He puts the medicines in his bag and slings it over his shoulder. People might come after him for it. 

He wonders if Roe can defend himself. He's been living off a diet of corpses but that doesn't necessarily mean he knows how to fight. 

"Oh!" Roe says, like he's forgotten something, which he had. "I'm Roe."

Victor smiles to himself. "I'm Victor Mueller," he says. "You can call me Vic." 

He gives out the full name as a way of remembering Xavier. He can't say his husband's full name without crying, but he can speak their shared name, at the very least. 

"Okay!"

He trails along after Victor as he travels to the encampment. They're lucky. There's no zombies for now.

This area is pretty clear because he's spent a lot of time making it that way. 

"What were you doing before... everything?" 

Casual chatter, but also he hasn't seen a new survivor in ages. 

Of course, there are people who would say that revenants aren't true survivors, by definition. 

Victor doesn't tend to listen to them. 

"High school!" Roe says. He hasn't thought about it in a while, because it makes him think about everything he's lost. "I liked baseball."

There was more to it than that, but he's not saying anything. Some wounds should stay closed. 

Victor is abruptly crushed by how young he is. 

Fifteen. 

Victor was 67. He doesn't consider himself 70 now, because he doesn't look the way he feels he should at that age. 

But that is how old he is, by any understanding of age dependent on time. 

Fuck.

And here he's been, looking at the smooth patches of skin Roe's rags leave visible. 

Xavier would call him a perve for that. 

Xavier also isn't here. 

He can feel Vic looking. 

Makes him feel good. Makes him feel less crushingly alone, being gazed at like that. 

He shivers, and it's only a little because it's nearing night. 

He hangs back, so he's behind Vic now. He wants to look too. 

Vic is grizzled, with a salt and pepper beard and long, semi-groomed hair. His clothes are better, but they don't hide the fact that he is a tall, large man, the kind that Roe imagines holding him.

Shit. 

The kid's probably noticed him looking. This was a terrible idea. 

Before he can wallow further down into his regrets the camp comes into view. 

It's not the best place. A long, snake-like line of semi-permanent canvas tents stretches down what used to be the esplanade and is now an overgrown snarl eating away at the nearby highway. 

But it's closer to home than anywhere else in the city. 

They didn't bomb the rivers except for a handful of bridges. Better than anyone could have hoped for. 

Also serves as a good distraction from the mutual bad idea attraction. 

(This will not last for very long)

"Here we are!" Victor says, doing a dramatic gesture with his hands. 

He's struck again by the contrast to where he used to live, but that's the most he can think about it before the grief starts trying to drown him again. 

"Welcome."

The camp isn't empty but most people are inside. 

The exception is a red-headed young person in a ratty labcoat sitting next to an open wood fire, poking at it with a stick.

The fire is for warmth and light. They don't run electricity at night, to save on fuel. 

Alan doesn't get up when they see Dr. M, but he does get up when he sees the stranger. Skinny, only slightly shorter than them. 

They grin, a wide, slightly glassy expression. "Hey, hey," they say.

Metal jingles when they move from the dog tags around their neck. 

"Welcome back, moron." 

Roe's surprised to see the hot stranger kiss Vic on the mouth. He has to lean down for it. 

Does that mean they're also a zombie? 

That question fights with the fact that the two of them are very hot like this. Roe likes looking. 

He doesn't say anything. He's afraid it'll make them stop.

This is another bad idea. 

Alan is a bad idea in general, rescued from a sewer with a gun in their hand, their mouth on Victor's cock and calling him Dr. M the moment they learned anything about his history. 

Also young, but not quite as young. Still young enough that he shouldn't.

He forgets about Roe long enough that he doesn't stop Alan grind against him, and lets out a soft moan when he feels their erection against his leg.

Alan chooses that moment to pull back.

Victor groans, and remembers Roe in that moment. He turns out to look at him, a guilty flush coloring his weathered features. 

Roe's eyes are enormous, and seem to shine with an almost worrying intensity. 

"Hot," he says, like he doesn't care who's listening. 

He probably doesn't.

"You're not so bad yourself," Alan says. They're grinning, intentionally ignoring Dr. M's disapproving expression. "Alan. I'm on guard duty."

Shouldn't you be on guard duty then, and not molesting me. 

"Oh calm down, there's nothing around for miles." He sticks their tongue out at Dr. M. "Come on, I'll get you situated. You'll be staying in my tent until we find you a place."

Their tent is functionally Dr. M's tent, too, but they're not going to mention that. They're going to wait until Dr. M cracks and hits on this bright young twink, because then it'll be entirely his own perversion. 

Roe has no problem with this.

Victor has a problem with this, but can't bring himself to object. 

He should be responsible. 

He is also dead, and they are all dead, and it's hard for him to care when he's seen how Roe looks at him. 

Roe has never had sex before. Being a zombie for three years will do that to you. He should have been in high school being stupid. Instead he was learning new words from the paperbacks boredom drove him to steal. 

He follows Alan into the tent. He doesn't assume anything with happen. 

"Food?" he asks. 

He's interested in all the flirting for sure but he was promised something pretty specific.

"Outside," he says. "We have a stewpot for the nights."

There's refrigeration but that's only in the buildings that get electricity 24/7 and they're not accessible to revenants without permission. "Wanted to get you situated first."

They've clocked Roe as inexperienced. They're a creep and a pervert but they're not going to force themselves on him. Especially if they're right about a small detail Dr. M probably hasn't noticed.