attackonwalkers | We can beat them, just for one day

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We can beat them, just for one day

Bertolt couldn't sleep.

It's been a good week, maybe two since he and Reiner had stumbled Marco and Jean, and he couldn't shake the feeling that things would go wrong. Terribly wrong. Even though he felt safe with Reiner sleeping two feet away, his thoughts kept wandering. If their new companions found out about their past, what would happen to them? What would happen to Reiner? He still remembers the young soldier that had been part of their group before Berwick had died. The kid had just turned twenty a month before the outbreak occurred.

Bertolt remembers the fear in his eyes as he was cornered by a mob on what should've been a simple scavenging job. They had found some supplies and were trying to trade with a small band of survivors when they recognized the tattered uniform top tied around his waist and the tattoos. Bertolt couldn't do anything but watch from a distance. His job was to keep an eye out from the rooftops for walkers. He went 'home' empty handed that day, rifle slung over his shoulder and the soldier in his arms. He refused to let the walkers make a meal out of his corpse. He deserved a proper burial.

The more he remembered, the sicker he felt. Part of him wanted to believe that Jean and Marco were good people. At the same time, he didn't know a thing about them - sure, Marco had been a teacher before the outbreak, but... Things change. Bertolt didn't want to lose Reiner to people like that. Not if he could help it. With Annie missing and Berwick dead, the blond was the only thing he had left in this godforsaken world. If he lost him...

Bile rose in his throat. One hand reached out to lightly shake Reiner's shoulder, his voice soft and urgent. He needed an excuse to get away from the others, so he fell back on the one he'd use back when they were all in boot camp; "...Reiner, I gotta pee."

We need to talk.

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Reiner grunted softly in response to the tugging, turning his head into the blanket he's using for a pillow, before he allowed Bertolt to pull him out of sleep and back into consciousness. Passing a fist over his eyes for a moment, he half rolled over, glancing back at Bertolt. "Now?"

Sleep was a precious commodity in this post apocalyptic world, and though it did not always come easy, sometimes too troubled with nightmares and memories, it was still something they could not do without. If Bertolt was waking him in the middle of the night, insisting he needed to pee--

Reiner's attention shifted for a moment to the other corner and to the two kids they picked up. The skinny one was awake, keeping watch like he had promised, the other a heap of pilfered, mis-matching blankets. So Bertolt wanted to talk, huh? Away from them. Well, it wasn't like he wasn't expecting this to happen eventually.

"All right, all right. Guess if you gotta go, you gotta go." Stifling a jaw cracking yawn, he pushed up, running his fingers through his oily, dirty hair --too long since his last bath for sure-- before nodding towards Bertolt. "Come on."

Bertolt offers his best friend an apologetic smile as he stands, hissing softly as his spine popped. Sleeping on the hard ground never got any easier, no matter how much he's used to it. He missed the old barn they found months ago, but it wasn't suitable for long-term. Still, one could dream of a proper night's rest. "I'll take your watch, okay?"

It's one way to make it up to Reiner.

He gives the boy a cautious look and a small nod before he starts to lead Reiner away from the camp - close, but not close enough for people to eavesdrop without being spotted. Bertolt didn't like straying too far. Once he feels safe enough, he drops the facade and furrows his brows.

"...Sorry. I just don't know when we'll get another chance."

Sleeping on the hard ground certainly is not easy on the spine, but Bertolt's strange, artistic sleeping poses can't help.

He shrugs a shoulder at Bertolt's offer to take over his watch. Certainly having a few hours of sleep would be great, but then again, he doesn't mind keeping watch. It's one way to assure he can protect Bertolt.

Once they get far enough from the camp site that they can speak without issue, Reiner reaches down to unzip his pants. Might as well empty the bladder while they are out here anyway. "Don't worry about it. Lets hear, what's on your mind?"

He has a pretty good guess as to what is on his mind, but he'd rather ask than assume.

Alright, Bertolt. Deep breath. Normally he wouldn't be so nervous about speaking his mind to Reiner, but he knows how his friend has been acting lately towards the newbies. He's too friendly.

"I'm worried," he starts slowly, carefully choosing his words. Bertolt knows he comes off as worried ninety percent of the time, but that's just how he's always been. Tall, quiet, cautious Bertolt. He doesn't want to give Reiner the wrong idea if he can avoid it. "About the people we picked up. I... What're we going to do with them?"

He knows full well that ditching them outright would be cruel, but it's the what if that gnaws at him. He follows suit in unzipping his own pants, tossing a look over his shoulder - the cover up wasn't a complete lie; he actually did have to pee. "I don't want another incident like before."

"I know, I know. It's just--"

He pauses for a moment, then pushes on: "they're too green. I don't think they'd survive on their own."

Which is really the whole rub. He knows what Bertolt is referring to, and he understands his concern. Though they might just be a skinny hipster and former primary school teacher, they could still be plenty dangerous. They had both lost people, who hasn't in this mess, and the knowledge that he and Bert are responsible for it all could make them snap.

But even knowing that, Reiner can't stand the thought of abandoning them to what might be an inevitable (un)death. They might be a threat, but they are also people and Reiner has seen too many people die recently. It gnaws at him, all these deaths he is already responsible for, and to be responsible for these deaths, and so directly as too, he isn't sure if he could hack that.

Bertolt finds himself nodding. When they had found Marco and Jean, his heart went out to them. It was obvious that they had a hard time, but honestly who hasn't? They've both lost people they cared for, and in Marco's case...

A weaker man would've given up by now.

"We all were at one point, Reiner." Even with their skills, they had to adapt too. Following an order to kill someone on the battlefield was one thing, but killing anyone who was a threat (walker or human) was just as, if not harder. Friends turning on friends. Humans turning on each other. Friends turning into walkers. "I just... I can't lose you. If they find out and they try to hurt you, I..." He wouldn't hesitate like he did with Berwick.

They certainly had had to adapt. Warfare was equal parts skill as it was intimidation and that was how they had been taught. Make the enemy fear you and they won't strike back. However this enemy could not be intimidated. There was no fear on their end. Those skills might still be useful against other humans, but against the living dead, the only thing that helped was a good headshot. It certainly had been a learning curve.

His eyes flick to the side at that, looking at Bertolt. "Hey, don't worry, you won't lose me. You're stuck with me." After two decades there are no trade-ins on this friendship anymore. He sighs, staring out into the dark, tucking himself back into his pants after a quick shake. "You're right, it's risky. I won't deny that. I just... I don't want-- We're responsible for the deaths of enough people already. I don't want to add them to the list."

Besides, he does better with more people. He had always naturally gravitated towards people, the eternal extrovert, and even though Bert is his best friend, one person is not enough social engagement to him.

He feels sick again. Berwick had said those exact words as they were growing up together. 'You're stuck with me, no matter what.'

"But we might have to." Sooner or later, someone'll have to do it. Someone will have to stain their hands with blood, and Bertolt already did it once. He's not sure if he could do it again. He lets himself fall into silence for a few moments, concentrating on the sounds around them. It isn't until he finishes his business and wills himself to calm down that he tentatively reaches out for Reiner's hand.

Bertolt is more terrified than he wants to admit, but at the same time he knows this is what Reiner really needs. As much as he wants to be all that he'll ever want, he's fully aware that it's not possible. "Reiner?"

Reiner waits in silence while Bertolt finishes his business. He's not going to leave him here in the dark. Besides, he isn't even sure if their talk is over.

When Bertolt reaches for his hand, he bends a little towards him, closing the gap between them until his shoulder is brushing against Bertolt's upper arm. "Yeah?"

This. This is why Reiner has been his best friend since the day he could waddle after him. With one hand around Reiner's wrist, he uses the other to fix his pants and then he turns to bump their foreheads together.

"No matter what happens we'll still be together, right?" Even though Bertolt knew the answer already, he always liked to hear confirmation.

In response, Reiner reaches up with his free hand, cupping his calloused fingers across the back of Bertolt's neck, allowing him to lean close. "Of course. I'm not leaving you."

Slowly he strokes his fingers over the back of Bertolt's neck, along the line of his nape and the ends of his hair, speaking up again after a few moments. "We could find another group for them. There's survivors everywhere. If we can find a group that'll take'em in, we can go on together again. Find Annie." If it'd make Bertolt happy he'd do it, no matter how bad it might be for his mental state.

As comforting as the gesture was, Bertolt can't help but stifle a small laugh. With how much his hair has grown since the outbreak, feeling Reiner mess with it tickles. It helps relax him though, because as soon as he feels his fingers stroking his skin, Bertolt all but sags against him.

"We could," he finally leans against him, arms moving to wrap around Reiner's back with a sigh. Even a blind man could see that Reiner needed them. It'd help keep him grounded. "But... Like you said, they're too green. A-And we don't know what other groups would do to them. If they thought they'd slow them down, then they'd... You know." Bait. Maybe worse. As wary as Bertolt was, it was worth it to see Reiner smile again. Truly, truly smile. "If you think they're okay, I can try."

Reiner feels his mouth lift into a short grin when he hears Bertolt stifle a laugh. He hadn't done that in a while. The outbreak had changed them, both of them.

His fingers toy idly with the shaggy hair at Bertolt's nape. "We'll see, okay? Maybe they won't even want to stick around us for too long." Not that Reiner can see any reason why they would not want to. Rather he is just trying to shelf the discussion further, diffuse it until they absolutely without a doubt need to discuss it again. He can understand Bertolt distrust, he can, but he also wants to feel like a person again. Even if it means pretending to be someone who he is not.

"You know," he says, almost idly, after another handful of moments. "If Shadis saw how scruffy we've become, he'd have our heads." Their old drill sergeant had certainly made an impression when they had first joined the army, as wet and green behind the ears as could be. Mostly the sort of impression that had him jokingly imitating his enraged bellows, before checking around for his presence like a pair of guilty children.

Bertolt nods, his arms tightening around the larger man. After knowing him for over twenty years, he knew when to stick a pin in something and come back to it later. Reiner listened to him, and that was all that mattered.

Even the mention of Shadis gets another laugh, though it's not on the same level as the first. This one's nostalgic. "I can still hear him yelling at us to stop screwing around." As strange as it was, Bertolt admired him. "But he was a great instructor. We came out on top because he pushed us so hard." All of them. He even remembers writing home about it to his parents the day they were promoted.

...God, he missed everyone.

"Do you think he'd be proud of us? Now, I mean."

Reiner snorts softly. It's true, Shadis had spend a lot of time yelling at them to stop screwing around. Mostly because they had been screwing around a lot of the time. Berwick just had that tendency of bringing out the kid in Reiner and then they'd inevitably drag Bertolt into it.

"With your hair looking like that? Fat chance, Hoover. It's only the end of the world, no need to look like a hippy." The joke is easy, easier than trying to picture their old drill instructor right now. Was he even still alive? Or had he been torn apart, either by the dead or by the survivors? And if he was alive, what would he think of them now, of what they had done. Some answers are just better not to have.

With the main cause of his stress pushed to the side, it's easier for him to laugh. If there was one thing he could always count on Reiner for, it's things like this.

Bertolt suddenly plasters a forced but lazy grin on his face for all of three seconds. "Groovy." Deep down, he wanted Shadis to have survived. The guy was tougher than railroad spikes for crying out loud. With his own half of the joke over, he lets the fake smile disappear in favor of a smaller, genuine one. "But you wouldn't be off the hook either, Braun. Your hair looks like the broom we'd use to squash those giant bugs we'd get around base."

"Don't you think I know it." Reiner longs for the days of buzz-cuts, electric razors and clean socks. And showers. And the dead not walking the earth, but sometimes, really, it just feels like he misses the buzz-cuts and showers most of all. It is hard to really feel more human than the walkers under such a layer of grime.

"I'm adding scissors to our shopping list." Shopping list, loot list, small difference.

"I don't know if I can trust you with the big boy scissors, Reiner." Or himself for that matter. Bertolt found out the hard way that he was absolute shit at cutting hair. Especially his own. One too many lopsided bangs and he had just given up and let Berwick and Reiner cut it for him.

"I vote we add something sweet to that list too. I'll take stale twizzlers if it comes down to it." Plus the new guys might like it. It wouldn't be hot water, but it's the little comforts that make the apocalypse a little more bearable.

At least Reiner's hair is so short that unevenness is not easily noticed. Unlike Bertolt's longer hair.

"Screw your twizzlers, I want skittles. You know how I feel about rainbows." It was a bit of a tired old joke, but even the stale old jokes are bits of familiarity in this world. Just like a stale bag of skittles would be.

Yeah, he's going to nag someone to cut it. While he doesn't want it as short as Reiner's, he doesn't want it to be too long.

At the mention of rainbows however, Bertolt leans down just long enough to press a small kiss to Reiner's cheek. "Meet you in the middle with rainbow twizzlers and skittles." Compared to how he was feeling earlier, Bertolt is definitely in a better mood.

"No need to get decadent," he teases, stroking his fingers over the back of Bertolt's neck again.

If Bertolt is joking with him again, then he must be feeling better. Good. Which probably means they can head back to the camp. Not that they are really far away, still within sight, but it is still a few more meters. "Come on, lets head back. You should try and get a little more sleep."

Bertolt hums softly in agreement as he untangles himself from Reiner. He doesn't let go of his hand though, he just holds onto it tighter as he starts to lead him back. "He's probably wondering what's taking us so long, too."

It's not as if it was a big secret, but talking about it was still enough Bertolt on a one-way trip to Blushtown.

Reiner lets go of Bertolt's hand, reaching up so he can scruff his fingers through his shaggy hair instead, grinning widely. "Yeah, well, we' ll just tell them you've got the shyest bladder."

"I grew out of that after middle school!" Which was true! He could only go either alone, or when he had Reiner or Berwick talking to him. Everyone else? He'd just hold it.

He laughs, the sound low and rumbling, his arm sliding down to rest around Bertolt's shoulders instead, pulling his head down a little to bridge the difference between their heights. "You'll always be my shy little Bertl who can't piss in front of anyone."

"Oh my god," the old Bertolt would've nudged Reiner in the side. This Bertolt just lets Reiner tug him around, another laugh threatening to slip out. "Reiner, you're such an ass." But he's Bertolt's ass.

"I hope I drool on you."

"You only drooling on me would be a luxury." Drool is such a minor thing compared to Bertolt napping with his face in Reiner's crotch and his shin in his face. Or his foot in his ear. Or whatever weird pose he manages to come up with this time.

It's only a matter of time before their new 'friends' start asking questions about that little habit too. One that he wasn't going to explain. Reiner'll have to take care of that. "I'll drool on your lap. Then you'll have to explain why you have a wet spot there."

With the small camp in view, Bertolt keeps himself between Reiner and the new kids on the block until they were finally back in their little blanket nest-bed-thing. Even with his worries tucked away on the shelf, he still can't help but be a little protective.

Reiner sinks back into their blanket nest, after making sure that Jean still looks awake enough to continue the rest of his watch. He'd rather take over his watch than have him fall asleep on them. But with him looking awake enough, it is time for Reiner to get some more sleep. He makes himself as comfortable as he can on the hard ground, adjusting the blanket he uses for a pillow, before stretching out his arm, inviting Bertolt in against his side without words.

Edited 2014-07-19 12:36 (UTC)

Bertolt doesn't hesitate. Ever since he was a little kid, he had a hard time falling asleep without something or someone familiar nearby. Before the military, it had been a stuffed bear from Christmas. As a soldier, it was Reiner's pillow. Now, it was Reiner himself. Once he scoots into the blond's arms, Bertolt twists their legs up and buries his face into the crook of his neck.

Nothing could hurt him like this. Not walkers, not humans, not even his own imagination. The only one capable of hurting him now was the man he loved, and he knew that would never happen. He stays like this for a few minutes and allows Reiner's heartbeat lull him to the brink of sleep, but there was one more thing he still needed to do;

"...Love you, Reiner."

"I know," he murmurs in return, turning his head a little to brush his lips against Bertolt's hair. His arm tightens around his shoulders pulling him a bit close . "Go to sleep, Bertl. I'll be here when you wake up."

With that little confirmation, Bertolt hums softly and finally, finally relaxes and lets himself fall back asleep. At least when he's being held like this, there's less of a risk of him twisting around and accidentally kicking Reiner in the face.

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We can beat them, just for one day

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