Welcome to my new mini story. I got this as a prompt from the lovely Kaysco who has wonderful ideas and is an awesome encourager and supporter! Thank you Kay! I hope you enjoy Zombie Klaine. (This will not interrupt Unlock My Heart. Those chapters will still be put out regularly.)
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Kurt heard the hum of a vehicle close by and quickly moved to the window, silencing his dying iPod. There were two holes cut in the thick boards covering the window. One at eye level that allowed him a clear view of the yard and nearby street and one several inches lower where he could aim his father's shotgun at whatever Moaner was getting too close for his comfort. Seeing a jeep approaching, he quickly ran up the stairs to take a position at the window overlooking the street. There were the same cut out holes here and he propped his shotgun with the barrel pointing toward the approaching vehicle. He had not seen looters in weeks, but that did not mean that they weren't out there. The jeep stopped in the middle of the street which remained otherwise empty. During the first couple of months after the outbreak, Kurt and Finn had moved the vehicles that were blocking the streets surrounding their house. People had died so quickly that many perished while still trying to escape. It had been a messy business, but necessary to ensure there were no places to hide, leaving everything in plain sight. Going through the belongings of dead strangers was morbid and so, so smelly. But the weapons, ammunition, and survival gear they had accumulated made it a worthwhile venture. Finn. Kurt gritted his teeth against the inevitable pain at the thought of his brother. After Dad and Carole died in the outbreak, it had left he and Finn to make their way. One day, though, Finn's time was up. He could not even think about how he died.
Come on, Hummel, he lectured himself. A strange vehicle is outside the house on a street that is not a main thoroughfare. It was not the time to be taking a walk down zombie lane. Because that was the way of life now. You survived or Moaners killed you. Simple as that. The distinctive noise of the walking corpses was a good warning. But if they caught your scent before you saw them, there was little chance you would make it to safety. Those moaning bastards were fast once they caught the scent of the living.
The jeep turned off, the engine ticking in the silence. The driver's side door opened and a man stepped out, a pistol in his hand. From Kurt's angle, he saw the man had dark curly hair that had obviously not been combed in weeks. Kurt might be in the midst of a zombie apocalypse, but he would look good during it. He kept his hygiene immaculate as much now as he had Before the Moaner outbreak. Hell, right now, he had a light gray Hermes scarf tied jauntily around his neck that matched the camouflage jacket he wore. And his chestnut brown hair always got a tiny spritz of hairspray before he left the house.
The man walked back and forth around his jeep before staring right at Kurt's house. It almost seemed like he was staring right at Kurt in the upper window. Kurt hurried downstairs, grabbing his sai swords and sliding them into the homemade sheaths he had fashioned from several car fan belts.
Hurrying down the stairs on his way to the basement, he passed his cat, Scarves, and told him to stay put. The damn cat would try to escape the house and would be sentenced to death as Moaner chow. He made it to the basement and went to the east side of the house. He and Finn had dug what they called the 'escape hatch' on the side of the house. The basement had stairs outdoors that led to the backyard. But it was too risky coming out into the open like that. So they had dug a hole through the ground and into the basement. It had taken forever, but now there was a ladder and hatch that came up on the side of the house amid shrubs and an oak tree that provided cover when an escape was needed.
He slid out of the hole now and recovered it with the slab of grass he kept there. Under the cover of the shrubs, he hunched down and ran through the backyard of the house next door. Over the months, he had planned and ran through multiple escape routes from his house to known safe spots. Now he paused, lifted a section of gate, slipped under it and closed it silently behind him.
Moving swiftly, he approached the street from the far side of the neighboring house. The man had moved closer to Kurt's house but was still in the street. Kurt took stock of the situation. The man was armed, he was holding a pistol and had another one in the back of his pants. Kurt could see his pant leg bulged at the ankle indicating either a knife or another gun. Judging by the man's blood spattered clothes, he'd met some Moaners recently. If the gore on the front of the jeep was any indication, he had ran over said Moaners. He didn't seem to be injured, but he did look like he hadn't eaten in quite a while. His cheeks were slightly sunken and he was pale. Kurt could see he had light colored eyes which were scanning the street critically.
Kurt watched the man, tracking his movements carefully. When he was looking away, Kurt sprinted across the street to hid behind an overgrown hedge. Staying crouched, he eased around the hedge and snuck up behind the man, his Doc Marten's silent on the blacktop.
"Gun on the ground, hands on your head," he said, keeping his voice low and forceful. He had learned early on that his normal tones were too high to sound threatening.
The man did as he asked, putting his gun on the cement and rising to place his hands on his head. "My name is Blaine. I mean you no harm. I am just looking for food and shelter," the man said, his voice calm and soothing.
Kurt pressed his shotgun to the man's back. "Why are you here?"
"I've seen you in town and followed you back here. I watched you for the last day or so, hoping I could talk to you. It's been a long time since I've seen anyone, much less someone who appears to have a safe house," Blaine said.
"Do you have any wounds, bites, are you bleeding?" Kurt questioned. If the man had been around Moaners and gotten blood in his system, Kurt's only option would be to put the man out of his misery.
"No. I need a shower, but that is about it," the man admitted. "I don't smell the best, but I'm not infected."
"Turn around, but do it slowly. I have no qualms with shooting you if you push me," Kurt said. He watched as the man slowly turned around, his hands remaining on his head. It took every ounce of Kurt's iron control to not gasp. The man was drop. Dead. Gorgeous. His curly hair framed his face perfectly, not too long, not too short. His cheek bones and jaw line were that of a god. His lips were full and so very tempting. But his eyes, his eyes were golden pools that Kurt could see himself getting lost in for hours.
"Hi," Blaine said with a smile.
Kurt gritted his teeth so he didn't grin like an idiot. "Hi. Kurt Hummel," he finally said, keeping his shotgun aimed at the man's chest.
"Blaine Anderson. I can honestly say it is a pleasure to meet you," he said with a genuine grin. He looked relieved and very tired judging by the dark circles under his eyes.
"How long has it been since you slept, Blaine?" Kurt asked.
"Oh about thirty six hours or more. I caught a fifteen minute nap yesterday, but you can see what woke me up," Blaine said, gesturing to his bloody clothes.
"Do you have a change of clothes?" Kurt asked. The man's eyes were clear as mirrors, telling Kurt he was being honest. He had learned how to read people quickly since the outbreak. He trusted his instincts implicitly, and he was pretty certain he could trust this man. Could Kurt have really gotten lucky and had a fellow gay man find him? Not likely, he told himself. Nobody was that lucky.
"I lost everything about a week ago. I was holed up in a convenience store for a while and some looters crashed the place. I was lucky to get away from there with what I have," Blaine said, shaking his head.
Kurt knew how merciless looters could be. He had witnessed them in action and was glad he had never been on the receiving end of their tender mercies. "I'm sorry to hear that. I have some spare clothes if you want to shower and change," he offered.
Blaine's shoulders sagged in relief and he lowered his hands. "You are a life saver," he said gratefully.
"Not really. I just don't believe anyone should have to walk around in blood and guts. It's bad for the pores," Kurt said, walking around him back toward the house next door to his. "Come on."
Blaine looked at him, bemused. This guy was not only gorgeous, but funny too. Though Blaine had a feeling he wasn't joking about the pores comment. "Hey, is that scarf Hermes?" he had to know.
Kurt turned around and grinned at him with the full force of his shining blue green eyes and sparkling smile. "It is," Kurt said, pleased. Maybe he was wrong about Blaine not being gay.
Blaine's breath caught in his throat at the sight of that glorious smile. He was in love.
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Kurt showed him the back way into his house, back down thru the hatch. He could not risk going in the front door in case looters were watching. One never knew when a gang would pop out of nowhere, guns blazing. Kurt had learned to take great care in entering and leaving his home. His house was the last thing he had left of his family. He could not and would not leave or lose the house to looters or Moaners. He would go down fighting if he had to.
Blaine thought he was in heaven and Kurt was an angel. His house smelled so clean, not even a hint of garbage or blood and gore. Kurt had made him strip to his jeans and bare feet, leaving his coat and shirt at the neighbors house so the scent of blood didn't lead the Moaners to Kurt's house. He collected water in barrels and buckets outside and used that to clean off Blaine's boots. Now Kurt was making him an actual sandwich with fresh meat and lettuce and tomatoes from the garden he had in the back yard. He couldn't wait to eat but Kurt let him know in no uncertain terms that if he didn't get clean, he would not be eating. Blaine just turned and headed in the direction Kurt pointed.
Kurt was trying hard not to stare at the well built man walking around shirtless in his house. He was well muscled, his arms and chest rippling as he moved. He had a well defined six pack that made Kurt's mouth water and the lines on either side of his hips forming a V, made Kurt curious to see where they might end up.
Blaine took a shower, not caring that it was cold water. It was the first time he felt truly clean in months. Kurt had real shampoo that smelled delicious and body wash that cleaned away the stench of sweat and blood. He found a pile of clothes outside the door and he donned the jeans and long sleeve t-shirt. By the time he got back downstairs, Kurt had set out a picnic on his dining room table. They sat and enjoyed sandwiches, apples from a neighbors tree, and refreshingly cold water. Kurt brought down his iPod and plugged it into the iHome which was running on its last set of batteries. They sang along to several of the songs, surprising each other as they harmonized perfectly. Kurt finally turned it off to save the batteries. That and he wanted to talk with his new acquaintance.
Blaine shared his story of escaping from his house in Westerville and taking shelter in his old school, Dalton Academy. There he had joined up with several old classmates, David, Wes, Nick and Jeff. The five of them had secured an area of the old dorms as a place to live. Things had been going fine until a gang looters showed up. They had scattered and ran. Blaine had been chased for over an hour until he finally lost the looters in the streets leading to Lima. After staying a few days in a convenience store, he had left to find fuel for the jeep and came back to find all of his belongings had been stolen by looters. While driving aimlessly, he had seen Kurt scavenging in people's vehicles and had followed him from there.
Kurt was disappointed in himself for being followed. He always took great care in never taking the same route and making sure that nobody saw where he was going.
"Well, I gotta say I am kind of glad you weren't paying as much attention," Blaine said with a grin. He held up his sandwich. "If I hadn't seen you, I wouldn't be eating right now."
"I guess it is nice to have some company. I got tired of talking to my cat," Kurt said returning the smile.
"You have a cat? Where?" Blaine asked eagerly. He hadn't seen any domestic animals since he had left his house in Westerville. He'd had a dog and a cat at one time. Katy was his golden retriever and Perry was his cat. The two had grown up together and were best friends. Their loss was one of his greatest regrets in this damn world.
Kurt pointed to a beat up recliner. "Scarves lives in my dad's old chair. He was my cat, but he much preferred my dad to me. Now that it's just me, Scarves has come to at least tolerate me. Don't tell him I told you, but he snuggles with me during the night. He tries to fit his entire body against my neck. Crazy cat."
Blaine put his sandwich down and went to the gray and white cat. The cat's head was all white and he had a gray circle around his neck, like a scarf. The cat welcomed him, nuzzling into his hand and letting out a loud purr.
"Traitor," Kurt called.
Blaine chuckled and made his way back to the table. Scarves had decided he liked the stranger and trotted after him, leaping into his lap when he sat down in the chair.
"So, Kurt, what is your story," Blaine said, biting into his crisp green apple.
"Much like everyone else's I imagine," Kurt said lightly. He could never fully tell his story. If he did, he would be admitting that it had all happened, that it wasn't just some figment of a twisted, all knowing imagination. "I lost everything and everyone. That is my story."
Blaine nodded. "I get it. I really do. Do you plan to stay here or will you be searching out the supposed safe camps?"
Safe camps were supposedly in most major cities across what remained of the United States. In the safe camps, you gave up all of your possessions in order to work and have shelter in a well protected area. Some people heard that these places were havens with plenty of food and people who were united in their goal to survive. Other people heard that the safe camps were more concentration camps than anything else. You gave up everything and had to work day and night or be tossed out to the Moaners on the other side of the protected wall. Kurt was sure the reality was closer to the latter than the former.
"I will be staying here until my dead body is dragged away," Kurt said firmly, taking his plate to the sink. He kept a bucket of rain water in the kitchen so he could keep his dishes clean. The apocalypse was no reason to give up the niceties of life.
"That sounds like a smart idea, especially because you have such a nice setup here," Blaine said, feeling envious. He wished he could have stayed in his childhood home. He would only be able to see it now in his memories. The sight of it burning would stay in his mind for the rest of his days. "Well, I should probably head out. Nightfall is coming and there is no way I am getting stuck out there with the Moaners."
Kurt studied his hands for a moment, trying to come to a decision. "You can, uh, stay here for the night, if you would like."
Blaine stared at him, trying to control the pounding of his heart. He wanted this man and badly. Not just because they were the only men around for miles, but Blaine was attracted to Kurt's essence. He was beautiful, kind, and obviously one hell of a fighter if he had survived this long.
"I would be beyond grateful, thank you," Blaine said, rising to wash out his dish as he had seen Kurt do.
Kurt slid past him, their hands brushing. A shiver of delight went up Kurt's spine, a feeling he had not experienced in so long it shocked him. Sucking in his breath, he strived to control his body's reaction. It would not do to walk around with an erection in front of a virtual stranger. Though Blaine was the closest thing he had to a friend at this point.
"Come on, I will walk you through my nighttime security check," Kurt said.
Blaine nodded and followed him. Kurt went through the house securing locks and setting up his bell system. He had wanted a way of being warned if his house was broken into at night. One day when he was wandering in a gift and trinket store, he had found a selection of bells. He brought them and attached them to the doors and windows. The silence was so overwhelming that the bells were more than loud enough to warn him.
When the house was secure, Kurt showed Blaine to his room. "I stay in this room because it is in the middle of the house. The window is small and between the newspapers, fabric and wood on the window, I am able to have a candle or two lit at night," Kurt told him. He went to the closet and Blaine looked over his shoulder to see at least fifty or more candles in jars.
"That's a lot of candles," Blaine commented, smiling.
Kurt giggled. "Well, none of the looters think to check the Bed, Bath, and Beyond. So, I get to smell good and have light at night."
"You are a very smart man, Kurt Hummel," Blaine said, chuckling.
"I like to think so," Kurt said cheekily.
Kurt pulled out a sleeping bag. "Are you okay sleeping in here or do you want to camp out in another room?"
"I'll stay in here if you don't mind," Blaine said. He couldn't give up the chance of being near someone after so long.
"Not at all," Kurt assured him. "I have to admit, it is very nice having company," he said softly, his blue green gaze capturing Blaine's.
"I agree," Blaine said.
They gazed at each other for a long moment. Finally, Kurt coughed and helped Blaine set up a small bed. He gave Blaine a toothbrush and soon both of them were tucked into their beds, rifles and pistols at the ready. Kurt blew out the last candle and they settled in, the silence taking over the house. For long minutes, they lay there, neither saying anything, but knowing the other was still awake.
"Blaine?" Kurt finally said, his voice quiet in case Blaine had actually fallen asleep.
"Yeah?" the other man answered immediately.
"Um, I don't know if you would be interested, but, um, if you don't mind sharing, you can sleep in the bed if you want to," Kurt offered, his heart in his throat. Please, he begged the universe, please don't let him have just made a giant ass out of himself.
"I would love that. It's been forever since I slept in a bed," Blaine replied, his stomach erupting in flutters.
"Come on up," Kurt said, feeling breathless. He heard Blaine moving in the dark and then the bed was dipping under his weight.
Blaine settled in next to him, sighing happily as he snuggled into the cozy mattress. "I am in love with this bed," he moaned.
Kurt felt his cock jump at the delicious sounds coming from next to him. Was it because he hadn't seen a decent person in months? Loneliness? He didn't have a clue, but he wasn't going to question it. Life was too damn short and there was no time to waste being embarrassed. If you needed something you went after it.
"Blaine?" Kurt said again.
"Yeah?" came the answer.
"Will you hold me?" Kurt asked quietly.
Blaine was thrilled. He didn't even need to answer. He pulled Kurt closer to him, settling his head on his chest. They both sighed at the sensation of being close to someone after so long.
"You feel wonderful," Blaine said with a quiet moan. "So soft and sweet smelling."
Kurt's blood was on fire. "Life can't get any better than this right here," he said, snuggling into Blaine's muscled chest.
"It could get better," Blaine hinted.
Kurt smiled in the dark. "How's that?"
"If you kissed me," Blaine's voice was deep and throaty, sending shivers down Kurt's spine.
Without responding, he lifted his head to Blaine's, offering his lips to the man who was a stranger but who he would welcome as his lover.
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So? What do you think? Shall I continue? I thought this would be a one-shot, but now I think it'll be a mini story with just a few chapters. Next up: the Moaners strike Hummel House. We see how well Kurt can wield a sai sword!