Chapter Text
September 27th, 2013
Quiet.
Bill listened, hoping to hear the telltale sound of the deer moving through the brush. He focused in on it, thinking perhaps-
A twig snapped behind him and he spun around, finding himself pointing his rifle at Frank. He pulled it to the side and glared, giving him a you’re going to scare it away expression. Frank winced and mouthed sorry.
Six years together, and as crazy as they could drive each other sometimes, Bill couldn’t imagine any other life. He’d had to learn to compromise, to be less stubborn. And Frank had to learn a lot about how to survive. Some lessons he learned better than others. He’d learned to shoot, something that Bill felt equally proud and relieved of. He didn’t take the instruction “keep to yourself” as well as Bill hoped, but so far nothing negative happened from it. On the other hand, Frank had been a paramedic before everything went to shit, which meant he knew how to find cover and stay safe in a tense situation. It also meant that he’d saved Bill’s life after he’d been shot in a raider attack a few weeks before.
The wound still ached, and Bill absently rubbed at it as he started looking around for the deer. He’d managed one shot, but he’d only wounded it. He needed to finish the job. A rustle in the bushes alerted him and he shifted to aim. He could see the wounded deer and he took the shot. It rang through the trees, and he watched the deer fall.
“Nice shot,” Frank noted, starting forward.
“Mind the traps!” Bill snapped, moving to catch up with him.
“I know where they are.”
“It wouldn’t have taken me two shots if you weren’t so damned noisy.” Bill sighed and looked over at Frank, who smiled. Damn him sometimes for that because his smile disarmed Bill like nothing else. When he didn’t want the noise, he’d hunt alone (when he didn’t have a hole in his side). Frank understood that. It’s something that he loved about Frank, that he would usually give Bill the space he needed. He pushed, oh did he push sometimes, but he knew when to push and when to drop it.
Bill wouldn’t trade this for anything, and he’d rather have the occasional botched hunt with the person he loved over any other outcome. Besides, with the gunshot wound still healing, he couldn’t move a deer on his own.
As they approached one of the traps, Frank sidestepped to move around the tree. Sometimes, when they were lucky, something they could eat would walk into the traps. Bill liked those days. They had been living off rabbits from snares for the last two weeks, but Bill wanted to make a nice dinner. Frank had pointed out that Joel and Tess would be coming by in a couple of days, and Bill had almost said “rabbit it is.” But they would bring a new saw blade, so Bill could cut some boards to update his beet and potato boxes. Being able to make beet sugar and potato flour kept their strawberry jam and biscuit ritual going.
In return, Frank saved some honey from his bees. Bill didn’t mind the occasional sting, but he didn’t have Frank’s ability to walk into the bees and exit unscathed. Even when stung, Frank laughed it off. It took them both to keep the modest crops they had going, but Bill found immense satisfaction working beside Frank to sustain their lives out here.
The deer would bring them many dinners, and the possibility of jerky and several types of sausage. Good rations for trade, or for when they had to leave their oasis to go somewhere. An immense amount of work, but good to eat. Frank loved venison sausage with breakfast, and Bill loved making Frank smile, especially by doing something he enjoyed.
Besides, he couldn’t resist a good deer steak.
As they approached the downed deer, Frank stopped, putting a hand on Bill’s arm. “Did you hear that?”
Bill paused, listening. A persistent whine, somewhere nearby. “That a dog?” That’s just what they needed. It had better not be a dog. No good could come of it.
“Sounds like it.” Frank glanced around. “Let’s check.”
Bill shook his head, shouldering his rifle and kneeling to inspect the deer. A clean kill, even if it took two shots. “It’s a distraction, let’s get the deer and get home.” He didn’t want to be out here any longer than he needed to.
“I’m going to find that dog, you can come with me or not.” Frank started back into the woods.
“God damnit, Frank,” Bill muttered, lumbering to his feet. His knees cracked and he frowned. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bright-colored piece of tape, tying it to a branch. He kept tying as he followed Frank, not wanting to lose the deer‘s location. They still had to drag it back to the truck.
They walked through the woods, Frank pausing occasionally to listen. The whining intensified, and Bill felt his heart sink. That sounded like a puppy. It would be just his luck.
“Have you ever had a dog, Bill?”
“No. My mom was a cat person.” Bill frowned. He didn’t mind cats; they had moments when they were needy, but they were capable of doing their own thing. He liked that. Bill could get behind that.
“I had dogs growing up. Harder for me with the long shifts I had when I was older, though.” Frank stood poised, listening. “This way.” He started into the bushes.
Sighing, Bill followed him, catching a branch as it snapped back towards his face.
Frank stopped and dropped to the ground. “Oh, hey there,” he murmured.
Bill felt his stomach clench up at the tone of Frank’s voice. “It’s probably feral. Rabies.” Bill edged to Frank’s side, concerned that Frank would get in too close.
A dog and a litter of three two-toned tan puppies huddled under a bush. The mother and two of the pups looked dead, but the last one looked up at Frank, shaking. Its tail thumped on the ground as it stayed curled too close to the mother. Bill could count its ribs. Despite himself, he felt bad for the dog. He’d learned a whole new appreciation for the fear of being alone, or for knowing someone would have to go on alone.
“It’s fine,” Frank said. “I mean, I can’t say for sure it doesn’t have rabies.” He looked from the puppy to the mother. “Oh, you poor girl.” He looked up at Bill. “She’s still alive.” Bill looked past him to the mother. She shook, staring at them.
“She won’t make it.” Bill reached for his pistol, but Frank shook his head.
“No. This is my responsibility.” He reached out and tried to put a hand on the dog, but she let out a low, week growl. He moved to pick up the remaining puppy, but the growl intensified as she managed a weak snap. “She’s not going to let me. She’s malnourished, scared.” He reached out and touched her back foot, and she didn’t kick back. “Paralyzed.”
“Nothing we can do, then.”
Frank took off his jacket and covered the puppy with it. He drew his pistol. “I’m sorry, old girl.” He leveled it and made a single clean shot at the mother. The puppy flinched under the jacket, and the sound echoed into the woods.
Bill watched a tear slide down Frank’s cheek. This is exactly what he wanted to protect Frank from, from having to do this. But Frank was an adult, had been a medic, and had seen worse. He didn’t need Bill’s protection in that way, but Bill couldn’t hold the urge back. He knelt as Frank lifted the jacket to peer down at the puppy.
“We can’t keep it. We don’t know- “
“Then we’ll find out.” Frank reached out and put his hand near the puppy as he set the jacket aside. She lifted her head to sniff his hand, and Frank gently rolled her over. “She’s part beagle, mostly mutt.”
“She’s trouble.” Bill tried not to look at her and stayed focused on Frank’s face. It didn’t seem to help, so he looked back down at the puppy. “We can’t take her. She’s probably half wild. Let’s just get this over with, she shouldn’t have to suffer.”
“We’re not doing that. We should give her a chance. These make good hunting dogs.” He picked her up, cradling her against his chest. “You could use the help. You’re getting older.”
“So are you,” Bill muttered. He didn’t need another reminder. As if crackling knees, pain when he ran, the persistent fear of leaving Frank alone weren’t enough. “Frank, we’ve been over this, we can’t just take responsibility for more things, we’re spread thin enough as is! And what do you even know about hunting dogs?”
“Enough.” Frank looked at Bill. “Listen, it doesn’t have to be a permanent thing. If it doesn’t work out, I can ask Tess to take her somewhere else.”
“Joel will love that.” At this point, Frank thought about just fighting it out, but he had to pick his battles, especially when it came to Frank’s empathy. A puppy didn’t seem worth the conflict. He imagined a world where he and Frank didn’t live in a post-apocalyptic compound. What would they have done? Bill wasn’t sure. But those were days when you could go to the store and buy some fucking dog food.
“Grumps of a feather flock together.” Frank sighed. “What I’m saying is that I don’t want to force you into anything, but she needs us, Bill. Come on.” He smiled. “I’ll take care of her. I can use leftovers to make food for her.” He leaned down over the pup. “Her heart is beating so fast.”
“Yeah, she’s probably terrified.” He didn’t want a dog and the extra responsibility that came with it. But under that wavered another feeling he couldn’t shake, a protectiveness for Frank. What if there’s something wrong with her? Frank would end up heartbroken. And what if Bill… “I’m not sure you’ve been thinking this through.”
“Which part? I mean it. Tell me.”
Bill drew a breath. “That’s another life to be responsible for.”
“You mean it’s something you could become attached to and eventually lose.”
“That’s not it,” Bill snapped, even though Frank had hit the nail on the head.
“I get it. I’m afraid of losing you. And I’m sure I’ll end up being afraid of losing her, too.” Frank cradled the puppy against him. “That’s all life.”
“I didn’t set up in the middle of nowhere for life, Frank. I did it to get away from it.” Bill turned and walked a few steps. Damnit. He’d come too far, and every possible outcome ended in getting hurt at some point down the road. “This is why I was afraid to let you in here.”
“Do you regret that?”
“No!” Bill threw his hands up in the air. “But sometimes I feel like I should.” He turned back to Frank. “I hate being afraid of losing you. And I don’t want to be afraid of losing a damned dog.”
Frank stepped forward, laying his hand along Bill’s cheek. He held the dog between them and pulled Bill closer, sandwiching her between them. She looked up with eager eyes from one to the other. “I know. But I’ll be here, too.” He leaned in and kissed Bill, and Bill let himself melt into that kiss. “We have the best lift I ever could have imagined. We can share it with one tiny puppy.”
Bill sighed. “Fine. Just take her. But you’re responsible for her. Let’s get the deer and go home.”
The puppy curled against Frank’s chest, and Bill stared, unable to take his eyes off Frank and how easily he calmed her. Frank moved his fingers over her ribs, nodding to himself. “Hold her for a second, then tell me what you think.” Frank handed the puppy to Bill, and Bill pulled her to his chest. For Frank’s sake.
At least, that’s what he told himself as he wrapped the tiny dog in his arms, and she closed her eyes, her tail tapping against his arm. She nuzzled against him, burying her head. She weighed almost nothing. He’d already agreed to take the dog, he didn’t need proof of the helplessness and cuteness of a puppy.
“Well?” Frank prompted, picking up his jacket and putting a hand on his hip.
Bill could see the hope in his face, and he realized that this wasn’t about him agreeing to the dog. It was about them doing it together. He sighed. Maybe a hunting dog wouldn’t hurt. “I already said we’ll take the fucking dog. But she’s going to learn how to retrieve rabbits.” He leaned in close to look at her, and she lifted her head and licked his hand, and kept licking. His stomach dropped. “Fuck.” He tried to hand the dog back to Frank, but she leaned forward and kept licking even as he handed the dog back to Frank.
“Good job!” Frank whispered, leaning down to kiss the dog on the head. He grinned and looked up at Bill. That infectious smile. Damn dog had as little shame as Frank. But if nothing else, if anything did happen to Bill… At least Frank would have someone.
“I see what you’re doing there,” Bill warned. Between the two of them, they risked getting their way to a whole new level. “You’re going to have to name her.”
Frank got to his feet, wrapping the dog in his jacket, and holding her in one arm. He offered the other hand to Bill.
Bill didn’t need help getting up, but he took the hand because Frank loved helping.
“You could name her,” Frank offered, squeezing Bill’s hand as he stood. Maybe he also just liked holding Frank’s hand.
“I thought she was your dog.” Bill wiped the stray tear off Frank’s face.
“You know that everything is ours as soon as it comes home.” Frank chucked. “No lecture about how my compassion will get us killed this time?”
Bill grunted, squeezing Frank’s hand in return. He loved Frank’s frustrating compassion. “Not worth it. She makes you smile, so I guess it’s fine. But now we need that deer more than ever.” He let go of Frank’s hand and they started back through the woods, Bill untying the pieces of bright tape as he went to erase their trail. “For the record, your compassion is something I love about you.”
They reached the deer, and at this point, the sun had started to dip in the sky. Bill got the truck as close as he could, but they still had to drag it a short distance. Bill tied a rope around its legs and started dragging, the rope digging into his hands.
“Carry the dog.” Frank reached to take the rope from him, but Bill grasped it more tightly.
“I’m recovering, not an invalid,” he shot back.
“Bill, you have a gunshot wound in your gut. Drop the ego shit and let me help you.”
Bill pushed forward and felt a surge of pain. “Fine.” He hated this getting older shit, this recovering shit, especially when Frank could still run circles around him. He remembered Frank’s words. Paying attention to things is how we show love. He pushed the rope into Frank’s hand, then leaned forward to kiss him, wrapping one hand around the back of his neck, breathing in Frank’s scent. He recognized this as Frank’s way of taking care of him, of saying I love you more times a day than voiced. “Thanks.”
“Wasn’t so hard, was it?” Frank brushed Bill’s hair aside and smiled.
Frank handed Bill the puppy, then wrapped his hands around the rope as he moved forward towards the truck. He squared his shoulders and leaned into the pull.
Bill juggled the puppy in his arms, holding her awkwardly. He shifted and tucked her against his body. “Show off.”
“You like it when I show off.” The deer lurched forward, and Frank didn’t strain at all.
Without his jacket, Bill could trace Frank’s shoulders with his eyes. No complaints about that. Just about everything else.
“Big one you’ve got here.”
“Well, we have a lot of mouths to feed this week.” That saw blade had better be perfect.
“The little one won’t eat much of it. We could make her a bone broth, or eggs should be fine.”
“You’re giving her our eggs now?” Bill rolled his eyes, but he looked down to find the puppy yawning, her eyelids dropping. He put a hand on her and stroked along her back. Bill did the same Frank when Frank had nightmares. “What about Stella?”
“Stella By Starlight, or Stella Blue?”
“Just seemed like a nice name.” He hadn’t even thought about those songs. He looked down at the puppy. “What do you think?”
“Are you asking me or the dog?” Frank glanced back at him.
Bill snorted. “You.”
“Oh, Stella Blue, for sure. Love Ella Fitzgerald, but it’s hard to beat a broken angel sings from a guitar. Stella’s a good name.”
They reached the truck and Frank took Stella back from Bill, wrapping her up in the jacket and placing her in on the floor in the front seat. He still didn’t approve, but now they were committed.
“She better not mess anything up,” Bill called, dropping the tailgate and waiting for Frank to come back to help him lift the deer. He considered trying anyway, just to prove he could, but he would rather avoid the pain of that wound reopening. He’d already managed it once, and it had been two days of bed rest. Two days of Frank bringing him food and spoiling him had been nice, but it made him restless. What if something had happened? What if the raiders had come back?
“She can barely move. She hasn’t eaten anything. I don’t think she’s capable of messing anything up.”
Bill could hear the tone in Frank’s voice, patient with an edge of I’m not an idiot. He hated that tone, but he knew he’d had it coming. Bill leaned down to take the deer’s front legs as Frank came around to take the rear legs. They lifted and swung the deer into the truck bed, and Bill closed the tailgate.
Bill leaned against it, looking over at Frank. Frank looked slightly smug, excited, but more than anything, happy. “This is why I don’t take you hunting.”
“Because I’m too good at finding things?”
“Shut up.” Bill chuckled. Maybe his heart felt a little lighter.
“But you love me.”
“I do.” He did. “You’re lucky for that.”
“I’m the luckiest man alive,” Frank affirmed, beaming.
Sometimes Bill didn’t feel so sure, he didn’t always understand how Frank loved him so much, but Bill had long ago stopped questioning it.
Bill walked around to the driver’s side door and clamored in, a shot of pain from the wound going through his side. He settled into the seat and watched as Frank climbed in and pulled the puppy up to sit on his lap. She looked asleep, so soundly asleep that Frank placed a finger on her neck for a moment, then nodded. “Ok, Stella, ready to see your new home?”
“She looks real excited,” Bill drawled, starting the truck. “I must be getting old to agree to this shit. She’s still your dog.”
Frank chuckled, reaching out to put a hand on Bill’s leg. His fingers stroked the surface of Bill’s jeans, a gesture that Bill found reassuring. “Sure she is.”
Bill set his hand on Frank’s and glanced over at Frank and Stella. The puppy had Frank’s thumb in her mouth and Frank looked ready to giggle. Damnit. That was... cute.
This would be trouble, through and through. Compared to the rest of the trouble in the world, though, Bill supposed that he considered himself still pretty lucky, too.