Fic: I Could Die (You'd Still be Mine)
Title: I Could Die (You'd Still be Mine)
Author: bubblegumhunny
Pairing/Characters: Reid/Luke, mentions of Noah.
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 5400+
Summary: The Zombie AU. Reid is a zombie with issues. Reid is a neurosurgeon who wants to eat his patients' brains. Luke is there to help.
Warnings: cannibalism references, excessive swearing, dark humor, zombie/human smexing, crack
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the weird plot situations that like to plant themselves in my head.
Author's notes: Big thanks to my beta, traciamc, for smoothing out the mistakes. This was written for my h/c bingo card wildcard prompt, "Zombies". The title of the fic is taken from the song I Could Die by Semi Precious Weapons. As always, feedback is beautiful (the good and the bad). ღ
Reid likes brains. There's something satisfying about watching that big, spongy, greyish-pink mass surrounded by cerebrospinal fluid (which Reid affectionately calls brain juice). It fascinates him. It also makes his mouth water like a recovering drug addict inside a thriving crack house.
On the surface, he's fine. He wants to fix those delicate, broken tissues and send his patients onto a healthier and better life. Really! But on the inside, it's a shitfest --because all he really wants to do is sink his teeth into their brains and rip them apart with a delighted, animalistic moan.
Generally, this is a problem. And generally, Luke wants to help. He suggests they try getting to the root of the problem and fixing it by talking to each other and sharing their feelings like a pair of sentimental old birds, which is completely useless and completely bullshit.
"Reid," Luke says, reaching across the table and taking his hand. "It's getting worse, isn't it?"
Luke's eyes are big and earnest. The fact that Reid frequently points out how juicy they look and all Luke does is laugh is both worrying and comforting --but mostly worrying.
Reid slides his hand out from under Luke's and gets up, ignoring the exasperated look on Luke's face as he evades answering for the hundredth time. Of course it's getting worse. "Do you want more coffee?" he says cheerfully. "I want more coffee. Maybe I'll get the waitress to split her head open for me or cut off her finger and grind it into the cup for that full bodied flavour." He waggles his eyebrows and grins.
Luke sighs, but the way his lips twitch show he's trying not to laugh. "You're awful, and that joke wasn't funny." He points at Reid. "This conversation isn't over, you know. We're going to talk about this today."
Reid grumbles something about pushy, relentless blonds under his breath as he goes to the counter and gets in line with the other humans at Java waiting for their drinks. (Really, Reid just enjoys being able to call them that.)
The thing is, he refuses to go to Brain Eaters Anonymous. No matter how many times Luke tries to coax him into it, he just can't find a reason why going to a meeting with a bunch of blubbering idiots and complaining about his problems is going to solve anything. And as far as Reid is concerned the only other zombies around Oakdale are lowly grave diggers. He can't -and won't - talk to them.
Reid is a zombie, don't get him wrong, but he's a refined zombie. He's on a completely different level than them. He has self-respect, and he isn't so desperate that he'd go into a graveyard at night with a shovel and foamy saliva dripping from his unhinging jaw just to get a snack that isn't even fresh. I mean, come on, man. He doesn't go walking around without an arm when one falls off (he does the re-stitching himself), and he always blames Jacob's poopy diapers and the nurses for his body's constant stink of decomposition. If that doesn't scream superiority then Reid doesn't know what does.
His career is the same deal. It tortures him with an evil, sadistic pleasure every day, but his human self hadn't known that it was going to be this way and he doesn't plan on stopping doing what he's always loved doing -being the best - just because he's hit a little roadblock. His pride won't let him, and neither will his non-existent heart, which is currently beating in Chris. (Reid is surprised they don't have some sort of fucked up telepathic feelings where they're all connected and soap opera-ee.)
When Reid gets back to the table, he has a black coffee -cough, caramel latte - for himself and a hot chocolate for Luke. It's an unspoken apology of sorts for the way he's been acting lately (stressed, snappy, a complete jerk; basically what he's usually like except times that by ten and add a good dose of rotting flesh to the mix). He hasn't quite gotten to the point where he can actually say sorry out loud yet, even after death, but he has his moments.
Then again, what this is is also a distraction technique. ....which Luke will see through right away because he's actually not retarded like most of the living (and unliving) population. But Reid can dream, damn it. He can dream.
The hot chocolate is a chaotic construction of ridiculous proportions. Its got whipped cream and rainbow sprinkles and mini marshmallows and butterscotch drizzles and a cute little wafer sitting jauntily on top. The saucer is in the shape of a heart.
Reid and Luke both stare at it. Reid regards its adorableness with an expression of disgust.
"Okay. We're talking about this," Luke says, taking his eyes off it. And as soon as he does Reid's disgust turns to the worst fabrication of innocence known to mankind.
"It's a drink," he says. "People drink drinks. Do I have to teach you how?"
There's an unimpressed silence from Luke.
Reid leans back in his chair and regards Luke's mouth. Luke rolls his eyes, unaware of this or ignoring it (your choice), and picks up his mug. Just as he's taking a sip Reid adds, "Because from my personal experience you already know how to swallow things."
And Luke does it right on cue. Reid watches the way his throat works and his adam's apple bobs. Strained. Embarrassed. Reid's steady gaze flares with satisfaction. He does nothing to hide his desire. It's in plain view.
Reid doesn't understand the foot in mouth syndrome he apparently has, because it really doesn't exist for him. There's nothing he can't say, and he's not going to stifle what's on his mind, especially when it comes to what he wants.
There's whipped cream on Luke's upper lip when he puts the mug down. "I meant this. You. Your addiction. I'm serious."
Reid grins crookedly.
"What?" Luke says.
Reid leans across the tabletop without explanation, puts one hand under Luke's chin to tilt his head up, and gives him a firm kiss. His original intent is to swipe his tongue across Luke's lip to catch the whipped cream, and maybe make a snark about The Seriousness of That Statement afterwards, but he gets sidetracked and delves into Luke instead. He can't help it. Luke's lips are warm and full of life under his cold, dead ones, and something else breaks inside his already broken body and he kisses Luke like he's parched.
Somewhere in his mind there's probably a voice telling him that they're in public and this is a little too much for that -and then Reid remembers, hey, he's not Noah "Wet Blanket" Mayer, and he doesn't actually give a fuck. Luke is his cool oasis, and he wants to drink him in and take whatever he can get, regardless of onlookers.
It's when Luke starts gasping for air Reid doesn't need that Reid finally lets Luke go, hand sliding out of Luke's hair, and they both stare at each other. Luke is flushed and his breath comes out in small, short bursts. Reid is grey and his skin is peeling, but something in his dead blood in his dead veins thrums like a steady heartbeat.
Reid schools his face back into a careless expression and sits down again. He takes a sip of his latte and it's like a bitter reminder as it hits the bottom of his stomach like something that really doesn't want to be there. He's looking anywhere but at Luke when he says, "I know."
Luke is quiet for a long time, watching him with that perceptive intelligence of his, and Reid starts feeling nauseous (it does still happen, weirdly enough).
After what seems like ages, Luke's palm cups his cheek gently and turns his head. "You can't go on this way. We both know it." His tone is soft and his thumb brushes Reid's jaw in a slow, circular motion. His touch is reverent. It shouldn't be. "Something'll happen, and I know you. I know you now. You'll blame yourself and you'll sink into this hole where nobody can get to you and," Luke's eyes go slightly round at the corners, "I don't want you hurting. I just want to help. Can't you let me help you?"
Reid's grip around his mug goes slack. Right now he feels an onslaught of pure guilt. And shame. And selfishness. And relief --so much relief that he's not alone and that he has someone to be here for. Someone non-judgemental and kind hearted. Someone devoted and willing. And... someone he feels like he can actually trust. And love. It's such a jumbled, confused, powerful, fucked up surge of emotions and it hits him all at once. That's generally how Reid's emotions like to run when he's not in his neurosurgery wing. He clears his throat before he starts simpering like a poor, lovesick maiden. "Fine," he says tersely. "Fine. Yes. But this won't be for free."
Luke lets his hand fall onto the table. "Reid, you don't have to pay me for my help. That's ridiculous. Didn't you hear a word of what I just said?"
"I'm a zombie, not deaf." Reid just stops himself from sticking out his tongue. He even has both ears on today. "I meant it won't be free for you, Snyder. It's not every day you get to help The Great Doctor Reid Oliver. It's a privilege." He studies his nails, his hands; the only part of him that's mysteriously free of erosion. Like God wants him to be a neurosurgeon until the end of time. Smart man. His eyes flicker back up. "I demand a year of sexual favours as payment."
Luke splutters a laugh and turns his head to look out the window. He's got that astonished, disbelieving expression he always wears when Reid says something like that, something straight to the point and, while ludicrous and sometimes cheesy, the truth. He watches as Luke starts turning redder and redder until Reid wonders if his head is going to pop right off his shoulders like a balloon. It wouldn't be the strangest thing he's ever witnessed.
"And you let me take a bite out of you once in a while," Reid continues seriously. "You're damn tasty. Now stop blushing before I decide to suck the blood right out of your face."
Luke snorts. They smile at each other like idiots. Reid's tooth falls out.
☣
Reid's sex drive doesn't lessen any when he comes back to life as a zombie, literally clawing his way out of the grave. It increases, and Reid doesn't blame it; he was stuck in a goddamn coffin for three months. But the thing is, he's got this constant need now, just like with the brains. It scratches underneath his "skin" like an itch (or a very insistent cat at the door) that doesn't go away until it's satisfied. And then it comes back in the time it takes Reid to put on his operating mask.
It's like being seventeen all over again.
See, zombies have addiction problems. They're junkies. The addictions are a personality all on their own, and there's no stopping them because they start at zombie rebirth/unlife death/whatever, and grow stronger with each passing day. Even the most serious zombies can't kick their habits. Reid knows this. He's been on the forums. Zombies surrender to their addictions and that's why their reps are so bad. It's a million times worse than a human's, and it's not exactly fresh news (ha) that they're all bitter about it.
Luckily for Reid, this problem is one he's allowed to give in to, which he does with abundance. And if it helps the cannibalism cravings too, it's just a bonus.
It doesn't take much coaxing for Reid to get some ass. Reid would probably feel more like a cradle robber if Luke wasn't so annoyingly mature for his age. And Luke is pretty much a walking boner, anyway, okay. Reid comes to the conclusion that this is Noah's fault. That kid is wound up tighter than Tyra Banks' weave, and when they were dating, he probably only put out once a year. If that.
God. The thought --of both Noah boning Luke and the fact that they did it so rarely and were deprived, makes Reid's mouth taste sour. Sourer.
Luke has to adjust to Reid's bones breaking unexpectedly and the occasional limb pulling out of its socket during a particularly vigorous round, but after the initial shock wears off and a lot of reassurance from Reid that hey, at least his penis hasn't fallen off yet, they're at it all the time. At least, whenever Reid isn't wrist deep in brains (braaaaaains).
Seriously.
For example, one night as soon as he comes out of surgery, Reid finds Luke and pulls him into a custodial closet, throws him up against the wall and fucks him right there in the room next to a sick patient.
He's still in his bloody lab coat, and Luke's in his expensive Italian suit, and the buckets and cleaners are toppling over with their movements. Luke's tie is bound clumsily, but tightly around his wrists above his head, and Reid's scrubs are pulled down below his ass, just enough to get his cock free. They fall down a little with each passing second, each harsh breath.
Luke's pants are already on the floor, belt pooling like a coiled snake, his naked thighs wrapped around Reid's waist. Reid's thrusts are brutal and Luke's muffled cries and the frantic slam of their hips create a musical soundtrack that will haunt poor Nurse Betty's dreams forever, as she's standing right outside the door. She was actually just looking for the Pledge, but she got lucky.
Not as lucky as Reid, though.
As soon as they both come (for the second time) Luke with his head tossed back and Reid with his face buried in Luke's delicious, supple white neck, Reid gets hard. Again. Two seconds flat. He's still inside Luke, and his plan is to keep going. He's got to. There's no maybe or no way, it's just yes. Third time's the charm.
When he pulls back and thrusts into Luke's swollen, abused hole with renewed fervour, Luke moans pitifully. His eyes are shut and his eyebrows are creased. "Reid, wait," he says weakly. "I can't. Not yet. It's too much."
"You can," Reid growls, changing his angle so that he hits Luke's prostate dead on. Luke lets out a whimper. His back arches off the wall like he doesn't know if he wants to move into it or away from it, and his muscles are struggling to figure out the right choice. "Come on."
Luke's arms fall down around Reid's neck, nails digging into the top of Reid's spine. His wrists are still tied but he manages to pull Reid in closer, and soon he's making stressed noises when Reid pushes him harder, and he's going, "I can't, I can't, I can't," in a high, shaky voice until it becomes a garbled mantra of more, more, more.
Reid groans low and bites at Luke's jaw. He sucks at Luke's adam's apple and ravages his throat until it's covered with hot, wet marks that stand out starkly against his pristine white button-up, even in the dim light of the closet.
Luke starts moving with him, enticed by the rough slip-slide and painful pleasure, screwing himself down onto Reid's cock and riding it like a champ. He's given up, given in as he does each time, and now the only thing coming from his mouth is encouragement. Moans. Pleas.
Reid is quieter himself (he always is), but what comes from his mouth sounds a lot different; a rumbling purr from deep down, the revving of a feline engine brought back to life after a long storm, and the start of a roar. It builds up in him, pressure rising and about to snap. Luke is the only one who can do this to him. Luke is the only one who smells like this to him. Delicious, succulent, rare. A five star meal to Reid's mind and body. And there's this fire between them that Reid -at the risk of sounding like a Disney sitcom - can't find anywhere else.
☣
The next day, Luke limps as he walks. He lies when asked what happened, coming up with lame, flustered excuses that leave people staring at him oddly. When he sits down, he winces, and every once in a while he fidgets and blushes like he's remembering getting fucked within an inch of his life. Reid feels a smug sense of satisfaction and pride that this is his doing.
They're at the Snyder house having dinner with Luke's parents. Fortunately, Luke's young, impressionable siblings are away at some sleepover thing, because Reid has never been good at being good. His foot travels up Luke's jean clad calf, and at that moment Lily smiles at them both.
Luke chokes as he's taking a sip of water. Holden thumps him on the back a couple of times as he continues coughing into his napkin.
"So, Reid, I know this probably isn't what you usually eat, but--" Lily stops and there's an awkward silence around the table. "Uh, I. I mean--"
Reid lets her flounder for a few more seconds, foot still going up and down, up and down Luke's leg. He rolls a cooked carrot around in his mouth and swallows before he answers, "It's delicious, Mrs. Snyder." He flicks Luke a glance, and spears his sausage with his fork. He bites the end of it off and catches a drop of fat juices running from it with his tongue. Luke's gaze drops down to his grease-shiny lips and Reid adds, "I have a big appetite."
"Oh, that's great! I'm glad you like it." Lily laughs, looking relieved. She was probably thinking that Reid would demand a bowl of human intestines. She was wrong. That's dessert food. "Well, dig in. There's enough to feed an army."
"Oh, I will," Reid says. "I plan to be filled to the brim tonight."
Luke gets up abruptly. His chair legs screech on the floor. "Excuse me," he says, when his parents look at him in alarm. He backs away and trips over his own feet, catching himself on the island counter. "Bathroom. I need to, um --go to the bathroom. Sorry. Excuse me," he repeats.
Reid hides his amusement behind his beer as he tips it to his lips. Holden watches the door with a concerned, slightly suspicious frown.
"Honey, are you alright?" Lily calls.
Reid pats her on the arm to keep her from following and gets up too. "I'll go check on him. It's probably just a little indigestion. When it catches you off guard, it can be brutal. I'm a doctor, I know these things."
When Reid gets to the bathroom, after knocking and waiting tolerantly for an answer, Luke pulls him in by his shirt and hisses, "What are you, The Little Engine That Could? We're here with my parents!" He shuts the door and leans against it.
Reid raises his eyebrows. "Little? I think we both know I'm The Big Engine That Does More Than Could. I'm The Big Engine That Fucks Your Brains Out."
Luke makes an inarticulate noise and slaps his palm across his face, closing his eyes and then peeking at Reid between his fingers. He looks agitated, but Reid knows better. "Reid, do you have to be so graphic all the time?"
"Yes," Reid replies immediately. "What are you, a prude?" He scoffs. "Or are you just embarrassed because it gets you hot."
"Wow, you sound like..." A total douche? "I'm not answering that." Luke pushes off the door and goes to the sink. He puts his hands on each side of the porcelain bowl.
Reid comes up behind him and wraps his arms around him. "Because it's true." Reid's voice lowers in Luke's ear, brushing the vulnerable looking shell with his breath. His hand slithers down Luke's stomach, then down to his erection outside his pants. He smirks darkly at Luke through the mirror. "You're hard."
"Uh," Luke mutters, closing his eyes when Reid squeezes lightly.
"Eager, aren't we?" Reid thrusts his hips forward, so his cock presses against the curve of Luke's ass, pushing the seam of his jeans into his crack, and Luke's hands jerk slightly on the sink. Reid's voice goes husky. "But that can wait until we get home. Or at least the car. You can sit on my lap and ride me in the driver's seat. How does that sound?"
Reid watches Luke lick his lips through the mirror with half-lidded eyes, feeling the blood rushing beneath Luke's skin as he slides both hands under Luke's shirt, over his smooth stomach. He watches as he moves his hands upwards, slowly, revealing more and more skin until two dusky pink nipples appear and Luke's shirt is rucked up to his armpits. Luke's back arches slightly when Reid's thumbs brush against them.
"Like that?" he says. Reid pinches them, rolling Luke's nipples between his fingers until they harden and Luke's mouth parts. "Here's what's going to happen. I'm going to blow you, and you're going to come, and then I'm going to turn you around and rim your ass until you come again." He bites Luke's neck and Luke sucks in a shuddering gasp. His head tilts and Reid bites it some more, going up to Luke's earlobe. "Because you're a slut, honey, and I'm even sluttier, and I need to eat you or else I'm going to bend you over the dinner table and plow you through it, right in front of your parents."
Luke's laugh dies from his throat when Reid pops the button to his jeans and pulls down his fly. He sinks to his knees.
He wasn't fucking kidding
☣
It's only natural that as soon as Noah gets out of the taxi from the airport the first person he runs into is Reid.
Reid is sitting on a bench in Old Town. He's on his lunch break and he's picking dismally at a salad. He keeps wishing the croutons would turn into severed toes. Then, at least, his hunger would subside. He can eat human food no problem, and he'll never say no to a well made sandwich (especially if there's blood-basil mayonnaise involved), but it doesn't enthuse him as much as it used to. It doesn't keep him full. Not for very long.
Noah shuts the taxi door. He gets his bags out of the trunk, and when he turns around there's an awkward sort of moment when they both realize who they're looking at and how they're going to acknowledge each other.
"Doctor Oliver."
Noah goes first, because he's the kind of guy who's too polite to ignore someone, even if he really wants to. Reid both admires that and hates that, because he's the exact opposite.
"Mr. Mayer," Reid responds neutrally. He takes a sip of his Mello-Yellow, which has the same taste and consistency as human saliva.
Noah's expression is blank nicety, and yet under the hurt feelings and regret and anger that's hiding deftly underneath the surface, there's still emotions that break through. Curiosity. Disbelief. Reid can see it. After all, the reality is, Reid came back to life. Sort of. Ex-boyfriend's new lover or not, as a film buff, a real zombie right in front of your eyes is pretty fucking awesome.
"How are you?" Reid says when the silence stretches. He takes a bite of dried out chicken and chews. He's not really interested in the answer, unless it has something to do with Noah's recently healed eyesight, but he asks anyway.
"Um, fine. Great, actually." Noah shakes his head. "Sorry. I just. When Luke told me, I didn't think it was actually true, you know..." He trails off.
Because Luke would really make something like that up. Just for the shits and giggles. Reid resists rolling his eyes, if only for Luke's sake. Ex-boyfriend or not, Luke still loves this kid, and Reid's mature enough (for once in his life) to respect that. So instead he nods and, as if proving his statement, one of his ears falls off and hits the bench. Reid sighs and pockets it -he'll sew it back on later. "It's true," he says. "And no, I'm not going to eat you. You're not my type."
Noah looks mildly repulsed, but trying to hide the fact that he's mildly repulsed. "Does that happen a lot?" He motions to his ear.
"Hilariously, yes," Reid says.
Noah shifts his bag on his shoulder and smiles like he's uncomfortable. Which he should be. "Well, uh, I better go. I have to check in to the hotel before three or they'll give my room to someone else. It was..." Not nice seeing you? Awkward as hell? "I'll... see you around."
Reid watches him leave silently. It's not that he doesn't like Noah. Honestly, the kid's nice enough, despite the fact that he rears the exact sort of personality the napkin sitting on Reid's lap would have. If it were alive. They're never going to be pals or anything, especially after Noah socked him in the face, but. Reid knows Luke holds something for Noah that he doesn't hold for him, and Reid sometimes finds himself wondering if Noah asked Luke to take him back, would Luke jump at the chance? Even after all Noah's put Luke through, all the pain and the rare but brief moments of hope that left Luke more miserable than ever in the end. He's kept Luke on such a strained, fraying string, jerked him around (unknowingly or not) so much that Luke still feels guilty when he thinks about Noah. Noah's stupid. Just stupid. Completely goddamn stupid for letting Luke get away like that.
Reid, on the other hand, is not the best boyfriend in the world. Obviously. He's sarcastic, rude, and arrogant. He's socially retarded. He's bluntly honest, he doesn't sugar coat things, and he doesn't dance around issues or lie to make someone feel better. His idea of a romantic night is watching the game and ordering a pizza, followed by several hours of sex, sleep, and then more sex. He forgets birthdays, anniversaries, and chances are he's not always going to be able to celebrate the holidays. He's not really someone you want to show off because he does that all by himself. He's got a job that gives him barely enough time to fit in a decent amount of phone sex, let alone a real conversation. He isn't alive because he's a zombie badass neurosurgeon. But, at the end of all that, he's still got something Noah doesn't.
He wants Luke. His opinion isn't going to change, not today, not tomorrow. He's not clingy, and he doesn't have hours to spend devoting to pillow talk and mushy crap, but he's got a way of making his partners feel like they're the only one he's thinking about, like they're important and needed. When Reid's in a room with his partners, they're the only ones he's paying attention to. Noah doesn't have that.
"Is your salad alive?" a voice teases from over his shoulder, and Reid realizes he's been staring sightlessly at it for who knows how long.
He runs a hand through his hair and blinks to clear his mind. "I wish," he mutters.
Luke comes around and sits down beside him on the bench. "Hey," he says, smiling lopsidedly. He kisses Reid on the cheek and Reid absently curls his arm around Luke's waist, pulling him in.
"This is disgusting," Reid says. He lifts his fork full of wilted lettuce up and offers it to Luke. "Wanna bite?"
Luke laughs and shakes his head, smile fading as he rests his chin on Reid's shoulder. A few seconds pass. "What were you thinking about just now?" he asks quietly. "You looked pretty serious. Everything okay?"
Reid drops his fork into his salad and closes the lid, tossing it into the trash to buy him a few more seconds before he has to answer. "I ran into Noah," he manages to say, idly. Nothing to worry about here. He glances at his watch instead of watching Luke's reaction and finds out he's only got a few more minutes left of his lunch break before someone pages him. It's inevitable.
"Oh. Yeah, he called me when he got in. He's visiting for a few days." Luke sounds normal, surprisingly, happy in an understanding kind of way, not sad or wistful like Reid had imagined. And yet Reid still feels that surge of jealousy rise within him hearing Luke say Noah called him. Luke's voice goes tentative when Reid's nails dig into his hip. "Did something happen? Did he... say something to you?"
Reid's grip relaxes. "Nah," he says, "just wanted to see if I was real or not. Because OMG zombies, yay! You know the drill."
He feels Luke frown against his neck, and when he presses a few chaste kisses to Reid's jaw and ear (the still intact one), Reid calms down frighteningly fast. "I'm sorry," Luke murmurs.
Reid snorts. "What for? You didn't bring me back from the dead and make me a freakshow."
"Don't."
The word is so instant and so fierce that Reid actually jumps a bit. He covers it up with a clueless eyebrow raise. Luke grabs Reid's shoulders and pins him there, so he has no choice but to listen. "Look. You may be an ass, a jerk, a bastard, a total--"
Reid's eyebrows go higher. "Not exactly feeling the love, here, Lu--"
"But don't ever call yourself that again, because that's not what you are. You may be a zombie, and you may have problems, but you're my zombie with problems, and I fucking love you." Luke stops any further protests from Reid when he kisses him. But it doesn't matter anyway, because Reid is stunned enough by the fact that Luke just said fuck in public. Luke doesn't say fuck in public.
It isn't a sweet kiss like the ones he's used to from Luke, but a harsh, no nonsense seal of a deal. It feels like he's pushing the life back into Reid, and his hands are trembling where they're cupping Reid's cheeks. When he pulls back his face is hard, and his eyes glitter with both upset and the determination to make sure what he's saying goes through.
That's when Reid realizes something. Gone are the days when he was just the rebound for a boyfriend who didn't want Luke anymore. Gone are the deep, dark doubts that Luke's just putting up with him as a shitty consolation prize. Now he knows, with certainty, that Luke really does love him.
It's like the bright light at the end of the tunnel, knowing that Luke is his and nobody else can get between them.
Not even "The Ex Who Was Blind But Isn’t Anymore". Thanks to Reid.
Fucker.
☣
Ten minutes later, when Luke walks Reid back to the hospital, Luke grabs his hand and glares at anyone and everyone who looks at him the wrong way.
☣
"Hello, my name is Juli-aaaarghnn--" The woman with the blackened legs and a missing stomach covers her mouth and clears her throat. "Oh, excuse me. My name is Julianne and I'm addicted to newborn baby."
"Hello, Julianne," the droning group choruses.
Reid folds his arms across his chest, looking decidedly bored. He rolls his eyes and stirs the little brown stick in the sludgy coffee they're offering at the snack table. There's a sign above the door that reads: Humans are friends, not food!
When his turn comes around, Reid stands up and tilts his chin up defiantly. "Hey, I'm Doctor Reid Oliver, best damn neurosurgeon you'll ever meet, and I'm addicted to brains."
"Hello, Reid," they chorus again. A few of them even smile at him. One guy waves and his wrist dislocates, hanging there limply, but he doesn't seem worried about it.
Reid's still skeptical as hell about this working, but for some reason, Luke has gotten him to agree to go to this meeting. And it doesn't make him as sick to his stomach as he thought it would when the first thing that pops into his head is, yeah, totally dick whipped.
Author: bubblegumhunny
Pairing/Characters: Reid/Luke, mentions of Noah.
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 5400+
Summary: The Zombie AU. Reid is a zombie with issues. Reid is a neurosurgeon who wants to eat his patients' brains. Luke is there to help.
Warnings: cannibalism references, excessive swearing, dark humor, zombie/human smexing, crack
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the weird plot situations that like to plant themselves in my head.
Author's notes: Big thanks to my beta, traciamc, for smoothing out the mistakes. This was written for my h/c bingo card wildcard prompt, "Zombies". The title of the fic is taken from the song I Could Die by Semi Precious Weapons. As always, feedback is beautiful (the good and the bad). ღ
Reid likes brains. There's something satisfying about watching that big, spongy, greyish-pink mass surrounded by cerebrospinal fluid (which Reid affectionately calls brain juice). It fascinates him. It also makes his mouth water like a recovering drug addict inside a thriving crack house.
On the surface, he's fine. He wants to fix those delicate, broken tissues and send his patients onto a healthier and better life. Really! But on the inside, it's a shitfest --because all he really wants to do is sink his teeth into their brains and rip them apart with a delighted, animalistic moan.
Generally, this is a problem. And generally, Luke wants to help. He suggests they try getting to the root of the problem and fixing it by talking to each other and sharing their feelings like a pair of sentimental old birds, which is completely useless and completely bullshit.
"Reid," Luke says, reaching across the table and taking his hand. "It's getting worse, isn't it?"
Luke's eyes are big and earnest. The fact that Reid frequently points out how juicy they look and all Luke does is laugh is both worrying and comforting --but mostly worrying.
Reid slides his hand out from under Luke's and gets up, ignoring the exasperated look on Luke's face as he evades answering for the hundredth time. Of course it's getting worse. "Do you want more coffee?" he says cheerfully. "I want more coffee. Maybe I'll get the waitress to split her head open for me or cut off her finger and grind it into the cup for that full bodied flavour." He waggles his eyebrows and grins.
Luke sighs, but the way his lips twitch show he's trying not to laugh. "You're awful, and that joke wasn't funny." He points at Reid. "This conversation isn't over, you know. We're going to talk about this today."
Reid grumbles something about pushy, relentless blonds under his breath as he goes to the counter and gets in line with the other humans at Java waiting for their drinks. (Really, Reid just enjoys being able to call them that.)
The thing is, he refuses to go to Brain Eaters Anonymous. No matter how many times Luke tries to coax him into it, he just can't find a reason why going to a meeting with a bunch of blubbering idiots and complaining about his problems is going to solve anything. And as far as Reid is concerned the only other zombies around Oakdale are lowly grave diggers. He can't -and won't - talk to them.
Reid is a zombie, don't get him wrong, but he's a refined zombie. He's on a completely different level than them. He has self-respect, and he isn't so desperate that he'd go into a graveyard at night with a shovel and foamy saliva dripping from his unhinging jaw just to get a snack that isn't even fresh. I mean, come on, man. He doesn't go walking around without an arm when one falls off (he does the re-stitching himself), and he always blames Jacob's poopy diapers and the nurses for his body's constant stink of decomposition. If that doesn't scream superiority then Reid doesn't know what does.
His career is the same deal. It tortures him with an evil, sadistic pleasure every day, but his human self hadn't known that it was going to be this way and he doesn't plan on stopping doing what he's always loved doing -being the best - just because he's hit a little roadblock. His pride won't let him, and neither will his non-existent heart, which is currently beating in Chris. (Reid is surprised they don't have some sort of fucked up telepathic feelings where they're all connected and soap opera-ee.)
When Reid gets back to the table, he has a black coffee -cough, caramel latte - for himself and a hot chocolate for Luke. It's an unspoken apology of sorts for the way he's been acting lately (stressed, snappy, a complete jerk; basically what he's usually like except times that by ten and add a good dose of rotting flesh to the mix). He hasn't quite gotten to the point where he can actually say sorry out loud yet, even after death, but he has his moments.
Then again, what this is is also a distraction technique. ....which Luke will see through right away because he's actually not retarded like most of the living (and unliving) population. But Reid can dream, damn it. He can dream.
The hot chocolate is a chaotic construction of ridiculous proportions. Its got whipped cream and rainbow sprinkles and mini marshmallows and butterscotch drizzles and a cute little wafer sitting jauntily on top. The saucer is in the shape of a heart.
Reid and Luke both stare at it. Reid regards its adorableness with an expression of disgust.
"Okay. We're talking about this," Luke says, taking his eyes off it. And as soon as he does Reid's disgust turns to the worst fabrication of innocence known to mankind.
"It's a drink," he says. "People drink drinks. Do I have to teach you how?"
There's an unimpressed silence from Luke.
Reid leans back in his chair and regards Luke's mouth. Luke rolls his eyes, unaware of this or ignoring it (your choice), and picks up his mug. Just as he's taking a sip Reid adds, "Because from my personal experience you already know how to swallow things."
And Luke does it right on cue. Reid watches the way his throat works and his adam's apple bobs. Strained. Embarrassed. Reid's steady gaze flares with satisfaction. He does nothing to hide his desire. It's in plain view.
Reid doesn't understand the foot in mouth syndrome he apparently has, because it really doesn't exist for him. There's nothing he can't say, and he's not going to stifle what's on his mind, especially when it comes to what he wants.
There's whipped cream on Luke's upper lip when he puts the mug down. "I meant this. You. Your addiction. I'm serious."
Reid grins crookedly.
"What?" Luke says.
Reid leans across the tabletop without explanation, puts one hand under Luke's chin to tilt his head up, and gives him a firm kiss. His original intent is to swipe his tongue across Luke's lip to catch the whipped cream, and maybe make a snark about The Seriousness of That Statement afterwards, but he gets sidetracked and delves into Luke instead. He can't help it. Luke's lips are warm and full of life under his cold, dead ones, and something else breaks inside his already broken body and he kisses Luke like he's parched.
Somewhere in his mind there's probably a voice telling him that they're in public and this is a little too much for that -and then Reid remembers, hey, he's not Noah "Wet Blanket" Mayer, and he doesn't actually give a fuck. Luke is his cool oasis, and he wants to drink him in and take whatever he can get, regardless of onlookers.
It's when Luke starts gasping for air Reid doesn't need that Reid finally lets Luke go, hand sliding out of Luke's hair, and they both stare at each other. Luke is flushed and his breath comes out in small, short bursts. Reid is grey and his skin is peeling, but something in his dead blood in his dead veins thrums like a steady heartbeat.
Reid schools his face back into a careless expression and sits down again. He takes a sip of his latte and it's like a bitter reminder as it hits the bottom of his stomach like something that really doesn't want to be there. He's looking anywhere but at Luke when he says, "I know."
Luke is quiet for a long time, watching him with that perceptive intelligence of his, and Reid starts feeling nauseous (it does still happen, weirdly enough).
After what seems like ages, Luke's palm cups his cheek gently and turns his head. "You can't go on this way. We both know it." His tone is soft and his thumb brushes Reid's jaw in a slow, circular motion. His touch is reverent. It shouldn't be. "Something'll happen, and I know you. I know you now. You'll blame yourself and you'll sink into this hole where nobody can get to you and," Luke's eyes go slightly round at the corners, "I don't want you hurting. I just want to help. Can't you let me help you?"
Reid's grip around his mug goes slack. Right now he feels an onslaught of pure guilt. And shame. And selfishness. And relief --so much relief that he's not alone and that he has someone to be here for. Someone non-judgemental and kind hearted. Someone devoted and willing. And... someone he feels like he can actually trust. And love. It's such a jumbled, confused, powerful, fucked up surge of emotions and it hits him all at once. That's generally how Reid's emotions like to run when he's not in his neurosurgery wing. He clears his throat before he starts simpering like a poor, lovesick maiden. "Fine," he says tersely. "Fine. Yes. But this won't be for free."
Luke lets his hand fall onto the table. "Reid, you don't have to pay me for my help. That's ridiculous. Didn't you hear a word of what I just said?"
"I'm a zombie, not deaf." Reid just stops himself from sticking out his tongue. He even has both ears on today. "I meant it won't be free for you, Snyder. It's not every day you get to help The Great Doctor Reid Oliver. It's a privilege." He studies his nails, his hands; the only part of him that's mysteriously free of erosion. Like God wants him to be a neurosurgeon until the end of time. Smart man. His eyes flicker back up. "I demand a year of sexual favours as payment."
Luke splutters a laugh and turns his head to look out the window. He's got that astonished, disbelieving expression he always wears when Reid says something like that, something straight to the point and, while ludicrous and sometimes cheesy, the truth. He watches as Luke starts turning redder and redder until Reid wonders if his head is going to pop right off his shoulders like a balloon. It wouldn't be the strangest thing he's ever witnessed.
"And you let me take a bite out of you once in a while," Reid continues seriously. "You're damn tasty. Now stop blushing before I decide to suck the blood right out of your face."
Luke snorts. They smile at each other like idiots. Reid's tooth falls out.
☣
Reid's sex drive doesn't lessen any when he comes back to life as a zombie, literally clawing his way out of the grave. It increases, and Reid doesn't blame it; he was stuck in a goddamn coffin for three months. But the thing is, he's got this constant need now, just like with the brains. It scratches underneath his "skin" like an itch (or a very insistent cat at the door) that doesn't go away until it's satisfied. And then it comes back in the time it takes Reid to put on his operating mask.
It's like being seventeen all over again.
See, zombies have addiction problems. They're junkies. The addictions are a personality all on their own, and there's no stopping them because they start at zombie rebirth/unlife death/whatever, and grow stronger with each passing day. Even the most serious zombies can't kick their habits. Reid knows this. He's been on the forums. Zombies surrender to their addictions and that's why their reps are so bad. It's a million times worse than a human's, and it's not exactly fresh news (ha) that they're all bitter about it.
Luckily for Reid, this problem is one he's allowed to give in to, which he does with abundance. And if it helps the cannibalism cravings too, it's just a bonus.
It doesn't take much coaxing for Reid to get some ass. Reid would probably feel more like a cradle robber if Luke wasn't so annoyingly mature for his age. And Luke is pretty much a walking boner, anyway, okay. Reid comes to the conclusion that this is Noah's fault. That kid is wound up tighter than Tyra Banks' weave, and when they were dating, he probably only put out once a year. If that.
God. The thought --of both Noah boning Luke and the fact that they did it so rarely and were deprived, makes Reid's mouth taste sour. Sourer.
Luke has to adjust to Reid's bones breaking unexpectedly and the occasional limb pulling out of its socket during a particularly vigorous round, but after the initial shock wears off and a lot of reassurance from Reid that hey, at least his penis hasn't fallen off yet, they're at it all the time. At least, whenever Reid isn't wrist deep in brains (braaaaaains).
Seriously.
For example, one night as soon as he comes out of surgery, Reid finds Luke and pulls him into a custodial closet, throws him up against the wall and fucks him right there in the room next to a sick patient.
He's still in his bloody lab coat, and Luke's in his expensive Italian suit, and the buckets and cleaners are toppling over with their movements. Luke's tie is bound clumsily, but tightly around his wrists above his head, and Reid's scrubs are pulled down below his ass, just enough to get his cock free. They fall down a little with each passing second, each harsh breath.
Luke's pants are already on the floor, belt pooling like a coiled snake, his naked thighs wrapped around Reid's waist. Reid's thrusts are brutal and Luke's muffled cries and the frantic slam of their hips create a musical soundtrack that will haunt poor Nurse Betty's dreams forever, as she's standing right outside the door. She was actually just looking for the Pledge, but she got lucky.
Not as lucky as Reid, though.
As soon as they both come (for the second time) Luke with his head tossed back and Reid with his face buried in Luke's delicious, supple white neck, Reid gets hard. Again. Two seconds flat. He's still inside Luke, and his plan is to keep going. He's got to. There's no maybe or no way, it's just yes. Third time's the charm.
When he pulls back and thrusts into Luke's swollen, abused hole with renewed fervour, Luke moans pitifully. His eyes are shut and his eyebrows are creased. "Reid, wait," he says weakly. "I can't. Not yet. It's too much."
"You can," Reid growls, changing his angle so that he hits Luke's prostate dead on. Luke lets out a whimper. His back arches off the wall like he doesn't know if he wants to move into it or away from it, and his muscles are struggling to figure out the right choice. "Come on."
Luke's arms fall down around Reid's neck, nails digging into the top of Reid's spine. His wrists are still tied but he manages to pull Reid in closer, and soon he's making stressed noises when Reid pushes him harder, and he's going, "I can't, I can't, I can't," in a high, shaky voice until it becomes a garbled mantra of more, more, more.
Reid groans low and bites at Luke's jaw. He sucks at Luke's adam's apple and ravages his throat until it's covered with hot, wet marks that stand out starkly against his pristine white button-up, even in the dim light of the closet.
Luke starts moving with him, enticed by the rough slip-slide and painful pleasure, screwing himself down onto Reid's cock and riding it like a champ. He's given up, given in as he does each time, and now the only thing coming from his mouth is encouragement. Moans. Pleas.
Reid is quieter himself (he always is), but what comes from his mouth sounds a lot different; a rumbling purr from deep down, the revving of a feline engine brought back to life after a long storm, and the start of a roar. It builds up in him, pressure rising and about to snap. Luke is the only one who can do this to him. Luke is the only one who smells like this to him. Delicious, succulent, rare. A five star meal to Reid's mind and body. And there's this fire between them that Reid -at the risk of sounding like a Disney sitcom - can't find anywhere else.
☣
The next day, Luke limps as he walks. He lies when asked what happened, coming up with lame, flustered excuses that leave people staring at him oddly. When he sits down, he winces, and every once in a while he fidgets and blushes like he's remembering getting fucked within an inch of his life. Reid feels a smug sense of satisfaction and pride that this is his doing.
They're at the Snyder house having dinner with Luke's parents. Fortunately, Luke's young, impressionable siblings are away at some sleepover thing, because Reid has never been good at being good. His foot travels up Luke's jean clad calf, and at that moment Lily smiles at them both.
Luke chokes as he's taking a sip of water. Holden thumps him on the back a couple of times as he continues coughing into his napkin.
"So, Reid, I know this probably isn't what you usually eat, but--" Lily stops and there's an awkward silence around the table. "Uh, I. I mean--"
Reid lets her flounder for a few more seconds, foot still going up and down, up and down Luke's leg. He rolls a cooked carrot around in his mouth and swallows before he answers, "It's delicious, Mrs. Snyder." He flicks Luke a glance, and spears his sausage with his fork. He bites the end of it off and catches a drop of fat juices running from it with his tongue. Luke's gaze drops down to his grease-shiny lips and Reid adds, "I have a big appetite."
"Oh, that's great! I'm glad you like it." Lily laughs, looking relieved. She was probably thinking that Reid would demand a bowl of human intestines. She was wrong. That's dessert food. "Well, dig in. There's enough to feed an army."
"Oh, I will," Reid says. "I plan to be filled to the brim tonight."
Luke gets up abruptly. His chair legs screech on the floor. "Excuse me," he says, when his parents look at him in alarm. He backs away and trips over his own feet, catching himself on the island counter. "Bathroom. I need to, um --go to the bathroom. Sorry. Excuse me," he repeats.
Reid hides his amusement behind his beer as he tips it to his lips. Holden watches the door with a concerned, slightly suspicious frown.
"Honey, are you alright?" Lily calls.
Reid pats her on the arm to keep her from following and gets up too. "I'll go check on him. It's probably just a little indigestion. When it catches you off guard, it can be brutal. I'm a doctor, I know these things."
When Reid gets to the bathroom, after knocking and waiting tolerantly for an answer, Luke pulls him in by his shirt and hisses, "What are you, The Little Engine That Could? We're here with my parents!" He shuts the door and leans against it.
Reid raises his eyebrows. "Little? I think we both know I'm The Big Engine That Does More Than Could. I'm The Big Engine That Fucks Your Brains Out."
Luke makes an inarticulate noise and slaps his palm across his face, closing his eyes and then peeking at Reid between his fingers. He looks agitated, but Reid knows better. "Reid, do you have to be so graphic all the time?"
"Yes," Reid replies immediately. "What are you, a prude?" He scoffs. "Or are you just embarrassed because it gets you hot."
"Wow, you sound like..." A total douche? "I'm not answering that." Luke pushes off the door and goes to the sink. He puts his hands on each side of the porcelain bowl.
Reid comes up behind him and wraps his arms around him. "Because it's true." Reid's voice lowers in Luke's ear, brushing the vulnerable looking shell with his breath. His hand slithers down Luke's stomach, then down to his erection outside his pants. He smirks darkly at Luke through the mirror. "You're hard."
"Uh," Luke mutters, closing his eyes when Reid squeezes lightly.
"Eager, aren't we?" Reid thrusts his hips forward, so his cock presses against the curve of Luke's ass, pushing the seam of his jeans into his crack, and Luke's hands jerk slightly on the sink. Reid's voice goes husky. "But that can wait until we get home. Or at least the car. You can sit on my lap and ride me in the driver's seat. How does that sound?"
Reid watches Luke lick his lips through the mirror with half-lidded eyes, feeling the blood rushing beneath Luke's skin as he slides both hands under Luke's shirt, over his smooth stomach. He watches as he moves his hands upwards, slowly, revealing more and more skin until two dusky pink nipples appear and Luke's shirt is rucked up to his armpits. Luke's back arches slightly when Reid's thumbs brush against them.
"Like that?" he says. Reid pinches them, rolling Luke's nipples between his fingers until they harden and Luke's mouth parts. "Here's what's going to happen. I'm going to blow you, and you're going to come, and then I'm going to turn you around and rim your ass until you come again." He bites Luke's neck and Luke sucks in a shuddering gasp. His head tilts and Reid bites it some more, going up to Luke's earlobe. "Because you're a slut, honey, and I'm even sluttier, and I need to eat you or else I'm going to bend you over the dinner table and plow you through it, right in front of your parents."
Luke's laugh dies from his throat when Reid pops the button to his jeans and pulls down his fly. He sinks to his knees.
He wasn't fucking kidding
☣
It's only natural that as soon as Noah gets out of the taxi from the airport the first person he runs into is Reid.
Reid is sitting on a bench in Old Town. He's on his lunch break and he's picking dismally at a salad. He keeps wishing the croutons would turn into severed toes. Then, at least, his hunger would subside. He can eat human food no problem, and he'll never say no to a well made sandwich (especially if there's blood-basil mayonnaise involved), but it doesn't enthuse him as much as it used to. It doesn't keep him full. Not for very long.
Noah shuts the taxi door. He gets his bags out of the trunk, and when he turns around there's an awkward sort of moment when they both realize who they're looking at and how they're going to acknowledge each other.
"Doctor Oliver."
Noah goes first, because he's the kind of guy who's too polite to ignore someone, even if he really wants to. Reid both admires that and hates that, because he's the exact opposite.
"Mr. Mayer," Reid responds neutrally. He takes a sip of his Mello-Yellow, which has the same taste and consistency as human saliva.
Noah's expression is blank nicety, and yet under the hurt feelings and regret and anger that's hiding deftly underneath the surface, there's still emotions that break through. Curiosity. Disbelief. Reid can see it. After all, the reality is, Reid came back to life. Sort of. Ex-boyfriend's new lover or not, as a film buff, a real zombie right in front of your eyes is pretty fucking awesome.
"How are you?" Reid says when the silence stretches. He takes a bite of dried out chicken and chews. He's not really interested in the answer, unless it has something to do with Noah's recently healed eyesight, but he asks anyway.
"Um, fine. Great, actually." Noah shakes his head. "Sorry. I just. When Luke told me, I didn't think it was actually true, you know..." He trails off.
Because Luke would really make something like that up. Just for the shits and giggles. Reid resists rolling his eyes, if only for Luke's sake. Ex-boyfriend or not, Luke still loves this kid, and Reid's mature enough (for once in his life) to respect that. So instead he nods and, as if proving his statement, one of his ears falls off and hits the bench. Reid sighs and pockets it -he'll sew it back on later. "It's true," he says. "And no, I'm not going to eat you. You're not my type."
Noah looks mildly repulsed, but trying to hide the fact that he's mildly repulsed. "Does that happen a lot?" He motions to his ear.
"Hilariously, yes," Reid says.
Noah shifts his bag on his shoulder and smiles like he's uncomfortable. Which he should be. "Well, uh, I better go. I have to check in to the hotel before three or they'll give my room to someone else. It was..." Not nice seeing you? Awkward as hell? "I'll... see you around."
Reid watches him leave silently. It's not that he doesn't like Noah. Honestly, the kid's nice enough, despite the fact that he rears the exact sort of personality the napkin sitting on Reid's lap would have. If it were alive. They're never going to be pals or anything, especially after Noah socked him in the face, but. Reid knows Luke holds something for Noah that he doesn't hold for him, and Reid sometimes finds himself wondering if Noah asked Luke to take him back, would Luke jump at the chance? Even after all Noah's put Luke through, all the pain and the rare but brief moments of hope that left Luke more miserable than ever in the end. He's kept Luke on such a strained, fraying string, jerked him around (unknowingly or not) so much that Luke still feels guilty when he thinks about Noah. Noah's stupid. Just stupid. Completely goddamn stupid for letting Luke get away like that.
Reid, on the other hand, is not the best boyfriend in the world. Obviously. He's sarcastic, rude, and arrogant. He's socially retarded. He's bluntly honest, he doesn't sugar coat things, and he doesn't dance around issues or lie to make someone feel better. His idea of a romantic night is watching the game and ordering a pizza, followed by several hours of sex, sleep, and then more sex. He forgets birthdays, anniversaries, and chances are he's not always going to be able to celebrate the holidays. He's not really someone you want to show off because he does that all by himself. He's got a job that gives him barely enough time to fit in a decent amount of phone sex, let alone a real conversation. He isn't alive because he's a zombie badass neurosurgeon. But, at the end of all that, he's still got something Noah doesn't.
He wants Luke. His opinion isn't going to change, not today, not tomorrow. He's not clingy, and he doesn't have hours to spend devoting to pillow talk and mushy crap, but he's got a way of making his partners feel like they're the only one he's thinking about, like they're important and needed. When Reid's in a room with his partners, they're the only ones he's paying attention to. Noah doesn't have that.
"Is your salad alive?" a voice teases from over his shoulder, and Reid realizes he's been staring sightlessly at it for who knows how long.
He runs a hand through his hair and blinks to clear his mind. "I wish," he mutters.
Luke comes around and sits down beside him on the bench. "Hey," he says, smiling lopsidedly. He kisses Reid on the cheek and Reid absently curls his arm around Luke's waist, pulling him in.
"This is disgusting," Reid says. He lifts his fork full of wilted lettuce up and offers it to Luke. "Wanna bite?"
Luke laughs and shakes his head, smile fading as he rests his chin on Reid's shoulder. A few seconds pass. "What were you thinking about just now?" he asks quietly. "You looked pretty serious. Everything okay?"
Reid drops his fork into his salad and closes the lid, tossing it into the trash to buy him a few more seconds before he has to answer. "I ran into Noah," he manages to say, idly. Nothing to worry about here. He glances at his watch instead of watching Luke's reaction and finds out he's only got a few more minutes left of his lunch break before someone pages him. It's inevitable.
"Oh. Yeah, he called me when he got in. He's visiting for a few days." Luke sounds normal, surprisingly, happy in an understanding kind of way, not sad or wistful like Reid had imagined. And yet Reid still feels that surge of jealousy rise within him hearing Luke say Noah called him. Luke's voice goes tentative when Reid's nails dig into his hip. "Did something happen? Did he... say something to you?"
Reid's grip relaxes. "Nah," he says, "just wanted to see if I was real or not. Because OMG zombies, yay! You know the drill."
He feels Luke frown against his neck, and when he presses a few chaste kisses to Reid's jaw and ear (the still intact one), Reid calms down frighteningly fast. "I'm sorry," Luke murmurs.
Reid snorts. "What for? You didn't bring me back from the dead and make me a freakshow."
"Don't."
The word is so instant and so fierce that Reid actually jumps a bit. He covers it up with a clueless eyebrow raise. Luke grabs Reid's shoulders and pins him there, so he has no choice but to listen. "Look. You may be an ass, a jerk, a bastard, a total--"
Reid's eyebrows go higher. "Not exactly feeling the love, here, Lu--"
"But don't ever call yourself that again, because that's not what you are. You may be a zombie, and you may have problems, but you're my zombie with problems, and I fucking love you." Luke stops any further protests from Reid when he kisses him. But it doesn't matter anyway, because Reid is stunned enough by the fact that Luke just said fuck in public. Luke doesn't say fuck in public.
It isn't a sweet kiss like the ones he's used to from Luke, but a harsh, no nonsense seal of a deal. It feels like he's pushing the life back into Reid, and his hands are trembling where they're cupping Reid's cheeks. When he pulls back his face is hard, and his eyes glitter with both upset and the determination to make sure what he's saying goes through.
That's when Reid realizes something. Gone are the days when he was just the rebound for a boyfriend who didn't want Luke anymore. Gone are the deep, dark doubts that Luke's just putting up with him as a shitty consolation prize. Now he knows, with certainty, that Luke really does love him.
It's like the bright light at the end of the tunnel, knowing that Luke is his and nobody else can get between them.
Not even "The Ex Who Was Blind But Isn’t Anymore". Thanks to Reid.
Fucker.
☣
Ten minutes later, when Luke walks Reid back to the hospital, Luke grabs his hand and glares at anyone and everyone who looks at him the wrong way.
☣
"Hello, my name is Juli-aaaarghnn--" The woman with the blackened legs and a missing stomach covers her mouth and clears her throat. "Oh, excuse me. My name is Julianne and I'm addicted to newborn baby."
"Hello, Julianne," the droning group choruses.
Reid folds his arms across his chest, looking decidedly bored. He rolls his eyes and stirs the little brown stick in the sludgy coffee they're offering at the snack table. There's a sign above the door that reads: Humans are friends, not food!
When his turn comes around, Reid stands up and tilts his chin up defiantly. "Hey, I'm Doctor Reid Oliver, best damn neurosurgeon you'll ever meet, and I'm addicted to brains."
"Hello, Reid," they chorus again. A few of them even smile at him. One guy waves and his wrist dislocates, hanging there limply, but he doesn't seem worried about it.
Reid's still skeptical as hell about this working, but for some reason, Luke has gotten him to agree to go to this meeting. And it doesn't make him as sick to his stomach as he thought it would when the first thing that pops into his head is, yeah, totally dick whipped.