Edited. Now without the silly mistakes [hopefully]. Also changed the chapter order slightly.

Frankie bent over the corpse of the woman and smirked down at her dead body. "You did this?" he asked, pointing to her torn chest and the large chunk of missing jugular. "Heh sick fuck" he sad before sitting down beside the body and bending down onto all fours, in a very 'Bartholomew-ish' style before he bit down on her arm and started to rip away chunks. He didn't give a fuck if he looked like a dog like this. He didn't want to bring the rotten corpse into the house and if he stood up and ate her then he'd be a larger target to get shot at, like this he was safer.

His teeth weren't sharp and shark styled like many of the other infected, he just had normal 'human' teeth, so his method of eating was slightly different. He bit down, then placed his hands on the woman's arm either side of his mouth, and then yanked his head back, pulling away a strip of flesh which he chewed up and swallowed down, repeating the process again a lot easier now that he'd 'opened her up' and exposed to softer flesh beneath the skin. After a few minutes of eating he looked over at Bartholomew who was crouched down a few meters away looking….well, Frankie didn't know how to describe it but how ever he was looking it was pissing him off. "If you don't come over and fucking eat this shit I'll ram it down your throat" he snapped, having no idea why he wanted Bartholomew to eat, because hell it didn't effect him, but just needing the hunter to do something other then sit there and look like THAT.
Bartholomew didn't seem to hear him at first, but then he smiled and crawled over beside Frankie, bending down and easily tearing off sizable chunk of the woman's thigh.

Frankie watched for a few seconds then bit down again, looking at his own tiny mouthful and then at Bartholomew's rather large one, swallowing his own and then uncurling the tongue from his shoulder, running the appendage down over Bartholomew's cheek making him squeal and open wide, the chunk of meat dropping from his mouth where Frankie picked it up and swallowed it, withdrawing the tongue and smirking. "….You know if you want I can bite you bits to eat?" Bartholomew asked after realizing his food had gone into Frankie's gut. Frankie just scoffed and punched Bartholomew in the arm. "You think I'm a retard? I can eat on my own without your faggot ass helping me" he said, instantly becoming hostile again as he started to drag the body away from Bartholomew, eating on his own by the other side of the road leaving Bartholomew sitting there corpse-less.

The hunter squirmed a little, still feeling all dirty and…weird. He didn't like this feeling and he was hoping it would pass very quickly so he could feel happy again instead of how he did now. Now he felt gross and bad and upset in a weird way, getting the strangest sense that this had happened before. He waited until Frankie was eating again before he started to crawl closer, and a little bit closer, and then closer still until he was beside Frankie again and the smoker had stopped eating and was instead looking at him.

Frankie opened his mouth to say something but then just shut it and bent back down to eat some more, making no move to stop Bartholomew as he bent down beside him, taking smaller bites now to match Frankies, and ate alongside the other infected until the woman was nothing more then bits of bone and a puddle of blood.

"…Its dark. Get back in the house or a witch will come and cut you up" Frankie said, eventually getting to his feet, his knee's making a rather sick cracking sound since he'd been on all fours for so long before he stretched his arms above his head and yawned, rubbing blood from around his mouth. Bartholomew stayed on all fours but walked a little closer to Frankie's side, tilting his head up to seem like he was looking at him, and then hugging his leg. "Thank-you for finding me" he said, voice muffled by Frankie's baggy jeans which Bartholomew was currently pulling down even further. Frankie just growled and shook his leg, but oddly enough didn't punch the hunter per usual, and instead just scraped him off by lifting his leg up and pushing down on his head with both hands until Bartholomew dislodged, still smiling like a little creeper, but feeling a little bit less icky then usual.

The two went back inside the house and Frankie sealed up the holes in the wall before he went upstairs, making no effort to pull Bartholomew along, but also not stopping him as Bartholomew followed along side. He kicked his trainers off, the ratty things practically falling apart at the seems but somehow managing to stay stuck together, before he yanked down his jeans with little effort and put them down near the side of the room away from the bed so he wouldn't tred on them. The sides of the jeans held two record disks from when he wasn't infected and had worked as a DJ for the very club he'd been bitten outside of. The disks themselves weren't important (two records with random dance tracks on) but he was incredibly protective over them, having killed a common infected by bashing his face against a chain link fence until his body had turned to looking like something pushed through a cheese grinder simply because the man had scratched a single disk.

Frankie crawled under the covers and then something rather amazing happened. He smiled. Not a smirk or a sneer, an actual smile. Bartholomew was still stood in the doorway but when he sensed the change in Frankies attitude he dared to crawl in, climbing up onto the bed and oh so carefully pulling the covers back and crawling in along side Frankie. The smoker quickly let him know his place when he tried to hug him around the waist, earning a sharp jab in the rips, but at least he didn't get pushed out of the bed which felt a hell of a lot nicer then the couch downstairs. "Take your shit off" Frankie said after a few minutes. Bartholomew felt his insides tighten again and the dirty feeling was starting to come back so when frankie started to pull his top off he quickly dug his claws into the smokers palms making him hiss and pull back. "Oi! Faggot, I'm helping you, sit the fuck down and don't move. I'm not going to do anything queer" he explained, making Bartholomew feel a lot happier now, actually letting frankie touch him this time.

The tape around his clothing was ripped off and then Frankie yanked his hoodie off over his head, leaving his runners for Bartholomew to do because hell, those things looked pretty skanky from all the time Bartholomew spent sitting on his ass or on the side of buildings and Frankie didn't want to touch them. Bartholomew pulled them off as well, and his pile of clothes and tape was pushed out the side of the bed onto the floor before Frankie rolled over onto his side and shut his eyes, using his foot to push Bartholomew backwards when the tried to shuffle closer once more.

It must have been because Bartholomew had a better sense of hearing but he found it harder to fall asleep then Frankie who was sprawled out beside him snoring lightly. He could hear the rain on the roof of the house and could hear the common infect walking about outside, eating up the bits of corpse they'd left over. He snuggled closer to Frankie (in his sleep the smoker couldn't push him away, only roll over and squirm a lot) untill something caught him off guard. He scented something new, a type of infected that seemed different then the tanks and the witchs he'd come into contact with, and stranger still was that it was very VERY close.
He waited, feeling himself getting protective over Frankie, wanting to keep him safe from this thing incase it was a threat before he crawled out of the nice safe warm bed and went over to the window where the scent was the strongest. He couldn't see the eyes watching him on the other side of the glass, or the twitching and the god awful smile that only seemed to get even more inhumanly wide the closer got, he could only scent the mix of blood and dead things and…..blue berries.

Bartholomew stood by the window, eye sockets twitching as out of habit he tried to 'look' only to realize it was impossible, and then slowly raised his hand to the cold glass, putting his palm against it, gradually feeling the area warm as something on the other side repeated to action, palm against glass, long fingers splayed exactly the same as Bartholomew's, making it seem as if they were touching each other. Bartholomew stayed like that for what seemed like hours when in reality mere minutes had passed until a bolt of lightning lit up the night sky and the noise vibrated the house, waking frankie from his slumber causing him to spazz out for a second, looking around bleery eyed, thinking for a few post sleep moments that he saw Bartholomew standing with someone in the window until the lightning passed and when he rubbed his eyes all he saw was Bartholomew standing there, looking down at his hand with a small frown on his face. "Get away from the window idiot, if the commons see you they'll all want to come in" the smoker said, still not fully woken as he pulled the covers back and allowed Bartholomew back in, feeling the Hunter curl up beside him pressing his small body against his own lanky figure, the two of them fitting together rather well even though in the morning Frankie would probably beat the crap out of Bartholomew for 'sleeping like a faggot', pressed up against him in the nice warm bed, the two of them in the darkness looking almost like normal people while they slumbered, Bartholomew's icky feeling having gone and past, leaving in its wake something a lot more tolerable.