Lance knew they were fucked when the engine gave out. He couldn't say he was surprised. The damn thing had been sputtering for the past ten miles. At least they'd broken down in an abandoned neighborhood instead of in the woods. Like Alabama. Or this could have been another Kansas (fucking Kansas).

So things could have been a lot worse if you asked Lance.

"DAMMIT!" screamed Keith, pounding the steering wheel. Keith seemed to disagree. Lance closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat while he stomped out of the car and opened the hood. Lance opened the door to hand Keith a wrench. It took all of his willpower not to freak out when their fingers brushed. Keith didn't seem to notice Lance's internal struggle (which was as it should have been, Lance prided himself bottling things up. He probably needed to see someone about that) as he opened the hood of the car and started tinkering with it. Lance stayed in the car for a few minutes before getting out to stand beside Keith, who was still yelling curses.

"Will you quit it? If you don't stop you'll attract zombies."

Keith slammed the hood of the car down and scowled (he still looked ridiculously cute when he did that. Life was not fair). Lance caught a strong whiff of smoke. Shit. Whatever, he couldn't afford to panic. Kansas had been way worse and they'd made it out of that. "It doesn't matter. They'll smell us and they will come. And then what'll we do? We have no ride, limited supplies, and no ammo. We're sitting ducks!"

"Not yet." Lance scanned the neighborhood. "It looks like nobody's scavenged this area yet. There don't seem to be any zombies around either. So you try and fix the car and I'll hunt us up some supplies. Sound good?"

"FIX THE CAR! LANCE HOW THE FUCK AM I GOING TO FIX THIS?" Keith threw open the hood again, releasing a shit ton of smoke. Already a bad sign. But Keith had been a mechanic before the apocalypse and based on the fact that he'd manage to salvage the car in Kansas he had been a damn good one. Lance still didn't know how he'd repaired a rusty engine and a leaky battery before the horde of undead soccer moms had caught up but he wasn't complaining.

The smoke started to clear and Lance was hit with the tang of battery fluid with an undertone of motor oil. Ok, so it would be a little harder to fix than usual. But Keith could do it. The smoke finally dissipated and Lance saw with a sinking heart that the innards of the car were completely melted.

So no, Keith could not fix this.

Lance felt panic start to creep into his chest, but forced it down. There wasn't time for that. He could freak out when they were driving away from this shell of suburbia. Or in the afterlife, whispered an annoying voice in his head. Lance willed it to be silent. They hadn't come this far to stop trying.

Even if the voice was right.

Whatever, no time for that. But Keith looked like he was freaking out a little.

"Hey." Lance grabbed Keith's shoulders and looked into his eyes. Silent pining could take a backseat for a while. "Look at me." Violet eyes met blue and Lance wanted to die "We can still try. We're almost to California. This neighborhood looks like it hasn't been touched by scavengers or zombies. How about you see if there's another car you can get to work and I get supplies?"

"But-"

"No buts," said Lance. "C'mon dude, you're always saying how you won't let some dumb zombies stop you. You really gonna prove that you were all talk? After all the time we spent together? I'm hurt."

The lost look in Keith's eyes drained away and was slowly replaced by an emotion Lance had come to know and love; determination. And...something else he didn't quite recognize. Something softer. Lance shook himself. That wasn't important right now. "Ok."

Lance let his arms drop. "Ok," he repeated. "Well, good luck man." He turned around and started in the direction of the nearest house, a two-story colonial, when he heard Keith call out.

"Wait."

"Yeah?"

Keith let out a breath. "Thanks for snapping me out of it."

"Don't mention it. You've done the same for me." Lance could feel the memory of killing what had once been his cousin and the meltdown that had followed creep in the back of his mind. That had been the first time either of them had broken down. But not the last.

Lance waved goodbye and walked into the house. He knew better than to look at the happy photos on the wall. It would only make him wonder what happened to the people in them and how'd they'd feel about him rummaging through their shit. Lance only hoped that wherever they were, they were happy and that they could forgive him.

He only hoped that he and Keith wouldn't be joining them anytime soon

Which was a possibility. Sure Lance tried to convince Keith to try and fix them up a ride, but there was always the chance he couldn't. He didn't know if there were any cars left. For all he knew the people had driven away when they first heard about the zombie shit. And if they hadn't, Lance knew that two years of not being touched by human hands could not be good for any vehicle. But he'd still made Keith try because giving up just wasn't their style. And besides, there a was a perfectly decent chance for survival.

They hadn't made it all the way to Oregon for them to give up. Their friends were so close. When Lance closed his eyes he could almost see himself laughing with Hunk about how crazy this whole thing had been and had he mentioned the undead soccer moms? Good times.

Stop lying to yourself, hissed a voice at the back of his mind. You do enough of that around Keith. Lance scowled and tried to shake the traitorous thoughts loose. There was a good chance of surviving. They'd made it out of tough situations before. None while stranded, but there was first time for everything.

But Lance couldn't shake the panic. It simmered under his skin and fought to claw out of his every pore as he scavenged. It wouldn't leave no matter what Lance did. Even daydreaming about Keith didn't help (which was unusual and und unfortunate. It wasn't like Lance had a lot of chances to think about crushes while fighting for his life in an apocalyptic wasteland. Fucking paranoia. It ruins everything). Every instinct screamed that this was his last night on earth and that he should start running the fuck away before it was too late.

After an hour of jumping at mice and shadows, Lance had too concede to the paranoia that this was at least worse than Kansas (if only by a little because Lance was stubborn like that).

This did not make him feel better. This made him feel worse because of The Promise.

Back in Kansas, Lance had almost died holding off the hordes of zombies as Keith fixed the car. He remembered thinking idly through the haze of adrenaline and fear as he smashed zombies how awesome he thought Keith was, and how it really was a shame he couldn't tell that to his face before they died. But then they lived, and Lance was looking at Keith as they drove away, laughing from the high of living. The wind had been blowing Keith's hair every which way and he was covered in oil, but god dammit all if he wasn't the most beautiful thing Lance had ever seen.

And Lance had almost lost his chance to tell him that for good. So that day he promised himself that if they were ever in a bind just as bad as (if not worse) than Kansas, Lance would screw his courage to the sticking place and tell Keith that he was in love with him.

That didn't make confessing his feelings any easier. Lance had been traveling with Keith so long he was afraid of ruining that. Companionship (live one anyway) was hard to come by if you were on the road. And Lance really, really didn't want to be alone.

Oh well. At least the panic of confessing was distracting him from the strong possibility of dying. That was good at least.

As he was going through a garage, Lance saw something very old and very rare out of the corner of his eye. He suddenly remembered that he still had his suit from the wedding back in Wyoming. One of the houses had a gas stove. And now that he thought about it, he remembered seeing some candles lying around somewhere. Lance sood up and squared his shoulders. What the hell, if he was going to do this, he was doing this with style.

When Keith stepped into number 42 on Colonial Ave. in Smithwood, Oregon, he probably didn't expect to see the dining room table with a simple but delicious hot meal lying on it set for two. He probably didn't expect to find six candles burning on the table either. Lance in a suit was probably a surprise, but a mild one because Keith knew Lance was extra.

But Lance knew that the victrola playing Frank Sinatra was definitely unexpected.

"Lance...what? Why…?"

"Well, we haven't had a real meal in a while. And...just in case it's our last. Might as well live it up for one night am I right?"

Keith didn't say anything for a solid minute. He just stared at Lance, the dinner, and then at Lance again. Lance started to fidget. Maybe this had been too much.

"Lance, I…"

Oh fuck. This was definitely too much. Lance should never have never have bothered. "We can forget about this. The bags are packed full of supplies. They're by the door. Say the word and we can leave. This whole thing will just be a memory."

Keith blinked at him. "Why would I want to forget about this? This is sweet. And besides," his face darkened. "We don't have time to."

"So you couldn't fix it?"

"No. Nor could I rig up a replacement car and it's too dark to start walking. We're stuck."

Well fuck. Lance pushed down the panic of near death by replacing it with worry about the fact that he was actually going to eat a romantic dinner with Keith. Lance could only handle one crisis at a time and he'd rather focus on the one less likely to paralyze him with fear. Yet another one of his probably-unhealthy coping mechanisms.

"I mean, you could always try again in the morning."

"If we live that long" grumbled Keith

"Wow. Ok, thank you Captain Sunshine."

"I'm right though. What's the point in lying to ourselves?"

"Not having a miserable last day I think."

Keith looked like he wanted to argue but decided last minute to shut his mouth. "I guess that's a decent reason as any. Fine, what other last day delusions ware we indulging in?"

Lance rolled his eyes. "Just eat your food before it gets cold mullet-brain."

He did so, and the two were silent. Until old habits kicked in and they were talking about everything and nothing. Like it was a normal night under the stars. Lance could almost pretend they were going to be ok.

At last, the food had been eaten and the plates had been cleared. He looked over at Keith and saw he was fidgeting awkwardly, as he was want to do when he was nervous. Frank Sinatra was still crooning on the victrola so Lance took another leap. He offered his hand to Keith. "Do you want to dance?" he asked..

Keith looked surprised. "Sure." he took his hand and began to sway in time to the music. At first he was prickly, but as the song went on he relaxed in Lance's arms. Lance didn't try and pressure him. Keith was like a cat, it took him a while to get comfortable.

Eventually the victrola stopped. Neither of them moved. Lance figured it was now or never. "I have something to tell you." Keith looked up expectantly. "It's not a bad thing, but if you want to we can forget about it for however long we have left. I just need to do this for myself."

"You're making me nervous."

"You're not alone.'' Lance took a shaky breath. ''I'm in love with you Keith." He went still in Lance's arms. Awesome. Keith was going to hate him. Well, too late to stop now. He let his arms fall to his sides and ploughed on. "I have been for a while. And if you don't feel the same, that's fine. I didn't do all this so you'd fall in love with me or make you feel obligated. I just wanted for you to have a nice last day. You're my friend first."

There was a beat of terrible silence before Keith spoke."How long?''

"Since always, but I only stopped repressing it a little before Kansas."

"We are so stupid,'' breathed Keith and before Lance could ask what he meant he pulled him into a bruising kiss.

Lance could barely summon up the brainpower to kiss him back. What an emotional rollercoaster this day was turning out to be. He couldn't help laughing into the kiss. When they broke away for air, Lance was still laughing. "Wow. We really are stupid. How long for you?"

"Texas as well."

"God, we've wasted so much time." He kind of wanted to kiss Keith again, so he did, wonder soaring through him.

Keith broke away and touched his face, his eyes soft. "We're here now and we have the night."

"What happened to captain death-is-near and who replaced him with a clone who knows what optimism is?"

"He's still here. He just got a new reason to try." Keith kissed Lance's pulse. "And honestly, I'm too happy right now to think about imminent death."

"Huh, so the old adage about the more time you spend together, the more alike you become because lemme tell ya that is some grade-A repression. The student has become the master." He began to play with the ends of Keith's hair.

"Mmmm, maybe." Keith tugged Lance up the stairs. He followed with a spring in his step, his eyes practically hearts..

Lance could live with maybe. He could still feel the encroaching dread of death in the pit of his stomach. And he knew Keith well enough to know he was throwing himself into this feeling as a means of distraction. His hands had that focused steadiness he got when he worked on a challenging car to avoid having a difficult conversation with Lance. But for once the universe had decided to allow him some happiness. If he only had one night left, then he'd make it great to try and make up for all the times they could have, would have, and should have.

Besides thought Lance as Keith pulled him down for another kiss. Maybe lady luck would smile on them one more time and this would be the first of many nights together like this. Maybe no zombies would smell them in the house. Oregon wasn't too far from California, they could walk the rest of the way if they had okay, was pretty risky, but Lance and Keith were no strangers to risk.

But thoughts of a future they may not live to see could wait. Right now Lance had found some joy at the end of the world, and he wasn't going to waste it.