WARNING: Lots of cursing. I assigned a 'T' rating, because I feel that most teens are mature enough to handle the F-Bomb occasionally.

DOUBLE WARNING: You've clicked on a male/male relationship fan-fiction. If you are here by mistake, please re-direct yourself because I want not your silly, nasty reviews. If you are indeed here because you want to be, by all means, read on.

I'm a heavy advocate of Nick angst, so there is much of it throughout this fic. You've been warned.

And is it just me, or is Nick a Special Infected magnet?

Disclaimer: I don't own L4D2 and all that jazz.

Enjoy

"God damned mealy-mouthed bastards. Nng." Nick held his side as he stumbled toward the red sanctuary of the safe house door. He held his Desert Eagle in one hand while trying to keep pressure on the sizeable gouge in his side, inflicted by a particularly persistent Hunter. "I hate zombies." A pained grimace crossed his features. "I really screwed the pooch back there. Fuck." He fell against the wall beside the safe room door, panting. With a sickening slurp, he pulled his hand away from his side, closing his eyes against the shock of red that greeted him. Blood covered his hand, his white suit and navy shirt. He wiped his hand against his slacks and dug into his pocket, searching for the bottle of pain pills he knew he had somewhere. When he pulled it out and shook it, an exasperated moan escaped his lips.

"Great. One left."

To be honest, Nick was lucky he hadn't been completely swamped by infected on his way to the safe room. Rochelle had been smart enough to throw a pipe bomb and that had been effective in distracting them for a little bit, but Coach and Rochelle had—instead of running for safety like a normal person—tried to keep the zombies at bay. Nick had decided to take the smart way out and run for his life. Ellis had been on his heels, shouting something about zombies and mud-men and his god-damned friend Keith; Nick hadn't been listening. He had been more intent on saving his ass before another horde showed up. He had heard Coach and Ro behind him again, along with Ellis. Nick had already been gripping his side before the horde had attacked them the first time, and—since no one had a med-kit—he wasn't moving too fast.

To make matters worse, the roar of a Tank had interrupted their progress and a slab of concrete had landed only feet from Nick, making the ground erupt dirt and grass and rocks.

"TANK!" Nick had been the first to actually see the damned thing, but Ellis had shouted. Coach and Ro had started to unload into the monster of an infected before it was in range, and Nick had brought up his Desert Eagle. Behind him, Ellis had loaded his combat shotgun.

And it was at that moment that something had leaped onto Nick's shoulders.

"Little guy!" Nick had raised his arms, trying to beat the Jockey off of him as it forced him toward the Tank, away from the Tank, veering to the left of the Tank. "Kill this thing!" A stray bullet had finally caught the infected in the head and it pitched forward from his shoulders and Nick had stood, panting, yards away from his teammates. He had turned wildly, looking back for Ro and Coach and Ellis, and a giant fist collided with his gut, sending him flying backward. When he had hit the ground, he was sure he'd broken ribs, if not punctured a lung, and he lay, gasping for breath. He could hear the heartbeat in his ears, watching as the Tank advanced toward him. This is it he had thought grimly. I'm about to die. I'm about to die, and I didn't even get to tell—

The Tank had pitched forward suddenly and spun angrily, facing the hail of bullets from Ro and Coach. Nick had pushed himself to his feet as Ellis shouted, "Get to the safe room!"

Nick hadn't needed to be told twice, and he ran. He ran and abandoned his teammates to save his own ass.

Now, as he slid down the wall just outside the safe room, turning the pill bottle in one hand and clutching the Desert Eagle with the other, he felt like the dirties piece of trash in the world. He shook his head, letting a dry chuckle escape his lips. "Why the hell did I do that?" he asked himself quietly. The world around him was silent and offered him no answer, not even the moan of a zombie or the shriek of a Hunter. "Why did I do that?" he shouted, immediately regretting doing so as a strong pain shot through his side. He doubled over and watched as more blood oozed through the tear in his navy shirt. He dropped the pill bottle and his pistol to clutch his side with both hands, grimacing and leaning back against the wall.

He could probably make it into the safe room if he crawled. Dropping one hand back to grip his Desert Eagle, he scooted toward the red door.

An unearthly scream pierced the air and he snapped his head to the source. In front of him, not fifteen yards, a Hunter was crouched, poised and ready to pounce. Nick drew his lips into a tight, thin line, and he raised his Desert Eagle in one shaking hand. "Come on, you scrawny little bitch," he muttered, bringing his other hand up to clutch the bottom of the gun. "I fucking dare you to jump. I fucking double dog dare you, you little—"

The Hunter lunged forward and Nick let out a round, the report echoing off the walls that surrounded him. The Hunter fell short and cried out a dying shriek, but the killing shot wasn't from Nick. He knew he missed; he missed on purpose. What the hell did he think living was going to do for him? He'd likely been the death of his teammates—his (god-forbid) friends—and he wasn't going to last much longer anyway. He was going to delude himself into thinking he tried to go out valiantly, to go out fighting instead of waiting for death like a coward. Nick lowered the smoking end of the pistol into his lap and stared past the dead body of the Hunter.

"Ellis." His voice was quiet and his vision had started to fade at the edges. He could see the familiar yellow shirt as Ellis was suddenly right next to him. Behind him stood the pink of Ro and the purple of Coach, both visibly hurt, but alive.

"Aw, man, Nick. Yer bleedin' out," Ellis said, grabbing the bottle of pain pills from the ground next to Nick. "Here, take these." He shook the bottle. "Uh. Here, take this." The native Southerner dumped the single pill out into his hand and extended it toward Nick.

"I'm used to getting presents from cute girls," Nick mumbled with a small smile, taking the pill between two bloodstained fingers. "Not some hick in overalls."

"Well, this hick pro'ly just saved yer ass," Ellis replied indignantly.

"Could we maybe get inside, boys?" Ro asked, looking behind her toward the bus station, an uneasy look on her features. Nick tossed back the pill and pushed himself off of the wall and onto his knees.

"Lemme give ya a hand." Ellis took him by the arm, a surprisingly gentle gesture for someone with as much enthusiasm as Ellis had, and lifted him. With Ellis' help, Nick managed to make it to his feet. One step and he was falling against Ellis, who supported him with ease.

Nick grumbled something and Ellis looked away, at the ground and the sky and back toward the bus station. "Let's get inside," Ro said, pulling open the safe room door. Coach was inside first, then Ro and finally Nick and Ellis. When the door was closed and Coach had moved several old filing cabinets and whatever else he could find in front of it, Nick addressed Ellis, who still had his arm around the gambler's waist.

"You can let go of me anytime now, Overalls," he said and a furious blush crossed Ellis' face, unnoticeable in the dim lighting of the safe room.

"Sorry," he mumbled, moving his arm carefully. "You gonna be all right?"

"I'll be fine," Nick said as he lowered himself onto the ground against a wall. "Just, make yourself useful and grab me a med-kit." Ellis nodded dutifully and walked to the small table where assorted supplies had been left by survivors before them. Nick watched him for a moment and then let his eyelids fall closed, taking in a deep breath. I can't believe we actually made it through that, he thought, releasing the breath through his nose.

A hot exhale hit his face and his eyes flew open. Ellis was crouched in front of him, only inches from Nick's nose, holding the med-kit in both hands. Nick's cheeks raced through several shades of red before settling on a nice rosy color and his green eyes went wide. "Ellis! What the hell!" he hissed, trying unsuccessfully to melt into the wall behind him.

"What?" Ellis asked. Clearly he was clueless to the lack of proximity between them and that those baby-blue eyes of his were practically irresis—

Nick bit his tongue. "Thanks for the med-kit." He snatched it out of Ellis' hands. The mechanic promptly snatched it back.

"No way, ho-zay," he said, pulling out a length of gauze from the red pack. "Yer too hurt to patch yerself up. I kin do it. Lift up yer shirt."

"ARE YOU INSANE?" Nick's face was red-hot and he didn't have to have a mirror to know it was beet red. "I can do it myself." He grabbed for the med-kit but Ellis held it out of his reach.

"No." The younger man puckered his lips and furrowed his eyebrows together. "I'll do it. Just relax."

Nick sunk his teeth into his lower lip, staring hard at Ellis. "Fine," he finally conceded, unbuttoning his shirt (not that there was too much left to unbutton). His face screwed up in a contortion of evident pain as he peeled the fabric from where it seemed to have fuse with his bleeding side. Bits of coagulated blood came away with the shirt and fresh red hemoglobin came to the surface of the wound where the forming scabs had been.

"Aw, shit, Nick." Ellis picked up his hat to scratch the top of his head. "That Hunter did you a mischief. Ho-lee shit."

"Yeah. Thanks for that, Ellis." Nick pushed his suit jacket and shirt from his shoulders and let them fall in a bloody pile at the small of his back. "Just, wrap it up or something." The single pain pill wasn't doing much to quell the deep throbbing in his side. Stop being a baby, he mentally reprimanded himself. You've felt worse after a night of drinking. He brought one hand up above his eyes, letting out a slow sigh. That's when he realized Ellis hadn't even started cleaning the blood around his injury. What the hell is this hick—Nick's thought stopped as he dropped his hand from his eyes and saw Ellis just staring at him. "What's your problem, Ellis?" Nick asked, running a hand through his hair. Ellis snapped out of his daze.

"Wuh-?" He blinked, a vicious blush coloring his cheeks. He dropped his gaze and hurriedly began to wipe away the blood that rimmed the edges of Nick's wound. The gambler frowned, wondering what in the hell had come over the mechanic. Wonder if all hicks act like this, he thought. And then he let his green eyes drop to his bare chest.

Oh.

Nick brought his gaze back up to Ellis and stared at the top knob of the mechanic's hat. He tap danced his fingers across the ground beside him as he watched Ellis tend to his wound. I guess being a mechanic, you'd better have nimble fingers, Nick thought, impressed; he could barely feel Ellis' touch as the Georgian wiped away the excess blood before starting to wrap the wound. Then again Nick might not have been able to feel Ellis' touch because of the numbness that engulfed his entire side; he didn't particularly want to think of what kind of tissue damage he was probably suffering from.

It took ten more minutes and all of the gauze in the med-kit before Ellis was happy with his patch job. "There ya go," he said, leaning back on his haunches, still hovering above Nick's legs. "Ya need anything else?" Nick curled his still-tapping fingers into a fist and sucked in his lower lip.

"Actually, Ellis," he began and Ellis stopped pushing himself to his feet.

"Huh?"

Nick paused. Ellis dropped back into his crouch and stared at Nick, his eyes constantly flicking down to the gambler's chest, a movement almost missed in the low light. Nick clenched his fists tighter against his sides. He pushed himself forward, his face inches from Ellis' and the mechanic recoiled slightly, the blush returning to his face.

"Nick," he said quietly, leaning back a little more. Nick just smiled.

Then he grabbed his jacket and shirt from behind him and leaned back against the wall. Ellis was frozen when he crouched, still poised in a leaned-back position, staring at Nick with a slack-jaw.

"Thanks for the patch job, Ellis." Nick grinned, leaning his head against the wall and closing his eyes. He was about ready to call it a day and take a nice long nap.

"Uh. Yeah. No problem, Nick." Ellis paused, and Nick could still feel him hovering above his legs. Then he felt Ellis' hot breath on his cheek and the brush of the mechanic's dry lips against his jaw-line. A shudder ran down Nick's spine and his eyes snapped open as Ellis pulled himself away from the gambler's face. "Try not to get pounced again, okay?" he said, smiling a wide, goofy smile.

A low chuckle sounded from the back of Nick's throat and he closed his eyes again.

"You got it, Overalls."