A/N: I'm SO sorry this took so long! My work has been keeping me too busy to write or find any motivation to write. I'm finally back and looking for a new job which has given me more motivation than I've had in 3 years! If any of you are still here, thanks for sticking with me through all the hardships!

The two men snuck quietly out of the cryogenics lab. Philip went ahead, followed almost uncomfortably closely by Clarence. They moved as quickly as they could without becoming short of breath. The hallways were quiet, for now, but who knew how long it would be before they were caught by a patrolling Infected.

Philip turned to his right, remembering the path Clarence had traced on the map. As the two managed to make their way through the labyrinth that is the Shelter facility, Philip would occasionally feel a firm hand on his arm, correcting his path if he misremembered.

As they neared their destination, Clarence planted a firm hand in the center of Philip's chest, stopping the man in his tracks. Philip gave the man an irritated glance before he heard it, a rumbling voice, just around the corner from their position.

"Something is wrong."

A shiver ran down Philip's spine at the oh-so-familiar rugged voice. Before he could process the situation, he was being pulled into a room just off the hallway. A hand covered his mouth before he could shout in surprise, and a warm body pressed him against the closet door.

A hushed voice breathed in his ear, "Shh. Quiet, monkey. Don't need him finding us, do we?"

Philip's cheeks flushed with heat and embarrassment, and he found himself grateful for the absence of light in the room. The physicist turned his attention to listening outside the door, attempting to ignore the warm body pressed against his own, the soft breath against his neck-

-wait… what?!

Maybe Philip had been without sleep- proper sleep, for longer than he originally thought. What the hell was wrong with him?

After a short while, Philip could hear the form shamble away, giving up on the chase for the time being. As the Infected rounded a corner, Clarence pushed away from Philip, finally allowing the stunned physicist to breathe. As soon as Philip straightened out his sweater, he turned to face the door, cheeks flushed with what Philip would, for the sake of his own sanity, deem "embarrassment."

"We're clear, Monkey," Clarence informed him.

No sooner had the words left the virus's lips, as Philip was throwing the door open. He wasted no time rushing into the hallway, suddenly eager to put space between them. No doubt Clarence would later insist on bringing up what had just transpired between them. For now, Philip would be happy to pretend it never happened.

To his immense relief, Clarence managed to keep his mouth shut, though Philip could feel the virus's gaze burning into him, could practically see the smirk gracing his lips, and the image sent blood rushing to his cheeks again.

Coming back to the world to the feel of long fingers wrapping around his wrist, Philip found himself being pulled down the hallway, Clarence ahead of him. The virus remained silent, but Philip could see his shoulders shaking. Clarence was laughing.

Before he could, unwisely, tell him off for making fun of him, he saw it. Their destination. Clarence quickly punched in a key code for the door before shoving the physicist inside and following.

Philip heard the door shut and lock behind them and finally released the breath he'd been holding for god-knows-how long. After taking a moment to catch his breath, he flicked on the lights before setting about exploring their new -and hopefully temporary- domain.

In the adjacent room, Philip was relieved to find a small kitchenette. Rifling through the cupboards further rewarded him with dozens of cans of food, certainly enough to last them until they could leave. Why this room hadn't been raided like all the others, he hadn't a clue. The most likely scenario being that no one had survived to make it this far. While that theory seemed to be the most probable, he shook off the thought to avoid the depressing rabbit hole that it could lead to. He didn't have to distract himself for long before Clarence hollered for him from the next room.

"Oi, Monkey! We have a... err... a situation!"

Philip groaned with annoyance and made his way into the adjoining room. What kind of situation could the damn virus possibly have? Unless it was a damn Infected in the next room, Philip couldn't be bothered to care, and he'd just as soon tell the virus as much, but as soon as he opened the door, the insult he had ready on his lips died.

Overall the bedroom design was simple, comfortable. There were a few generic paintings on the wall, an old television that no doubt had ceased to work years ago. Simple oak wood furniture like a desk, dresser, some nightstands and… oh. One bed. Of course there was only one bed. God, it was like his life was a walking cliche Hallmark movie. Was he doomed to suffer these increasingly awkward situations that the universe seemed to be pushing him towards with the virus?

He was so lost in his own self-loathing that he was unaware that Clarence had been calling for him for the past several minutes. That is, until the other reached out and physically shook him by the shoulders like a man possessed.

"Monkey!" he shouted, voice lilted as always.

"What?!" Philip snapped, pulling sharply away from Clarence. He plastered a sneer on his face as the frustration and confusion from the day- no… the last few hours caught up with him.

Clarence held his hands up in surrender, "Whoa! Calm down, I just wanted to say I would take the floor if you wanted the bed."

The physicist's eyes glanced over the virus in front of him, noting the other man's trembling form. Clarence hid it well, but not well enough for Philip not to notice. Just as he failed to hide the blue tinting his fingers. The environment wasn't nearly warm enough for the effects of the cryo stasis to completely fade from his body. If they weren't careful, Clarence could die from hypothermia. Dammit… and Philip was worried about him.

"No need," he shrugged, "You've already lived in my head, we may as well share the bed. Plus, you're freezing. Don't think I didn't notice."

With that, he strolled past Clarence and made for the bed, muttering quietly to himself. If the other man didn't get some sort of heat soon, he wasn't going to survive. Pulling back the threadbare sheets and blanket, Philip gestured for Clarence to climb in, the virus-turned-man scrambling to do so. If it weren't for the bubbling concern in his stomach, Philip would've laughed at the enthusiasm.

With Clarence buried deep in the blankets, Philip briskly walked to the other side and crawled in. A deep sigh escaped his lips at the sensation of an actual bed for the first time in days, maybe weeks. The sound caused the smaller lump of blankets to shake with barely-suppressed laughter. This, in turn, triggered a small chuckle from himself. He gently shoved Clarence with affectionate admonishment to go to sleep. Thankfully ,the virus seemed too tired to argue for once and drifted off to sleep. Philip stayed awake for just a little longer, pondering over the day's events before his brain and body shut down from exhaustion.

A pressure on his chest woke Philip a few hours later. Eyes peeling open, he looked down to see a mop of dark brown hair on his chest. Clarence must have moved in his sleep at some point. The virus' limbs were wrapped tightly around Philip's torso and every movement the man made caused Clarence to cling tighter to him and grumble sleepily. Judging by the trembling coursing through his new body, Clarence must have been seeking warmth from the only other heat source in the room. Not that that even remotely began to explain why Philip automatically moved to wrap his arms around the other man. He was helping him, right? Anyone would do the same if someone they lov- um... like- no wait… tolerated, was freezing to death.

...right?