The stench started out faint, like a waft of stale air every time Duncan passed through the living room. Over the last week, it had grown stronger, ripening like a blooming rind of French cheese left out in the August sun. The putrid stench of rotting flesh heralded Duncan's every appearance, clinging to couch cushions, glassware, walls, and anything else his body made contact with.

Of course, Veronica never noticed. For a woman whose side job it was to pick up on the smallest of details, she was sometimes an expert at missing the major ones.

"You getting a beer, man?" Logan asked, as Duncan rose stiffly from the couch. "Can you grab me one too, bro?"

Without turning his head, Duncan grunted and started off toward the kitchen area of the hotel suite, dragging his left foot behind him with a prominent limp.

Veronica, who was currently humming along to the song 'Everyone Has AIDS' from 'Team America: World Police', stuffed a way-too-large handful of popcorn into her mouth, nearly choking on it.

That Veronica's dry heave only made Logan find her more attractive, proved he'd finally crossed a line from which there was no return.

Duncan stood in front of the open fridge and stared into it blankly, like he was trying to uncover the mysteries of the universe in the yogurt section.

"How are those beers coming along, dude?"

There was no response. Unless heavy breathing counted as a mode of communication.

"Duncan's looking a bit worse for wear, no?" Logan asked Veronica, hoping to broach the topic gently.

Veronica finished swallowing the popcorn with a rough gulp and reached for her can of S'kist, glaring at Logan the whole way as if he'd just stepped on her foot.

She downed half the soda in one sip, keeping the can in her hand.

Logan stared at Veronica with the same level of thirst.

"We're seriously still doing this?" she asked, after successfully stifling a belch.

"If you're talking about us marathoning under-appreciated, millennial comedies," He waved at the television in an exaggerated gesture. "Apparently."

"I was more talking about that thing where you 'subtly' pick apart Duncan in a bid to get me to recognize what a huge mistake I made getting back together with him."

"Somebody is a Hector Projector," Logan said teasingly, punctuating the jibe with the kind of smirk he knew would make her want to punch him in the face. At this point, he would take any reaction from her that he could get.

"You told me he smelled like…" She glanced furtively over her shoulder at her boyfriend, who was still staring vacantly into the fridge, and lowered her voice to a harsh whisper. "Dead bodies!"

"You disagree?"

Veronica rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Logan. Sometimes you're such a drama queen. He just came back from the gym, okay?"

Logan shot her an incredulous look. "He told you that?"

"No. He didn't have to!" she said, a little too emphatically. "He's wearing his gym clothes, in case you failed to notice."

Logan bridged the distance between them, gagging audibly as he accidentally got too close to the knitted afghan Duncan had been using as a shawl to stave off the cold. "He's been wearing his gym clothes for four days, Veronica."

Her hand scrubbed over her face in exasperation. "He likes to work out. You, of all people, should be able to appreciate that."

"Do you? Appreciate it?"

"What?"

"Have you seen him…" Logan checked on Duncan's status with the beers, which had barely progressed, "…naked?"

"Of course I've seen him naked." The corners of her mouth lifted up into a cruel smile. "Lots of times."

Logan huffed out a disgusted breath at her response. "I meant lately."

"Are you seriously asking me if I've had sex with my boyfriend in the last week?" Her face scrunched up like she was internally debating her reply. "I picked up a few cases from my dad...been pulling a lot of late nights...we've both been tired."

Logan arched an eyebrow at her.

"And I've had my period, okay?" she hissed, twisting her hands in her lap like she did when she was in middle school.

"Never used to stop you from fooling around with me when we dated," he said, in sotto voce.

Her smile pulled taut across her face. "Maybe he's not as dirty as you are?"

"Maybe he's not as dirty as you are?" He countered, feeling the tight swell of victory pressing against the inside of his chest.

Veronica's head dropped back and she mumbled something to herself as she gazed at the ceiling. "I already missed the rest of the AIDS song for this, so I hope you plan on getting to the point soon."

"If only there were a way to rewind back to that part and watch it again."

She visibly forced back a grin and turned her head to look at him, with softer eyes. "Why do you want to know if I've seen Duncan naked? Are you suggesting he looks different under his clothes? Should I be looking for gills or a tail?"

"I'd check for a pulse first."

He was blatantly stalling. Because seriously, there was no good way of phrasing this kind of question.

How does one gracefully accuse an ex-girlfriend's current boyfriend of being a flesh-eating zombie without looking like a jealous idiot?

If Veronica wasn't in a forgiving mood, he would probably go down in flames with the claim, but it was a chance he had to take. He wouldn't let her put herself in danger. She may not be able to admit to herself what they still meant to each other, but he had no problem owning up to his soul-crushing love for her. And because of it, he'd weather practically anything to keep her safe.

A frustrated, wet gurgling echoed from across the room. Logan wondered if zombies could actually still get frustrated or if he was just reading into it.

"They're right there, on the top shelf. You put them there yourself, man!" Logan shouted over his shoulder to his best friend.

A low moan emanated from behind the fridge door in response.

Logan leaned in further, his lips brushing the shell of Veronica's ear. If he didn't know better, he would have sworn he felt her shudder. "I think Duncan might be…he doesn't seem off to you? At all?"

The line of her body tensed immeasurably. "Just spit it out."

"I think Duncan is a zombie."

Veronica pulled back and stared at Logan like they had just met. "You haven't been hanging out with Gia Goodman lately, have you?"

"What? God, of course not. I'm being serious."

"How is accusing Duncan of being a zombie being serious, exactly?"

"He smells like death, his skin has been looking kind of…grey lately, and he's developed a habit of nonverbal communication."

"He's never been a Chatty Cathy, Logan. Especially next to you."

"He has these dead eyes." He placed a hand on her knee in empathy, and marveled at the lack of her usual flinching at his touch. "Haven't you noticed how unemotional he's been?"

Veronica tucked her hair behind her ear and flushed pink. "Just because he isn't pulling a Camille act - like you do when you're not feeling well - doesn't mean he's a zombie. For fuck's sake..."

"Tell me this is normal behavior." Logan looked pointedly into her eyes, his jaw clenching tightly, then jutted his chin toward where Duncan was standing, still mesmerized by the beverage rack.

Her resolve began to weaken. "He's on medication. For his…you know."

"He was on medication after Lilly, too, and he never looked this whacked out."

Her brow furrowed as she though, But it wasn't long before she shook the doubt off. "This is insane. Even for you."

"I can prove it."

Her head tilted to the side. "How?"

"What would Duncan do if I kissed you right now in front of him? Right here on the couch?"

Veronica shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "I - I don't know. I guess at the very least he'd ask you what you were doing?"

Logan's nose wrinkled. "That's it?"

"Not everybody lives their lives like they're Apollo Creed trying to rile up the home crowd," she sniffed, "but, if you're asking if he'd be pissed, the answer is yes."

"Let's test that theory."

Before Veronica could protest, Logan lunged forward, slotting his knee between her thighs as he slid his hand into the back of her hair and pulled her toward him in one swift move.

"Logan!" Veronica gasped in surprise, as his kiss overtook her words.

At first, she resisted. He knew she would. How else could she justify letting it happen? Liking it, even?

But as soon as he pushed past her thin membrane of guilt, she melted into his embrace with a breathy sigh. "Logan…"

"Veronica," he murmured against her lips, before slipping his tongue into her mouth, as sweet and slow as black strap molasses. "Oh God. Veronica."

Before he realized what she was doing, she had clambered halfway onto his lap, straddling him. Logan wrapped his free hand around her tiny waist and hauled her the rest of the way.

Both of her arms circled his neck and tightened almost painfully.

"This is wrong," she whispered, her hand sliding down the back of his jeans to grab his ass.

Their frenzied kissing deepened, spiraling out of control. They were no better than drunks tumbling off of the wagon in tandem, tossing that shitty glass of holiday egg nog into the bushes before finally reaching for the good stuff.

The only thing that pulled them from their coupling was the sound of a beer bottle being plunked noisily on the coffee table.

Veronica startled, nearly knocked herself onto the floor as she leapt off Logan and back onto the safety of the couch. "Duncan!"

Duncan nodded to acknowledge her, then calmly lifted his beer to his lips and tipped his head back for a swig.

A trickle of fizzy black fluid oozed out of a small hole in his neck where his thyroid should have been but wasn't anymore.

A sharp intake of air filled Veronica's lungs - then released - devolving into a nervous chuckle. "He's probably just drunk, Logan. You know how quiet he gets when he's been drinking."

"Maybe." Logan slowly rotated his head and nodded at a flushed and still-breathless Veronica. "But I think we might need to conduct some more research."

Her lips pursed and she nodded along with him. "Probably. Best to be thorough."