As Happy as a Zombie Apocalypse Gets

I don't know how much time passed. I was sick both in body and in heart and retreated back to the bed that still carried the scent of Peter in its blankets and sheets. I burrowed under, surrounding myself with its warmth and smell as I tumbled back into a cold induced, uneasy slumber.

It was Peppercorn's rasping bray that pulled me back. The sound echoed through the bunkhouse and griped my brain in a vice like grip. God, I wish that mule came with a mute button.

On wobbly legs I went to investigate what had caused my mule to make those awful noises. Opening the door I was blinded by the bright afternoon sunlight glinting off the newly fallen snow. Now that I was on my own, finding enough firewood to keep me warm would be my job, along with all the other jobs that Peter used to do with ease and a smile.

My heart felt as if it was being pulled apart and I pressed my fist against my chest as if I could stop the pain.

Peppercorn stood in the middle of the yard, feet braced apart and ears pointed forward. He let out another honking bray as his tail flagged upward. "Shut the fuck up you stupid mule," called a familiar voice.

Barefoot and coatless, I found myself halfway down the road before I even started to register the cold. Fuck! I didn't care. "Peter!" His eyes widened and he opened his arms just in time as I flung myself into them, wrapping my legs around his waist and kissing him franticly. "You came back!"

"Always," he whispered kissing me back.

"I thought you left me." I felt the tears on my cheeks and didn't care. All I cared about was that Peter was back and I wasn't alone.

"Oh course I came back, idiot. I just went to find you some medicine. Werewolves don't get sick so I had no idea what to do to make you better. I couldn't just let you suffer." Looking at my tear streaked cheeks, he added, "Damn, Stiles. I left you a note."

"I didn't see a note." My words were muffled into the press of Peter's neck as I clung, monkey like, to my wayward wolf.

"It was on top of the biscuits. Have you eaten since I left? Damn it Stiles! Have you eaten?"

Peter didn't wait for an answer, just carried me quickly to the bunkhouse dragging the horse along behind him. We were up the stairs and I was being tucked back into bed before the door had a chance to slam behind us.

"I brought back some of everything I could find. Let me get it and you can tell me what you need." He turned toward the door, stopped and came back to the bed. Kissing me, he pulled my body close and held me tight. "I would never leave you Stiles, never."

He was back a few minutes later with an arm full of medicine. He had everything from Nyquil to gas relief. "Did you clean out every store in town?"

"I have more on the horse." He looked so worried that I had to smile, all my worries of the past few hours washing away leaving only a slight feeling of being a complete and total idiot behind.

"Let me have the orange stuff. See if you brought back something that says chest congestion and that will be a great start."

A little while later I was cocooned in front of the fire with Peter curled against my back. He had panicked a little when he read the 'every four to six hours' dosing instructions and realized we didn't have a clock. He found one in an abandoned house down the road and had me on a tight schedule.

I could breathe through my nose, my congestion was gone, and my heart felt whole again. Peter pressed soft kisses to my forehead to check for fever. I smiled up at him and tried to pull him into a deeper kiss but he held back.

"We need to talk." And just like that my heart was being pulled apart again.

"You know that is never a good way to start off a conversation with someone you are sleeping with." I tried to hide my sudden flare up of pain but Peter must have caught a whiff of my panic.

"I said I would never leave you and I won't. " He sighed and ducked his head against my shoulder. "There are humans moving into the town. I ran into them as I was looking for your medicines. They said that you are more than welcome at their settlement."

What Peter left unsaid hung between us with silent menace. "But not you," I swallowed. "I'm welcome but not you?"

"This would be a good home for you Stiles. With your own kind, enough of them that you would be safe. They have supplies with them to start a real life here, from seeds to live stock. You could start over here with them."

"It wouldn't be a home without you Peter. And, hell, we were here first. They can't make us leave."

Peter sighed and nipped the skin below my ear. "There are quite a few of them. They are well organized and armed. Once they move into town I will no longer be able to get the supplies we need and in time they will most likely make me leave."

It was like the Others town all over again. I just wanted someplace where we could both live in peace. But barring that, I would take just staying with Peter. "How soon do we need to leave? I need a couple of more days to recover."

"I don't think they will try anything soon. We have a while yet." Peter stood and scooped me up. "It's bed time for you." With a smile he carried me to bed and crawled in beside me. The warmth of his body combined with the Nyquil quickly soothed me to sleep.

They didn't give us any trouble for almost a month. I was well over my cold and feeling like my normal self. Peter on the other hand was tense and grumpy, constantly looking down the road for intruders on our land.

It was the second night of the full moon when we realized our time here was up. Peter went for his usual run, his tawny fur shining in the moon light. I stood on the porch and watched him go, listening for his howl as he called back to me periodically.

I was wrapped like a giant burrito in multiple layers of blankets, laying sideways on the porch swing when I heard the first shot. Others followed, sounding like the pop of firecrackers on the fourth of July.

I ran out into the middle of the yard, turning in circles as I tried to find the direction the shots were coming from but the echoes made it impossible to get my bearings. Seconds later Peter was tearing into the yard at full speed, his fur matted with dirt and twigs.

I flung myself on my knees in front of him clutching his furry body close. "We'll leave at dawn. Get changed and start packing while I go get Pepper."

Peter let out a soft whine but headed to the house. I few moments later, and human formed once again, he called out, "I'm sorry this didn't work out for you, Stiles."

"It doesn't matter. You are all I need." I turned to smile at him over my shoulder but he was already standing behind me. Damn werewolf speed. It will give me a heart attack one day.

Peter pressed his hand to my heart. "You really mean that?"

"Of course," I replied with a kiss. "Get your furry ass in gear. I don't want some asshole using it for a fur rug."

The sun was just a hint on the horizon when we left the bunkhouse. Peppercorn walked with his head pressed to my spine and would double step and kick every so often, his heels flying toward Peter's head as the werewolf made his usual death threats involving stewed mule meat and glue.

Sigh. It was good to be back on the road again.

At least it was good for a couple of days. And then my world almost ended.

"A vexation," Peter whispered.

"Huh?" I was half asleep as I walked leaning against Peppercorn, just aware enough to put one foot in front of the other.

"You asked me once what a group of zombies was called. It's called a vexation." I opened my mouth to ask why he would bring that up now but my question was answered by the shuffling forms that crested the hill in front of us. Not since the first days of the zombie infection had I seen them in such numbers.

We were so fucked.

Peter slashed the ropes holding the packs to Pepper and let them drop. With one arm he grabbed and lifted me on the mule's back. "Run, run and don't look back. I'll lead them away from you." He looked at me for just a moment, just really looked at me. Leaning up he kissed me like he was saying good-bye. "Go!" he screamed slapping Peppercorn on the ass. "Run!" And Pepper took off, his head pressed forward and legs flying over the pasture grass as we left Peter to face the vexation alone.

I let Pepper run, stretched flat out on his back with my fingers buried in his Mohawk of a mane until I could feel the flecks of his spittle hitting my face. That's when I stopped.

I stopped running.

Pulling Peppercorn's reins, I yanked his head around, forcing him to a bouncing, stiff legged stop. I was sick of running. I had run and left my friend behind to be eaten. I had run when my father told me only to lose him on the bloody city streets. I was sick of running. Yes, running meant living but was I really living if I was all alone? Was another day of breathing worth losing someone that I loved?

No.

No. No more running. I turned Pepper back around and kicked him into a gallop. We thundered until we found the first hints of Peter's fight. Zombies littered the ground, torn and decapitated, a few random bits still trying to drag themselves along. I dug my heels into Pepper's side urging him faster until his sides were slick with foamed sweat. Ahead there were a few lumbering zombies, their paces slowed by the enormous wounds and shattered limbs left by an enraged werewolf. I was fumbling for my bow while trying to slow Pepper down but the stubborn mule refused to listen. Instead he grabbed hold of the bit, yanking the reins free of my grasp and doubled his speed. He bounced twice like a drunken kangaroo and spun, hind legs flashing and kicked the zombie in the head. The moist hollow sound was all I really needed to hear to know that we would have one less zombie to deal with today.

Finally pulling my bow free I took aim at the zombies ahead of us. Arrows whizzed through the air dropping the shambling forms like so much rancid, dead meat. Anyone I missed Pepper mowed down with an equine fury, pounding at them until his hooves were soaked in dark brown gore.

The land sloped downward creating a small bowl shaped indention. At the bottom, bracketed by a few trees, laid Peter. Two zombies had him down, one tearing the flesh from his calf while the other gnawed at his shoulder. Four more were just feet away from joining the feast.

I must have yelled. I don't remember yelling but my throat was sore for days afterwards so I must have really been screaming. Pepper ran down the closest zombie, its body disappearing under a rain of teeth and hooves.

I slid off his back and used my bow as a blunt weapon, bashing at the heads of the remaining zombies until they went down, their skulls a misshaped mass on the ground before me. Even then I kept pounding, pounding away until there was just a smear where their heads should be and I could no longer breathe through my tears.

Peter was lying so peacefully, he had never looked so at ease, even when he slept. The gentle bowl of earth seemed to cradle him as a light wind ruffled his hair. I crawled the last few feet that separated us and pulled his head into my lap. His hair was so soft as I ran my fingers through its thick waves. I didn't realize I was crying until my tears started to pool on his eyelids and I gently wiped them away.

"Hey, don't worry. Everything will be okay. You know the bunkhouse isn't too far away. We can stay there together. There's the fence line off to the west, the one covered with what you thought were weeds. Its honeysuckle. I'll bury you there and during the spring and summer you'll find it's the most amazing smell."

Pepper limped up to my side and nosed Peter. His whinny was soft and questioning. "I'll never leave you Peter. You will never be alone. I should have told you, I shouldn't have been afraid. I love you. I'm so sorry that I waited until it was too late to tell you. God, Peter."

I bent over him until our noses touched. "I love you," I whispered.

"As much as I love hearing of your undying devotion, don't you think it would be best if you made sure I was dead before you start planning my funeral?"

Peter barely had a chance to finish his sentence before I was covering him with kisses. He hissed softly as I pulled him up into a tight embrace forgetting about the massive wound in his shoulder in my moment of being deliriously happy.

Not wanting to leave Peter in the middle of a vexation of decapitated, shredded, and pounded to mush zombies; I pulled him to his feet and helped him walk as he leaned heavily against Pepper's side. Pepper walked slowly with his head tilted back as if to watch out for Peter's safety.

As we walked I could see the huge divot in the flesh of Peter's shoulder slowly fill in as he healed. By the time we found out way to a zombie graveyard free zone, he was no longer limping but was noticeable exhausted.

The shade of a tree was a good place to stop while I cleaned up the quickly closing wounds and replenished the liquids Peter had lost along with so much of his blood. He managed to finish off about three days' worth of supplies as well but I knew he needed all the protein he could get in order to heal properly.

The silence between us was a little strained. Peter didn't say anything else about my sudden death bed confession and I wasn't about to bring it up. I was embarrassed enough, thank you very much.

Washed clean of the blood and zombie gore, Peter had healed to the point where it was just an angry red scar-like ridge of flesh on his shoulder and calf. Using me as support he pushed himself upright and hobbled over to Pepper. For once my mule didn't flatten his ears or bray right in Peter's face; instead he pushed his nose into Peter's chest and huffed.

"Glad I didn't make you glue." I always knew they were really the best of friends. Leading Pepper, Peter backtracked along the zombie smeared road (kinda like the yellow brick but smellier and not as well kept) until he found our packs.

"How long have you know?" Peter's voice was nonchalant as he loaded Pepper's packs, tying them securely. I contemplated briefly acting as if I didn't know what he was talking about but decided to just come clean. I had already seen the worst that could happen; Peter's death. Nothing could be as bad as that.

"I think I felt it long before the Other's town but I really knew that day by the river. I knew I loved you and that I would always love you."

Peter was quiet as he finished with the packs. I fidgeted and shifted my weight back and forth. Giving Pepper one last pat on the hind quarters, Peter started to walk with me trailing behind.

He started speaking without ever turning to look at me. "After my family was killed I swore I would never let anyone close to me again, never give someone the power to hurt me the way their deaths hurt me. And then you stumbled into my life all full of hope and promise in this evil and hell bent world and I couldn't keep you out. I tried, God I tried. But you have gotten under my skin and I will never let you go."

With that I practically skipped my way up to him, linking my arm with his as we walked. He may not have SAID the words but I heard the "I love you loud and clear."

In a shabby hotel with a leaking roof, Stiles added the last few lines to his journal.

It's the end of the world and nobody gets a happy ending. But Peter and I, we have as good as it gets in this hell bent world. The road is long but I take each step knowing that Peter is there to guide, protect or just walk by my side.

Stiles closed the book as Peter packed the last of their bags ready to head out on the road once again. They had spent the last week holed up in a rundown motel, waiting out a wild thunderstorm that had raged for days around them.

The connecting rooms they stayed in were the only dry places in the whole hotel. Peter and Stiles had bunked in one room while Peppercorn had a room to himself.

It's just as well, Stiles thought. Pepper snores.

"Finished with the writing, Shakespeare?" Peter asked as he walked up behind the younger man.

"I just felt the need to leave a record. I just wanted someone else to know I was here."

Pulling him close Peter kissed his lover. "I know you're here."

Stiles smiled and went to finish packing. Watching the younger man walk away Peter lifted the small journal and read over the last page, his eyes widening at the last bit.

"Stiles? Does it matter to you?"

"Does what matter?"

"That I never said it back." Stiles looked at the notebook in Peters hand and tried to shrug nonchalantly.

"I know you do. That's all that matters."

Closing his eyes, Peter took in a deep breath. Letting the notebook slide gently back to the small table he stepped closer to Stiles and tilted the human's head up as he kissed him.

"I wish I could make you understand how I feel about you. If you were a wolf you could smell my scent, hear my heart, and KNOW what you mean to me."

"But I'm just a human."

"hmmmmm. My human." Peter pressed another kiss to Stiles' lips, heavy and deep. "To me the words feel so weak, they don't convey what my soul feels but I love you Stiles. I love you and I will always love you. "

"Oh," whispered Stiles with a teary voice as he leaned up for another kiss. Their packing was forgotten as they quickly decided to stay for just another day.

The next morning, the sun finally shining bright, Stiles finished the last of their aborted packing while Peter added something to his journal. Wandering over Stiles peeked inside. In Peter's blocky handwriting was a short paragraph.

I was alone and empty until he came into my life. He doesn't understand the power of his heart and that makes me love him all the more.

"Too sappy?" Peter asked as he leaned over Stiles' shoulder.

"No, it's perfect but now I don't want to leave it behind."

"They're just words on a paper, Stiles. From now on I'll whisper them into your skin every morning and every night." Placing the notebook back on the table Stiles turned and kissed Peter again. Fingers intertwined they headed back out to the road, their travels far from over.

AN: And this is it folks. This is where it ended when I first though up this crazy idea. I have a few one-shot ideas of some of their future adventures but this the end of the story for now. Thank you for traveling along with Peter, Stiles, and I. I hope you had a good time.

Leave a review. They make me smile and do 'the dorky author' dance to the amusement of the boyfriend and the cats.