Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or the Walking Dead, as many terms I use in this are from that amazing show.

A/N: This is my first Zombie AU fic, and it will likely stay a oneshot. The title is from the song "I Will Follow You into the Dark" by DCFC. Also I incorporate a poem into this story because when I first came across it, I knew I had to. If you watch The Walking Dead, you will know what I mean when I say that it reminds me of Daryl's story about the Cherokee Rose. I hope you enjoy it.

In the Blackest of Rooms

Dave rounded off another two shots as he let the soft wheezes and gasps of the teen, quickly-turned-man, next to him fuel him far more efficiently than the adrenaline and fear surging through his veins. He bitterly pushed away the thought of those much younger than them who were forced to grow up far to quickly in this increasingly dangerous world. He and Kurt were lucky to make it this long on their own, even at the age of nineteen and with Dave's police training.

Every morning that they woke up to find that they weren't floating ethereally over their ashen, blood-soaked bodies - their entrails being pulled out by one of those ugly-ass, animated meat-sacks, then gnashing on their intestines like it was Laffy Taffy - was not only a blessing, but a curse. To stay alive meant only in the lamest sense of the word. They had become the antelopes which the lions preyed upon, and the lions were the Walkers who turned the world into their own territory. To stay alive was nasty, gruesome, and brutal. It meant seeing your loved ones turned into the very thing that would like nothing better than to pry open your rib cage and take a bite of your still-beating heart. Everyday was like experiencing Dante's Divine Comedy, only they were stuck in a infinite loop of Inferno - never quite making it to the Parts of Purgatorio or Paradiso. And the only reason Dave had yet to put a bullet through his brain in order to leave this hell-on-earth just so happened to be running alongside him.

Dave pulled himself out of his daze when he saw the two decaying forms fall lifelessly to a crumpled heap upon the concrete.

"Come on," Dave roared to his companion who fought as valiantly as he did to escape the smell of the rotting flesh as it closed in upon them. The building was just behind them, but who knew what could be inside, or if it was even unlocked. The only way that Dave could view the situation at hand was that they were either going to be dead in five seconds or five minutes, but to hell if they were going to let any of those flesh-eaters in with them. So as Dave squeezed the trigger, watching as the bullet hit square in between the eyes of a Walker with a particularly engorged belly, he could only hope that this town had only recently been overrun by a herd, and none had any reason to go inside.

"Dave!" Dave turned his head to see the gorgeous and rarely hopeful face of the man holding his hand out, urging him to follow him through the, thankfully, unlocked door of the abandoned school. Dave followed him into the dark, desolate hall as they slammed the door behind them turned both of the deadbolts.

"That isn't going to hold for very long," Dave panted, resting the hand that wasn't holding the gun upon his knee. When he drew himself up straighter, he could see the fear and panic evident in the blue eyes that were faintly illuminated by the two small window panes in the metal doors. Kurt jumped, taking a step back as gnarled, grey hands desperately clawed upon the glass.

"Follow me and keep your gun out." Dave ordered without any condescension. Kurt nodded briefly, adjusting his backpack, filled with ammunition, and pulled his eyes away from the doors that were beginning to quake upon their hinges.

They walked down the hall as they heard the pounding on the door behind them growing louder, only to find that with every step they took meant being submerged in a growing stillness. The guttural moans remained absent ahead of them.

"There's more of them coming," Dave said quietly and without looking at Kurt, knowing that he wouldn't be able to stand the look he might give him. "Let's go in here." He cocked his head toward the door on their right with the sign that said Boy's Locker Room.

Dave went into the room first, the weapon steadily aiming for anything that might might jump out at him, whether it be human or... formerly-human.

Dave went into the room first and he marveled at the cleanliness of it - for a locker room, that is. The entire building had a tranquility to it, and it made him feel thankful-in a rather morbid and morose way-in the sense that if any of the students who may have attended the school in the unknown town they were in did not make it, they would have, at least, been with their families and not in this cold institution that Dave remembered high school to be. It might have only been about eight months since he graduated, but out on the terrain, days could feel like years.

As soon as Dave was finished giving the room a once over, he began finding objects in the room to put in front of the door. In the open area between the bathroom and the lockers were weights and a desk that the coach or Phys. Ed. teacher must have used at one point. Without wasting any time, he began pushing the desk over in front of the door after putting his gun, with the safety on, upon it.

"Dave." He heard the voice say weakly in the semi-darkness. The only light came from the three small, rectangular windows high on the wall in the bathroom area.

Dave paid no mind to him. He could say whatever he wanted to say, but Dave wasn't going to stop working. What they needed now was rest and they would get that whether they were able to seal off the door or if the zombies came in and ate them. It was Kurt's choice, and an easy choice at that-if he ever wanted to see it his father again, that is.

"Dave, please stop." Dave carried two, twenty-pound weights in each hand and plopped them heavily on top of the desk. "We should go to the cafeteria. We need to find food and water. Who knows how long we will be locked in h-" Dave could hear Kurt's high pitched voice creeping steadily higher, and he could see him in his peripheral vision, moving his weight from one foot to the other as he anxiously wrung his hands. So Dave did the only thing that he could think of and the one thing he had wanted to do for the longest time.

He kissed him.

There was no tongue involved, and God knows had they met in much lighter circumstances, he probably would have gone for it. The two of them had gone without the bare necessities of hygiene longer than he cared to admit, but somehow his lips, as cracked and chapped as they were, slid effortlessly against Kurt's and his hands, dirty and worn, were gentle as he cupped his face. It was exactly what they both needed as Dave felt all of the fight, fear, and pain drain from Kurt right from under his fingertips, and he, himself, felt as though a fire had been lit in his body, warming him from the inside out.

"I need you to calm down," Dave rasped when he finally pulled away. He looked at Kurt full in the face with determination. Kurt's eyes were closed and his plump lips were parted. Dave's facade softened slightly when he saw a fissure in Kurt's bottom lip caked with little bit of dried blood, darkening the already rose-tinted flesh. Dave curled his thumb in to gently brush the cut with the pad of his thumb, as if checking to see whether it caused him any pain - whetherhe might have caused him any pain when he kissed him. Dave was rest assured when Kurt didn't flinch or attempt to pull away. He brushed the lank hair out of Kurt's eyes before curling his hand around the back of his neck and pulling him in close, their foreheads touching each other and their noses side-by-side. Whether this was in an effort to comfort Kurt or himself, he didn't know.

"First we need to recuperate," Dave stated calmly, letting his thumb brush the hair at the nape of Kurt's neck. "At least until we know those Lame-Brain son's of bitches have cleared out, alright? The cafeteria could very well be on the other side of the school. Once we know the coast is clear we can look for it, but right now I just need you to help me put as much stuff in front of this door as possible. Can you do that for me?"

Dave slowly pulled away to see that Kurt had opened his eyes and they were glazed over, but full of resolute determination. He nodded his head imperceptibly and Dave let his hands fall to his sides as Kurt moved towards a hamper on a cart next to the weights, and he pulled out a towel. Dave looked curiously at Kurt and he explained.

"We can stuff these in the crack at the bottom of the door so they won't smell us."

Dave couldn't help but smile weakly. He certainly lucked out when it came to finding the brains to his brawn.

Finally, when they had finished moving all that they could in front of the door, they collapsed into a heap on the tile floor just below paper towel dispensers, their shoulders touching. Kurt was the first to speak up.

"A year ago this would have grossed me out," he divulged in a exhausted tone, but giggling softly, a sound that was like music to Dave's ears. It was hard to find humor in their situation, but finding ways to make light of it was the only way to stay sane.

"Sitting on a bathroom floor in the boys locker room... In no way is this sanitary." Dave couldn't help but laugh at the irony, considering how filthy they were from traveling for days... Weeks, actually. Dave let his head fall back upon the wall, closing his eyes as he felt the warm weight of a head resting on his shoulder. Dave relished the feeling of Kurt's warmth the way a sailor did the soft glow from a lighthouse at sea during a ravaging storm. Kurt was his shining beacon of hope, and he didn't know how they would have survived had they not found each other. He didn't move away as Kurt slipped his smaller hand into his, knowing that what he was about to say might be the one thing that pushes this beautiful person away from him.

"A year ago this would have grossed me out," he parroted Kurt, before imparting and amending Kurt's secret with his own. "Or at least I would have pretended it did..." He looked down and their hands gripping one another. "Holding a boy's hand."

He felt Kurt slowly pull his head away, and as Dave stared intently at the toe of his own worn shoe knocking together with Kurt's, he could feel Kurt's own gaze upon him.

"Funny how wars tend to change people, huh?" When Dave felt the firm squeeze of his hand, he turned to look at Kurt, who smiled at him gently, albeit tiredly, only to rest his head upon his shoulder once more. Dave swallowed thickly as Kurt curled in closer to Dave, freeing his hand from his only to curl it underneath his strong bicep.

"Wars... Flesh-eating, autonomous dead-guys... Airborne zombie viruses... The Apocolypse... But who's counting, right?" Dave said dully and with an air of finality as he looked down to see Kurt had closed his eyes, but Kurt huffed out a sardonic laugh.

"You're supposed to be making me feel better, you jerk. Tell me something that's supposed to make me feel better." Dave hated the plea in Kurt's voice. It broke his fucking heart. So he thought, long and hard, and finally spoke up just as he began to feel the gentle rise and fall of Kurt's chest upon his arm as well as the puffs of air escaping his mouth and tickling his chest as Kurt began to doze off.

"Did you hear about the rose that grew

from a crack in the concrete?

Proving nature's law is wrong it

learned to walk with out having feet.

Funny it seems, but by keeping it's dreams,

it learned to breathe fresh air.

Long live the rose that grew from concrete

when no one else ever cared. "

The last rhyme died upon his lips as he felt the breathing stop next to him. Dave fearfully jerked his head towards Kurt expecting the worst. Had he been injured, or even bitten, and not realized it? Was he going to Turn just like every one else had. When Dave looked down, however, it was only to discover that Kurt had woken up and was now playing with the frayed sleeve of Dave's Henley.

"That's beautiful. Is that Dickinson?" Dave snorted.

"Tupac." Kurt shook his head smiling ruefully.

"Well, he was a rather underrated poet of our time, wasn't he," Kurt said, as he snuggled in closer. "What... What did you mean by that? The rose...? And the concrete...?"

Dave slid his hand over Kurt's which peaked out from underneath Dave's arm and he could feel his own heart thumping wildly once more. Without the Zombies on their trail, for once, Dave couldn't blame it on the fear or the adrenaline - he knew the blame could only be placed on the person beside him.

"It means... That I love you, Kurt Hummel. That somehow, despite all of the death and destruction, you give me something worth fighting for. A life... A life truer than the one that I was living before all of this happened. You are the living proof that with everything dark and horrible and ugly comes something pure and beautiful and bright. And that's all I need. That's all that I need to get us to the Capital. To know that you're alive and safe and with the people that love you."

When all was said and done, Dave couldn't help the sting that he felt in the corner of his eyes. He wasn't going to cry. He had to be the strong one. For both of them. But when Kurt turned on him, his head snapping towards him, he knew better than to expect some sort of proclamation of love.

"So what? You're just going to drop me off at Capital Hill after we find my father like you were my baby-sitter or something?" Kurt's eyes were red and Dave could see tears that had yet to be spilled sparkling in them. "Don't you think you deserve to be with the people who love you?"

Dave shook his head, sadly. He mouthed soundlessly until he managed to find the right words-the hard truth he had yet to come to terms with.

"I don't know where my family is Kurt," Dave said, trying to hold himself together. "I was still at the police academy when everyone just started... Changing. When I got back home I couldn't find them, you know that. They could have evacuated, or they could have been in the Raids. They could be dead for all we kn-"

It was Kurt's turn to surprise Dave, pulling his head down to meet him halfway in a kiss in order to effectively stop him from thinking of all the awful possibilities. Even he knew that there was only a slim chance of finding his own father alive.

"And they could still be alive." Kurt nodded reassuringly and gripping Dave's hand tightly in his own. "But whether they are or not doesn't change the fact that you deserve to be with the person who loves you, too."

Dave stared at Kurt blankly, as a wide smile broke out upon Kurt's face. "So it's a good thing you don't have much of a selection between me and all of these Walkers, because I'm afraid you're stuck with me."

Dave half-laughed, half-choked back tears as he pulled Kurt to him and kissed his neck. As Kurt snuggled back into Dave's body as he heard a thudding sound coming from the front of the school and he tried not to jump, hoping the noise went unnoticed by Kurt.

"Get some rest, alright?" Dave laid a gentle kiss on the top of Kurt's head. "You don't have to worry. I promise I won't let anything happen to you."

"I'm not worried," Kurt said groggily, and Dave was certain now that he could hear the loud bang of a door flying open followed by the distinct shuffle of multiple pairs of clumsy feet. "I'm with you."

Dave let his head fall back again against the tiled wall as he shut his eyes, a few fat tears leaking out from the corners. He hastily wiped them away before Kurt could open his eyes and see him.

"And that's from Harry Potter," Dave whispered sadly as he carefully lifted his hand to cover Kurt's ear that wasn't pressed against his arm.

"I miss those books and movies," Kurt said, starting to drift off.

"When we get out of this... We'll have a marathon, alright? I promise." Dave thought he felt the nodding of Kurt's head.

"Do you think we will?"

Dave was silent for a long time as he tightened his grip on his handgun. He stayed perfectly still, praying for Kurt to have finally fallen asleep so he wouldn't have to hear his lack of an answer, as well as the throaty hisses of the herd just beyond the door having narrowed in upon its meal.