Nothing came without strings anymore, no matter what Rachel had been telling her the last few weeks. Like this house. Place was awesome. One of those places that only a rich person who's ancestors must've owed slaves. And were like, the types who put their kids in beauty pageants. She learned that from the gross pink bedroom upstairs. Kid couldn't have been older than ten and she had more makeup than Santana. It was sick. Not zombie sick, just people sick. But still, the house was awesome, and naturally, Santana said they should pass it up.

"But Santana! They have vegan food here."

"Berry, if you're still on this vegan shit I'm kicking your ass."

They weren't friends. Not really. Just because Rachel had saved her back in New York hadn't indebted her to the girl or something. But they were two chicks and it was going to be easier making it through the end of the world with some backup. Even if sometimes that backup wouldn't shut the fuck up. And everything the girl knew about zombies was from pg-13 movies, and she'd been lucky enough not to see someone get gored yet, even though Santana hadn't been that fortunate. Still, chick was a good shot. And she'd made enough good points to convince Santana to stay at this mansion or whatever. It was a long way to Miami, and it would be nice to sleep in a bed instead of the car. But that hope was officially fucked now that they had company.

She kept the 12 gauge aimed at his head, eyes narrowed. It was a big guy, and a few months ago, she would've been hitting on him, probably fucking him within twenty minutes. But not now. He had a gun. And she wouldn't take any risks. "Drop it."

"You first." Guy had balls. Or he was stupid. Right now, she was leaning towards the latter.

She cocked the gun loudly, taking a step towards him. "You do not fuck with me. Last person who did that wound up dead." Granted, dude had been a zombie, but she wasn't telling this guy that.

"Okay fine. I'll be the bigger person." He lowered his gun slowly, bending to set it on the ground between them. And yeah, he seemed sincere, but no, Santana wasn't going to be a dumbass and trust him. You didn't just trust people anymore. That shit got people killed.

"Okay." She moved the gun to point as his stomach now, eyes still riveted on him, wetting her lips. "Now what are you here for?" She wanted to punch him when he just sort of shrugged, pushing his hands into his pockets.

"Same thing as you?" He swallowed, eyes shifting nervously from the gun barrel to her face. "Looking for somewhere to spend the night? Maybe shower?"

God, showers. She'd forget to check if the water was working. And if it was, fat chance she'd let this guy take the hot water first. But still, he didn't seem like an actual threat. At least not yet. Slowly, very, very slowly, she lowered her weapon, removing her finger from the trigger. The guy visibly relaxed, giving her what she thought must've been a scared attempt at a smile. Good. He was scared of her. That's what she wanted. Good feelings didn't really get her anywhere in this world, not that they had in the past.

"Thanks."

"For what?" She raised an eyebrow, snorting his response. "Not painting the wall with your brains?"

He shuddered, and that almost made her laugh. "Yeah. That- that's good. Thanks for not doing that."

All she could really do was smirk, tilting her chin down towards the gun at his feet. "Take your gun, even though you don't really need it here. Place is clear."

"Oh. That's good. Thanks." He swallowed, nodding slowly, picking up his gun, but propping it up against a nearby couch. Not really Santana's style, but it was kind of funny, having someone believe her so blindly. Trust wasn't something commonly found in this new world of theirs.

"So, you got a name or what?" Her question seemed to take him by surprise.

He stumbled, nodding before he spoke. "Finn. Finn Hudson." It was almost cute, how he decided to introduce himself, holding out his hand.

She looked down at it, rolling her eyes, denying his offering. "Santana. Just Santana." They stood in silence for a few extremely long seconds before she decided to talk. Fuck, it was nice to have someone else around, especially if that someone had a dick.

What? She had needs. And he seemed safe. She was pretty sure she could take this guy down if she needed to. But she wasn't just going to jump him. That wasn't her style.

"So." His feet shuffled as he looked between the rug and her face. "Are you planning on staying here?"

She snorted, shaking her head. "No fucking way. Just stopping before going down to Florida. Heat's supposed to be a bitch for the fuckers." Yeah, she'd seen zombie movies, and knew that extreme heat wasn't good for them. Finn's face got all bright, and she opened her mouth to find out why he looked so excited. "Why the weird face-" she was interrupted, but not by him.

A scream, followed by gunshots came from upstairs. And Santana didn't play those games, not when her life was on the line. Her life came first. Over Rachel's, over an pretty asshole.

She strode forward, eyes narrowed as she looked up at him. "Are you alone?" She pushed at his chest, finger back on the trigger, growling. If a zombie had gotten in... But he shook his head.

"No. I..."

Fuck. Fuck, fucking Rachel.

... ... ...

All she'd wanted was to sleep. She'd been traversing the east coast with Santana for more than three weeks now. After the incident in the lobby, they'd remained together, though her roommate had yet to warm up to her completely. Rachel knew it wouldn't take forever. They were essentially bound to each other now, whether Santana wanted to admit it or not. She thought it must have been after they survived escaping New York. The virus festered in the city overnight. It really was a miracle that they'd made it out alive, and despite their pride, both girls had come to realize that they couldn't have done it alone. They may not have become friends yet, but they were at the very least, allies.

And when she'd yawned loudly for possibly the tenth time, Santana had sent her upstairs, telling her to, quote, "take a fucking nap." She'd claimed the master bedroom, even though she knew Santana would fight her for it. But for now, it was hers, and she planned on relishing it.

She was stirred by movement beside her, which made no sense, since all she had next to her was her pistol. Upon opening her eyes, she was greeted by a male face drawing close, hand reaching for her gun. And he had a gun. And he clearly hadn't expected her to awaken.

She screamed, high and loud as her hand shot forward, fingers closing around the gun, squeezing the trigger as she shot wildly. He cursed, and she thought that maybe she shot him before he lunged towards her, catching her off guard. She was sleepy and things were hazy and he had little trouble pinning her down, tearing the weapon from her grasp. She didn't know who he was, or what he wanted, but as one hand caught both her wrists, holding them tight over her head, the other had her gun, and it was pointed right at her.

"Don't. Scream." It was an order, and she wasn't sure whether she heard the gun click or she just imagined it. Either way, Rachel couldn't breathe. She just stared up at him, eyes wide, wondering what Santana would do once she realized what was happening. If she'd heard the screams. Whether or not she'd actually be alive to see the girl again.

And good lord, this man was heavy. She couldn't buck him off, not that she would have tried, not with her own gun pointed at her. They just stared at each other until footsteps echoed from outside the door. "Finn, get in here!" So he wasn't alone.

When the door burst open, she couldn't see who it was, but the voice was familiar. "Get the fuck off her!" Thank god, Santana.

The man on top of her didn't shift, though his head did twist back briefly. "And who the fuck are you?" He paused. "Finn, what the fuck is going on?"

Another male voice spoke. "Puck, they were here first. They're-"

"Armed." Rachel could picture Santana, arm extended, her impressive weapon on display.

"So are you." Her voice broke through the tightness in her throat, swallowing when this Puck character's head snapped back to her. "And I'm not. So I don't see how this is at all fair."

"Dude, they're fine. Just get off her."

"You heard your boyfriend, asshole. Get off." In some small section of her mind, Rachel registered what sounded like concern in Santana's voice. It was sort of nice, knowing that the girl actually did care for her in some capacity.

It took a moment before he moved off the bed, freeing her hands. She hadn't realized how much weight he'd put on her until she sat up, pushing herself to her feet. She held out her hand, waiting for her gun to be returned. It wasn't.

"Not a chance."

"It's mine."

"Puck..."

"Shut up, Finn." This Finn boy was tall, taller than Puck, but he was more timid about the whole thing. He was standing behind Santana, a few feet back, his gun dangling from one hand, while Santana's finger was still curled around the trigger of hers.

And this Puck bastard still had hers. She stepped forward, hand still extended, eyes narrowed as she looked up at him. "You assaulted me while I was sleeping."

"You shot at me..." She cut him off, raising one finger between them.

"Because you were trying to take my one line of defense. And you put a gun in my face. It's already been established that we mean you no harm. We were here first, and then you and your companion arrived, obviously with the intent to claim this house as your own."

"Wait a minute, I'm not his companion!" Finn turned his head to look at Puck, brows knit together. "Am I?"

Santana snorted, and Rachel spoke once again. "That gun is mine, I've shot many a zombie with it, so unless you'd like me to fight you for it, I suggest you hand it over."

The entire time she'd been speaking to him, he'd been looking at her in what could only be shock, confusion, and maybe a little amusement. But when she finished, his bark of laughter threw her off. And it made her want to slap him across the check.

"Whatever the fuck you say. Take it." And just like that, he flipped it around, handing the pistol back to her. Rachel slipped it into the holster at her waist, giving him a curt nod. Santana was at her side in an instant, free hand curling around her upper arm, tugging her away from the boys.

"Now that you've found us, you two can get the fuck out." Rachel didn't miss how Santana was looking directly at this Puck guy, not the taller boy. And Finn seemed entirely focused on what Santana was saying.

Puck however, was not.

"As if." He pushed past the two of them, flopping down onto the bed Rachel had all but claimed a few hours ago. "You two can go."

"Bullshit."

"Puck, maybe we should just let them stay here."

"Let us?" It was the first time Rachel spoke to Finn, stalking towards the enormous boy, head tilted back so she could glare up at him. "We don't need your permission to stay here. We found this house, we claimed it. There are plenty of other places you and your-" she waved her pistol in Puck's direction, and it was regrettable that she missed how his brows rose in concern. "friend to take shelter."

"Wrong, Princess." Her head snapped back to the bed, where Puck was splayed out, laying claim on where she had been moments ago. "We're here to stay. And you won't change that."

"Unless we shoot you." Rachel had to admire Santana's deadpan, and the look of panic in Finn's eyes. Puck? He didn't budge. If anything, his smirk only grew wider.

"Like I said, bullshit. Maybe you're okay with killing people. But that one?" He raised his chin in Rachel's direction, sniffing. "Not a chance."

He was arrogant and an absolute ass, the way he lay there, gun at his side, one ankle crossed over the other as he looked them over. Calling her Princess, insulting them after storming into a house that had already been claimed. And the worst part was that he was right. Rachel couldn't kill someone who was alive, even if they were absolute jerks. Well, Puck was a jerk. She wasn't sure about Finn.

"Okay wait." He spoke, taking a hesitant step forward, gaining confidence before stepping between the girls and the bed. "We're in the middle of a post-apocalyptic crisis. Fighting each other isn't going to do us any good." No one spoke, so he pressed onward. "You girls obviously know how to survive, since you've made it this far. And Puck, they're headed down to Florida. Maybe we should all just go together."

"No."

"You fucking serious?" Rachel glared at the man on her bed when the two spoke simultaneously. But Santana's lack of a response was what truly unnerved her.

"San?" She looked at her roommate, whose brow was knit, looking at Finn for several long seconds.

"Guy's got a point, Rach."

"What?"

"They're dudes, Berry. And if we're going the same way, it makes sense." The taller girl shrugged before her gaze hardened, looking between the two boys. "But you two need to get this. I'm getting to Miami no matter what. You two drag me down? I'll shoot you both myself. Even if Rachel tries to stop me." And with that, she turned, leaving Rachel alone with the two men, all three with varying degrees of speechlessness.

Finn was the first to break. "Okay so um. I guess we'll figure out when we're leaving tomorrow." He gave Rachel a sheepish smile before walking out. She was left alone once more with him.

"Get off my bed." She stalked forward, hand on her hip, eyes narrowed. When he shook his head, she couldn't contain her huff of irritation. "If you don't move, I will be forced to physically remove you."

He just stared at her, a smug look painted across his face. "Try it. I won't be as nice when I pin you though."

She would have slapped him, had his gun not been so close to his hand. And for some reason, Rachel knew he wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger.