These Things: The world's gone to hell – there's just no other way to put it. A sickness spread across the US, infecting the young and the old alike. I'm a long way from home and I may never see my hometown again, but I have to keep fighting. It's them or us; the dead versus the living. Apocalypse: 1, Iva: 0. (OC/Shane)
Disclaimer:I don't own any of the characters from the famous comic book (turned television adaptation) The Walking Dead, but sometimes I wish I was a writer on the show's staff! I will be the first to admit that the characters are a mish mash of their comic book and television personalities. Some might even be horribly butchered, but I've done my best. Iva, Libby, and a few others are my creations, so please give them a bit of respect.
Rating: This story is rating M+ for Mature Audiences. Gore, violence, language, intense situations, sexual innuendo, and sexual scenes occur throughout the course of the story. Chapters containing sexually explicit materials will be properly labeled, but it is advised that children do not read this story.
Chapter Content Warning: Naughty bits ahead.
"I'm not a bad man, I'm just overwhelmed. It's cause of these things, it's cause of these things." – She Wants Revenge, These Things
These Things
~Chapter Nine~
Shane scrubbed his hands with tepid water and soap and then I took my turn, spending almost five minutes scrubbing and digging under my nails. Once I was satisfied, I dried my hands off on the towel near the sink in the employee break room and straightened my shoulders. The tall counter that ran the length of one wall was mostly empty save for a microwave at one end and a number of different plastic trays that were once used to organize papers.
I hopped up on an empty section of the counter and caught the bottle of room temperature soda that he tossed in my direction. After a quick glance at the label, I tore the cap off and guzzled at the bubbly contents greedily. Shane grinned at me before he tore his own open and downed half its contents in a few gulps.
"Found some bags of peanuts up front." He tossed me a bag of salted peanuts and I tore them open and munched happily. Breakfast seemed like weeks ago, and my stomach was thrilled with the rush of caffeine and sugar and the salty snack. Shane leaned against the table in the break room, his shotgun laying across the table's surface, and watched me as he lazily munched and sipped. "There's probably more here that we overlooked. Might be worth a return trip."
"Without a doubt," I agreed immediately. "If we brought a truck, we could get a lot into the bed. I didn't see any sleeping bags, but there are a lot of sheets and blankets. It seemed like your people might need those when the weather gets cooler."
"My people," he repeated, drawling. His lips twitched when I tossed a peanut up into the air and caught it, legs swinging joyfully. "You slipped right into the groove real easy, Miss Iva." He finished off his drink and crossed his legs at the ankle. I followed the long line created by his dark fitted jeans and the gray button up shirt he wore and found myself sipping my drink yet again. "I didn't want you to even stay the night, you know."
I frowned in acknowledgement. "I know. I didn't exactly want to stay either, but by then it was already dark and I didn't want to risk going out alone again." Plus, I'd just lost Libby, I thought to myself, a little melancholy. It felt as though she'd been gone forever, but I'd just watched them dump the dirt over her body twenty-four hours previous. My hands shook as I finished off the last of my soda and tossed the empty bottle into the nearby wastebasket, but I refused to let the emotion overtake me. "Rick asked me to stick around for now, at least until after Carl's healed up." I lowered my lashes and watched him anxiously. "That going to be a problem?"
Shane tilted his head to the side and studied me silently, dark eyes assessing. "We gotta protect our own, and you ain't one of our own. But, you helped save Carl's life. For that, I think you should have a shot. The only reason we've gotten as far as we have is because we stick together. No matter what. Us over them."
"Them being the dead?"
"Everyone." His dark eyes narrowed and I leaned back, legs swinging slightly. "This world ain't like it was before. You wanna live, you gotta fight for it."
The silence was almost stifling. "Couldn't agree more. I was in a couple different survivor camps, including two set up by the National Guard. Most people aren't going to make it in this world now. I learned that real fast."
"We had a good place set up near a quarry," he offered conversationally. "Wasn't the safest place, but we had security measures. Thought we were good. We weren't." I frowned and wondered how many people had been in their group before things had gone from good to not good. "I'll do what I got to in order to keep my people safe."
"And by your people do you mean Carl and his mom and Rick? Or are you including everyone?" I challenged softly.
His eyes narrowed. "Rick and his family are my family. Known 'em for years."
"Okay."
"But, Dale and Andrea and the others? They're part of this group; they're mine to protect, too."
"Good."
He shook his head. "You like to rattle my cage, don't you?"
My lips twitched and I grinned. "A little bit. I can tell I bug you, and you kind of bug me. I would like to stick around to make sure Carl makes a clean recovery before I duck out, but now that it's just me I'm not so certain I want to go back out there on the road. At least with Libby things were almost manageable. The thought of being out there alone…" I shuddered reflexively and my stomach immediately seemed very displeased with the soda and peanuts I'd ingested so very recently. "But, I don't stay where I'm not wanted."
The topic was quickly changed and we discussed the logistics of the supplies we were taking back to the farm as well as the things we thought might still be useful scattered throughout the store. Shane shook his head when I told him he'd overdone it with the candy and cigarettes.
"You're the one that thought loading up on rubbers was necessary."
I lifted a brow. "We might not live long enough to have to worry about contracting some dangerous STD, but getting pregnant during the end of the world? No thanks. It might be the end of the world, but hormones and needs still exist. Men might not care, but I'm sure the women back at the farm will be relieved."
He smirked and ran a hand through his hair. "Is that so?"
"The human race has been forced back in time hundreds of years in terms of what technology we have available in a lot of circumstances. Women might very well die in childbirth, if they even live that long. So, carpe diem, why not?" I tugged a foil packet of my pocket, where I'd tucked it after I'd opened one of the boxes before I'd tossed it into the cart. "Right?"
Those dark eyes of his glared at the packet clutched in my fingers and then scrutinized my face for three beats before he was a figure in action. He crossed the distance between us with two long-legged strides and I groaned when his hands dove into my hair, fingers tangling and pulling it free from the elastic that kept it pinned back in place. Our eyes met and held for a long moment before he slanted his lips over mine and took and took until I was lost.
Feverishly hungry, I dropped the package on the counter next to me and let my hands roam over his shoulders before I tangled my fingers in his thick hair. It was soft, a little damp with sweat, and I was able to tug him closer so that he stood between my legs. His lips were hungry, demanding, and I nipped down on his lower lip before he plunged his tongue into my mouth seductively. Oh, there was no doubt about it: Shane Walsh knew exactly what a woman wanted.
When he shoved one hand under the hem of my thin shirt to cup one breast over the fabric of my bra, I moaned against his lips. It had been so long, too long, and the friction created from his thumb brushing over the fabric was almost intolerable. He yanked the cup of the bra down, freeing my breast from its confines, and palmed it in his hand greedily.
"Goddamn," he moaned as I arched back, his mouth traveling to my cheek, behind my ear, finally settling against the side of my neck. He found that perfect spot, licked and nipped and finally closed his mouth over my skin and my toes curled. "Like that, do ya?"
Too far gone to care, I didn't argue when he tugged me off of the counter and attacked the clasp of my jeans. No, I kept my hands on his shoulders and gritted my teeth as I toed my boots off, struggling for a moment because they were laced so tightly and the sheath of my secondary knife made my right boot a bit tighter around the ankle. As I kicked them off and they slumped against the floor, he shoved his hand down the front of my jeans, cupping me over my panties. My fingers dug into his shoulders when my knees threatened to give out, and he smirked at me before he began to disarm me.
My hatchet landed on the table with a thunk, followed quickly by my gun and knife and small flashlight. Then he unbuckled my belt and I didn't hesitate before I shimmied out of the tight jeans, eyes on him as he watched the denim skim down over my thighs. Jeans in a pile on the floor, I grinned when he rested his hands on my waist and lifted me up and sat me down on the counter.
His hands were greedy, searching, and I let him look and explore at his leisure as he tugged my shirt off and pulled the other cup down to free the second breast. My fingers worked at the first couple buttons of his shirt, and he finished the task, shrugging it off effortlessly before those lips trailed over the rounded crest of my cleavage and finally drew one nipple into his mouth. Sighing, I ground my hips against his and loosely wrapped my legs around him, keeping him between my legs as I explored his chest and shoulders and back, now bared, with my hands.
We were both lost in the sex-crazed haze and my fingers were trembling when he pulled the gun out of his waistband and sat it down on the counter beside me. He tackled his belt buckle and jeans, unbuckling them and lowering the zipper and freeing his impressive erection. Mindless, I watched him tear open the package and sheathe himself in latex and felt his fingers digging into my hips, but was still somehow startled when he pushed my panties aside and was able to bury himself to the hilt with a single, hard thrust.
Vision swimming, I groaned and shifted my body, angling my hips so that he could achieve the best penetration possible, and dug my heels into the backs of his thighs. There was a desperation to our movements, a carnal hunger that left no room for sweetness or even an attempt at romance. It was hard, fast, and rough, and I had no doubt that I'd have bruises on my hips and lower back the next day – but I didn't care.
A quiet squeaking sound interrupted my lust-filled mind and I dug my nails into Shane's shoulder. "Did you hear that?" I inquired breathlessly, hips rocking as he continued to thrust roughly. I stared over his shoulder, dark eyes searching, and found nothing out of sorts. "Shane, I-" my words were cut off when he fused his lips to mine, plundering and taking and bruising.
As I crashed into that beautiful oblivion and felt my inner muscles clutching around his cock, I cried out against his lips. Dangerous and heady euphoria cruised through my system, a liquid warmth that made me feel loose and limber as he continued to thrust, pivoting his hips and drawing out my orgasm until finally he stiffened. His fingers digging painfully into my flesh, Shane thrust in sharp, short strokes and stilled completely, his muscles taut and his breathing uneven.
We'd worked up a serious sweat, and I trailed my fingers over his damp chest as he leaned back, his eyes holding mine as he slipped out of me, reaching down with both hands to slip off the condom and tie it in a knot before he slung it into the nearby wastebasket. A little loopy, I found myself smiling stupidly, fingers trailing over the tattoo on his pectoral muscle, until I heard the familiar sound of a shotgun being cocked.
Trapped on the counter between Shane and the door, I stared over his shoulder in terror at the tall figure that stood on the other side of the table. His red beard was long and shaggy, his face dirty and his clothes worn. His jeans had numerous patches in them, his boots looked more appropriate for a job site than the break room of a Dollar General, and the ragged pack on his back was riddled with holes and tears.
"I'm real sorry to be interrupting, cher, but I'm afraid that this ain't gonna wait." His voice was laced with an accent, one that oddly reminded me of the Bayou, and the smile he flashed made my skin crawl. At some point, either before or after the end of the world, he'd been an abuser of drugs. Shane stayed perfectly still, his hands still in front of him, and his eyes narrowed in anger. "Now I see you all have been so kind as to load up some much needed supplies. I'll be taking those keys, cher."
I purposely glanced down at my jeans on the floor and then met the man's eyes. Wholly exposed, I discreetly tried to tug down my shirt but he bared his teeth in warning. "Jeep was here when we wandered by. We were gonna try to hotwire it, if it even has fuel," I added evenly.
He laughed, the sound cold and forced. "Now, I know dat ain't the truth. I ain't stupid, mon ami. I saw you two cruising into town while I was searching that diner. Where's your people? You got a camp?"
"Nope. Been on the road, just the two of us."
The shotgun lowered slightly before he adjusted his grip and shook his head. "Ain't no way. Where's your camp at, huh? You got some place safe?"
"Look, we ain't got-"
"I'm not talking to you, homme!" the man shouted angrily, spittle firing out of his mouth venomously. "Me and the belle femme, we was having us a chat." He grinned and I inhaled slowly as his dull eyes ravaged my exposed body from afar. "Be just as well you ain't got no place then, no people. All those supplies – I show up with them and you and I'll be the new boss. You're a little older than the boys like, but you got a body on you, non? Mmm. The willing ones make it all the better." I'm only twenty-eight, I thought to myself, instantly even more disturbed by the man and his intentions. "Now come on, give me them keys, cher, and we'll be going."
I met Shane's gaze and saw the tense muscles in his neck, the vein throbbing on his forehead. He was beyond enraged, and I knew he was pissed to have been caught, quite literally, with his pants down.
"Now, girl!"
As I slowly reached into Shane's right front pocket with my left hand, I used the shield that his body provided to rest my right hand on the gun laying on the counter beside me. I heard the keys jingle, saw the dirty man's lips twitch greedily. My fingers closed over the gun and I inhaled as I tugged the keys free, waiting until the man's eyes focused on my left hand before I exhaled.
I jerked my right arm up, took a split second to steady the weapon, and fired. The sound was massive, echoing in the break room until I was certain it would bring every stiff in fifteen miles to our location. As the man limply dropped the shotgun to the floor, a red spot began to blossom on his upper left arm. Howling, he slapped his right hand over the bullet wound and stared at me fearfully.
"Mon Dieu. I'm so sorry, cher. Please, please, just let me-" his words were cut off when I squeezed the trigger again, the kickback making my wrist ache. The bullet struck him in the chest and he slumped to the floor instantly, eyes glazed over before he hit the ground. I heard a few strangled gasps, and then the room was silent.
Shaken, I felt my arm slump down and I stared at the gun clasped in my hand for a moment before I watched Shane's fingers tug it out of my grasp. He quickly straightened up, tucking himself back inside of his pants and doing them up, belt included, so that he could tuck the gun back into the waistband of his jeans – safety on.
"You a'right?" he asked angrily, dark eyes searching mine. When I didn't reply, he cursed under his breath and pivoted on his heel to stalk around the table and crouch next to the man's unmoving form. I watched in a detached manner as he checked for a pulse and, finding none, drove the blade of his knife through the man's eye socket. When he cleaned the blade of his knife on the man's shirt, he explained, "Might've been bit."
My pulse settled, I tugged the cups of my bra back into place, covering my breasts before I straightened my panties. My shirt was within reach on the counter, so I quickly slid it on over my head and pulled my hair free, pausing long enough to tug my hair up into a loose ponytail that I secured with an elastic band.
"Here ya go."
I hopped down off of the counter gingerly, wincing a bit as I took the jeans Shane offered me and shimmied into them, tugging them over my legs as quickly as possible so that I could zip them up and button them. When I felt his eyes on me, I looked up, fingers working at my belt. "Thanks."
We were quiet as I pulled on my boots, unlacing them before I could get them on. I double checked the knife in the sheath in my right boot before I laced up the boots, tying them tightly. When I stood up, I saw Shane sliding his arms into his shirt and buttoning it up, his eyes watching me. Once again my eyes were drawn to the gold chain around his neck and the golden number twenty-two that hung from said chain, but I didn't say a word.
I tucked my hatchet into its sheath as well as my handgun, exhaling with relief when I was once again armed. Feeling safer, more secure, I tucked my shirt into my jeans and licked my swollen lips. "No chance of him coming back, right?"
Shane grabbed his shotgun from the floor, ensured that a shell was loaded and ready, and nodded. "He ain't coming back. I'm gonna drag him outside. If he'd had buddies with him, they'd have been in here by now. Cover me?"
My fingers trembled a bit as I pulled my gun from its holster and preceded him outside, ignoring the sound of the heavy body dragging across the floor. I didn't hesitate to open the door, eyes sweeping the lot as I stepped out into the hot sunshine. Shane followed me, dragging the man by his arms until he could toss him into the pile of stiffs we'd left not far from the door. Task complete, he heaved a huge sigh of relief and our gazes locked.
"You good?"
My lips twitched. "You mean am I okay after getting my brains fucked out and having a guy pull a gun on me? Or do you mean am I okay after killing that guy rather than letting him take me back to his camp?" I lifted a brow in challenge and waited for him to reply, but he said nothing. I shoved my gun into the holster on my belt and forced my fingers to curl into fists and then unclench. "You said it yourself, Shane. You have to fight to survive. Would he have walked away without shooting one of us, just taking the supplies?" I shrugged. "Maybe. More than likely, though, he would have shot you the moment you turned around. I've seen men like him before. I did what I had to do."
"I know," he agreed. When he grabbed me by my belt and jerked me towards him, I stumbled forward until I slammed against him. "Next time, we'll be sure to bar the damn door. You ready to go?"
Next time? I found myself thinking as his eyes roamed over my face. Then he spun on his heel and stalked towards the Jeep, leaving me to follow in his wake. Oh, yeah. There's going to be a next time, I decided as I climbed up into the Jeep, muscles aching.
