.”
[x]
Easy to find, yea, but getting inside was another issue.
The sentries pointed their guns. “Who the fuck are you?”
Not the welcome he had envisioned but he got the hostile energy—a couple of guys you didn’t recognize waltzing up to your sanctuary with big guns; a smart person would side with fear first before acceptance.
“Hey, fuck you, we were invited,” he shouted. “Guy named Yagi, heard of him.”
The guards spoke amongst each other. “You a friend?”
“No shit. Fucking call Yagi. He’ll set your straight on everything,” Katsuki said at the same time Izuku spoke up, “Yes. Please bring Yagi, he’ll vouch for us.”
One of the sentries clipped a walkie-talkie and talked into the receiver. “Endeavor will get a look at you and decide whether or not you’re welcomed. Yagi’s not the boss here.”
Katsuki mouthed to Izuku. “Who the fuck is ‘Endeavor’?”
He shrugged, clueless too.
The way Yagi framed it the place seemed open to all who was escaping the zombie apocalypse but the treatment from the guards suggested a different theory. It started looking a lot less like paradise and more like a prison.
A man walked the wall, tall and wide as a barrel with flaming red hair that Katsuki could see all the way from the ground. “I’m Enji and this is my settlement. You better give me a very good reason why I shouldn’t shoot you assholes.”
“I thought you were Endeavor,” Katsuki countered.
Izuku whispered harshly. “Play nice.”
“My people took to calling me ‘Endeavor’. I don’t like the title of major honestly. Too political for my taste. I don’t give a shit either way as long as you know that I run this place. I don’t accept threats, thieves, murders, zombies, or psychos.”
“We just looking for somewhere safe,” Izuku said.
Enji crossed his wide arms. “And why should I just let you guys inside? I don’t know you and by the looks of it, your friend has a bit of a mouth.”
“He grows on you,” Izuku tried.
“We’re not taking any newcomers,” Enji decided. “Try Canada. They have something there.”
“Hey asshole. We fucking traveled all the way from L.A. to here. Our friends are inside your stupid ass sanctuary. We’re not fucking leaving.”
Katsuki gritted his teeth, facing down a line of barrels.
Enji smirked behind his guards. “Friends? Yagi would give a blanket to a dying mutt so I don’t take his recommendations too seriously. It wasn’t his place to extend a visitation to you.”
“See if you have a Shouto Todoroki. Ochako Uraraka. Eijirou Ki—“
“You know Shouto?”
“Yea,” he answered, worried if Enji and Shouto might have some unsavory history if Enji’s voice boomed that severely from the mention of his name. “He was in my group. How do you know him?”
“He’s my son and I haven’t seen him since he went off to college.”
Izuku and Katsuki looked.
Shouto and the others weren’t here?
“Open the gates,” Enji announced. “You two are going to tell me everything you know.”