"Ain't No Clue" - Columbus/Tallahassee - PG14
Title: Ain't No Clue
Fandom: Zombieland
Characters/Pairings: Tallahassee/Columbus, Wichita, Little Rock.
Word Count: 1932
Warnings: Foul language and slash.
Summary: He just didn't notice.
Notes: Done for the newly opened zombieland_kink - the new kink meme for the fandom. This is a response to this prompt. "Columbus/Tallahassee. Tallahassee just doesn't get it, and Wichita has to clue him in." Hopefully this was what the OP had in mind. Or something close to it.
---
Tallahassee let out an aggravated, uncomfortable growl and turned narrowed eyes on Columbus. It was impossible to clean his gun when the boy was staring holes in the side of his head. "What the hell you starin' at me for?"
Columbus flushed an ugly shade of red and stammered a bit before ducking out of the room they had opted to share. The house they'd cleaned out was small, two bedrooms, but a secure place to spend a night. They'd all been getting a little edgy sleeping sitting up in the SUV; a little crabby. Tallahassee watched the boy go, his brows lowering over his eyebrows in confusion.
"What the fuck?" he asked the empty room.
He grumbled confusedly to himself, returning to the task of cleaning his weapon. That boy was all sorts of strangeness wrapped up in human form. It wasn't the first time he'd caught him staring, either. It had been happening more often since they'd left Pacific Playland months prior, and at the strangest times. While he was driving, while he was killing zombies, and he'd woken up more than once with those eerily bright eyes focused on him. It was unsettling, to say the least.
Satisfied that his gun wouldn't jam up at an inopportune time, he slipped it into the holster that was always strapped around his waist, and stretched. It was getting dark out, and by his reckoning it was time for something to eat. He got off the bed and left the bedroom, heading downstairs to the kitchen. Wichita and Little Rock were perched on the counter side-by-side, and Columbus was cooking something that smelled surprisingly edible.
"Whatchu makin' there?" he asked, leaning in over the boy's shoulder to peek into the pot that was cooking on the camping stove they'd dug out of the basement.
Columbus glanced sideways at him, and he could see a flush working its way up the kid's neck. "Mac 'n' Cheese. There were some boxes of it in the pantry."
"And since it's made up mostly of chemicals, it's still good," Little Rock piped in, kicking her feet.
Columbus spared her a smile, giving the cheesy concoction a stir. "Where would we be without Kraft foods?"
"We would probably resort to cannibalism," Little Rock said. "Don't worry Columbus, we probably wouldn't eat you because you'd be stringy."
"Reassuring," Columbus muttered, turning off the stove and dishing the food out into four coffee cups with plastic forks.
Tallahassee took a large forkful, chewing it thoughtfully before swallowing and gesturing at Columbus with the utensil. "You'll make someone a good wife someday."
Wichita and her sister let out surprised laughs, and Columbus turned dark red in embarrassment. "You're cooking for yourself from now on."
Tallahassee guffawed, and Columbus scowled, and they ate their dinner in silence. Tallahassee could feel eyes on him again, and wasn't surprised to discover they belonged to a certain curly haired boy. Scarfing down his noodles quickly, the older man tossed his cup into the sink and raised an eyebrow at the people who had become his traveling companions.
"I saw a twister pad in the living room," he said, daring to smirk. "Bet'cha all I can beat yer asses."
Little Rock put a hand on his hip and looked at him in defiance, "Bet you're wrong, old man."
"Sounds like a challenge to me," Wichita said, smirking right back at him. "How about it, Columbus? Care to show this old fart what we young folk can do?"
Columbus let out a slight laugh, shaking his head, "I think I'll sit this one-"
"Nuh-uh," Tallahassee cut in. "You sat out last time."
Little Rock gave a vigorous nod. "You have to be on my team."
"Ain't no teams in Twister," Tallahassee said, turning a glare on her.
"House rules say there are," Little Rock said, sticking her tongue out in his direction.
With that settled, kind of, the four zombieland survivors adjourned to the living room, where Tallahassee busted out the Twister board. It wasn't long before they were a confused mass of limbs, and then it was just Tallahassee and Columbus left contorted on the mat. Right hand green, left foot red, right foot yellow, and left hand blue, Columbus was trying hard not to slide to the floor and lose. Tallahassee was tangled up over him, the older man resting precariously with his right foot on green, his left hand on blue, and his other two limbs hanging in limbo. Wichita and Little Rock were standing off to the side giving their respective teammates encouragement.
"Slipping," Columbus warned, his fingers sweating and beginning to slide across the mat.
Wichita spun the needle, "Left hand red."
Tallahassee moved to oblige, Columbus' arm gave out completely, and things got confusing. When he went down, the younger boys feet went out, one knocking into Tallahassee's knee and causing him to fall down as well. The older man landed square on top of his opponent, pushing the boy face down on the mat. In a the span of a heartbeat, Tallahassee had his face shoved into the soft curls at the back of Columbus' head, and one leg stuck awkwardly between his legs. Columbus let out a hiss of air, and Tallahassee pulled in a sharp breath as he rolled off the boy.
"I win," the older man said, feeling a wash of triumph come over him.
"What?!" Little Rock demanded, "No way, you fell on him!"
"Oh, Columbus totally knocked him down," Wichita argued, both girls crossing their arms over their chests and glaring.
"He wins," Columbus muttered from the floor, and Tallahassee could see that another dark flush had worked its way over the kid's skin.
He raised an eyebrow at him and nudged his thigh with the metal tip of his cowboy boot. "Y'alright? Lookin' a bit flushed there."
"Did he hurt you?" Little Rock demanded.
If it were possible, the flush darkened further, spreading down his neck. Tallahassee watched him stutter and stammer, eyebrows furrowing when he all but ran from the room to "go to sleep".
"What the hell's got into him?" the man asked, casting a befuddled gaze to the girls.
Wichita was staring after Columbus with a look of sympathy and pity etched across her face. She turned to her sister and frowned.
"Hey, can you make yourself scarce for a minute?"
Little Rock raised an eyebrow at her, then shrugged and disappeared towards their shared bedroom. Tallahassee watched Wichita shut the door to the living room behind her, then she turned to him and crossed her arms.
"Are you completely blind?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
Tallahassee glared at her, "What kinda question is that?"
"I'll take that as a no," she continued. "So you're just... stupid."
"Hey, now!" Tallahassee growled, crawling to his feet.
"Well, you're obviously not too intelligent," she muttered, "If you don't see what's wrong with him."
His growing anger with her was immediately replaced with a confused sort of concern. "Something's wrong with him. He sick?"
A look of horror came over his face, "He bit?"
Wichita sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. "He's besotted."
"Well, yeah," Tallahassee said, giving her a blank look, "Liked you since the first time you robbed us blind."
Wichita smirked, "Not me. I'm not quite... man enough for him."
Tallahassee stared at her dumbly for a second, his eyebrows nearly vanishing under the hat he never seemed to take off. "Wait just a goddamn second here. Me?"
"That's right," the girl said, bending down to pick up the twister mat and folding it slowly. "I told him not to get his hopes up. You're probably a total homophobe who used to beat the shit out of guys like him, but he thinks you're nice."
Tallahassee pointed a finger at her menacingly, "I am not a homophobe. Backwater hick, hell yes, but I ain't never raised a hand against nobody without good reason."
"And being a total fag for your... 'hot bod'" he could hear the air quotes, "Isn't a good reason?"
"No," he said, crossing his arms and staring at a spot on the wall.
"Good," Wichita said firmly, and his eyes snapped back to her, "Because if you make fun of him, hurt him, or otherwise damage his psyche over it, I'll feed you to the zombies."
That said, she shot him a cheerful smile and made her way out of the living room, leaving him alone to glare at the carefully folded twister mat she'd left by the couch. It took him a few minutes to rally himself, and then he made his slow way upstairs to the bedroom he and Columbus had claimed. The kid was laying on the bed on his stomach, head cradled on his folded arms, the only pillow that they'd found had been left untouched on the other half of the bed. A thoughtful gesture towards a friend, Tallahassee thought, his lips twisting into a frown despite the odd twist of gratefulness in his gut.
"You asleep?" he asked loudly, and Columbus shook his head without lifting it.
Moving towards the half of the bed that the kid had left open for him, Tallahassee sat down on top of the soft comforter and scooted up so that his back rested against the head board. He stared down at Columbus' back, eyes moving slowly to his curly hair.
"You have some sort of gay crush on me?" he asked bluntly, and watched as the back of the kids neck turned red. His silence only acted as further confirmation of the truth of Wichita's words.
He reached out and laid a hand on the back of Columbus' neck; the skin burned to the touch. "You shouldn't be getting attached, kid. Nothin' is forever in this shit hole apocalypse. Here today, undead tomorrow."
His words were gruff, but his thumb rubbed slow, soothing circles into his companion's skin. "If you get attached, you hesitate to pull the trigger when I'm running at you with the intent to eat you for dinner. That's how you die."
He felt the muscles under his hand tense up, then, "That's not going to happen."
"You don't know that," Tallahassee argued. "Hell, you could wake up tomorrow and Little Rock could be trying to eat us alive."
"Don't say that," Columbus said, rolling over and glaring up at him, the flush receding from his face.
"Because you're already attached," Tallahassee said, nodding slowly, "And the thought of either of them gone eats you up, don't it?"
"And it doesn't you?"Columbus challenged. "Could you pull a trigger on either of them, or on me, without hesitating?"
Tallahassee barked out a laugh, "Yes, but I'd feel pretty poorly afterward."
Columbus quirked an unamused smile, then made to roll back over. Tallahassee stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
"I know I'm pretty fucking irresistible," he said, ignoring the boy's snort of disbelief, "But are you sure you're not better off fancying that girl of ours?"
Columbus frowned, staring up at Tallahassee with those eerie eyes, and shook his head. "Fuck if I know what I see in you."
Tallahassee sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, then he slid down into a comfortable position on his back and pulled Columbus into a, hopefully, comfortable position against him. He could feel the blush on the kid's skin, it burned through his shirt and branded him. He huffed out a breath and ran his fingers through Columbus' curls. Goddamn attached was what he was.
Fandom: Zombieland
Characters/Pairings: Tallahassee/Columbus, Wichita, Little Rock.
Word Count: 1932
Warnings: Foul language and slash.
Summary: He just didn't notice.
Notes: Done for the newly opened zombieland_kink - the new kink meme for the fandom. This is a response to this prompt. "Columbus/Tallahassee. Tallahassee just doesn't get it, and Wichita has to clue him in." Hopefully this was what the OP had in mind. Or something close to it.
---
Tallahassee let out an aggravated, uncomfortable growl and turned narrowed eyes on Columbus. It was impossible to clean his gun when the boy was staring holes in the side of his head. "What the hell you starin' at me for?"
Columbus flushed an ugly shade of red and stammered a bit before ducking out of the room they had opted to share. The house they'd cleaned out was small, two bedrooms, but a secure place to spend a night. They'd all been getting a little edgy sleeping sitting up in the SUV; a little crabby. Tallahassee watched the boy go, his brows lowering over his eyebrows in confusion.
"What the fuck?" he asked the empty room.
He grumbled confusedly to himself, returning to the task of cleaning his weapon. That boy was all sorts of strangeness wrapped up in human form. It wasn't the first time he'd caught him staring, either. It had been happening more often since they'd left Pacific Playland months prior, and at the strangest times. While he was driving, while he was killing zombies, and he'd woken up more than once with those eerily bright eyes focused on him. It was unsettling, to say the least.
Satisfied that his gun wouldn't jam up at an inopportune time, he slipped it into the holster that was always strapped around his waist, and stretched. It was getting dark out, and by his reckoning it was time for something to eat. He got off the bed and left the bedroom, heading downstairs to the kitchen. Wichita and Little Rock were perched on the counter side-by-side, and Columbus was cooking something that smelled surprisingly edible.
"Whatchu makin' there?" he asked, leaning in over the boy's shoulder to peek into the pot that was cooking on the camping stove they'd dug out of the basement.
Columbus glanced sideways at him, and he could see a flush working its way up the kid's neck. "Mac 'n' Cheese. There were some boxes of it in the pantry."
"And since it's made up mostly of chemicals, it's still good," Little Rock piped in, kicking her feet.
Columbus spared her a smile, giving the cheesy concoction a stir. "Where would we be without Kraft foods?"
"We would probably resort to cannibalism," Little Rock said. "Don't worry Columbus, we probably wouldn't eat you because you'd be stringy."
"Reassuring," Columbus muttered, turning off the stove and dishing the food out into four coffee cups with plastic forks.
Tallahassee took a large forkful, chewing it thoughtfully before swallowing and gesturing at Columbus with the utensil. "You'll make someone a good wife someday."
Wichita and her sister let out surprised laughs, and Columbus turned dark red in embarrassment. "You're cooking for yourself from now on."
Tallahassee guffawed, and Columbus scowled, and they ate their dinner in silence. Tallahassee could feel eyes on him again, and wasn't surprised to discover they belonged to a certain curly haired boy. Scarfing down his noodles quickly, the older man tossed his cup into the sink and raised an eyebrow at the people who had become his traveling companions.
"I saw a twister pad in the living room," he said, daring to smirk. "Bet'cha all I can beat yer asses."
Little Rock put a hand on his hip and looked at him in defiance, "Bet you're wrong, old man."
"Sounds like a challenge to me," Wichita said, smirking right back at him. "How about it, Columbus? Care to show this old fart what we young folk can do?"
Columbus let out a slight laugh, shaking his head, "I think I'll sit this one-"
"Nuh-uh," Tallahassee cut in. "You sat out last time."
Little Rock gave a vigorous nod. "You have to be on my team."
"Ain't no teams in Twister," Tallahassee said, turning a glare on her.
"House rules say there are," Little Rock said, sticking her tongue out in his direction.
With that settled, kind of, the four zombieland survivors adjourned to the living room, where Tallahassee busted out the Twister board. It wasn't long before they were a confused mass of limbs, and then it was just Tallahassee and Columbus left contorted on the mat. Right hand green, left foot red, right foot yellow, and left hand blue, Columbus was trying hard not to slide to the floor and lose. Tallahassee was tangled up over him, the older man resting precariously with his right foot on green, his left hand on blue, and his other two limbs hanging in limbo. Wichita and Little Rock were standing off to the side giving their respective teammates encouragement.
"Slipping," Columbus warned, his fingers sweating and beginning to slide across the mat.
Wichita spun the needle, "Left hand red."
Tallahassee moved to oblige, Columbus' arm gave out completely, and things got confusing. When he went down, the younger boys feet went out, one knocking into Tallahassee's knee and causing him to fall down as well. The older man landed square on top of his opponent, pushing the boy face down on the mat. In a the span of a heartbeat, Tallahassee had his face shoved into the soft curls at the back of Columbus' head, and one leg stuck awkwardly between his legs. Columbus let out a hiss of air, and Tallahassee pulled in a sharp breath as he rolled off the boy.
"I win," the older man said, feeling a wash of triumph come over him.
"What?!" Little Rock demanded, "No way, you fell on him!"
"Oh, Columbus totally knocked him down," Wichita argued, both girls crossing their arms over their chests and glaring.
"He wins," Columbus muttered from the floor, and Tallahassee could see that another dark flush had worked its way over the kid's skin.
He raised an eyebrow at him and nudged his thigh with the metal tip of his cowboy boot. "Y'alright? Lookin' a bit flushed there."
"Did he hurt you?" Little Rock demanded.
If it were possible, the flush darkened further, spreading down his neck. Tallahassee watched him stutter and stammer, eyebrows furrowing when he all but ran from the room to "go to sleep".
"What the hell's got into him?" the man asked, casting a befuddled gaze to the girls.
Wichita was staring after Columbus with a look of sympathy and pity etched across her face. She turned to her sister and frowned.
"Hey, can you make yourself scarce for a minute?"
Little Rock raised an eyebrow at her, then shrugged and disappeared towards their shared bedroom. Tallahassee watched Wichita shut the door to the living room behind her, then she turned to him and crossed her arms.
"Are you completely blind?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
Tallahassee glared at her, "What kinda question is that?"
"I'll take that as a no," she continued. "So you're just... stupid."
"Hey, now!" Tallahassee growled, crawling to his feet.
"Well, you're obviously not too intelligent," she muttered, "If you don't see what's wrong with him."
His growing anger with her was immediately replaced with a confused sort of concern. "Something's wrong with him. He sick?"
A look of horror came over his face, "He bit?"
Wichita sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. "He's besotted."
"Well, yeah," Tallahassee said, giving her a blank look, "Liked you since the first time you robbed us blind."
Wichita smirked, "Not me. I'm not quite... man enough for him."
Tallahassee stared at her dumbly for a second, his eyebrows nearly vanishing under the hat he never seemed to take off. "Wait just a goddamn second here. Me?"
"That's right," the girl said, bending down to pick up the twister mat and folding it slowly. "I told him not to get his hopes up. You're probably a total homophobe who used to beat the shit out of guys like him, but he thinks you're nice."
Tallahassee pointed a finger at her menacingly, "I am not a homophobe. Backwater hick, hell yes, but I ain't never raised a hand against nobody without good reason."
"And being a total fag for your... 'hot bod'" he could hear the air quotes, "Isn't a good reason?"
"No," he said, crossing his arms and staring at a spot on the wall.
"Good," Wichita said firmly, and his eyes snapped back to her, "Because if you make fun of him, hurt him, or otherwise damage his psyche over it, I'll feed you to the zombies."
That said, she shot him a cheerful smile and made her way out of the living room, leaving him alone to glare at the carefully folded twister mat she'd left by the couch. It took him a few minutes to rally himself, and then he made his slow way upstairs to the bedroom he and Columbus had claimed. The kid was laying on the bed on his stomach, head cradled on his folded arms, the only pillow that they'd found had been left untouched on the other half of the bed. A thoughtful gesture towards a friend, Tallahassee thought, his lips twisting into a frown despite the odd twist of gratefulness in his gut.
"You asleep?" he asked loudly, and Columbus shook his head without lifting it.
Moving towards the half of the bed that the kid had left open for him, Tallahassee sat down on top of the soft comforter and scooted up so that his back rested against the head board. He stared down at Columbus' back, eyes moving slowly to his curly hair.
"You have some sort of gay crush on me?" he asked bluntly, and watched as the back of the kids neck turned red. His silence only acted as further confirmation of the truth of Wichita's words.
He reached out and laid a hand on the back of Columbus' neck; the skin burned to the touch. "You shouldn't be getting attached, kid. Nothin' is forever in this shit hole apocalypse. Here today, undead tomorrow."
His words were gruff, but his thumb rubbed slow, soothing circles into his companion's skin. "If you get attached, you hesitate to pull the trigger when I'm running at you with the intent to eat you for dinner. That's how you die."
He felt the muscles under his hand tense up, then, "That's not going to happen."
"You don't know that," Tallahassee argued. "Hell, you could wake up tomorrow and Little Rock could be trying to eat us alive."
"Don't say that," Columbus said, rolling over and glaring up at him, the flush receding from his face.
"Because you're already attached," Tallahassee said, nodding slowly, "And the thought of either of them gone eats you up, don't it?"
"And it doesn't you?"Columbus challenged. "Could you pull a trigger on either of them, or on me, without hesitating?"
Tallahassee barked out a laugh, "Yes, but I'd feel pretty poorly afterward."
Columbus quirked an unamused smile, then made to roll back over. Tallahassee stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
"I know I'm pretty fucking irresistible," he said, ignoring the boy's snort of disbelief, "But are you sure you're not better off fancying that girl of ours?"
Columbus frowned, staring up at Tallahassee with those eerie eyes, and shook his head. "Fuck if I know what I see in you."
Tallahassee sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, then he slid down into a comfortable position on his back and pulled Columbus into a, hopefully, comfortable position against him. He could feel the blush on the kid's skin, it burned through his shirt and branded him. He huffed out a breath and ran his fingers through Columbus' curls. Goddamn attached was what he was.