Chapter Text
Avery never really imagined himself in a zombie apocalypse before…well, the actual apocalypse. When asked what he would do in an imaginary outbreak scenario, he usually answers with ‘I'd die.’ or ‘I would turn into a zombie and then die.’ because the scariest media he's ever consumed were those horror My Little Pony flash games that had screamers as jumpscares. Those used to freak him out a lot, so he thought he'd never stand a chance if there's actual danger at stakes and fight for his life.
But here he is! Knee deep into a zombie infection outbreak; somehow still kicking, with the help of a zombie nursing him back to health.
At least Derek was nice. A nice “person”, Avery thinks. People say he trusts too easily, and on most days he agrees on that statement. But giving him food and a place to stay and recover is a pretty good person behavior in Avery's books. It helps that Derek just looks non threatening in general based on his appearance. Mismatched footwear and a bucket doesn't make for a good combination of scary.
Still, it's hard to tell if they're still a person, or just trying to be one. Avery probably shouldn't judge Derek for not being a person, since he can't help being a monster either. That yellow eye serves as proof of that.
Avery doesn't like to think of zombies as monsters. They’re mindless, they smell bad, and they eat people. But they were also people. Normal people who used to walk on the now bloodstained streets. He's been told that seeing them as monsters helps with killing them more easily, kind of like butchering farm animals, since they're not human and can't think and feel as complex as people.
If Derek wants to be a person, Avery is willing to pretend he isn't a monster.
He spends the night in the employee only room with a mattress and some cushions that the other had given him. The supermarket is really dark now that the sun has set, and it seems that Derek also turned off the lights (to save power maybe?). Avery couldn't sleep. Sure, this is better than the cold floors he used to sleep in, but there’s just some bugging feeling that’s keeping him wide awake. He hears the rattles and buzzing echoing throughout the building, the noises are by no means loud, but the disturbance is all he can hear.
What could Derek be doing out there?
Avery thought back to when Derek was carrying some things when they first met. The pile looked like a bunch of metal scraps and junk from what he remembers. The first thing he thought is; ‘Could they be making robots?’ But he mentally slapped himself. Why would a zombie make robots? Stop being stupid, Avery.
He's really curious now that he's thinking deeper into it. He should definitely go check. Curiosity killed the cat, good thing Avery's not a cat.
As soon as he tried to get up, he remembered why he's put on bed rest, as a sharp pain from his ankle suddenly made his ass crash down into the thin mattress. Oh. Yeah. Twisted ankle. Frick. Derek had helped support his weight to get him to the employee room earlier because he could barely take a few steps in without pain. He stared at his bandaged ankle in betrayal as if he didn't cause the injury himself.
He lays back down to the mattress in defeat. The man closes his eyes in an attempt to sleep, tossing and turning all the while. He flexes his good leg unconsciously and tries his darnedest to doze off. It doesn't work because his body hates him. He imagines scenarios where he eats more sandwiches that devolved into what if scenarios on ways zombies could tear him apart. Obviously that doesn't work. Now he thinks really hard about calming music playing in his head to soothe himself to dreamland.
Avery swears Derek's tinkering sounds louder now.
Humanity's greatest weakness is boredom, and Avery is about to be a testament to that theory. He sits back up and looks around the dark room for something he can use to move around. His eye catches on a dolly in the corner, the ones that are usually used to carry boxes and other supplies. He also spots a very convenient broom near where the cleaning supplies are.
Avery has come up with a bright idea.
Very carefully scooting off the mattress, he reaches out and grabs the broom and scoots further to where dolly is. Eventually through some skillful maneuvering he sits on the four wheeled platform and makes himself what he likes to call a rowing wheelchair. A thrilling invention.
He cringes when the wheels make a squeaky sound due to the years of disuse and rust. He uses the broom’s blunt end to push him and the dolly forward towards freedom. He opens the door and escapes his prison.
Avery smiles ear to ear that his idea worked. He begins his expedition of the building.
Most of the shelves of the supermarket are empty. It doesn't surprise him, but he's still disappointed he can't grab anything here. Would it count as stealing if Derek lives here? The thought of this place being Derek’s home makes him suddenly aware of how clean the place is. He rubs the floor with his hand and the tiles feel smooth. Surely the zombie didn't clean a whole supermarket by himself, but still walked around looking like that? Avery's not the one to judge the appearances of others usually, but they have blood splatters on their clothes! The bucket couldn't be comfortable either.
He suddenly hears footsteps coming from behind him, and Avery freezes. The human slowly turned around with the best guilty expression he could muster, knowing full well who caught him.
Derek.
They're very unimpressed. He drops his paddle broom on the ground like it's a weapon.
“Hey…! Lovely night, isn't it…! Um…”
“- What are you doing”
Avery startles at the robotic sounding voice coming from Derek. He squints at the darkness and realizes the zombie is holding some kind of box with a microphone on it.
Ohh. A TTS thingy.
“- What are you doing”
“Okay okay- I heard you the first time! I wasn't expecting the robot voice. I just- I couldn't sleep.”
Derek stared at him for a moment before typing out something in response.
“- And this warrants a, dot dot dot, wheeled platform question mark”
Avery snorts at the spelled out punctuation marks. Every time he feels like he's supposed to be scared of them, that expectation is dashed whenever Derek does stuff like this.
“Can't exactly move around, cause, y'know.”
He gestures to his leg.
“And I…wanted to see what you're up to.”
He mumbles the last part but he's sure that the zombie caught what he's saying. Derek is staring at him for a long time again, like how he did on their first encounter. Uncomfortable blank staring, like he's having an inner monologue behind that piercing golden eye.
Without much of a word, Derek began pushing the dolly like a shopping cart with Avery in tow.
“WOAH– woah woah!! Hey- h-hey buddy! Where are we going???”
The zombie very rudely ignored his question and continued whisking Avery away further into the supermarket. Derek is pushing Avery with relative ease surprisingly enough. Surprising because said person's limbs looked really bony. Most zombies share the same trait of being skinny and malnourished because food doesn't come regularly, so fighting them is easy if you know basic self defense skills. It made him wonder what kind of zombie Derek really is.
Derek shortly brought Avery inside the storage room and promptly closed the door behind them. The hairs on his neck started to stand up faced with a dark room with no weapon in hand.
“...You're not going to kill me off here, are you?”
“- I am killing you”
Avery started to scramble away, immediately desperately crawling to where the exit is—
“- hVSBv Avery I was joking exclamation mark exclamation mark exclamation mark”
The human feels like his heart might fall out. He saw his life flash before his eyes. He shot the zombie a teary eyed glare.
“Du– Man– Fuck you.”
“- I'm sorry”
“Yeah you better be sorry, we're not on casual death threat terms yet.”
At least Derek had the decency to look sheepish at what he did. They turned on the lights and Avery squinted his eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness.
Oh wow. This place really is Derek's home.
There's a sleeping bed at the corner, very beaten up looking bean bags, some schematics that Avery doesn't really understand scattered on the walls, a workshop desk, an impressive collection of books and various little knock knacks sprinkled throughout the room. There's even unused piles of boxes in the corner to remind Avery that this is a storage room that Derek claimed as his habitat. It's a very messy place. Like, very messy. The more Avery scans around the room, the more things he spots strewn out.
When he looks to his left he jumps at Derek staring at him from above like he's expecting something. He looks from his bucket head to what he's holding in his hands. It's a…boxy looking thing, with an antenna— Wait.
Holy shit.
“Holy crap.”
That's a robot.
“- This is what I was, quote, up to, end quote”
Derek is a robot making zombie. That's literally something straight out of sci-fi. Avery’s not very into robots, but he can admit robotics is cool. Now knowing the guy somehow knows how to get fresh produce, clean a whole supermarket, have a messy room, and make robots, it gives Avery a huge realization of what Derek is.
Derek is a huge nerd.
That strange chest feeling is stirring up again.
“HAHA– dude you know- when I was hearing you hammering away back here I thought like- Maybe that zombie guy is making a robot. And I was like ‘Why would they make a robot?’ cause it seemed silly, but you- you were actually making a robot. That's–”
“- It's a hobby to pass time”
“A sick as hell hobby to press– PASS time!”
The zombie got really embarrassed at what the man said, turning his head away. He eventually crouched down to Avery's level and sat on the floor.
“- You say strange things”
Avery doesn't know what to reply to that. He unconsciously gulps and becomes very aware of how dry his throat is. Derek shifted his one eyed gaze back to him again.
“- It's not really a useful creation, comma, but I wanted to make use of this old camera I found–”
Avery wasn't fully listening, he really tried to. Derek was saying something about surveillance, repurposed parts, and some other stuff he doesn't fully grasp. He just thinks that whatever Derek is, they'll be alright together.
————————————————
After Derek's long rambling on the specifics of the robot's materials and structure, they moved to sitting on bean bags (with Derek's help). It's quiet again between them, and Avery is not the best at coming up with conversation topics, usually letting others start the topic and then contribute when he has something to add.
The zombie is writing in a book. Avery accidentally lets out a laugh at seeing the pen Derek is using, it's one of those overly glittery ones that's marketed towards young girls, it even came with a cat paw on top. The user of said pen looked at him with a sidelong glance.
“- Is something funny”
“Nah.”
They're more comfortable now, mainly because they're on softer seats, and also because Avery doesn't look at the other and imagine a beast with sharp fangs ready to aim at his skull. It's almost hard to tell Derek apart from a real person, fundamentally there's no difference between them and a person with a concerning eye condition. He doesn't growl, he doesn't drool all over the place, and he walks and acts like a human.
You really do trust too easily.
…
“..Hey.”
Derek turned to look at him.
“Why are you different from the zombies outside?”
The previous mood dwindled away at Avery's question. The zombie tried to hide it, but he could see the tension on their shoulders.
“- I don't know”
“You're lying.”
Avery might not be the brightest, far from it. And he's not a human lie detector. But he does have eyes and some knowledge on body language. Derek is gripping his TTS device too tight, he curled up on himself slightly and avoided eye contact when the question settled, and he also started unconsciously holding the ends of his hair in a self soothing gesture.
It was a sensitive topic, that much is obvious. It also wasn't a really important question that's beneficial to Avery, and Derek is growing uncomfortable. He imagines they're sweating a bit under the bucket.
“...You don't have to answer it. I'm sorry that came out of nowhere.”
Derek doesn't respond.
“If we…”
He cuts himself off.
“You can tell me whenever you feel ready. Maybe later, maybe never. Just know that…”
Avery finally looks at Derek, and in turn, Derek looks at him.
“...I won't judge you, or anything. My door's very open. You won't scare me off.”
…
“Okay.”
A raspy voice responded.