A Plague

The great cities of man were a wasteland of death. Without mankind to keep it gassed and oiled, the great machinery of civilization had collapsed in the chaos left behind as humanity thrashed in its last agonizing death throws. When I write my story, that's how I'll start it. All poetic and shit. This is what I was thinking about as the road widened meaning that a major city was somewhere up ahead which made me think about all the dark thoughts I tried to keep tucked down in my subconscious where they wouldn't bother me.

"It went bad so quickly. I thought after a few weeks that we would get everything under control, figure out a way to kill the dead, well, re-kill the dead, you know, make them stay dead. But then it was like the world went crazy." I were by-could see the city in the distance its sprawling skyline visible from miles away.

"People stopped taking care of the basic jobs that were needed to keep the cities running. Without electricity there is no water, the sewers back up, there is no one to restock the stores and food becomes scarce. All it takes is fear's push and the whole tower of cards comes crashing down. You call it the Zombie Apocalypse but it was man that did the most killing."

"I keep hoping that it will get better, that someone will pull the pieces together and fix this mess."

Peter turned quickly so that I plowed into his chest before realizing he had even stopped. He caught my chin in a painful grip forcing my head up and to the left as he pressed his nose into the soft skin beneath my ear. "You need to stop hoping for a hero, Stiles. This isn't a fairy tale and there will not be a happy ending."

"Shit Peter! Give a jungle yell or something before you take a swing on your fucked up mood vine." I thrashed out of his hold, ignoring the red that glowed devil bright in his eyes. "How can you have so little hope?"

"There is no hope just a biological need to survive."

I stared for a moment. I knew my mouth was hanging open because I could feel the cold air on my tongue and the back of my throat. "Someone woke up on the depressing side of the bag this morning. If all there is to life is a 'biological need to survive' then why are you using so much energy to keep me safe? And don't tell me it's because you are waiting to collect a debt. You could have fucked and run a long time ago."

With a snarl he had me pinned to the cold earth claws tearing the front of my jacket, sweater, undershirt, and top layer of skin. "You're just a means to an end Stiles. Don't forget that."

"I don't believe you," I whispered as I went limp beneath him as his breath trailed heat down my neck.

"Then you are a fool." Pushing away, Peter gathered his half of the backpacks and moved off down the road leaving me to pick myself off the asphalt and follow behind him.

At this point I was becoming used to his mood swings, well as used to something totally unpredictable and scary as hell as I could be. I couldn't figure out what set them off, what I said that provoked him. Believe me, if I knew I wouldn't do it. The only pattern I could distinguish was that they tended to happen when I thought we were doing well. Just when we seemed to connect, to be becoming more than just a deal of mutual need he would go all wolf shit on me.

I knew he was just as damaged as I was. I could see the empty hole left in his soul from losing a loved one. Okay, I couldn't really see it but something like that leaves a mark and I know what to look for. Peter had that in spades.

For most of the day he didn't speak to me. His silence broken by the sudden warning of, "Shit, move your ass," which can't be considered conversational gold but it was still better than I had before Peter came roaring into my life. I watched the zombie mob shuffle by from under the cover of Peter's warm body as we hid in the curve of a broken drainage pipe. He crouched above me, bent knees position over my hips, left hand clawing the soil by my head while the other traced soothing patterns on my back.

I don't think he even realized how gently he was touching me. It was like his brain wanted to treat me one way and his body wanted to treat me another. And I'm not just talking sex, his mind and body agreed on that, but something deeper. I wasn't about to call him out on it, dealing with internal werewolf issues was likely to get my innards relocated to my 'out-ards'. Yeah. I'll pass on that.

"What do you call a group of zombies? Herd? Mob? Mambo Line of Death?" We were stuck while Peter sniffed out whether there were any stragglers on the road before we moved on. There is only so long I can lie in one place with a sexy werewolf pressed against my ass and not do something stupid. At this point it was a shitty attempt at conversation or wiggling my butt backwards to see what he would do.

"Shut up Stiles and keep your ass still before I fuck you into the gravel." Like I said something stupid.

Once the road was clear Peter let out a long breath against the back of my neck before nipping, holding the skin through my layers of clothing for just a second before releasing. It sent the good kind of shivers down my back. At some point I was going to hold Peter to MY end of the deal.

He still wasn't talking as we started down the road but he stayed by my side as we walked instead of ranging far ahead and his fingers brushed my own every few steps. Bumping shoulders I gave him my best goofy grin. "You didn't answer. Herd o' zombies; mob o' zombies. What do you call it?"

"A plague."

"Yeah, you really lightened up the party back in the day, didn't you?"

"Shut up Stiles." He said it with his trademark smirk but the smile was back in his eyes. Mood swing officially over.

That evening snow started to fall in large flakes. I skipped ahead trying to catch them on my tongue. It rarely snowed back home, the few times it did the snow would fall night and I would wake to a white covered yard that crunched pleasingly under my feet. But I had never seen large flakes like this, floating down from the sky.

"Do you think there will be enough to build a snow wolf?"

Peter shot me a sideways glance, the one that was part amusement and part disbelief. "It probably won't stick."

Peter set up camp while I played in the falling snow. By the time he had unfurled the small tent, started a fire and heated the left over rabbit in with a packet of stew mixings, I was half frozen. He sat behind me, wrapping my body in a double layer of blanket and werewolf warmth.

Finishing my rabbit stew I let my bowl rest on the ground as I turned to snuggle deeper into Peter's heat. I pressed a kiss to his jaw, breathing in the spicy scent that seemed to deepen at his pulse points. Shifting his weight, Peter brought me closer, tilting his head to capture my lips in a light kiss.

I was left blinking as he pulled away. For our first true kiss it was practically virginal. Letting out a short huff of air through my nose, I was just about to make a snide comment when Peter leaned in and invaded my mouth. He licked his way in, sucking my tongue and tracing patterns upon patterns as he found each sensitive spot and assaulted it. He pulled back, nipping my lower lip briefly before diving back in. I was breathless, clinging to his shoulders as I tried to keep up with him but in the end I just let the master take the lead.

"Damn, you would pick the day it snows." Peter grumbled as he half carried me to the tent, my body wrapped around his, pressing and grinding against him, not wanting to let any space come between us. The tent was small and the giant burrito of a sleeping bag didn't leave us much room to get our cloths off. I was a tangle of pant legs and sweater sleeves until Peter helped. Using what seemed like nothing but his tongue he had me out of my pants in less time than it took me to form a coherent sentence.

"Peter, right there. Touch me there. God Peter." Okay, maybe not coherent. My hips thrust wildly against him searching for friction to relieve the building pressure. He kissed my exposed chest, grazed his teeth along my jawline before kissing the wonton cries from my panting mouth. Gripping both of us in his hand he rubbed us together, his hips finding the rhythm mine had been searching for.

His free hand tightened on my shoulder as Peter pushed himself up giving him the room needed to twist and grind us together until I was begging with need. Panting cries of pleasure and soft mews of need filled the tent as Peter finished me off with a last quick pull. I shuttered and clung covering the bits of Peter I could reach with staccato kisses.

"We need a bed."

Peter chuckled against my shoulder. "We need a lot of things but a bed would be nice."

Using his shirt Peter cleaned up the mess before moving me into a comfortable position and spooning behind me. "I don't mean to piss you off." I couldn't help but worry that I would do something that would drive Peter away. I was becoming dependent on him and the trials of the last few days had cemented in my mind just how close I was to death when he took me under his wing. Another week or two on my own would have been all I could hope for.

"Not your fault Stiles. Go to sleep. We'll be entering Other's territory sometime tomorrow."

Rolling so I could rest my head on his shoulder, I asked sleepily, "How can you tell." His answer was lost as I fell asleep in the safety of his arms.