Summary: when chaos and anarchy rage in the world, Dan and Phil still find time for passionate kissing under the stars.
Word count: 3k
TW: swears, death, blood, fire and general mayhem
AN: for the sake of this fic lets pretend d&p would actually survive during an apocalypse if they had been trained in basic survival skills >_> ((the ending is ambiguous so it’s up to you whose thoughts are those))
He doesn’t jump out of the bed like they do
in movies. He startles awake and stares at the ceiling as tears trickle down
his temples and onto the pillow. He swears he can still hear the screaming, the
roaring of the guns, he can feel the scorching heat of the sun and the cold
sweat running down his spine, he can smell the blood mixed in with dirt and
grass, he can taste the iron on his tongue. It’s overwhelming. Breathing
erratic, heart threatening to break his ribs, he sits up, closes his eyes.
Count to five and inhale then count to five and exhale. Repeat as long as it
takes. Calm down, you can survive this. Dan taught him that to keep the panic
The ratty mattress next to his is vacant.
His heart stops for a second and he thinks that maybe his nightmares weren’t
actually dreams but rather memories; air leaves his lungs, he can’t breathe.
Then a silent ‘fuck’ reaches his ears and Phil relaxes. Dan’s still here, still
among the living. He finds his glasses, heaves himself off the floor, laces up
his boots and grabs his shotgun. Carefully walking around the six sleeping
bodies, he reaches the door of their better-than-nothing cabin.