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“These ones?”
Luciano stops his march. He turns around and squints down at Martín’s cupped hands. He presses his lips and frowns disapprovingly.
“Only you want to get poisoned,” he grumbles back.
“Fuck,” Martín curses and drops the handful of berries he had picked.
Luciano sniffs unimpressed. He arranges his rifle sling over his shoulder and keeps his careful march across the forest’s tall grass. Sofía waits for him, wags her tail and leans into his touch when Luciano pats her head fondly once he reaches her. She’s a shepherd mutt of some sort for all Luciano can tell; lean and swift, she’s one smart dog. That is how she has survived through the end of the world and the rise of the walking dead.
It is how Luciano has survived as well. He has been cunning and resourceful, has known better than to stay in one place for long and mingle with others. He had learnt the hard way people only slowed you down - best if everyone looks out for their own. It is easier. Lonelier, yes, but less painful. Sofía is the only company he needs, the best partner he could ask for. She is a fighter, a survivor. A veteran of the apocalypse, just like Luciano himself.
He wishes he could say the same about Martín.
Martín is still learning to survive - more accurately, Luciano is teaching him. Pampered and spoiled, he comes from a community. The mere thought of it makes Luciano wrinkle his nose with disapproval. False paradises, little secluded bubbles that chose to ignore the apocalypse and pretend the world hasn’t ended. Their residents live peaceful little lives, safe behind tall thick walls and guarded by armed watchers. They know only comfort, and never once stop to think where all their community’s resources come from. But why would they? Would they care if they found out communities thrive by invading weaker smaller communities for supplies and resources? That they steal and plunder without reserve or discretion? Would they object to the bloodshed and violence inflicted in secret by the people who rule them if it meant their life of luxury would meet an end?
Luciano knows the answer, and it is a testament of how rotten the world has become.
In normal circumstances, Luciano wouldn’t have bothered to help a pampered brat from a community - let alone let him along. Martín hasn’t had to fight a day in his life, unlike Luciano, who has trouble sleeping at night with the memories of the things he has witnessed and done to see another sunbreak. Martín won’t survive in the wilderness on his own, not now that his days in a community are over.
Luciano would have been fine letting him become food for the rotten, but it would be a shame to let Martín’s brain get eaten and let all that precious medical knowledge go to waste.
It seems a little ironic that Martín’s higher education has been the one thing that has saved his life in a world where civilization is dead and walking flesh-eating corpses have claimed the land. His medical studies make him as valuable as gold; a medic is a precious resource and not easy to find during the apocalypse. His knowledge was the reason he had a earned himself a permanent residense at the community that took him in when all this started. It was the reason his life was spared when his community got attacked and burnt to ashes by a larger greedier community. It is the reason he has a bounty over his head and is wanted alive rather than dead by the men who tore down the place he called home.
It is the reason Luciano decided not to ditch him and let the walkers eat him, too. Luciano might be a loner, but he knows a few survivors here and there who could use a medic’s services.
“How about these ones, uh?” Martín asks as he offers another handful of berries.
Even if said medic has zero survival skills and makes Luciano feel as if he were babysitting a toddler most of the time.
Luciano doesn’t get to give him an answer this time. Sofía perks up at his side, shifts her ears attentively. Luciano stops his march and freezes in place. He scouts the area, trying to heard or see whatever has caught Sofía's attention.
“What is it?” Martín whispers. “Did you hear something?”
“Silence,” Luciano snaps back impatiently.
He listens to the quiet forest sounds, the soft shuffling of leaves and grass, the calls of birds and the scream of bugs. He hears and sees nothing out of the ordinary, but Sofía at his side continues to look around alert and thus so does Luciano.
“Maybe it was a deer,” Martín muses. “We did see a few a couple of days ago.”
Luciano is about to tell him to shut the fuck up so he can hear, but Sofía shoots like a rocket into the forest. She disappears through the foliage, and soon Luciano hears her distant barking.
Sofía never barks. She knows better than to. There is only one reason she might bark, and one reason alone; a horde of walkers.
Luciano turns around and grabs Martín’s arm. He ignores his cursing and drags him until they reach a large hollowed tree. He rips his backpack off him, and then shoves him inside. Luciano presses against him, trying to fit the two of them into the tiny narrow hidding place.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Martín demands hotly.
“Quiet,” Luciano hisses.
“Get the fuck off me,” Martín tries to shove him off. “I said let go...”
Martín struggles against him. Luciano needs him to be silent and still - both their lives depend on it. If a heard of walkers is coming their way, their best bet is to hide and wait it out, but for that they need to go unnotice. That will be hard to achieve if Martín doesn’t go still and quiet.
Luciano presses his body against Martín, shoves one leg between his and pins him against the log with his whole body mass, painfully close and intimate. Martín tries to shove him off, far from compliant, but Luciano takes his wrists and pins them over his head.
“What the fuck, Luciano,” Martín spits breathlessly and start squirming against him. “I said get off me, you son of a-”
Luciano rearranges his grip over Martín’s wrist into one of his hands - he holds him down with an iron grip and presses his free hand over his mouth. Martín’s eyes widen with alarm and he struggles against him, but Luciano presses against him to keep him in place.
“Be still, dammit,” he commands in a vicious snarl.
Martín stops struggling against him, startled by the harshness in his voice. Red in the face and completely disheveled, he stares back at Luciano with glassy feverish eyes.
They remain pressed one against the other as Luciano tries to listen to their surroundings, anticipating the moaning and dragging of feet that normally precedes the walking dead. All he hears is Sofía distant barking, growing farther and farther away. Then, it is gone and there is only silence.
Luciano presses against Martín, squeezes his wrist in quiet warning - Martín doesn’t struggle against him, but he does squirms self consciously and lets out a weak whimper against his palm that Luciano ignores.
Sofía is back after what seems like an endless moment. She is wagging her tail with a lolling tongue and a goofy canine smile. Safe and unharmed, no walkers trailing after her.
Luciano lets out a relieved sigh. He steps back and lets go of Martín.
“Atta girl,” he crouches and pets Sofía with a sweet smile. “What a brave clever girl, leading those nasty things astray…”
Sofía preens under Luciano’s attention, wagging her tail violently as he ruffles her fur. All fond demeanor is gone when Luciano stands and turns to Martín. He gives him a harsh glare, and asks:
“What’s rule number one?”
Martín huffs like an unruly teenager. He has stepped outside of the hollow tree and seems to be trying to catch his breath, bended down with his hands on his knees.
“Always listen to you,” he grumbles.
“And rule number two?” Luciano demands coldly.
“Never break rule number one,” Martín recites sourly.
There are no curses or backtalk like there normally is with Martín. He is winded and seems to be avoiding Luciano’s gaze all together. His shallow breathing and skittishness makes Luciano eye him with a little worry.
“Are you ok?” he asks. He adds with a little apprehension: “Did I hurt you…?”
Now that the urgency of the moment has passes, Luciano recognises he had been a little rougher than necessary, pushing and pinning Martín like that. He still needs to work on his people skills after all these years on his own.
But Martín shakes his head, still keeping his gaze down.
“It’s ok, I’m ok,” he sounds hoarse and breathless. “It’s just…” he clears his throat and swallows. “You… you’re strong.”
He says it with a painful grimace and a curiously strangled note in his voice. Luciano studies him curiously; Martín is red in the face, avoiding to meet his gaze at all costs. He seems flustered and breathless, uncharacteristically tense for someone normally insufferably arrogant and headstrong.
It takes Luciano a beat to notice the effects all that manhandling seems to have had on Martín and which he seems to be trying to modestly hide.
“Oh,” Luciano’s eyes go wide with understanding, and Martín’s painful grimace deepens. “I’m sorry, I… I didn’t mean to-”
“Don’t,” Martín interrupts him curtly. With his last ounce of remaining dignity, he says: “Just... just give me a moment, ok?”
Luciano nods his head and awkwardly turns his back to Martín. He walks a few steps away to give him some sense of privacy while his problem settles back down, but he doesn’t stray far. It is not safe to slit up, not when there is a horde of walkers in close proximity.
Luciano stands staring off, pretending to keep a watchful eye on their surroundings, but the truth is his mind has drifted far away.
Luciano has been on his own for so long he had forgotten how it felt to be wanted - to be the object of another man’s desire, accidentally or not. It is startling, and the mere thought of it makes him catch his breath as a warm pleasant feeling settles on his lower belly, like butterflies fluttering inside his stomach.
It makes him blush as a forgotten excitement blooms inside his chest and tingles down his back. It is a feeling he thought forgotten, long dead, and that makes him take a discreet over his shoulder as he regards Martín with brand new eyes.