A/N: It's been awhile since I've written anything. My grades also just went down by a few percent, so I'm now writing sad-ish stuff. Because yes, that makes a lot of sense. But anyways, it's just how my logic works ;) I've written about Yukimura, so now it's time for more Royal Pair goodness :D (Microsoft Word actually recognizes 'goodness' as a word wow).

Time for a zombie apocalypse AU. Enjoy~

"Monkey King, pass me another round will you? The gun's empty again."

Atobe scoffs. "Maybe if you had any sense of aim, we wouldn't run out of bullets so quickly!" But he passes some to Ryoma anyways. He always does. "If your aim doesn't improve, I'm worried that you'll start shooting ore-sama instead."

"Hey, it's hard, ok?" Ryoma grumbles, jamming the bullets back in roughly. The dim light glints off of the round silver edges. "Anyways, we have another mission tonight. Did you hear about what happened to the Golden Pair?"

Atobe isn't sure how to respond. "… what else is there to know? One of them got bitten and the other one went mad."

"But that's the thing, they didn't die in combat," Ryoma argues. "I swear, they were-"

"Stop." His tone is firm and final. "Even if they didn't die in combat, putting them out of their misery was the right thing to do. That's just how the syndicate runs. It can't afford to be weighed down by emotions and tears and sorrow- there's already enough despair around here. It's too bad if you don't agree with it, but there's no use getting stuck in the past. Come on, go grab your stuff, we need to ship out soon."

"What if it was me?" Ryoma asks suddenly. "What would you do?" His fingers turn an extra bullet around with their tips, blinking as it reflects the soft blue lights.

Atobe sighs. This is getting ridiculous. "Ore-sama would mourn you, burry you, and then move on."

"Che, very funny, how cold," Ryoma scoffs as he stands up and wipes his hands down on his ripped black jeans. "But seriously, Keigo. What would you do?"

At the use of his given name, Atobe stops and turns around. "I don't know," He finally says, shaking his head. "I really don't know. It's not going to happen, and you know it. I won't let it happen."

Ryoma ponders over that statement for awhile. "You know, if it was you, I would go out and kill every single one of the infected for you. Then, I would… I would cure anything that was wrong with you. And we'd all be happy again."

The corners of Atobe's mouth quirk up at the mere idea of his boyfriend murdering half of the world population for him. "That's such an unrealistic plan, brat."

Ryoma flashes a cocky grin at this. "It's the thought that counts, right?"

And that last line is what makes Atobe snort to himself as he walks back towards their room.

Packing is easy for them- traveling light is a virtue, of course. Ryoma doesn't know what Atobe normally brings in his bag, but all he brings in the first pocket is weapons, weapons, a first aid kit, and more weapons. Then, in the second one, he keeps an extra set of dry clothes. And finally, in the tiny one that Atobe claims no one else but him uses, he keeps a charm- a token. It's an engraved collar, all he has left from before the apocalypse happened. It was so long ago, he barely remembers anything, but he figures that he must have had a cat. Or maybe a dog? No, probably a cat. The platinum piece is barely even scratched, and looks like new. He's never actually told anyone about it; but then again, no one (not even Atobe) has ever asked.

"Ready to ship out, brat?" His partner has a long silver whip curled around one wrist, and a wickedly long, double-edged blade sheathed on the other side.

"Hn." They walk in silence for awhile, before Ryoma speaks up. "So if I were to get bitten-"

"Shut up, you won't. Can you just stop being an idiot and focus on the mission?" Atobe snaps.

"But what if-"

"It's not happening, ok?" Atobe reaches out and ruffles the shorter boy's hair affectionately. "We're going to finish this mission and then head to the next checkpoint to grab some dinner."

"…" They relapse into a comfortable silence, until Atobe's watch beeps.

"I have the exact mission file now. We're picking up a shipment that will be left in the city pipework system around 4. The closest entrance is in an abandoned warehouse a few blocks from the port docks." Ryoma stiffens ever so slightly, and Atobe notices it. "It's just a pick up. You're not scared, are you?"

Ryoma scoffs. "Of course not, stupid monkey."

"You've been talking about death a lot."

"Because I keep getting a weird feeling in my stomach!" Ryoma snaps, becoming irritated.

"Ahn? A weird feeling? Are you sure it's not just being around ore-sama giving you butterflies?" Atobe smirks arrogantly.

Ryoma scowls and reaches out to slap his boyfriend, who dodges lightly.

They reach the warehouse in under an hour, and Atobe begins to tune for traps. "Careful of that wire," he whispers quietly, tugging on Ryoma's black jacket gently. "And there's a mine to your left."

They enter through the north gate and duck behind a stack of crates.

Ryoma stops him, and makes a code gesture. There's three men to your left. Atobe nods his head in an affirmative gesture, meaning that they should be taken out quietly. Not that his confirmation matters much, because when Ryoma wants to do something, he does it regardless.

Atobe watches in fascination as pale, slim fingers reach for feathered black darts and slides them soundlessly into a sleek metal plated gun. Three tiny clicks, and the men are lying sprawled over on their sides, chests rising and falling to the rhythm of sleep. No matter how many times he sees it, it's always this smooth and interesting. "All clear?" he murmurs.

Ryoma nods, and they continue, guns poised.

This is just how their missions work: Atobe does the thinking, Ryoma takes out threats, and they both fight for their lives when necessary. Hopefully this mission won't reach the last stage. Sliding through a slightly ajar door, Atobe finds it- A rusty bronze hatch, green from oxidation.

"So how do we open this?" Ryoma mutters.

He reaches down and pulls on the hatch, trying to pretend as if his stomach isn't doing somersaults. Ryoma can't figure out what's wrong with him- he's been like this ever since they received word of the mission- but he never gets nervous before missions. It's not as if he's inexperienced either. Missions just mean killing, and that's always been fine with him.

"That's not going to work, you idiot. There's a lock on the side."

Ryoma picks it quickly and they both put on oxygen masks before sliding down and closing the hatch behind them. "Any spores?"

"No, ore-sama doesn't detect any. But keep the mask on just to be safe."

Their voices are muffled from the thick mask over their mouths, so Ryoma just sticks with nodding.

The dark dingy hallways only amplify his feelings of unrest, but he continues anyways, trying to make out any helpful details. Atobe pulls pulls out his watch with the map loaded. "We need to turn left, go straight, and head down three ladders before we find the delivery."

Another slight nod.

The ladders are rusty and wet and slippery, the ancient bars creaking slightly. Ryoma is on high alert, still covering Atobe's back as he navigates. The end of his gun is constantly shifting around. They're both trying to move quietly, so they can hear the steady drip-drop of the water leaks in the pipe system.

"Damn, this is ancient," Ryoma grumbles, grimacing as he sinks almost ankle-deep in a pool of weird goo. He pulls his foot out and glares at it, as if willing the dirty areas to clean themselves.

"Wait, it should be in a small closet that's built off of the next room," Atobe murmurs. He turns off his watch screen light and unsheaths his blade. It doesn't necessarily mean they will fight, but it's always better to be prepared. Ryoma tenses his muscles as well, dropping into a loose but firm fighting stance. They ease through the door, and suddenly Ryoma hears it.

The weird noises.

He'll never get used to them- moans, groans, and high-pitched whines. Even a few small screams here and there. He signs to Atobe again: Infected.

Atobe merely nods, letting him know he's aware of their presence. They both duck carefully behind an old bar counter and Ryoma gets the tranquilizer ready. Atobe sticks his head out in order to count the number of darts Ryoma will need.

He immediately shakes his head, and signs back: Too many. We'll stealth.

Ryoma scowls, but doesn't question him. It's an unspoken rule that when outnumbered in a mission, whatever Atobe says goes.

It all goes well. So well. No, too well. They make their way around the group of zombies who are wandering around clueless, and manage to enter the closet. Seeing a staircase going down, Atobe silently closes the door, thanking god that it doesn't squeak. The room is dimly lit when he turns on the blue screen of his watch, thankful for the slight glow. The top landing is empty.

Downstairs, Atobe mouths. They slip easily down the stairs and that's when Atobe realizes that it's a trap. The stairs don't lead anywhere.

It's a dead end.

There's a brown paper package lying at the bottom.

And when he opens it, the words 'Got You' glare brightly up at both of them, it's red standing out against the grimy white background. He looks at Ryoma.

They've both heard of these. It's been happening for awhile now- syndicate members receiving missions that end up being ploys. Atobe wonders if they're trying to test everyone's loyalty. It's not unlikely, given the organization's spotty track record for "employee treatment".

There's a weird banging sound coming from the door on the landing above them.

Zombies.

They've been in crises before, but they've always had enough maneuverable space. This situation is completely different and new. He looks at Ryoma for ideas, despite hating to do so.

Ryoma presses his ear to the wall and listens carefully before shaking his head. "No other way, we'll probably have to make a break for it. They'll get the door eventually, and in a closed space, we're at a disadvantage. Do you remember how many of them you saw before?"

Atobe grimaces. "At least 12. It's going to be difficult."

"I'll go first."

"Absolutely not-"

"It makes sense," Ryoma argues. "You have the watch and our identification cards, as well as the money and the papers we need. I'm a better shooter anyways."

"No." He's shaking his head, silver strands of hair shifting with his movement. "We go together."

Ryoma ignores his protests. "Here's our plan: I slam open the door as hard as possible. From what I gather, they hang off of door surfaces quite often, so I can crush or squash some of them when I open it."

Ok, so that's actually a pretty decent idea.

"And then, I'll fire off a few quick rounds just to scare them and buy us some time to get into a better position. During that time, you'll have to move out from behind me so we can both fight."

Atobe hums in agreement, still thinking over what they should do about the package.

"After that, we'll just have to wing it. If all else fails, you should run."

"How amusing. Ore-sama isn't leaving you behind or anything, brat." It's said mockingly, but they both know how true it actually is.

"It makes sense. I have the explosives." Ryoma's eyes darken slightly as he says this.

"Yes, you have the explosives. No, you will not be using them." Atobe's words are firm and final, leaving no room for argument. "Come on, let's go."

They both approach the door cautiously, before Ryoma leaps forward in one movement and slams it open as hard as he possibly can, kicking with his foot for good measure. There's a sickening crunch, and Atobe feels blood splatter over his ankles and onto his combat jacket. He can't see anything but Ryoma, who's still blocking the doorway. The fight has definitely started already, though.

Ryoma fires off four quick rounds with the machine gun before storing it and switching to his pistol, moving to the side so Atobe can pass. And that's when he finally sees the situation they're in.

There's definitely more than 12. Lord, there are probably more than 20. They were hiding. Whipping out a gun, he takes out three to his left and one that's trying to sneak up on Ryoma. Their fights are always like this- back to back. It's a stance that can only be used when two partners have absolute faith in each other. When Ryoma pulls out the flamethrower, that's when Atobe realizes that things are worse then he thought they were. Ryoma despises the flamethrower, even if it is rather efficient in eliminating threats head on.

And in his moment of realization, he becomes distracted. And in that moment of distraction, his head is turned, meaning he doesn't notice anything on his left. Until a heavy weight lands on top of him and he very nearly falls over, grappling to pull out his knife and keep the head away from his face.

Ryoma senses it immediately. This was the unsettling feeling in his stomach. He can't use the flamethrower because he doesn't want to live in the same room as badly-burnt-Atobe, but they're moving to wildly to get a perfect shot with the gun. And then he notices how close it's teeth are to Atobe's neck. Oh no you don't. From his pocket, he produces a stave and tackles the zombie, trying to get a good shot at its neck. It's definitely big, and he has the wind knocked out of him for a few seconds. There's a sharp pain near his collar bone, and then everything stops. Atobe pulls the limp body off of him, pulling out a long wicked knife from it's side. It thrashes weakly, and Ryoma kills it by plunging his stave into its neck.

They're both silent for a moment, staring. Then Atobe looks up to check for other infected while Ryoma wipes his bloody hands on his equally bloody pants.

"Alright, coast clear. Let's head back," he murmurs. Ryoma just nods.

"What do you think of the mission?" Atobe questions as they trek through the forest towards their hideout on the east end.

Ryoma shrugs. "Dunno."

Atobe rolls his eyes. "Please, it wasn't that much of a failure. Are you sulking because I had to save you?"

Ryoma shrugs again. "Not really."

Atobe sighs, and reaches out to ruffle his boyfriend's hair affectionately again. "Are you tired? We can rest before dinner if you want."

"I'm fine."

They keep walking in silence as Atobe racks his brain, trying to figure out why his normally cocky, snarky partner is acting rather listless. The only thing he can come up with is that Ryoma's tired. They haven't slept much lately, to be fair.

Suddenly, when they reach a part in the road, Ryoma stops him. "Hey."

Atobe frowns. "What? Did you leave your favorite knife or something?"

Ryoma shakes his head.

Atobe waits.

"Hey."

"What?" he repeats.

Ryoma takes a deep breath. "Never mind. I mean- Wait. Can you just… Wait for a moment. While I… While I gather my thoughts."

Atobe nods and waits patiently, trying not to feel concerned. Some part of him wonders whether Ryoma hit his head too hard during the fight, or whether he'd taken off his mask too early and the spores were now messing with his mind.

The smaller boy breathes in and out, steadying his heart. Three breaths in, three breaths out. That's the rule Atobe taught him. And suddenly, he feels exposed. Like the clearing in the middle of the woods is too open, too free- too public. "…Can we go this way?"

Atobe is at a loss for words. He's never seen Ryoma like this. But he complies, nodding. "Let's go."

They finally stop at a grey cave near the river, where Ryoma sits down on the rock. "Hey."

"What."

"…Can I show you something?"

"Of course."

"… Nevermind. Let's just go back."

Atobe throws up his hands in exasperation. "You drag ore-sama all the way out here only to change your mind? That's ridiculous. What is it, brat?"

"Nothing. Let's go."

A mini-stare-off ensues, but Atobe realizes that if Ryoma doesn't want to say anything, even death won't weasel it out of him. "Alright fine. Let's go."

They're continuing along the road now, but Atobe's skin is still prickling with unease. Perhaps this is what Ryoma means when he talks about unsettling feelings.

Suddenly, randomly, Ryoma says, "Hey. Look." He pulls down the collar of his shirt to reveal-

"What is that?"

"Nothing. Come on." Ryoma turns to go, but Atobe grabs his shoulders and steers him back around. He runs his fingers over the spot on his collar bone, smearing the blood and wiping it away so he can get a clear idea of how bad the wound is.

And then he freezes. The ridges. Is that…

"Is that a bite mark?" He demands, trying to get words out despite the way all his breath seems to be leaving him. "It's not, right?" He breathes, unable to tear his eyes away from the horrific sight. "It's probably just a wound, let's get it cleaned and…" Atobe trails off, not knowing what to say, half-waiting for Ryoma's response.

Ryoma is silent. And then, he reaches up to gently push Atobe's hands off of him, tugging his shirt collar back up and pulling his jacket over the front. "Come on, let's go."

A very traumatized Atobe Keigo is left standing stone still in the middle of the woods, unseeing and unhearing.

"Keigo. Let's go."

The name jars him back to reality. "What the hell?"

Ryoma shrugs and continues to drag him back towards the path, not saying anything.

"Wait. You stupid brat, what's going on? Where did you get that? Ore-sama demands that you tell him now."

Ryoma completely ignores him, pretending as if the past two minutes have never even occurred.

"Stop!" Atobe barks, digging his heels deep into the soft dirt to prevent himself from being dragged away. "I said stop."

A small fight ensues, with the winner being the larger (and obviously stronger) of them, Atobe. He grabs Ryoma and shoves him hard up against the tree, pinning him there. "Don't move." He tugs down the collar of the shirt again and examines in the wound, brushing his fingers over it. "Oh lord…" He breathes when he realizes that it is indeed a bite, one that is recent. His hands ghost over the edges of the marking, and then stop once they reach the center.

Pulling out a first aid kit with one hand, Atobe begins cleaning the entire area with a wet wipe. To Ryoma's credit, he manages to keep from flinching, although his arms tense up quite a bit.

Once it's cleaned, it's clear. Completely, crystal clear. Echizen Ryoma has been bitten. Atobe stares for a few moments and there's nothing but silence, until…

"So, are you gonna dig my grave now?"

It's entirely on instinct, and he doesn't know how to stop it. He's not even sure if he wants to stop it. Atobe's hand flies out and connects with Ryoma's right cheek, the echoes ringing out around them. They both stop, and Atobe feels the tingling sting in his hand as Ryoma slowly moves a hand up to cover his reddening face.

"You brat." Atobe's eyes feel oddly wet, his eyelashes heavy. "You stupid brat." Some liquid trickles down his cheeks. "You stupid, stupid brat." He just doesn't know what to do, besides for pulling the smaller boy into a tight embrace against the tree, feeling the rough bark scrape at his forearms. They stay like that for a bit, unmoving.

He breathes in, and catches a whiff of a sweet tangy smell- Ryoma's smell. And soon, within a week, it will never ever exist on the face of this earth again. The fingers of his right hand clutch desperately at the silky emerald locks, burying into them. His other hand is still, arm draped tightly over Ryoma's taunt back. Suddenly, he can't breath again, and feels his throat choking up, a big lump growing in the middle. He can't do anything but pull Ryoma tighter, closer, deeper into his arms, and hug like he never wants to let go again.

"You brat," he whispers, burying his nose in the sweet hair.

And that's when he feels it. A coldness on his chest that he soon realizes is wetness- tears. Ryoma never cries. But sure enough, it's there, a cool wetness that soon begins to spread bigger and bigger. A puddle of tears.

"Oi. Hey. Don't cry," He chokes.

"I'm not crying." Ryoma's voice is muffled from Atobe's shirt, and it's so ridiculously obvious by the way his voice cracks that he is crying. "I'm not crying."

"Ok," Atobe nods. "Ok."

They both pretend as if his voice didn't crack either.

"What do we do?"

That line means that emotional Ryoma has turned back into sensible Ryoma, and Keigo is truly glad.

He doesn't know what prompts him to say it. He really doesn't. The words just slip out on their own. "We could run. You and I. Far away."

He's using 'I' instead of 'Ore-sama'. Ryoma notices, but doesn't comment. His brows furrow and his pink lips slide into a smooth pout. "No we can't. It's the syndicate. They'll catch us, they always do. They catch everyone."

"But we could make it," Atobe insists. "I know we could."

They're both silent again.

When the sun sets, they're both entangled in each other's limbs, lying together in the cave under the overhang. Atobe's hands trace gently over the dips and curves of his boyfriend's body, fingers digging slightly in to the hollows of his hips (just under the bones).

"We could run," he whispers again.

"We could," Ryoma murmurs.

"We could make it." He leans in and presses a kiss to the younger boy's sweet, silky locks of emerald hair, cleaned of all blood.

"We could."

"We could be the first to escape." His lips ghost a trail over Ryoma's cheek bones.

"…We could."

"…Or we could just stay here, where we are right now." His fingers dig a little bit deeper into the smooth hip hollows, but not enough to hurt.

"Forever?" It's a request.

"Forever." It's a promise.

"…Can we?"

"We can."