The Zombie Apocalypse with MCR (Complete)

False Alarm

Spring, 2010

"No injuries today please." Frank requests innocently, as he watches me pack the car.

I give him a cool look as I toss my backpack onto the passenger seat. Pandora yaps, and sniffs at the air between us, before I click my tongue and motion into the car. She jumps in, but looks to Frank with a little whine. Traitor.

He goes to her immediately, scrubbing at her ears and pressing kisses to her big head.

"Look after her, okay?" He murmurs, smiling faintly. "Good girl. Beautiful girl." He gives her a pat on her rump and swings the door closed.

"Couple of hours." I promise, before he can turn any pleading eyes on me. "I'm not going far."

"Good."

I'm in his arms a moment later, and his forehead is against my collarbone. His shoulders lift and fall, too fast.

These past months with him have been... Content. There have been injuries and arguments, and I've learned to apologise to him for my temper, and he's learned to speak to me instead of stewing. We have settled together like it was always the easy option. The agony of holding my feelings at bay has faded to nothing. I think I'm happy. He has made me happy.

But it still hurts him to watch me leave. It terrifies me to have him come scavenging. 

Neither of us have learned to compromise. It's the only thing we ever argue over.

"I've proven myself enough times, Frank."

He lifts his head, and his dark eyebrows are pulled low. There are spots of pink in his pale cheeks, and surprise in his eyes. The sun has barely risen, the horizon still scarlet and orange and plum, and his eyes are turned to gold in this light.

"I don't worry because I think you're weak, you absolute idiot." He huffs a laugh, takes my cold cheeks in his warm palms. "I worry because the world is dangerous, and I love you, and you're not indestructible."

His palms are warm, and his eyes are gold, and he smells of orange shampoo and his lips taste like sugar when he leans in to press his mouth to mine. I've lost count of our kisses, the number must be in the thousands, but despite how often he kisses me, my heart never fails to squeeze, and my stomach to lurch.

I wrap my fingers in his collar and drag him a step closer. Sigh into his mouth, because I should get going and he is very distracting and I want to be back with him as soon as possible.

"I love you." I say it against his mouth, press another kiss there. "And I need to go."

"Stay another minute." His arms tighten around my ribs.

His mouth gets a little harder, and his tongue is warm and wet against mine, and his hips press me against the cold metal of the car.

Snorting, smiling, I pull back. Lift my eyebrows. "The quicker I go, the quicker I get back."

His sigh is heavy and his hands reluctant as he rocks back a step and smooths down my shirt.

"Don't keep me waiting, all right?" It is a light order, but his eyes are serious.

"I won't."

He opens the car door for me, and closes it when I'm seated, and when he presses a messy kiss to the window I laugh.

I leave him in the driveway, in the middle of my rear-view mirror. I'll return to him as quick as I can. I always do.

My drive is quiet. Corpses barely look up at the noise of the car. They seem to become lazy and languid in the heat; I suppose the sun doesn't entirely agree with rotting flesh.