(A/N):

Description: Pete and Patrick are in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. Inspired by The Walking Dead because I'm such trash for that show ;-)))

Word Count: 1342

Also thank you all SO FUCKING MUCH FOR 10K READS OMG. You all mean so fucking much to me, you're like my little children ndnddjdj

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"I think we should go into town in the morning, we're running low on food." Patrick sighed, walking out of the kitchen and into the living room, were Pete was peeking out of the boarded up windows. Pete just nodded, he was to focused on the walker across the street. It was their neighbour, Mrs. Jackson.

She use to come over almost ever week, she loved baking so she'd bring one of her newest creations to all of the neighbours on the street. But right now she was stumbling around, her head flicking every which way as she listened for anything. "I can't believe she's gone," Patrick said quietly, coming beside Pete.

"It's not like she would've made it anyway, she lived alone with three cats. Hell, she probably ate them." Pete muttered, stepping away form the window. He closed the curtains and turned to Patrick. "C'mon, let's go get some rest." Patrick nodded and followed Pete to the couch.

Pete lay down, Patrick getting beside him. It wasn't the most comfortable position, but the two didn't care. They were just happy to be together in the middle of this big mess.

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The two woke up to the sound of banging on the front door. Pete quietly jumped up and grabbed his .357 Magnum Revolver off of the coffee table. He crept to the front door, motioning for Patrick to be quiet before peeking out of the peephole.

Pete's stomach dropped at who, or what he saw. It was their eleven year old neighbour from two doors down, Aidan. Pete and Patrick use to babysit him when his parents were away. They'd all go outside and jump on the trampoline, or go on walks to the arcade and stay there until they ran out of tokens.

"Who is it?" Patrick whispered, his machete in his hands. The one he had bought three years ago, just because he thought it would look good on the wall. Pete didn't want him buying it, saying it was a waste of money and that he could hurt himself, or someone else, if he played with it.

But right now it was one of the most useful they owned at the moment. "It's Aidan." Pete replied quietly, not looking at Patricks face. He knew the other man would be sad, he thought of Aidan as their own son, considering they couldn't have their own. Unless they adopted, but the two hadn't really considered that.

"Are you going to um, kill him?" Patrick asked, walking over. Pete shook his head. "He'll leave eventually, let's just ignore him until he does." Patrick agreed and the two went back to the couch, cuddling together once again.

As Patrick fell asleep in Petes embrace the latter of the two stayed awake, listening to the shuffling of feet as Aidan made his way back down the steps of the front porch. Pete looked down at his sleeping husband, his fingers tracing his face as he watched him.

Pete had lost his family and friends to those monsters outside. The only person he had left was Patrick, the love of his life. He didn't know what he'd do without the man. He'd probably go on a rampage and kill anything he saw, finishing with himself.

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"Are you ready?" Patrick asked, tucking his machete into its holder that was hooked onto his belt. "Yeah, let's go." Pete replied, grabbing his revolver and going to the front door. He peeked out, seeing nothing on the porch. "It's clear." He said, unlocking the deadbolt and opening the door.

The two walked out into the fresh air, both taking deep breaths, considering they haven't been outside in five days. They walked down the path that led to the sidewalk before stepping into the street.

They walked in silence, just focusing on getting to the convenience store safely. "Fuck, over there." Pete said, pointing to the parking lot of the store. A couple walkers were stumbling around, but other than that there weren't any others in sight.

"I'll take the girl, you take the guy." Patrick said, getting out his machete. The two ran at the walkers, Pete stabbing the male in the head with the knife he kept on hand, and Patrick cutting off the top half of the girls head.

"We need to hurry, before others come." Pete said, cautiously pushing open the broken glass door that led into the store. Patrick followed behind him, the two stopping for a moment to listen for any indication that they weren't alone. "It's quite, I think we're alone." Patrick said eventually.

The two parted ways, Patrick looking for food and drinks while Pete stocked up on health care and hygienic items. Patrick walked through the aisles, grabbing cans of different fruits and vegetables. Along with bread, water, a box of pop tarts, and other things.

A few aisles away Pete was getting toothpaste, first aid kits, some candy, some magazines, and other, more important items. "Look what I found," Pete said, walking over to Patrick, a box of condoms in his hand. "Oh my god," Patrick muttered, rolling his eyes and walking away from the chuckling man.

"Okay, do we need anything else?" Patrick asked, putting the items into the duffle bag he'd brought. "No, I think we have everything." Pete answered, putting his items in a backpack he found in the office behind the counter.

"Here, let me get that." Pete said, taking the duffel bag form his husband, who seemed to be struggling a bit. The two walked out the front door after checking for any walkers, but thankfully it was all clear.

The two were walking back home, a comfortable silence between them. "Over there," Patrick whisper-yelled, pointing to a walker that was walking onto their porch. "It's Gerard." Pete said, watching as the walker stumbled into the deck chair and almost fell down the steps.

Gerard's head suddenly snapped up, his yellow eyes landing on the two men. "I got him." Patrick said, pulling out his machete and running towards him. He waited until Gerard stumbled off of the porch and made his way onto the street, before swinging his machete and decapitating Gerard.

He let out the breath he was holding and turned back to Pete, just in time to see a walker coming up behind him. "Pete! Turn around!" He screamed, running towards the man. But it was to late, as Pete dropped the bag to turn around the walker grabbed Pete and bit his shoulder.

Pete let out a scream as Patrick ran over, his machete going straight into the walkers skull. "Pete, no no no, it's okay, you'll be okay." Patrick cried, putting Petes arms around him. "P-Patrick, you need to go." Pete choked out, tears falling down his cheeks.

"No, I'm not leaving you. You can't die, it's okay. Everything will be okay." Patrick cried, helping Pete to the house. They tripped on the steps and fell onto the porch, Petes head now in Patricks lap. "Please, please don't die." Patrick cried, an endless stream of tears leaving his eyes.

"You know what's going to happen, baby. You need to kill me, before I turn and hurt you." Pete whispered, his shaky hand holding out his knife. "No, I can't." Patrick whispered, his whole world collapsing as he watched the blood pouring from his husbands neck and shoulder.

"You need to. Please just do it, for me." Pete begged, "Don't let me suffer." Patrick shakily took the knife from Petes hand. "I love you." Patrick whispered. And before Pete had a chance to answer Patrick dug the knife into Pete's head, all life draining right out of him.

Patricks let out a sob as he looked at Pete, his eyes were staring blankly into the air. "I'm so sorry, I-I'm so sorry." He whimpered, rubbing his tears away with the back of his hand, which only smeared blood onto his face. "I love you so much," he said, his voice cracking as he stroked Pete's face.