Keeping Score

Drake VonTrapp

Written for a combination Christmas/birthday present for my waifu Chelsea. I love you, waiiifuuuu~ Please enjoy yous porns.

First it was that mouth. Before Nick even knew the boy's name, his eyes seemed to never leave that perfect, full pout. Boys weren't supposed to have such pretty mouths, but Ellis had a damn pretty mouth. His lips were supple and bitable, stretched out to reveal a smile that was cuter than Nick liked to admit.

Then he started talking.

And Nick sort of wanted to shoot himself.

At the beginning it was because the kid never seemed to shut up. It didn't matter if they were fighting a horde, rummaging for supplies, beating down a Tank — hell, the kid fucken talked in his sleep. Nick hardly got a chance to think and acted mostly on impulse and adrenaline and less on strategy due to the fact that it was hard to formulate a plan when Ellis was running his mouth. Constantly.

After a few days, though, it was less because he was talking (Nick had learned to tune him out by then) and more the fact that he was talking about Keith. Keith this, Keith that, oh, did I ever tell y'all bout this one time my buddy Keith ran butt nekkid through the neighbor's cornfields? Man oh man! God damn, it was like Ellis was in love with this Keith guy or something.

That was precisely why it infuriated him so much.

Okay, so Nick had no claim on the boy or anything, so he knew in his mind that he had no business getting jealous. Not to mention the fact that they were in a fucking zombie apocalypse, and you didn't want to get attached to someone who could die the next day — hell, the next thirty minutes.

But Nick had.

He kicked himself for it over and over again, almost tempted to shoot himself in the foot. It made just about as much sense. Nick wasn't a stranger to the 'other side of the fence', per se. He wasn't gay by any means, but when he wanted a lay, he wasn't particular on what was in his partner's pants so long as they knew how to use it and left before the sheets dried.

Nick didn't do so well with relationships (case in point, ex-wife). People were too clingy, too obnoxious, too bland, not sexually active enough for his tastes, etcetera.

So why the hell was he so attracted to Ellis?

He was loud, talkative, had a stupidly endearing accent, and had a trigger-happy attitude. He was perky and treated the apocalypse like a video game or something instead of a constant fight for their lives. For some reason, the boy never left his mind for more than a second.

And all Ellis could do was talk about stupid, reckless, fucken Keith.

Nick could ignore his feelings. He was good at that. In his trade, you had to learn a bit of that. Poker face and all that jazz. He made up excuses for his feelings, such as it was an apocalypse. Sanity and emotions weren't to be trusted in such a stressful situation, and relationships born from traumatic events never lasted. That one worked for a while. Another one: It wasn't jealousy he was feeling; he was simply annoyed with the boy's constant jabber in general, and it had nothing whatsoever to do with (fucken idiot, douche bag) Keith.

That last one was a complete and total lie, but he could ignore it and learn to make himself believe it. Likewise, this worked for a while too.

Then they found rescue.

The chopper (with an immune pilot this time, thankfully) flew them to their first evacuation stop. It was in a sterile, walled-off facility where 'preliminary' survivors were taken to be tested. If they were found to be infected, they were dealt with. If they were clean and immune, they were sent to the secondary facility overseas where the infection had yet to spread.

First, you were separated into gender groups, then age groups. This effectively broke their team up, save for Nick and Coach, who were in the same age group. Second was the infection test. You were stuck with a fat needle in your bicep like a damn turkey thermometer, and if you passed the test you were sent to the showers. Nick didn't like to think about the alternative.

Assuming you passed the first test, you were stripped and hosed down, your clothes burned. Nick would miss that suit, but well, it was pretty much trashed anyway. You were given a set of scrubs and sent out on the next ship to the UK. However, ships came about every three weeks, so there was generally a pretty long wait.

This found Nick in the mess hall, thankfully back together with Rochelle and Coach. He didn't know how he'd feel if they'd ended up being infected and had to be… disposed of. While he didn't like to consider them 'friends', he'd still rather sit with them than alone or with a group of complete strangers. At least Rochelle and Coach were familiar. But he noticed Ellis wasn't with them, nor did he appear to be at another table. Nick's heart leapt into his throat as he sat down, keeping his poker face intact, but inwardly dreading.

Nick thought he'd die of relief when he saw Ellis walk through the mess hall doors.

He was hatless and much cleaner than the last time Nick had seen him, but that was to be expected. The absence of the hat showed off more of his face, and while Nick appreciated his handsome features, he didn't quite like it. Ellis wasn't Ellis without his hat, and it just seemed wrong. He could tell that Ellis felt the same way, almost looked like a different person without the blue trucker hat — but Nick could never mistake that mouth.

Rochelle turned to see what Nick had been staring at and, upon spotting their old teammate, was about to call out to him… but someone beat her to it.

"Hoooo-lee shit, Ellis! Is that you, you sly sumbitch?"

Nick, mood immediately darkened, whipped his head around to see the offender who had caught Ellis's attention. A young man at another table abruptly stood up, pushing his seat backwards in the process, and bolted over to Ellis and grappled him in an epic man hug. He was tall, tanned, had reddish hair, and a wide… not-exactly-ugly smile, Nick had to admit with no small amount of annoyance. There was no doubt in his mind that this man was the infamous Keith. And if that were true, then this was some crazy bastard.

"Oh shit, man!" Ellis crowed in return. "Aw man, I didn't think I'd ever see your face again, Keith," he continued as he hugged the man back with equal fervor. The hug lasted longer than was normal for a traditional man hug, Nick thought. Too long. And Keith was too tall. He glared daggers into Keith's skull as he clung to Ellis, telling himself that he wasn't jealous. He was just disgusted with such a public display of affection.

Finally the two parted, and they shared a lingering look, one that was almost romantic. 'Would they stop making a scene already?' Nick thought nastily, spearing a piece of his meal onto his fork. 'Meal' was putting it glamorously. It was more like slop; he wasn't even sure this was real meat or not. Vegetable glop, fruit glop, meat glop, and coffee sludge. How delightful.

Ellis finally seemed to notice their group and — oh crap, he was bringing Keith — made his way over to them with the dumbest grin on his stupidstupidcutefacedamnit. Nick tried to ignore Keith's existence completely and focus solely on Ellis.

"Hey, y'all, this here is my buddy Keith! Now, Keith, this is Ro', Coach, and Nick," he pointed out respectively. "Oho man, Keith, you gotta hear about the crazy shit we been through!"

"It's a pleasure to meet y'all," Keith said politely, his southern twang nearly worse than Ellis's. He shook Rochelle and Coach's hands, and when he held his hand out to Nick the gambler stared him down for a moment before warily grasping it. He was pretty sure the southerner got the message that Nick was not friendly territory. He gave Keith a lingering gaze — a mix of suspicious, disinterested, and judgmental — before turning back to his meat glop, proceeding to ignore Keith's presence and focus on his crappy food as Ellis relayed story after story of their apocalyptic adventures.

Keith kept looking back at him, though; Nick could sense it. He knew he was being watched, and he chose to not meet the other's eyes and let Keith study him as much as he wanted. Let the dumb redneck see how completely uninterested he was. What did he care?

Keith, however, immediately sensed the man's hostility and was intrigued. Keith knew he was charming and friendly, so it wasn't often that people just straight up disliked him upon meeting him. There had to be another reason; he just had to figure out what it was.

Ellis wasn't no queer or nothin', but he sure thought Nick had the prettiest eyes he'd ever seen. They were sharp like crystal, matching the man's sharp wit, but colored like fluffy storm clouds. The other pair of eyes Ellis was particularly fond of was Keith's, who had bright amber eyes; they reminded Ellis of honey.

Alright, maybe he was a little queer, but that was the way God made him so he didn't feel no shame for it.

This was how Ellis justified his thoughts towards Nick. His feelings were vaguely fuzzy and he tried not to focus on them too much — didn't want to get distracted and end up on the business end of a Charger's rampage or nothin'.

The only way Ellis knew how to cope with stress and anxiety was conversation. Not necessarily in-depth discussions, but as long as he was talkin' about somethin' then he wasn't focusing on his stress, and it made him feel better. Silence made him think, and thinking led to worrying, and worrying led to distraction. Seeing as distraction could cause you to accidentally stumble over a Witch, the foursome liked to remain undistracted and whatnot.

It was real easy to talk about Keith. Just about everything in this whole apocalypse was reminiscent of something Keith had done. More times than not, he was wishing Keith was there with him, making their quartet and fivesome. They'd have the time of their lives, apocalypse or no.

That, and him and Ellis had been extremely close before the whole Infection. They truly were best friends, and they'd seen each other at their bests and worsts, like when Keith's daddy got drunk and got real mean and Keith'd run away and end up in Ellis's room at three in the morning, silently letting Ellis comfort him. Like when Ellis had graduated high school at Keith's insistence and they had a huge party. Like how during the party Keith kissed him and it tasted like the cake his momma had made and Ellis couldn't stop at just a kiss. It had always been like that.

When the Infection hit Savannah, Ellis and Keith were both in the hospital — Keith had busted his ribs up somethin' fierce when he tried riding a unicycle and ended up crashing into the hood of a moving car; Ellis was tryin' to make the pain go away with kisses. Keith claimed it worked, even though Ellis knew he was lyin' through his teeth (it still made him feel better, though).

They'd evacuated the hospitals first, which meant Keith had gone with CEDA to the Clean Zone. Ellis had to tearfully let Keith go without him as the military informed him that there was no more room for him on this flight out, since the sick took priority. They directed him to another evacuation zone at the hotel a few blocks away. Ellis steeled himself and hauled ass to the hotel and nearly broke down when he realized the evac plane was leaving without him.

All he could do was hope.

He thought about Keith constantly, hopin' he was all right and made it out safely, that he hadn't been infected. Ellis didn't know what he would do if he lost Keith. Sure, he had other friends, but Keith was always his number one, and always would be. He'd shared a lot of firsts with Keith: first kiss, first broken bone, first time…

Then there was Nick.

He was a sourpuss and kept interrupting him and calling him Overalls (and damnit, they were coveralls, not overalls; he wasn't that much of a hick), but Ellis liked him. His sarcastic comments were so bland and dry that they were hilarious. It was almost adorable the way he'd try in vain to clean his suit jacket off after zombie bits got all over it, even though they both knew there was no hope for it. Even though Nick was an ornery jackass sometimes, he was still their teammate — and he still had pretty eyes.

Those feelings he had for Keith didn't diminish, not one bit, but upon teaming up with Nick and company, he found that Keith wasn't the only boy Ellis was sweet on. This realization made Ellis feel like the worst friend in the world. He loved Keith as a best friend and a lover, and he could feel himself falling similarly for Nick.

It felt like betrayal — betrayal to Keith and his feelings and his memories.

Like he was abandoning Keith's memory, someone he might never see again, for someone new and exciting. He tried to tell himself that it wasn't like that at all, but it felt suspiciously like cheating, even though him and Keith had never agreed to any exclusivity; it was just natural that they never strayed from each other.

Why did Nick have to go and screw everything up?

CEDA offered little in the way of entertainment for the uninfected. It had a measly library, some TV sets, simple things like that. For Nick, though, this stuff was pointless.

But then he found cards. Cards Nick could entertain himself with.

And thus found Nick playing many a game of poker and Black Jack with the other survivors. Of course he won pretty much every hand, except the few he botched on purpose so people wouldn't suspect his cheating. Under Nick's cot in his tent (cheap military bastards) was a plethora of little things he'd won, some more useful than others. More often than not they gambled with little things: nuts and bolts, washers, pennies, small pieces of candy, bullet shells.

Then there were more… useful things. Things the craftier people had managed to sneak or steal.

Cigarettes, alcohol, gun parts, condoms (Nick had rolled his eyes at that one), keys. Nick made sure to play extra cunningly during these particular matches. Thanks to this, he now had a couple bottles of whiskey, three packs of cigarettes, a Zippo lighter, almost an entire pistol, and an assload of candy (he gave most of it to Coach).

Nick spent most of his free time with cards, since there were always takers. Always someone new to trick. A new way to focus on something except the way Ellis and Keith were connected at the fucken' hip.

Since they'd made it to the Clean Zone, Ellis and Keith had been nearly inseparable. Coach and Rochelle were often with them, and they seemed to have accepted Keith as part of their group. Nick, however, had not, and if Keith was around (which was most times), then Nick was not. He'd effectively distanced himself from his former group of almost-friends, hoping it would help him get over his stupid, girly feelings for Ellis and move on with his life.

Of fucken' course it didn't work that way.

Ellis and Keith always found him, conning as usual, and would ask if he wanted to join them in something (lunch, some dumb game, some menial job), to which he would always pointedly decline. Ellis's grin would always falter, making Nick's stomach lurch with regret because damnit he didn't want to let Ellis go, but this had to be done, had to be for the best.

"Well, alright then," he'd always reply with an adorably broken look on his face, shoulders drooping. "I'll see ya around, Nick."

And then Keith would look at him. It wasn't a glare or a reprimand, but a studying look. His eyes had more intelligence in them than Nick cared to notice in some country boy, but it was undeniably there; it made him feel naked and exposed, like his lie was the most obvious thing in the world, even though Nick knew his poker face was unfaltering.

The next time he saw Keith, he was without Ellis.

Nick had been dealing cards in a game of Black Jack, and thus far nothing of value was being used as chips. There was a burly looking man, some weird kid with too many piercings and a weird haircut, and a stringy woman who needed a good meal and a shower. Suckers, the lot of them. He'd already collected a handful of dried peas and some gum, and that was without using a single trick. Pathetic.

"We-he-heeell, if it ain't Mr. Gamblin' man."

Fuck. Why did God hate him?

"Place your bet or fuck off, hick," Nick replied coldly, more coldly than normal since Ellis wasn't around. Keith just smirked at him, making Nick's stomach turn to ice.

"I think I've got a lil' somethin'a value," he replied casually as he sat down on the ground next to overly pierced boy. Keith reached into the neck of his scrubs and pulled out an old-fashioned Polaroid. The back of it was to Nick, hiding the picture's image, until Keith flicked it onto the ground in front of him.

It was a photograph of Ellis.

Nick stared at it unabashedly, poker face strictly intact, but inwardly marveling. Ellis looked younger in this photo, probably seventeen or so, and had the cutest smile. He was obviously captured mid-laugh, as his mouth was partially open and his eyes were nearly shut, head slightly tipped back. Ellis's mouth was as pouty then as it was now, though that was no surprise, and Nick found himself transfixed with it as he always was.

"He sure is purdy, ain't 'e?" Keith's voice abruptly halted Nick's musings. His boltgun eyes snapped up to stare into Keith's innocent yet devilish amber ones.

"Why?" Nick asked, his poisonous voice tinged with curiosity. Keith shrugged.

"Call it Southern hospitality." He grinned, his tan cheeks dimpling in a way that Nick could see Ellis would find attractive.

"Hit me."

And thus started the cutthroat battle between dealer and player. Keith wasn't as dumb as his accent and upbringing would lead others to believe, and honestly gave Nick a run for his money. Of course Nick proved to be the best and had eventually won the photo for himself, which he took a good, long stare at once it was handed over. Keith didn't look the least bit upset that he'd lost, though. In fact, he looked rather pleased with himself.

"Ah well, can't always win, can we?" he offered in a friendly tone, standing up and brushing the fronts of his pants. "I best be off, then. Got no more t'gamble with. See ya around, Nick." He waved and wandered off, leaving Nick slightly confused yet victorious. He closed the game off for the day and took his winnings to his tent to think.

What was Keith's motive? Why did he willingly gamble away a photo of his best friend, something he must have sneaked past CEDA? What was his fucken' deal? Nick pondered all this as he gazed at Ellis's photo, faded a bit with age and wrinkled a bit, but still clear enough to convey every emotion on the boy's face.

It was going to be really hard to ignore him after this.

Keith kept coming back to Nick's games, every day without falter, with some pointless thing to gamble. Every time he lost, though, he'd tell Nick something about Ellis.

"His favorite color's red. Not like, fire engine red, but like that dark red that's on bricks 'n stuff."

"He hates pickles and mustard, but he looooves 'sketti, 'specially the way his mama makes it."

"He likes poetry. Caint write it fer shit, though."

And other little tidbits of information that were seemingly meaningless, but somehow seemed like pearls of wisdom to Nick. He mentally filed them all away, making sure not to take the information for granted. Even if he told himself he didn't care because Ellis was in the past and it was stupid to be telling Nick these things, he knew he'd never forget a single word. But Keith was making it far too hard to forget about Ellis with all his damn stories.

On the sixth day of Keith playing in Nick's games and intentionally losing, Nick finally had enough. After he'd lost, as per usual, he was telling Nick the next bit of Ellis trivia.

"He's real sensitive behind the ears."

This made Nick's eyebrows shoot up. This was the first secret of its nature Keith had told him. Everything thus far had been about his preferences or his quirks, but this was far more obvious. It further encouraged Nick to find out why the hell Keith was telling him these things.

He dismissed the game and left his loot on the ground where he won it, favoring instead to grab Keith's scrub sleeve and pull him all the way into the men's bathroom. He slammed the door closed and pushed the hick against the white tiled wall, eyes piercing.

"What the hell is your deal, kid?" he spat, pushing him further up the wall on 'hell'. Keith just smiled.

"I reckon you're awful sweet on Ellis," he replied honestly. "Just tryin' t'help things along, is all."

"Yeah? Well, stop helping and get the fuck away from me. I don't give a shit about you or him, so quit bothering me." Nick's voice was deadly and thick with lies. Keith's perpetually friendly expression turned dark suddenly, startling Nick — he hadn't suspected the boy was capable of looking anything but dopey and carefree. He was proven horribly wrong, though, as Keith's knee connected painfully with Nick's hip flexor, dead legging him. It forced the man to lose his footing crash onto his backside, clutching his leg and waiting for some feeling to get back into it.

Keith knelt next to him and spoke in poisonously clear words: "Don't you fucken dare talk about El that way, ya damn yankee. Now, I ain't got a clue why Ellis likes you so damn much, but he does and…" Keith swallowed, his deadly voice switching to something more pained. "And bein' his best friend, I want what's best for 'im. I want him to be happy, even if it ain't with me no more."

Ah, there it was.

"I don't blame'm — or you, for that matter — but if he ain't gonna want me no more, least I can do is make damn sure he gets who he does want. Fer some reason, that's you, Mister Gamblin' Man." At this, Keith hooked his elbows under Nick's armpits and hauled him up. At first Nick was impressed at his strength, being able to lift someone as a dead weight back onto their feet from the ground. Then he remembered that his leg was still tingling and numb and had to lean on the hick for balance.

"So," Keith continued, supporting Nick's weight completely, causing their faces to come within inches of each other. Nick glared as hard as he could, clutching the man's arms for stability. "I suggest you start romancin' him real soon-like. What with you ignorin' him n' all, Ellis is startin' t'think you don't like him no more. Seein' as we both know that ain't true, I reckon you best start fixin' this unfortunate misunderstandin'."

His words were sickly sweet in a way that said, 'If you don't do what I say I'll beat the crap out of you'. Nick was inclined to believe it. But it wasn't in his nature to submit.

"You're not worried I'm gonna hurt him? Big, bad city slicker, conman, heartbreaker, asshole?" Nick's smirk was sharp like a blade. Sharp like his wit.

"Aw fuck, Nick, we all know that's just a mask. Only reason people become that way's b'cause they didn't get enough lovin'. On the inside, I bet yer just a lil' child, beggin' for hugs 'n kisses 'n shit. It don't fool me none. Ellis is as sweet as apple pie; you can't help but fall in love with him. No one can. I reckon all you need is a lil' sugar, Nick. Trust me, Ellis has plenty." Keith let Nick go at his last statement, letting the man get his feet back under him.

Nick hated this man more than he thought was humanly possible. What, now he was a fucken' psychologist? A psychic? Who the hell did he think he was, trying to read Nick like that?

'Do I hate him because he's talking like he thinks he knows me?' Nick wondered as he breathed heavily, restraining himself from decking the hick in the jaw. 'Or do I hate him because he's pretty much dead-on?'

Nick wasn't sure how to act now. His first instinct was to kick the shit out of Keith, punch something, smoke a cigarette, anything but think of how Keith's words affected him. Anything but admit Keith was right. Anything but thinking about Ellis.

"You can't help but fall in love with him."

Fuck. He was right.

But that didn't stop Nick from wanting to beat him into next week.

With an enraged roar, Nick charged Keith, effectively surprising him enough to allow Nick a good shove. He smirked at the satisfying crack Keith's head made when it came in contact with the tile wall, even got a decent punch to his cheek before Keith could retaliate. The redhead seemed more intent on getting Nick off him rather than actually damaging him, managing to shove the man away.

"Look, man, ya don't wanna get into this right now—"

"Don't talk to me like you know me! You don't know a goddamn thing about me!" Nick hollered, wishing he had something to throw. He settled for aiming a punch at Keith's stomach. The southerner clenched his stomach muscles enough to cushion the blow so he kept his air in his lungs, but it still throbbed like hell. He flinched, elbowed Nick in the side of the head enough to get some distance between them again.

Nick's head was swimming. Keith's blow had made him a little dizzy, but all he could focus on was how much he wanted the man dead. It was his fault Ellis never shut up, his fault Ellis had paid less attention to him, his fault Nick's head was so fucked up over this damn love-hate thing he had for the boy, and damnit, it was just… his fault! All his fault!

"It's all—your—fault!" Nick clenched his fists at his sides and screamed, his voice echoing off the tile. He'd probably attract some CEDA agents, but he didn't fucking care at this point. Once again, Nick lunged for Keith, but he was ready this time. He caught Nick at the shoulders, able to hold him at arm's length, but Nick's hands still scrabbled for purchase on his neck. He clutched Keith's biceps in return, trying to overpower him, even though he knew it was futile.

He heard the bathroom door open.

"What the fuck is goin' on in here— Nick, Keith, what the hell!"

Suddenly a pair of hands were separating the two, more with his presence than his strength, but enough to break up the fight.

Nick looked into the sky blue eyes of Ellis, looking at the two of them like they were insane. Nick probably looked a bit mentally unstable at the moment, so it wasn't totally uncalled for. Keith pushed his hair off his face and breathed hard, grasping Ellis's bicep.

"Do it, Nick," Keith encouraged, moving behind Ellis and holding him still by his shoulders. Ellis looked alarmed, trying to face Keith, but he was a bit stronger than Ellis and managed to keep him rooted.

"What the hell, Keith? Lemme go!" Ellis tried to pull out of Keith's grip, but was unable.

"Nick," Keith repeated, looking at Nick significantly. Nick looked like a deer in the headlights, eyes darting between Keith and Ellis, who was still fighting to get free.

This was his chance. His chance to show Keith up, to claim Ellis as his own, and Keith was just giving it to him.

Without further encouragement, Nick closed in on Ellis, silenced his protests with a kiss. Ellis's resistance abruptly ended, eyes completely wide as Nick cradled his face and gently kissed his upper lip, then his lower lip. Nick's heart pounded and the blood rushed in his ears so loudly he couldn't hear himself think, but eventually Ellis responded under him, eyes closing and lips reciprocating and fuck that mouth was just as soft as it looked — softer, even.

Keith's hands stopped clutching and started caressing up and down Ellis's arms, soothing him. Ellis's hands found Nick's hips, his waist, his back, his chest. One of Nick's hands went to the back of the boy's head, buried his fingers in the dark brown curls, enjoying the feel of the soft hair. Soft lips, soft hair, soft skin; was there anything on this boy that wasn't soft?

Then Ellis molded his body against Nick's, drawing their hips together.

Well. That certainly wasn't soft.

Ellis had been the happiest fool in the world when he set eyes on Keith, felt his embrace, those firm muscles, the smell of his hair. Ellis wanted to drown in it, allow Keith to ravish him and cuddle him and tell him it was all right now.

But then he remembered Nick.

Ellis had tortured himself over his growing fondness for the northerner, but had eventually decided that he couldn't possibly like him back. He'd made it pretty fucken' clear by how he was treating him after they'd been rescued. Every time Ellis had made an attempt to get closer to him, he was pushed away or brushed off or flat out ignored. It was an icy stake in his heart, deflating him like a balloon and killing his spirit.

Keith stayed by his side and kept him distracted, for the most part. More often than not the redhead was sharing Ellis's cot, listening to his stories and holdin' him tight. It should have been a dream come true, two lovers separated by an apocalypse reunited in the end, happily ever after. Roll credits.

But it wasn't; it couldn't be.

Keith had been with him every time Nick had shot him down, noticed every one of Ellis's microexpressions, his heightening depression, the sad shade in his eyes. Keith knew Ellis had fallen for the older man and there was nothing he could do to make him feel better. Ellis loved too easily and was hurt too easily. He knew that about himself, and while his momma had always told him it wasn't nothin' to be frowned upon, sometimes Ellis wished he could harden himself to heartbreak.

Eventually, Keith started asking about Nick. Ellis couldn't lie to him, knowin' full well that he'd be able to tell right away. He also knew that no matter what Keith would stay by his side, even if they didn't end up staying together romantically. And so Ellis confessed everything he was feeling, all his woes and pains. It was a little embarrassing, but he felt better after admitting everything.

Keith kept encouraging Ellis to talk to Nick, try to get him to come out of his shell, but no matter what Ellis did, he remained ornery and distant.

'Well, a'course he is. He's some big time city slicker an' I'm just a stupid redneck t'him. He'd prolly laugh at me if I said anything.'

For some reason Keith had been disappearing for an hour or so at a time during the afternoons when him and Ellis would normally catch a show on one of the TVs. He kept claiming he was doin' some chore of some sort, but Ellis started to feel abandoned by him too. He could tell he was being completely irrational — he had Coach and Rochelle, after all — but it seemed like all the people he had feelings for kept goin' away. He soon decided it wasn't fair, after the sixth day.

One day, Keith was gone for much longer than normal. Ellis got fed up with waitin' for e'm and ended up following after him. There was a deck of cards on the floor behind the mess hall building, remains of a poker game if the random assortment of screws, bolts, and potato chips were any clue. But where the hell had Keith gone? He'd checked everywhere else.

Then he heard muffled shouting from the bathroom. It couldn't be.

Ellis raced over to the door and flung it open, finding no one else but Nick and Keith wrestling with each other like a couple of pit bulls. He'd immediately gone over to break up the fight, feeling sort of left out in the process. So they'd been spending time with each other while Ellis had been alone. Way to make a guy feel appreciated. His heart sunk into his stomach and he felt like he'd throw up and faint at the same time.

"What the hell is goin' on in here?" he demanded, prying their arms off each other. "Nick, Keith, what the hell?"

He wanted to throw accusations, wanted to scream about his betrayal and his stupid feelings. He didn't have the chance, however, when Keith went from holding Nick down to holding Ellis, grasping his biceps almost painfully.

"Do it, Nick," Keith had said. What the fuck was he talkin' about? Do what?

Ellis's immediate reaction to being held down was to try and break free, but Keith was physically bigger and stronger than he was — always had been, probably always would be — and Ellis was just too weak to throw him off. He felt trapped and helpless, which seemed a bit ironic seeing as he'd been kicking zombie ass over the last few weeks.

"What the hell, Keith?" Ellis tried in vain and pull free, to jerk away, but he was held fast. "Lemme go!"

Keith repeated himself to Nick, further confusing Ellis as to what he was talking about. What was he asking Nick to do? Ellis stopped jerking around and faced Nick just in time to be kissed.

Kissed. By Nick. On the mouth. He thought his chest might expand with so much joy that it would simply pop. For a few seconds all he could do was stand dumbly with his eyes wide open, frozen in place. Then he started to feel the warmth of Nick's hands on his face, the insistence of his lips, the passion, and he started to melt.

Once his hands came in contact with Nick's muscular torso, Ellis was almost immediately, painfully hard. God, it had been so long since he'd had this intimacy, felt this overwhelming need. He tried not to think about the fact that Keith had never gotten him this worked up so fast.

Keith, on the other hand, was wondering what he should do now. Leave them be? Stand in the corner and watch? Would that be creepy of him? Yeah, prolly. He idly stroked up Ellis's arms, not knowing what else he should do, when apparently Nick's tongue did something fucken' fantastic because Ellis just moaned. Keith's manhood decided it was quite interested in that sound, and he found himself unable to not touch Ellis. His hands wormed under the other's shirt, feeling the hard muscle there, and kissed him riiiiight there behind his ear.

Bingo.

Ellis fucken' undulated and moaned almost like it was painful, prompting Keith to do that some more. Fuck Nick; he'd show him how it was done. Keith's eyes flickered up to Nick's, noting that the man had ceased kissing and was watching him. His eyes burned with lust, mouth parted slightly as he breathed deeply, captivated by how Keith's actions had such a strong affect.

Hmm. Interesting, Nick thought. Well, Keith had said that was Ellis's most sensitive spot.

Mimicking the redhead, Nick's mouth descended on Ellis's again for a quick nip to that kiss-reddened bottom lip, then to his earlobe, and finally brushed his lips over the dip behind his other ear. Ellis trembled, eyes half-way closed and breath coming out in short, hard pants. Keith had stopped and now watched as Nick eversogently pressed a featherlight kiss behind the boy's ear. Ellis whined, wishing they'd stop fucken teasing him and get on with it.

Nick smirked and resumed more roughly, planting sloppy, open-mouthed kisses interspersed with hard suction and light, teasing licks, driving Ellis up the wall. Keith mirrored Nick's smirk and reattached his mouth to Ellis's neck.

Ellis nearly lost it as the two started on his neck at the same time, squirming and mewling uncontrollably, his pants far too tight his shirt wayyy too hot. His knees started buckling, so fucken turned on that he couldn't sustain his weight, and he started sagging backwards into Keith as the two men continued to ravish him.

"Ohgodohgodohgod…" Ellis panted, fisting his hands in Nick's shirt. Nick left a couple love bruises on Ellis's neck to make fucking sure he didn't forget who won this battle, and with one last bite, left the boy's neck to survey the damage. "Niiiiick," he whined, eyes pleading and cheeks flushed in a way Nick couldn't fucking stand and he had to kiss him again.

Keith licked a stripe up Ellis's neck before he too left it alone, smiling dazedly at the number of red hickies they'd left on his neck. Moving down, the redhead lifted Ellis's shirt up to his underarms, but Ellis wasn't willing to detach himself from Nick's mouth long enough to take it off. This upset him a little, seeing the two of them so intimate together, replacing him, but… at least he got to be part of this now.

Nick felt the eyes on his and broke the kiss, seeing everything in Keith's gaze. Part of him understood, but most of him didn't care. Ellis was his, and that was just how it was gonna be. Nick didn't share.

"Enjoying the show, carrot top?" he snarled.

"Every bit, yankee," he replied with equal snark, hitching Ellis's shirt up a little higher. Nick's eyes were immediately drawn to the younger man's cut torso, decorated with scratches and bruises, some healing gashes, all reminders of various zombie attackers.

This did nothing to detract from the gorgeousness of his figure.

Nick could clearly see every single abdominal muscle, from the six-pack to the obliques, right up to his toned pecs and— nipple rings? How the hell had he missed those? They were like mini doorknockers, the right one framed by a scrolling, curling tribal tattoo that continued up his pec, over his collarbone, onto his shoulder and down his arm. Damn. That tattoo was waaaay bigger that Ellis's t-shirt would lead one to believe.

Nick hooked his thumbs under Ellis's shirt and finally slid it off, tossing it somewhere behind him. Once he was through worshipping his torso with his eyes, Nick switched to his hands, tracing up his abs, chest, down his shoulders and arms, then back to his chest. He couldn't stop himself from pinching one of the doorknocker nipple rings and flipping it up and down, trying not to giggle with amusement.

Ellis squirmed again, thrusting his chest into Nick's hand, making Keith chuckle.

"Yeah, he likes it there, too."

Nick glared at him. "Thanks for pointing out the obvious, Hee-haw."

"My pleasure, city slick—"

"For Christ's sake, will you two shut up an' touch me already?" Ellis interjected, wriggling with suppressed need. Keith looked a bit guilty for ignoring Ellis's needs in favor of showing off, but Nick just tugged lightly on Ellis's piercing, making him whine and arch into him again.

"Fine," Nick replied, eyes locking with Keith's. 'This is a one-time deal, redneck. After this, he's mine.'

"Anything for you, darlin'," Keith breathed in his ear, hand moving to tweak at Ellis's other nipple. 'I knew that from the start, yankee boy.'

And thus started their mutual ravishing of Ellis.

The threesome had somehow ended up on the ground, Nick's mouth at Ellis's chest as he worked the mechanic's scrubs off. Keith was trying to get his own clothes off, and Ellis was trying in vain to remove Nick's shirt, finding it extremely hard to concentrate when they were touching and groping and sucking and grinding and ohh…

Finally Ellis's scrub pants were off, and he had somehow managed to pull down his underwear with them… no, Ellis wasn't wearing any. Nick's mouth watered at the thought before he practically pounced on his crotch, reminding Keith of how a hawk dove in on a mouse. Ellis bucked up into Nick's mouth, crying out at the suddenness of the act, hands immediately twisting in his hair. The man found it difficult to stay sitting up, the force of the pleasure driving him backwards. His head would have hit the hard floor had Keith not been kneeling behind him, serving as a warm cushion, there to keep Ellis sitting upright.

Nick could feel how close Keith was, even though he couldn't see anything but Ellis's lower stomach from this angle. As Ellis moaned and writhed under him, Nick preened internally at his skills. However, when Ellis made a noise not associated with his ministrations, Nick knew right away. He released the man's erection and pulled back enough to lap at the head, getting a look at what was going on. Keith was mouthing Ellis's neck and rubbing his nipples gently. The redhead's eyes met gambler's in a split second, looking smug. Nick glared before sucking down Ellis's shaft with new intensity, moving his slow, teasing speed to up twenty notches.

Ellis made a startled noise, his cries increasing in speed and pitch. "N-Nick, wait, I-I'm gonna…! Too soon!" he warned, but Nick just kept on, speeding up faster yet. Ellis's hips started arching off the ground higher, higher, higher, until his body slammed back down in an orgasm-induced undulation, head digging into Keith's chest and eyes pinched shut as he made those sexy, choked moaning noises. Nick let the release go down his throat, not the most pleasant taste in the world, but he was driven to be better than Keith. After Ellis had rode out his orgasm and the little spasms had slowed down, Nick pulled back and sat up, pulling Ellis forward to lean against him as he breathed heavily, panting, "Niiiiick…" over and over blearily.

Nick smirked over Ellis's shoulder at Keith, proud of himself for being the first to get Ellis off that night. Nick 1; Keith 0. Keith's expression was a mix between resignation, acceptance, and lust. The lust was no surprise, as both him and Keith had defined tents in their scrubs.

Nick rubbed his hands up and down Ellis's back as the man breathed heavily on his neck, taking in his scent and how the scars on his skin felt and his weight. It was all so pleasant in a way he couldn't put a name on. Why had he denied himself this for so long? He could have been doing this weeks ago and he stopped himself. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Keith scooted forward to sandwich Ellis between them, staring directly into Nick's eyes intensely. Nick was about to tell him to fuck off now, his services weren't needed anymore, but then Keith took his ability to speak by grasping his chin and mashing their mouths together. Nick's eyes flew open as Keith's closed, wondering what the fuck was going on. He tried to protest, but that only succeeded in getting a tongue shoved into his mouth. He felt choked at first, but the part of him that was still fucken turned on was pleased.

Ellis watched, mouth agape, as his lovers furiously kissed. He moved out from between them to have a better view, his crotch slowly starting to show interest again. Keith eventually pushed Nick onto his back before going about undressing him completely, which didn't take long as he only had on his pants and boxers at that point. Ellis mewled at the scene, hand inching towards his erectness, biting his lip and debating whether to join in or just enjoy the show.

Nick's back was fucken freezing on the tile floor, making him more irritable. He knew Keith was doing this to make Ellis jealous. He just knew it. That, however, didn't seem to matter to his erection, which was still at full capacity. Keith straddled Nick's hips and pressed their crotches together, once again bringing their lips together in a kiss as he roughly ground into Nick's groin. Keith's clothed erection pressed into his naked one too hard and he was sooooo not comfortable with being on the bottom, but damn the boy could kiss. Nick's hands grasped Keith's ass to get him to ease up a bit and give him a little more control. This only succeeded in getting Keith to grind harder into him, making him pull away from the kiss to grunt in pain.

This set Ellis into action.

Filled with desire and jealousy that Keith was hogging Nick's attention, Ellis scooted into their space and hooked his leg around Nick's middle, shoving Keith down the gambler's body so the redhead was straddling his thighs while Ellis took his spot at his hips. Ellis's ministrations were much more timid and gentle, the way he always felt around Nick, as he more slowly circled his hips in contra to Nick, who found this much more pleasurable than Keith's prior actions. Ellis bent over to kiss Nick's bruised lips, dabbing his tongue across them to soothe the ache. Nick didn't think he'd ever had a lover who treated him so tenderly.

Suddenly Ellis lurched forward with a moan, arching his back and practically quivering. Nick, agitated that his kiss had been interrupted, glared over Ellis's shoulder to see Keith's face buried in Ellis's ass. Son of a bitch. Rimming. Apparently Ellis got off on that, something Nick hadn't known. Well, he supposed that since they'd been lovers previously, that Keith would know Ellis's body much better than him. This fact made him burn with renewed hate. However, Ellis's reactions to Keith's rimming were very attractive, so Nick let it go for now.

Keith lapped at Ellis's pucker, traveling to the man's perineum and back. He smelled very clean, as was required for living in the military camp. Daily intensive cleansings to make sure the infection didn't plague them in case it was possible for it to. Keith dipped his tongue inside the pinched muscle, causing a particularly violent spasm through Ellis. When he thought his friend was ready, Keith stuck his fingers in his mouth and lubed them up as best he could before inserting two into Ellis. He knew exactly where to hit, and when he curved his fingers just so, Ellis squealed and pushed down onto his hand, craving. Keith finally inserted his third finger and pistoned his fingers hard and fast, rubbing against that little pleasure spot deep inside him. Nick huffed, bitter that Ellis's reactions were coming from Keith instead of him now, and tried his best to match him, jacking him off and kissing his neck.

For the second time, Ellis arched and cried out in orgasm, his release paining Nick's stomach, not as much or as thick, but still present. Ellis's thighs shook and he looked slumped forward onto Nick, practically panting. The unpleasant sensation of the release squishing between them was ignored as Ellis took a minute to catch his breath. Nick took this time to count his mental tallies: Nick 1; Keith 1.

Sooner than last time, Ellis sat up and looked down at Nick, eyes still blooming with desire and body thrumming with sexual energy, even if he was physically tired. His eyes were heavy lidded, almost half-closed, and his pupils had blown up drastically. His perfect, full lips parted as he breathed through his mouth, causing his chest to rise and fall in a way that made Nick hate the Infected so much more, for scarring that body and choking it and almost killing it on many occasions, so that Nick might not get to experience Ellis looking at Nick with such intensity. He was positively… radiant. Nick felt a strange stab at his chest as he absorbed Ellis's attention like energy.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Ellis leaned forward and nuzzled Nick's face. With his right hand he guided the man's erection to his entrance, the innocence of his nuzzling clashing with the lewdness of the act. A pair of hands grasped Ellis's hips and slowly guided him down, inch by painful inch. As Ellis winced in pain and tensed up, Nick kissed his face and caressed him soothingly, allowing Keith to control the speed of Ellis's penetration. Nick had only been on the receiving end a handful of times, and all of them were extremely painful at first, so he could sympathize with what the younger man was feeling right now.

Finally, he was fully sheathed and trembling a little bit, but his intensity was still very high. Ellis met Nick's eyes, the blue smoldering with carnal intent. Keith lifted Ellis's hips up just a smidge before pushing him back down, causing Ellis's brow to wrinkle and mouth fall open in a moan. This spurred Nick to snap his hips up, to see more of those delicious faces, hear more of those needy little sounds, but the reaction he got was not one of pleasure. Ellis bit his lip and tensed up, whimpering in pain as he was too roughly handled.

"Easy, Nick, he ain't done this in awhile," Keith chided, holding Ellis's hips still as he recovered.

"Sorry, sorry, I'm sorry," Nick panted, trying to restrain himself. Ellis was so hot and tight and perfect, pulsing and clenching and ohhh this was hard.

"S'okay…" Ellis reassured, wiping what might have been a tear or just sweat from his face. "S'okay… you can start again."

Nick was using every ounce of self-control in his being to resist his impulses to flip them over and pound him into the ground. He gritted his teeth as Ellis slowly rocked on top of him, and while he wished he could just have his way with him, watching the difference in reactions was enough to keep his nature at bay. Ellis's face was drawn up in pleasure, his eyes now closed as he and Keith guided him up, down, up, down, up, down…

Before Nick knew what he was doing, he had started to rock his hips along with that same rhythm, shallowly thrusting in contra to Ellis and Keith. It wasn't quite enough, but it was a start. Once Nick realized what he was doing, his eyes flew open and he looked up at Ellis, worried that he'd hurt him again — but he seemed just fine. Great, in fact. Experimentally, Nick thrust up a little harder, resulting in a more powerful moan from Ellis, and not one of pain.

Finally.

Nick reached for Ellis's hips only to come into contact with Keith's hands. Instead of moving them, Keith spread his fingers and laced them with Nick's so they were both guiding Ellis's movements. The idea weirdly turned him on. Together, they lifted Ellis up almost all the way off and pushed him down harder. The blue-eyed man's eyes flew open with a sound that sounded almost like a scream. Nick immediately freaked out, but Keith just kept on at that rhythm, slamming Ellis down over and over again. Nick was about to demand that Keith slow the fuck down, but then he realized that Ellis wasn't in pain — this was a good sound.

Once he realized this, Nick growled with need.

"He likes it hard 'n fast now," Keith told him, though Nick had kind of figured that out on his own.

Nick threw abandon to the wind and pushed Ellis's hips back and forth in contra to his thrusting, having the inclination to close his eyes and focus mainly on his release, but unable to tear his eyes away from the image of Ellis being impaled almost brutally by his erection. His head was lolling about, sweat glistened off his tense muscles and caused his tattoo to flex and ripple, and oh fuck, those noises he made. The noises drove Nick insane — the kind of insanity he would be perfectly happy to never recover from.

It didn't take long for Nick to approach his release, though he'd wished he could watch Ellis like this forever. Intermixed among the mewls and moans Nick could hear faint traces of 'oh, Nick,' 'yes, Nick,' and sometimes just plain 'Niiiiiiick.'

That's right, Keith. He's moaning for me, not you. So there.

With a final chorus of "Nick, Nick, Nick!" with every thrust, Ellis arched and came for the third and final time that night.

Watching and feeling Ellis's orgasm ripped Nick's from him as well, though his was much less dramatic, with just a hard grunt and a slightly pinched look on his face. Ellis then slumped over onto him, too tired to hold himself up anymore. Nick welcomed the boy's weight, even though they were a bit sweaty and disgusting. Like that was anything new. Behind Ellis, Keith too grunted and Nick just assumed he'd come but honestly couldn't give a fuck enough about the guy to care one way or another.

A few moments passed where they just tried to catch their breath, and finally Ellis sat up a bit from Nick's chest and gazed into his boltgun eyes, as if slicing through all his walls and barriers like they were made of sugar. Nick gently lifted the boy off his wilting erection and sat him back down again, one hand carding through his sweat-soaked hair and the other massaging his back. Ellis smiled very softly before giving Nick the tenderest of kisses, and Nick was pretty sure his heart was soaring somewhere in the sky or some shit.

In the background they heard Keith silently get dressed and walk towards the door. He turned around once and met Nick's eyes, as if saying, "You better take care of him, Mr. Gamblin' Man."

Nick just nodded at him once before ignoring him again, as if to say, "Don't doubt it. Now get the fuck out."

The door closed behind the redhead and they were finally alone. Neither of them could ruin the silence with words of love or apology, so they didn't. Nick wasn't sure how long they stayed there entangled in each other before they got up and hobbled back to Nick's quarters, but he was sure there would be plenty of other times to think about that. They had a lot of wasted time to make up for, after all, what with all the sexual frustration through the whole apocalypse.

Both men collapsed into bed together, neither bothering to shower, and they both fast fell into sleep as one last thought floated through Nick's head:

Nick 2; Keith 1.