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Someone was shaking him. Lance groaned and tried to swat the hands away but then one grabbed his chin and angled his face slightly to the right, Lance realised he was being spoken to. There was another person speaking to him, not trying to kill him! Saved him from dying, even!
Lance gasped in a deep breath and blinked rapidly to try and clear his vision, which only swam again as the scent of Alpha—strong—overwhelmed him. Lance tried to say something but only a strangled noise escaped before he erupted into a coughing fit and rolled onto his side, facing away from the stranger as they wracked his body. The Alpha didn't touch him again as Lance did his best to get himself under control, swallowing around the pain and itch in his throat where the rope had tightened.
Finally, Lance managed to stop and take a moment to compose himself before gingerly sitting up and rubbing at what were no doubt bruises across his throat. The rope was still hanging around his neck but loose now. He attempted to speak again, though this time he made sure to keep the volume down to just above a whisper to try and avoid another choking fit.
"You saved me..." Was all he could actually think of to say in the end. Lance found that he wasn't sure how to act now. Being around this Alpha felt different to the last time he'd spent time with one outside of his family, considering this time he was post presentation. Lance wasn't sure he actually liked the feeling.
"Did you... not want that? I wasn't about to walk in on someone trying to hang themselves and do nothing." Oh and the Alpha's voice was so nice.
"I mean, usually people don't want to be stopped so—" Lance looked up and stopped mid sentence.
The man was covered in dust and dried blood and all sorts of stuff Lance didn't want to even try to identify, but he was hot. Pale skin peeked out from beneath the grime, and whilst the guy was wrapped up in what looked like fifty layers due to the chill of February, Lance just knew he was in good shape. His dark hair was pulled back into a messy bun and his eyes were a deep slate colour that almost looked purple in the winter light.
"Sorry, then." The man said, and Lance blinked out of his daze.
"Huh?" Eloquent.
"For stopping you." He motioned to the cut rope with a gloved hand. Fingerless leather gloves. "It seemed like you were having second thoughts but I made you fall when I came in."
"Well yeah but... No, I mean thanks. Don't say sorry." Lance mumbled.
The man stood up from his squat after that, tucking a hunting knife back into a leather sheath on his thigh. Lance wondered how ripped jeans were any help with keeping warm in the winter but at the same time was thankful for them and the peeks of pale thigh beneath. The other man cleared his throat and Lance guiltily jerked his gaze up to his face again, feeling sheepish.
"You gonna sit on the floor all night?" Mr tall, dark and brooding folded his arms across his chest, lifting a brow.
"No." Lance rolled over and pushed himself to his feet as well, feeling light headed for a moment.
The man pressed a hand to Lance's lower back to steady him as he swayed, but Lance jolted and jerked as if he'd been burned with the unexpected touch. Which then made the guy look guilty as fuck and pull away, even going so far as to take a couple of steps back. He shoved his hands in his pockets and frowned at Lance, mouth pressing into a tight line.
"Are you here to steal my chickens too?" Lance blurted, trying to cover up how unsettled he felt at his unconscious flinching. He didn't like the change in the way he felt around other people. It was jarring and the only help he'd had on dealing with his presentation and new designation were memories of sex ed classes and a book that was almost as old as he was. Granted, Lance's tendency to say stupid shit when he was flustered was nothing new to him.
"What? No! I'd never steal from an Ome—" Oh no. Nope. Lance felt indignance bubble up within him."What so just because I'm an Omega I can't fend for myself? I couldn't kick your ass and defend what's mine because I'm weak is that it?" Lance put his hands on his hips after waving them emphatically in front of himself for a moment. His throat hurt, too, and he cleared it as he tried not to cough again.
"That's not what I said!" The guy looked exasperated and exhausted and Lance felt a pang of regret at his outburst. But it'd just rubbed him the wrong way. "I just meant that you need it more than me because you- you... uh...go through more. Physically."
Lance spluttered, his face exploding into a blush at the obvious mention of his heats—which he'd only had one of so far thank you very much—and how private that matter still seemed to him. He made a few abortive noises before huffing and turning away to leave the barn out of embarrassment. Of course the only person who didn't try to kill him was an awkward, abrasive Alpha.
The sun had mostly set since he'd entered the barn, though it was probably still only around four in the afternoon. Lance's breath billowed out in white clouds and he watched it as he started to make his way back to his house. Turning his back on a stranger these days probably wasn't a particularly good idea, but Lance wagered that if the Alpha had wanted him dead then he already would be by now. He also hoped that if the Alpha wanted something else from him—being an Omega and all—that he would have tried that too already.
"Are you infected...?" The question was flat and straightforward but not said in an accusatory tone.
"Do I look infected?!" Lance spun on his heel and threw his arms out to either side. Regardless of the nonchalant way the question had been asked, Lance was still feeling defensive.
"Well... yeah.. sort of." The stranger followed him out into the cold afternoon and folded his arms, he shivered despite all of his extra layers but Lance pretended not to notice. "Your hair and skin looks like the reports they made just before the networks shut down for good. The scar on your shoulder looks like a bite, too."
Lance tugged the neckline of his baseball tee up to cover the old wound, but placed his hand over it as well for good measure. It may have well only happened yesterday with the raw pang of heartbreak that came with the reminder.
"It's been over half a year already. I doubt I'm gonna drop dead and come back to eat you now." Lance grumbled, feeling the fight knocked out of him.
"So you did... Have it, I mean?" Why was he asking the goddamn obvious. Lance half glared and noted another shiver before he turned again and strode off towards the house with purpose.
"Yes. I had it and it was awful and sometimes I wish it'd killed me is that what you want to hear?" Lance ducked his head to direct his glare to the floor that he could barely see, now, and cut off the stranger before he could continue asking questions. "Don't just stand there. It’s cold and dark and you look like one of those little trembling chihuahua's. Get in the house."
He heard a sort of spluttering behind him and Lance couldn't help feeling smug at getting such a reaction. Still, after only a beat the other man was following him, grumbling something under his breath all the way to the back door, and then "That's not what I wanted to hear, no."
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There was no doubt in Lance's mind that this man hadn't amicably talked to another person in a very long time. Either that or he was just naturally bad at socialising because he put his foot in his mouth a lot and didn't seem to know how to respond to Lance's teasing. The guy certainly wouldn't be winning any awards in that area. Lance had been so used to being surrounded by loud, socially confident Alpha's with his family that he wasn't really sure how to deal with his new guest. Even Pidge—who was an Omega but you'd never quite believe it—and Hunk, a Beta, were better at conversing than Mr Broody.
"Lance, by the way, and you're welcome." Lance said as he dropped a bowl of rice that had been steaming over the traditional clay stove his Grandma used to love using.
"Huh?" The man blinked at the bowl and then up to Lance owlishly.
"My name. Do you have one, or should I just keep referring to you as Mr Tall, Dark and Emo?" Lance flopped into his own seat at the kitchen island and started eating right away. Even if the first few swallows of food were a bit uncomfortable.
"I'm not an emo." The stranger half huffed. "My name's Keith." He spoke as he eyed the food like it was possibly the most beautiful thing he'd seen in a while and Lance lifted his brow.
"Well, Keith, are you waiting for it to give you permission or are you gonna eat some rice before it gets cold?" Lance snorted at the expression that was shot in his direction. "Been a while since you had rice?"
"Yeah, sort of. Or anything other than what I can kill, really." Keith took his spoon and began to eat, much more slowly than Lance.
"You hunt, huh? Mostly I eat rice and vegetables here. Oh! Eggs, too. I try not to eat the chickens too often." Rice was filling, too. Even if it could be a bit bland. Lance knew which wild herbs grew near or on the farm though, so it wasn't as if he was lacking in things to flavour it with when he got bored of it plain.
"I guess that makes sense." And that was it. That was the only dinner conversation Keith deigned Lance with for the rest of their meal.
Afterwards, Lance dropped the bowls and spoons in a bucket of water that he used for the washing up and left them there to soak. Preferring instead to slip to his room and grab some scent blockers before offering Keith some clean clothes that used to belong to Louis. He was met with a confused look and Lance rolled his eyes and shoved Keith towards the back terrace.
"You need a bath. You don't seriously think I'll let you use a bed here covered in..." he paused, staring at Keith for a moment before motioning to his entire body. "all that. Do you?"
"I guess but why are you taking me outside? It's about thirty-eight degrees!" Keith sounded more than a little indignant and Lance snorted.
"It's warm enough. The water's been heating in the tub for a little while already and I lit the fireplace out here when I got the rice for dinner." Lance motioned to the bathing area he'd set up for himself during the autumn, after getting fed up of sloshing buckets of water all over the house.
He watched as Keith stopped to take in the scene and smirked at the impressed look on the Alpha's features. Lance had dug out a pit for a fire in the soil where the terrace paving ended but where the roof still covered. He'd carefully added a sort of chimney tunnel so that air got to the base for the fire and kept it lit whilst in the hole, too. Above that was a large metal tub, it was nothing fancy but he knew it was what his grandma and her sister had bathed in as a child and it'd been around the farm for forever. Cleaning it up properly had taken some time but it was more than worth it in Lance's opinion. Hot baths were no longer a thing of the past. Though he had to make sure to put the fire out underneath and let it cool a little bit first so that he didn't burn his ass when he sat down in it.
Not far from the bath was a large brick and clay built fireplace, still crackling away and bathing the entire area with a soft orange glow and comfortable warmth.
"Did you... do this?" Keith turned to look at Lance then, and Lance felt warmth in his cheeks.
"Well, yeah. I got tired of just wiping myself down and lugging dirty water out of the house. It wasn't hard or anything, my brother has a ton of survival books. He was sort of into all that before—before everything." Lance swallowed around the tightness in his throat and took a deep breath.
"Well, you did a really good job, and you're right it's not that cold here with the fire." Keith wasn't smiling but Lance was sure he was pleased anyway. Even if he was eying the dark beyond the space suspiciously.
"No one's gonna spy on you." Lance snorted, amused. "Plus I haven't seen any infected for months. Too far out I guess. You can take your time. Soap and shampoo is on the slabs next to the tub and there's a towel on the chair in front of the fireplace there." Lance motioned to the small pile of broken paving slabs he'd made for his toiletries to be within easy reach, and then to the chair not too far away from that.
"It's been a while since I could wash properly." Keith stared at the fire for a moment before tilting his head towards Lance in a nod. "Thanks."
"Hey, no problem. It's the least I can do for you after you stopped me from offing myself." Lance had to make light out of that whole situation. He wasn't strong enough any more to think too much on things like that for too long.
"Uh..." Keith didn't seem to know how to respond and Lance took that as his cue to leave.
"Anyway, enjoy!" Lance gave one last strained smile before half rushing back inside.
It'd be a lie if Lance claimed that he wasn't tempted to peek on the Alpha. But he wasn't a creep regardless of how hot the guy was, so instead he busied himself with washing their dishes and shaking out the sheets in his old room for Keith to sleep in. Lance would feel too weird about loaning any of his siblings rooms out after all, and the guest room had been the last place his brother, brother's wife and their kids had stayed so that was out too.
Lance wondered if his room smelled too much of him, but he hadn't slept there since before he'd presented and it had been a long time. So he hoped it wasn't too weird or uncomfortable. What was the right etiquette when it came to this sort of thing these days? He knew that if things were the same as they'd been before the outbreak his mother would sooner make Keith sleep on the couch than Lance's bedroom after presenting. But Lance didn't want to make Keith sleep on the couch, not after he'd been alone on the road fighting zombies for however long. So his bedroom would do, and his sheets were clean anyhow after his pre-heat induced spring cleaning.
Lance finished getting things ready, putting Keith's bag on the desk so that the other man had his things should he need them. He resisted the urge to look through it out of pure curiosity.
By the time Keith emerged from the bath in his clean, borrowed clothes, Lance was sitting slouched on the sofa with half lidded eyes and a knitted blanket wrapped around him like a cocoon. The house wasn't particularly cold but it wasn't super warm either, and he didn't want to light a fire in the hearth when they would likely be going to sleep as soon as Keith was done bathing. He did wonder, though, if it would be too cold for the other man after witnessing his shivering outside the barn. Lance barely felt the chill any more, which was funny because before he presented he was the first to whine when things dropped below twenty degrees Celsius.
"Thanks, uh... I didn't know if you wanted to wash too so I left the fire burning but the water probably isn't usable any more." Keith was awkwardly holding his filthy clothes and Lance eyed him for a while before tiredly standing.
"I'll wash those with the rest of your stuff tomorrow, shove them in the bathroom for now. Here." Lance motioned for Keith to follow him down the hallway and pointed out the family bathroom which he almost never used any more other than to go to the toilet. "You can drop them in the bath with the other stuff."
Keith did so quickly before sliding back out into the hallways with an odd look on his features. Lance merely raised a brow at him and carried on to his old bedroom.
"I put your stuff on the desk, except your knife because apparently you like to bathe with that—"
"Something could attack me whilst I'm out there. It's better to keep it on me." Keith said.
"and you're free to sleep however long you want. I won't make you get up at the crack of dawn or something. It's relatively safe here and you look like you haven't slept properly in about a year." Lance finished, deciding not to comment on Keith being wet and naked with nothing but a hunting knife.
"Isn't this your room?" Keith said as he inspected the pile of Lance's old school books on the desk.
"It was my room. I haven't slept here since stuff started going bad though, so it shouldn't smell or anything. Plus I wasn't even presented—"
"What?! How old are you!?" Keith seemed to physically reel with that information and Lance would have laughed at the expression on his features if he weren't so humiliated by the fact.
"I'm twenty-two don't shit yourself! It just happened sorta late. No big deal." Lance had folded his arms across his chest and was squeezing them tightly to himself, gaze averted. "Anyway you're probably exhausted and I know I am so I'll catch you later."
Lance did not run away. He just made a tactful retreat to his new room, wedged the door shut with a chair and a pile of clothes, and curled up beneath the duvet to whine into his pillow from embarrassment. He was more than a little glad that the day was over, it'd been a very long time since he'd made such a relentless ass of himself in-front of another living human. He couldn't say he'd missed doing it very much.
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Lance thought that morning was rather really rude to come so soon. It was late, since the winter sun was streaming into his eyes from the open blinds, but it was still far too early. His head ached and his body felt heavy and all Lance wanted to do was stay in bed where it was soft and warm. However, the horses and chickens wouldn't care for themselves and whilst Keith probably could that didn't mean Lance wanted to let him. His mama had brought him up knowing that when you had a house guest you made sure to be a damn good host, and Lance wanted to keep that up even in the apocalypse.
So with a heavy sigh and a muffled grunt he rolled out of bed and trudged into the ensuite to cleanse his face and change the scent blockers on his neck and wrists. It felt weird to wear them, almost stifling and a little itchy but Lance knew he'd get used to the sensation in time and it was certainly better than winding Keith up with his scent if his hormones went haywire randomly again. Despite the suppressant injections he'd been taking Lance had taken the last one almost a month ago now and he'd had two pseudo-heats since his first real one. However, the old book he had on the subject had said that wasn't too uncommon during the first year after presenting. The scent blockers would keep Keith comfortable enough since the symptoms weren't strong enough to give Lance anything like slick.
As long as he didn’t actually start a heat. He hoped he was irregular or late or something to avoid that awkwardness for as long as possible.
Combing his hair and staring at his still strange feeling reflection for a moment, Lance then moved the things keeping his bedroom door blocked and shuffled out down the hallway into the kitchen to find something for them to eat. Eggs seemed like their best bet, considering Lance always had a surplus of them.
Keith still hadn't emerged from Lance's old room and things were quiet so he assumed the other man was still asleep. With that in mind Lance did his best to keep quiet as he pulled on a thick padded jacket his mother used to wear, grabbed a few eggs and a pot and went out to the back patio. The large clay stove stood proudly on the opposite end to the fireplace and bathing area, more enclosed and protected from the elements for outside food prep. They used to mostly use this in the summers and even then not too often in more recent years, but Lance remembered the way his grandmother had cooked using it and it was sort of an essential item these days.
In fact he was glad to still have so many functional traditional things now that there was no running water or mains gas supply. Power was much easier due to the solar panels but it was harder in the winter when the natural sunlight was so limited—the wind turbine helped but the farm wasn't in a particularly windy part of the province. Lance couldn't use the stove in his actual kitchen either, since it was gas supplied though the oven was electric.
Lance huddled under the jacket—which was sort of like a quilt with arms—and set about boiling the eggs after lighting a fire in the appropriate cubby. As they cooked he went around the side of the house and pulled open the heavy doors to the root cellar. The ladder was, like much else he'd been using recently, old and rickety but Lance hadn't thought to try to build a new one until his foot snapped a lower rung a week ago. Then he'd been in a hopeless daze and thinking 'what's the point?'.
Lance dropped to the packed earth and fumbled around for the switch mounted on the wall, moments later the space illuminating with the help of a dim bulb. The ladder down was around ten feet and the room itself was only four meters across and three wide, but it was plenty big enough for his needs and kept a consistent temperature from being so deep. The walls were made out of piled and cemented stone with the odd area patched with breezeblock over the years, and they were lined with wooden shelves holding crates full of straw and vegetables.
Lance got an onion and two potatoes, shoved them in the large pocket of his jacket and then left back the way he'd come.
With the fire burning in the stove the space near it was warm enough for Lance to prepare the vegetables. He took the eggs out of the pot to cool, switched the water and put the diced potatoes in to cook and soften so that he could make a warm egg and potato salad with some of his seasoned oil for taste. Lance hadn't known how grateful he would be for his mothers shopping habits until the literal apocalypse had happened.
She'd bought things in bulk depending on offers, vouchers and whim, which meant there was a whole ton of toilet roll, cooking oils and other things in the basement of the house that had come in handy over the months. Luckily it was all untouched by the thieves since the door was locked and Lance feigned ignorance over where the key was. They'd stopped asking when they found the root cellar and chickens anyway, on both occasions.
It wasn't too much longer until everything was ready and Lance went inside to put their meals into bowls just like the previous night. The continued quiet in the house meant that Keith must still have been asleep and Lance wondered just how exhausted the guy had to be to be out for so long. Or maybe he was actually awake but unwilling to leave the room until he'd been told it was okay, which was silly but Lance guessed not too far from what could be reality.
Leaving the food where they'd eaten before, Lance made his way to the borrowed room and knocked gently but upon receiving no answer he gingerly opened the door and peeked inside.
Keith was laying in the bed asleep, the covers were half over him as he was sort of clinging to them like a koala would a tree. What Lance's eyes gravitated towards and got stuck on, however, was the strip of skin he could see where Keith's borrowed shirt had ridden up to bunch up under his armpits. The Alpha's entire midsection was on display and Keith was definitely as muscular as Lance had assumed, if not a bit skinny from lack of a decent and stable diet.
Keith shifted and rolled onto his back with a soft grunt and Lance jolted out of his stupor and shut the door again quickly. Guilt coloured his cheeks and he pressed his hands to them to try and quell the warmth there.
"Keith." Lance feigned innocence as he called out the other man's name and knocked again, this time much more loudly. "It's pretty late, I made food if you want some?"
Lance waited, listening for any signs of life and then heard a groan of what could only be described as lament muffled through the door.
"Yeah okay, thanks. I'll be out in a minute." Then there was silence again as Keith seemingly tried to make the most of his last few minutes horizontal and comfortable.
Lance shook his head with a small smile, knowing exactly how his guest felt as he made his way back to the kitchen to wait for them to be able to eat together. After all, it had been far too long since he'd had the chance to share meals with another human so he was going to make the most of the company whilst he still could. Even if said company was a socially awkward Alpha.
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