surviving
I'm working on finishing up my giant WIP list and was hoping to have this posted by Halloween. Only a week late, that's not too bad, right? /o\ Um. This is: ~2000 words, rated R, and contains Ryan, Jon, the zombie apocalypse, and a whole lot of weed. Next up: reorganizing my tags and reposting stuff from my old journal.
Warnings: marijuana use, hands down pants, unapologetic crackfic, zombies.
Surviving
The bathroom's steadily filling with smoke, and Ryan grins lazily at Jon. "Best idea ever."
"Like we haven't done it a thousand times before."
"Still. Best ever." He frowns at his phone, finally realizing why he hasn't had any new texts in, like, a week. "Did I pay my phone bill this month? This isn't working."
"How should I know?" Jon pulls out his own cell. "Mine's not working either. Power's probably out."
"That doesn't make sense."
"I don't know, then. Whatever. Call the phone company."
"I will when my phone is working."
There's a weird scratching at the door, and Ryan glances at Jon. "Who the fuck is that?"
"How should I know?"
The scratching persists. Ryan opens the door a crack. "Hey," he says. He doesn't recognize the guy standing there - must be one of Alex's friends, judging by his appearance (seriously, Ryan likes the hipster scene and all, but he still doesn't get what's so ironic about looking like a hobo. This guy's clothes are tattered and he kind of smells weird, but Ryan's been on tour - it's not the worst he's ever seen). "Hey. Um, are you looking for Alex? He hasn't been by in a few weeks."
The guy says something Ryan can't make out. "Alex might be by later, though. You want to come in? We're smoking up." He opens the door a little wider, and the guy shuffles in slowly.
"Faster, man, you're letting it all out," Jon says. Ryan shuts the door behind their guest. He's looking around the room and his expression is kind of confused - which makes sense, given how much smoke there is in there. Speaking of which. Ryan fumbles for the pipe and his lighter.
"Hey, so, I'm Ryan, this is Jon. What's your name?" Ryan asks, taking a hit from the pipe and passing it to Jon.
The guy says something that sounds maybe like, "Brnnnnnnnnnnnns."
"Bruce?"
"Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrn."
"Oh, Brent? I know one of those already," Ryan says. "I guess you can have his name too, though."
Jon passes the pipe on to Brent, who stares blankly at Jon. "Oh, oh, dude, you've never done this before? It's okay, man, we've been hotboxing the bathroom anyway. You'll be feeling it in no time, I swear."
Brent is much more intelligible this time. "Braaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaains," he says, slowly reaching towards Jon's head.
Jon beams at him, leaning away to pass the pipe to Ryan. "Thanks, buddy, I'm sure you're pretty smart too."
*
It doesn't take long before the bathroom's filled with smoke again, and Ryan has to laugh at their new friend. Brent is quiet, but he's apparently the kind of guy who gets affectionate when he gets high - he keeps patting them on the head, looking kind of bewildered, like he keeps forgetting what he meant to do.
"I want some fucking Doritos," Ryan says. "You should text Alex and ask him where he hid that bag I bought a few weeks ago."
"Our phones aren't working," Jon reminds him.
"Oh yeah," Ryan says, turning to Brent. "Hey man, is your cell working?" Brent doesn't respond, staring blankly ahead through half-lidded eyes. Ryan waves his hand in front of his eyes, but he doesn't get a reaction. "Shit, he's fucked up," he says to Jon.
"He'll be fine," Jon says. "Hey, his phone's probably in his pocket. I'm sure he wouldn't care if we checked it."
Ryan slips his fingers into Brent's pocket, careful not to startle him, and closes his fingers around a phone. "Got it," he says, pulling it out. "Um, hey. Does this look wrong to you?"
The phone's screen is smashed, and there's blood smeared across the back. "Yeah, that's not supposed to be like that," Jon says slowly. "Do you think he's, like, a murderer?"
"Fuck," Ryan says. "Let's get out of here."
"Dude, put the phone back," Jon says. "What if he notices it's missing and, like, tries to track us down to get it back because it's evidence he killed someone?"
Ryan carefully tries to slip the phone back into Brent's pocket, but he jostles his arm when he moves back. Ryan can see decaying flesh through one of the rips in the hoodie, and something clicks in his head. "Shit," he says. "Jon, he's not a killer. He's, like, a zombie or something."
"Seriously?" Jon says, staring at Brent. "Why didn't he try to kill us?"
"The pot," Ryan says. "It's totally all the smoke, right?"
"That makes sense," Jon says. "What do we do now?"
Ryan shrugs. "We've still got a lot of weed."
*
Eventually they decide the best course of action is to toss Brent outside. They put him out back, figuring that it'll be harder for him to get in, since one of the front windows seems to be smashed out. "That must be how he got in," Ryan says, and Jon rolls his eyes.
"Nice work, Sherlock," he says. "Now help me close it off."
They barricade it with a couple of couches. Ryan's not sure if it'll hold, but they've still got a hell of a lot of weed, so he's not too worried. They rummage through the cupboards, gathering up all the food that hasn't gone stale, and Ryan finds his bag of Doritos tucked away behind some mugs. "Fuck yeah," he says, holding it up, and Jon grins.
"Bathroom, come on," he says. "That whole zombie thing nearly killed my buzz."
*
"Jon," Ryan says hours later, fumbling around blindly until he makes contact with Jon's knee.
Jon makes a soft, sleepy sound, and Ryan grins. "What?" Jon finally says, opening one eye, and Ryan remembers that he'd been talking.
"Do you think we're going to die?"
"What, from zombies? Nahh," he says. "Why, are you worried?"
"I don't want to die a virgin," Ryan tells him.
Jon laughs. "You weren't even a virgin when I met you," he says, and Ryan punches him in the thigh.
"You're ruining the moment," he says, ducking his head down so he can kiss Jon. It's graceless and awkward and kind of weird, especially since Jon had just started to reply, meaning Ryan basically just shoved his lips into Jon's mouth. But then Jon pulls back a little, pressing his lips back against Ryan's, and it's better. And it's better still when Jon shifts around, crawling into Ryan's lap and slipping his hands up under Ryan's shirt, his fingernails scraping along his back.
"You want to," Jon says, and Ryan's nodding before he can finish the sentence. He doesn't know what Jon was going to say, doesn't really care, because at Ryan's nod he's pulling his T-shirt off, and Ryan takes the opportunity to do the same.
He gets stuck in his shirt, though, his arms getting somehow tangled up in the material. Just as Jon reaches to help, they hear the front door open and they both freeze. "Didn't you lock the door?" Ryan asks.
"No. Zombies can't turn doorknobs," Jon says defensively.
"Apparently they can. Shit, what do we do?"
"Hide," Jon says, and before Ryan can point out that there's nowhere for them to hide, Jon's pulling him to his feet, dragging him over to sit in the bathtub. Ryan, still off-balance from the pot and the fact that his arms are held immobile by his shirt, stumbles, falling inelegantly into the tub.
"Shh," Jon says, kneeling down over him in the tub and pulling the shower curtain across. Ryan's seen a lot of zombie movies in his time and he's pretty sure a curtain doesn't make for a great defense; he's about to say so when Jon lowers himself down a little further. He's suddenly aware that he's flat on his back with Jon sprawled on top of him, and he forgets any complaint he was about to make.
"Hi," he whispers instead, and Jon grins, leaning in to kiss Ryan again. Ryan struggles to get his hands free of his shirt - there are footsteps approaching in the hallway, and fuck, he's not about to die without at least getting to second base.
The bathroom door swings open, and Ryan hears coughing. He didn't think zombies could cough, but then again he also didn't know they could get high, so maybe it's not that weird.
"Fuck," someone says. "I think there was a fire in here or something." And that's definitely weird, because all Brent could say was, like, Brngh. Ryan blinks up at Jon, who's staring back at him in confusion.
Then the shower curtain's being pulled back and there's a shotgun being pointed at them. "What the fuck," Brendon says, lowering his gun. "It's the fucking zombie apocalypse and you guys are fucking around and hotboxing the bathroom?"
"The weed keeps them from attacking," Ryan says. "We discovered that earlier."
"With science," Jon adds.
"What are you doing here?" Ryan asks. He's only seen Brendon a couple of times since the band broke up; it's a little weird to see him here now, brandishing a gun.
"We came to find you," Brendon says. "We ran into Greenwald at one of the survivor centers a few days back, and he said he hadn't heard from you guys since the outbreak started last month."
"Last month?" Jon says, and Brendon nods. "Is that why our phones stopped working?"
"Seriously?" Brendon says, looking pained. "You didn't actually know about the zombies? The zombies that have been attacking L.A. for a month?"
Ryan shrugs a little. He's saved from whatever Brendon's about to say by Spencer, who wanders into the bathroom holding a sword. "There's a fucking horde out front, but there only seems to be one out back. We should be able to kill it without a problem."
"No!" Jon says. "Don't! He's kind of cool."
"We like him," Ryan agrees. "He's Brent, but not, like, Brent."
"Okay," Spencer says slowly. "Is there a reason your hands are down Jon's pants?"
"Yes," Ryan says. There's a very good reason, in fact, but he chooses not to elaborate.
"Okay," Spencer says again. "All right, come on, let's get you guys to the survivor center."
Ryan and Jon manage to get out of the bathtub without falling over, which Ryan considers an accomplishment, since he doesn't take his hands out of Jon's pants. Brendon clears his throat, looking away, and Ryan reluctantly pulls away and lets Jon do his jeans back up.
"Okay," Brendon says. "Everyone decent? Ready to go?"
"Hold on," Ryan says, and washes his hands.
"Oh my god," Spencer says. "I hate you all. Hurry up," he says.
"Fine," Ryan says, drying his hands. "Lead on."
Jon scoops up the half-empty bag of Doritos as they leave, and Ryan beams at him. "Good thinking," he says.
"Yeah, good thinking," Brendon says. "Clearly you guys have been doing a lot of that good thinking thing."
"We have. We totally have," Ryan says, frowning. It didn't take them that long to realize that Brent was a zombie, after all, and that pot made him confused, and that the Doritos were hiding behind the bowls.
"Uh huh," Brendon says. They reach the back door and Spencer peers out, his sword held in front of him.
"There's nothing out there," he says. "Come on, quick, but be careful."
They're barely out the door before Brent is there, lunging at Jon. "Fuck," Ryan says, looking around for anything he can use as a weapon, but before he finds anything, Brent is grabbing the bag of Doritos Jon has clutched in his hands.
"Nrrrrrrg," he says happily, slowly reaching in and pulling out a handful of chips.
Jon backs away, then shoots a grin at Brendon. "See? I knew those would come in handy."
"I hate you all," Spencer says. "Come on, let's get out of here before the stoner zombie gets serious munchies."
"Someone's a buzzkill," Jon mutters to Ryan, and they share a grin as they follow Spencer and Brendon out of the yard.
Warnings: marijuana use, hands down pants, unapologetic crackfic, zombies.
Surviving
The bathroom's steadily filling with smoke, and Ryan grins lazily at Jon. "Best idea ever."
"Like we haven't done it a thousand times before."
"Still. Best ever." He frowns at his phone, finally realizing why he hasn't had any new texts in, like, a week. "Did I pay my phone bill this month? This isn't working."
"How should I know?" Jon pulls out his own cell. "Mine's not working either. Power's probably out."
"That doesn't make sense."
"I don't know, then. Whatever. Call the phone company."
"I will when my phone is working."
There's a weird scratching at the door, and Ryan glances at Jon. "Who the fuck is that?"
"How should I know?"
The scratching persists. Ryan opens the door a crack. "Hey," he says. He doesn't recognize the guy standing there - must be one of Alex's friends, judging by his appearance (seriously, Ryan likes the hipster scene and all, but he still doesn't get what's so ironic about looking like a hobo. This guy's clothes are tattered and he kind of smells weird, but Ryan's been on tour - it's not the worst he's ever seen). "Hey. Um, are you looking for Alex? He hasn't been by in a few weeks."
The guy says something Ryan can't make out. "Alex might be by later, though. You want to come in? We're smoking up." He opens the door a little wider, and the guy shuffles in slowly.
"Faster, man, you're letting it all out," Jon says. Ryan shuts the door behind their guest. He's looking around the room and his expression is kind of confused - which makes sense, given how much smoke there is in there. Speaking of which. Ryan fumbles for the pipe and his lighter.
"Hey, so, I'm Ryan, this is Jon. What's your name?" Ryan asks, taking a hit from the pipe and passing it to Jon.
The guy says something that sounds maybe like, "Brnnnnnnnnnnnns."
"Bruce?"
"Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrn."
"Oh, Brent? I know one of those already," Ryan says. "I guess you can have his name too, though."
Jon passes the pipe on to Brent, who stares blankly at Jon. "Oh, oh, dude, you've never done this before? It's okay, man, we've been hotboxing the bathroom anyway. You'll be feeling it in no time, I swear."
Brent is much more intelligible this time. "Braaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaains," he says, slowly reaching towards Jon's head.
Jon beams at him, leaning away to pass the pipe to Ryan. "Thanks, buddy, I'm sure you're pretty smart too."
*
It doesn't take long before the bathroom's filled with smoke again, and Ryan has to laugh at their new friend. Brent is quiet, but he's apparently the kind of guy who gets affectionate when he gets high - he keeps patting them on the head, looking kind of bewildered, like he keeps forgetting what he meant to do.
"I want some fucking Doritos," Ryan says. "You should text Alex and ask him where he hid that bag I bought a few weeks ago."
"Our phones aren't working," Jon reminds him.
"Oh yeah," Ryan says, turning to Brent. "Hey man, is your cell working?" Brent doesn't respond, staring blankly ahead through half-lidded eyes. Ryan waves his hand in front of his eyes, but he doesn't get a reaction. "Shit, he's fucked up," he says to Jon.
"He'll be fine," Jon says. "Hey, his phone's probably in his pocket. I'm sure he wouldn't care if we checked it."
Ryan slips his fingers into Brent's pocket, careful not to startle him, and closes his fingers around a phone. "Got it," he says, pulling it out. "Um, hey. Does this look wrong to you?"
The phone's screen is smashed, and there's blood smeared across the back. "Yeah, that's not supposed to be like that," Jon says slowly. "Do you think he's, like, a murderer?"
"Fuck," Ryan says. "Let's get out of here."
"Dude, put the phone back," Jon says. "What if he notices it's missing and, like, tries to track us down to get it back because it's evidence he killed someone?"
Ryan carefully tries to slip the phone back into Brent's pocket, but he jostles his arm when he moves back. Ryan can see decaying flesh through one of the rips in the hoodie, and something clicks in his head. "Shit," he says. "Jon, he's not a killer. He's, like, a zombie or something."
"Seriously?" Jon says, staring at Brent. "Why didn't he try to kill us?"
"The pot," Ryan says. "It's totally all the smoke, right?"
"That makes sense," Jon says. "What do we do now?"
Ryan shrugs. "We've still got a lot of weed."
*
Eventually they decide the best course of action is to toss Brent outside. They put him out back, figuring that it'll be harder for him to get in, since one of the front windows seems to be smashed out. "That must be how he got in," Ryan says, and Jon rolls his eyes.
"Nice work, Sherlock," he says. "Now help me close it off."
They barricade it with a couple of couches. Ryan's not sure if it'll hold, but they've still got a hell of a lot of weed, so he's not too worried. They rummage through the cupboards, gathering up all the food that hasn't gone stale, and Ryan finds his bag of Doritos tucked away behind some mugs. "Fuck yeah," he says, holding it up, and Jon grins.
"Bathroom, come on," he says. "That whole zombie thing nearly killed my buzz."
*
"Jon," Ryan says hours later, fumbling around blindly until he makes contact with Jon's knee.
Jon makes a soft, sleepy sound, and Ryan grins. "What?" Jon finally says, opening one eye, and Ryan remembers that he'd been talking.
"Do you think we're going to die?"
"What, from zombies? Nahh," he says. "Why, are you worried?"
"I don't want to die a virgin," Ryan tells him.
Jon laughs. "You weren't even a virgin when I met you," he says, and Ryan punches him in the thigh.
"You're ruining the moment," he says, ducking his head down so he can kiss Jon. It's graceless and awkward and kind of weird, especially since Jon had just started to reply, meaning Ryan basically just shoved his lips into Jon's mouth. But then Jon pulls back a little, pressing his lips back against Ryan's, and it's better. And it's better still when Jon shifts around, crawling into Ryan's lap and slipping his hands up under Ryan's shirt, his fingernails scraping along his back.
"You want to," Jon says, and Ryan's nodding before he can finish the sentence. He doesn't know what Jon was going to say, doesn't really care, because at Ryan's nod he's pulling his T-shirt off, and Ryan takes the opportunity to do the same.
He gets stuck in his shirt, though, his arms getting somehow tangled up in the material. Just as Jon reaches to help, they hear the front door open and they both freeze. "Didn't you lock the door?" Ryan asks.
"No. Zombies can't turn doorknobs," Jon says defensively.
"Apparently they can. Shit, what do we do?"
"Hide," Jon says, and before Ryan can point out that there's nowhere for them to hide, Jon's pulling him to his feet, dragging him over to sit in the bathtub. Ryan, still off-balance from the pot and the fact that his arms are held immobile by his shirt, stumbles, falling inelegantly into the tub.
"Shh," Jon says, kneeling down over him in the tub and pulling the shower curtain across. Ryan's seen a lot of zombie movies in his time and he's pretty sure a curtain doesn't make for a great defense; he's about to say so when Jon lowers himself down a little further. He's suddenly aware that he's flat on his back with Jon sprawled on top of him, and he forgets any complaint he was about to make.
"Hi," he whispers instead, and Jon grins, leaning in to kiss Ryan again. Ryan struggles to get his hands free of his shirt - there are footsteps approaching in the hallway, and fuck, he's not about to die without at least getting to second base.
The bathroom door swings open, and Ryan hears coughing. He didn't think zombies could cough, but then again he also didn't know they could get high, so maybe it's not that weird.
"Fuck," someone says. "I think there was a fire in here or something." And that's definitely weird, because all Brent could say was, like, Brngh. Ryan blinks up at Jon, who's staring back at him in confusion.
Then the shower curtain's being pulled back and there's a shotgun being pointed at them. "What the fuck," Brendon says, lowering his gun. "It's the fucking zombie apocalypse and you guys are fucking around and hotboxing the bathroom?"
"The weed keeps them from attacking," Ryan says. "We discovered that earlier."
"With science," Jon adds.
"What are you doing here?" Ryan asks. He's only seen Brendon a couple of times since the band broke up; it's a little weird to see him here now, brandishing a gun.
"We came to find you," Brendon says. "We ran into Greenwald at one of the survivor centers a few days back, and he said he hadn't heard from you guys since the outbreak started last month."
"Last month?" Jon says, and Brendon nods. "Is that why our phones stopped working?"
"Seriously?" Brendon says, looking pained. "You didn't actually know about the zombies? The zombies that have been attacking L.A. for a month?"
Ryan shrugs a little. He's saved from whatever Brendon's about to say by Spencer, who wanders into the bathroom holding a sword. "There's a fucking horde out front, but there only seems to be one out back. We should be able to kill it without a problem."
"No!" Jon says. "Don't! He's kind of cool."
"We like him," Ryan agrees. "He's Brent, but not, like, Brent."
"Okay," Spencer says slowly. "Is there a reason your hands are down Jon's pants?"
"Yes," Ryan says. There's a very good reason, in fact, but he chooses not to elaborate.
"Okay," Spencer says again. "All right, come on, let's get you guys to the survivor center."
Ryan and Jon manage to get out of the bathtub without falling over, which Ryan considers an accomplishment, since he doesn't take his hands out of Jon's pants. Brendon clears his throat, looking away, and Ryan reluctantly pulls away and lets Jon do his jeans back up.
"Okay," Brendon says. "Everyone decent? Ready to go?"
"Hold on," Ryan says, and washes his hands.
"Oh my god," Spencer says. "I hate you all. Hurry up," he says.
"Fine," Ryan says, drying his hands. "Lead on."
Jon scoops up the half-empty bag of Doritos as they leave, and Ryan beams at him. "Good thinking," he says.
"Yeah, good thinking," Brendon says. "Clearly you guys have been doing a lot of that good thinking thing."
"We have. We totally have," Ryan says, frowning. It didn't take them that long to realize that Brent was a zombie, after all, and that pot made him confused, and that the Doritos were hiding behind the bowls.
"Uh huh," Brendon says. They reach the back door and Spencer peers out, his sword held in front of him.
"There's nothing out there," he says. "Come on, quick, but be careful."
They're barely out the door before Brent is there, lunging at Jon. "Fuck," Ryan says, looking around for anything he can use as a weapon, but before he finds anything, Brent is grabbing the bag of Doritos Jon has clutched in his hands.
"Nrrrrrrg," he says happily, slowly reaching in and pulling out a handful of chips.
Jon backs away, then shoots a grin at Brendon. "See? I knew those would come in handy."
"I hate you all," Spencer says. "Come on, let's get out of here before the stoner zombie gets serious munchies."
"Someone's a buzzkill," Jon mutters to Ryan, and they share a grin as they follow Spencer and Brendon out of the yard.