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Bucky exhales into the cold night, watching his breath stream away, pale as mist. He can hardly see it in the dark of the school's parking lot, with its faraway lamp posts and the bustle of teens getting into cars as the cheer competition lets out.
He can feel himself glowing from the memory. His kids knew what to do and when. It brought him all the way back to when he was in high school, when he was down there, front and center, a green-and-pink Seabrook star.
Nowadays, it seems all the kids do is make fun of him, but that has its own merits, too.
Bucky opens his phone, his fingers already stiff with cold, and remembers he had plans this evening. An electric trill flickers down his spine. He's about to start a call when someone clears their throat close by, and Bucky looks up, and he needs a moment to put those features and that deep green hair into context, but then, oh.
A surprised grin overtakes Bucky's face. “What are you already doing here?”
Zed pulls a ticket out of his pocket. “Saw the competition. Why else?”
Bucky blinks, his face a little warm, his heart a little quick. “Well? What'd you think?”
Despite the shadows on his face, Bucky makes out a smile creeping up Zed's lip. “I think I recognized some of those routines. Been a while, but...”
“Yeah, don't remind me how long.” Ten years, but who's keeping track? “I'm surprised you still knew them. Then again, Addison kept competitive for a while, right?”
When Bucky brings up his cousin's name, something soft with melancholy falls over Zed's face. Bucky gives Zed his privacy. Changes the subject. “Did you have any other plans tonight, besides sneaking into my kids' competition?”
Zed raises an eyebrow. “Yeah. I did. I actually wanted to ask if, uh”—he loses his nerve, just for the length of a heartbeat—“you wouldn't mind having dinner with me.”
Bucky swallows, but his throat's gone dry.
It's amazing how quickly Zed makes him feel young again, like he's hiding behind the gym lockers or in the bathroom stall, like any one misstep will cause the entire world to turn its back on him.
Been a long time since Bucky's thought of his hometown as a death sentence. Been a long time since he's visited.
He shakes his head. They're adults. They're long past those childhood memories.
If a handsome man wants to offer him dinner, Bucky has no need to glance over one shoulder.
He can just say yes.
Zed drives a smooth, sporty car, a far cry from the heap of junk hand-me-down he'd had since high school. Bucky imagines football has been a lucrative career.
“So,” Bucky asks into the warmed air between them, looking out the window so he doesn't look at Zed, “how have you been?”
“Oh, god, Bucky,” and Zed starts to laugh, “you think I drove all the way out here because I'm perfectly content with my life?”
“I didn't ask you to be perfectly content.”
“Well...” Zed breathes in slowly. Bucky hears it, remembers afternoons spent laying on his chest. Momentarily, he's overcome with a fluttery sensation. Then Zed continues speaking. “Lots of changes, more recently. There are always bite allegations going around, but usually, it isn't your own team suspecting you.”
Oh. Oh...
“Though, it's sort of the same old. You'd think they would realize if no one's reportedly turned into a zombie that I haven't been biting anyone.” He sighs. “I should be used to it, but not yet, I guess.”
“Seabrook's learned,” Bucky adds quietly, “but the rest of the world is a hard sell, huh?”
In the corner of his vision, Zed shrugs. His Z-Band catches a light from outside the car. The material's newer, shiny, and someone's even installed a watch in it, but it's still a Z-Band.
Finally, Zed says, “I'm either a unique enigma for the team to ponder out or a dangerous liability. Sort of depends on how I'm playing and what rumors spin from it.”
Bucky thinks back to the last football game he watched Zed play on the television. The guy's always been a good player—something of a brick wall on the field. Bucky's always enjoyed seeing him. Knowing he's still out there. Alive.
Bucky gazes at him as light and shadow pass through Zed's complexion, revealing the angles and the age of him. Still, Bucky's chest stirs. He knows this person like he knows few else.
“I'm sorry,” he says into the darkness between them.
Zed lets out a breath. Softly, he says, “You're not the problem.”
“Well, if you knew the guy I was in high school...”
That cracks a laugh out of him.
They drive to one of Bucky's favorite places, all velvet seating and low lights, food that reviewers rave about. Plus, they have that special with the cauliflower, and he figures if nothing else, it'll remind Zed of home. If Bucky hasn't visited in months, who's to say how long it's been for the star football player?
When they enter the building, Zed's eyes find him, and Bucky watches him swallow.
They're led to a booth, where they sit opposite one another. Giddy heat travels up Bucky's spine as Zed takes him in as he couldn't in the dark.
Zed says, “You look good.”
Bucky can tell he means it. He's blushing a little.
Bucky lets himself smile. “I'm not always happy, but I'm a lot better than I was way back when.”
“Your hair's... I never realized it was so curly.”
“Oh, you should've seen it when it was past my shoulders. The kids wouldn't shut up about it. I had to cut it, though. Just didn't look great with my face.” Now, it's just long enough to stuff into a tight ponytail, which pleases him.
And Zed doesn't say anything about it, but Bucky knows he noticed the long pink-and-green skirt. It's hard not to, being pink and green. Zed must've seen, too, in the gym, that his kids wore what they wanted. Skirts, pants, whatever. Sometimes they look sort of mismatched, but it's what Bucky had wished for when he was sixteen and desperate to understand himself.
“What's it like?” Zed asks, filling the lull in their conversation. “Coaching.”
“Well, they're all little divas, so you can imagine.”
“Basically, you're in charge of a bunch of mini Buckies.”
Bucky snorts, shakes his head. He admits, “Sometimes it does feel that way.” Hesitates. Softer, “Some of them do remind me of...” He can't bring himself to say it, so he just gestures halfheartedly between them. “You get used to having kids cry in your office, but also, you don't. I just hope I can be something for them that I never had for myself.” Another reason, at least, not to walk off that ledge.
He's been there, and Zed remembers, by the way his eyes touch on Bucky and hold. Zed starts to raise one hand, but then he loses his nerve, dropping it to the table.
Bucky quiets. “You should ask me if I'm seeing anyone.”
Zed's eyes widen. “Are you?”
“I dumped my last ex a few months ago. Lucky you.”
Surprise floods Zed's face, bright and sweet and dazzled. He is dazzled. But then his eyes drop. “You, uh, you should know that—”
“Addison's my cousin. I know.”
And even if he didn't, this town isn't that small, and that kind of news travels fast. Bucky would be surprised if anyone didn't know about star players Zed Necrodopolis and Addison Wells's big breakup blowout. It's all his kids have talked about for weeks, easy.
...Bucky had sort of figured that was why Zed had reached out to him, asked if he wanted to catch up.
Zed seems to deliberate something, that little divot forming between his brows, but then the waiter shows up, and he lets it go.
Bucky's had dinner with a number of guys before, but none of those guys were ever Zed. Everything they did was behind closed and carefully locked doors. A secret. And sneaking around had been fun, in some ways, but it was also exhausting, and Bucky couldn't bring himself to go through it a second time, after Zed. He'd chosen this town based on what he'd heard of it, the rumors, the people. He could hold another man's hand while walking down the street, and for the most part, people didn't bat an eye.
Bucky scrutinizes Zed, tries to pinpoint why the guy had come all the way here. But Zed's still a little too pleasant, a little too nice. He's always been nice, but something about this puts a bad taste in Bucky's mouth. He's known Zed a long time, even if it was years buried, and he could tell even when Zed was putting on airs in his televised interviews.
But what is he feeling, right now? What in the world was he thinking, driving so many hours to some no-name town, watching Bucky's kids perform their routine, taking him out to dinner...
A bright, hot feeling flickers in Bucky's chest, something like fireflies. He tries to tell himself not to get his hopes up, but that's the thing—he'd never had dinner with Zed before. Not like this. In the open, for anyone to see.
Zed pays, once they finish eating. Then they step outside, returning to Zed's car, the cold air oppressive, so bitter that Bucky could've convinced himself ice was forming on his skin.
Zed is about to open his car door when Bucky lashes out, pinching Zed's sleeve between his fingers. Zed jolt, wheels back, meeting his eyes so quickly Bucky grows dizzy.
He's too quiet, his tone almost emotionless, when he says, “You can come over. If you want.”
Zed blinks, swallows. An eternity passes while he mulls over the offer. Bucky manages not to shiver.
Then he returns, equally quiet, equally without feeling: “I would like that.”
They ride in silence.
Bucky's nice little apartment lies only a few blocks off the school. He jogs to work some days. If his students catch him in the act, they jeer at him, and then inevitably one or two of them turn it into a race—I'll beat you to the gym, Mr. Buchanan!—and he's holding back a laugh just thinking about those damn kids.
Zed breaks their silence when he cuts the car's engine. “Never seen that look on your face before.”
“What?”
“You know, the—” Zed loses his nerve. “Never mind.”
“No.” Bucky meets his eyes. His arrogance hasn't entirely gone away, just found new outlets. “You brought it up. You have to tell me now.”
Zed blushes, turning away. “You just look happy. You—You were never happy, in Seabrook.”
Bucky starts to argue with him, then pauses, thinking.
No. Zed is right. He hadn't been.
Bucky's cheeks warm. He busies himself with gathering his shit and fishing out his keys from his bag. “What about you, then? Are you happy?”
Zed sighs in a way that reveals to Bucky his answer. A sharp pain pierces his sternum.
If either of them deserves to be happy, it's Zed. Zed and his relentless optimism in the face of nigh-insurmountable odds. Zed's inhuman kindness. Zed's gumption and inner strength and pure resolve.
He was the first zombie to join the NFL. He was sung about in inspirational articles and plastered on world record charts.
And he still can't hold Bucky's gaze when Bucky asks him about his well-being. That's upsetting.
Bucky's still thinking about that, Zed's life, his happiness, when he ushers him into his apartment, slamming the door shut to keep out that bitter cold.
Zed comments, “Never felt any weather like that in Seabrook.”
Bucky shakes his head, peeling off his thick fur coat. “I have never gotten used to it.”
Zed hmms, not quite laughing. When Bucky chances a glance at him, Zed smiles, looking around, taking in the room.
The place screams Bucky, which is the only way Bucky would ever have it. Sequined pillows on the peach-colored couch. Framed cheer uniforms on the walls. Pompoms and hanging decorations that sparkle in the light. Fuzzy pink-and-green slippers that he slips on his feet before he enters the living space.
He asks Zed if he wants anything, but the zombie slowly shakes his head, his eyes following Bucky's figure. Bucky likes the attention. He hasn't had a guy over in months, and his last boyfriend had been fine, but Bucky's beginning to realize that he has some terribly high standards, and it's starting to feel like nobody can impress him.
Well. Not nobody.
Bucky tries to shake off that thought, but it clings to him as he watches Zed take a spot on the couch. Stalling, he offers to make them tea, and Zed laughs. “I could use a hand-warmer, actually. But I can't promise I'll drink it.”
Grinning, Bucky brews them lemon tea, and they sit side-by-side, staring into the warmth of their mugs.
Zed ventures into the comfortable quiet, “You look really good. I was hoping you were doing well, but... I'm glad.”
Bucky presses his lips together. Whispers, “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Zed echoes. He gazes at Bucky. In repose, his face has become aged, worn. He's no longer the kid Bucky had fallen for in high school, but he's pretty close. Just haggard. Faded. “I've, um...” He keeps fidgeting with his mug, starting to reach out, remembering he's holding it, trying to determine whether he needed a coaster to put the mug on the side table. “I-I know Addison is your cousin, and all, but I—”
Bucky speaks over him. “I don't talk with her that much anymore. Besides, you never told me your side of it.”
He knows Addison's. The world knows Addison's. But Bucky especially. He'd woken up that morning to text wall after text wall, I can't believe I never knew his heart and How could he be so cruel.
It'd done misery to Zed's reputation, which was already precarious. He'd bounced between teams, though, and as far as Bucky's aware, Zed does still have a team to call his own. He's—a good player, even if they don't like anything else about him.
Zed gazes into his mug. He gives it a slow, tentative sip, his nose wrinkling from the steam. Then he murmurs, more to the mug than to Bucky, “You're sure you want to hear it?”
Bucky glares at him, not that Zed sees. “You know how I felt about you.”
“But I—”
“Yes, I want to know. If you'll tell me.”
Zed bites into his lip, breathes in through his nose.
His tone softens like the onset of an apology.
“She figured it out. She kept bringing up a wedding, a house, kids—and one day, she realized my heart wasn't in it.”
Zed lets out a long sigh.
“I always told myself she'd learn eventually. I just thought I'd have more time. But with the last season, I didn't have enough energy to keep it up. Something in me gave.”
When Zed falters, Bucky asks, “Did you cheat on her?” It's all celebrity news would talk about for what felt like forever.
Zed looks at him, and Bucky shrugs. “Besides us.”
“No. Not again. After, uh, you know when, I decided, either I was with her, or I wasn't... and I chose her. I just kept thinking, maybe, eventually... I'd feel what she felt.”
Bucky blows out a long sigh. Addison used to gush to him about her perfect boyfriend. Small wonder she was so shaken up after. “Least she didn't use your being a zombie against you.”
“She was hurt, not vengeful. Still...” He closes his eyes. God, Zed's worn out. “People talk, you know? Even if she didn't say it, people fill in their own blanks. He couldn't provide for her because he's undead. He's a monster. You know.”
Bucky can't stop himself from laying a hand over Zed's. Zed flinches from the contact, but he doesn't pull away. His eyes fall open, and he gazes down at Bucky's fingers, his gaze glassy, entranced.
Gently, Bucky strokes his thumb across Zed's knuckles. He puts down his empty mug with his other hand, then faces him anew, letting his other hand shadow Zed's, too. “You know that shit's not true.”
Zed exhales. “Hard to believe when everyone's saying it about you.”
“I know. That shit's not true.”
Zed's flushing a little. He can't do much, what with his complexion, but it's there. “...Thanks, Bucky.”
Bucky regards him, his heart beginning to ache. He thinks he knows this feeling.
He asks, “You seen your family recently?”
Zed won't look at him. “It's hard to make time.”
“Bonzo, Eliza...”
Zed shakes his head.
Bucky hesitates. “Then why the hell are you here?”
Zed blushes, his cheeks close to purple.
Bucky knows, in that moment. Zed doesn't need to say it.
But still, Zed is Zed. He has to look Bucky in the eyes. Has to give away his kindness.
“You always made me feel better. Whatever I was going through. You were honest with me. Tough, but fair.”
Bucky starts to look away, his heartbeat rapidly increasing. “I was a broken-up kid.”
“You were what I needed.”
Fuck. Fuck.
“Was I?”
“I wish I was braver, when we were younger. I wish I'd said something.”
Remembering Seabrook always knots up Bucky's stomach. “You told me once that I couldn't go with who I wanted to Prawn. That—I mean... Even if you said something, I doubt anything would've changed.”
“I wish it had,” Zed whispers.
Bucky's hands have begun to quiver. He has to take them away from Zed's. “I needed to get away. To explore myself. I was such a mess back then. I-I can't believe you miss those days.”
His chest pinches. He knows, somehow, what Zed is going to say a second before he says it:
“I miss you.”
Bucky's heart squeezes fitfully.
He risks a glance at Zed. Zed's watching him, openly wistful, his hands open but empty. God. It all brings Bucky back to the feel of the dirt under the bleachers, his palms sweating as he hoped that Zed would rip his throat out—and the glorious, horrific pleasure when he didn't.
Bucky wants to say something, but he can't think of words, and his throat's so tight he doubts he could eke any out.
Zed holds out his hand into the space between them.
Still, Bucky hesitates. It's been so long. He's different; Zed's different. And god, Zed is so lonely. Can Bucky really—
“Please, tell me,” Zed breathes. “Just tell me if you don't feel it anymore.”
Bucky suddenly knows what he is incapable of doing.
Zed still gasps when he takes his hand, when he pulls him closer.
He doesn't know who closes the space between them first, but it doesn't matter. His eyes fall closed just as Zed's lips touch his.
Yes.
He's.... familiar. Bucky is beguiled by it, by him. Still strong and firm and sweet, still a little too cold. Still Zed.
Bucky wants to cry.
Had they ever kissed like this before? Gently, exploring. Taking the time to study one another. There was so much desperation in their youth. Every kiss felt like their last one. Bucky had never taken the time to hold Zed's head in his hands, to feel his cheekbones and his jawline, to kiss him without trying to burn the both of them down.
Zed moans first, weakly, trying to hold back. The sound of his pleasure warms Bucky from within, soaring through his veins, all the way to his toes. He kisses him deeper, sighing. Zed's arms fell to his waist, pulling tight as Bucky embraces him at the neck.
Zed is a memory and a future he'd wished for and now, now, now. He'd been cold at first, but he's warming under Bucky's touch, coming to life. He whimpers when Bucky runs his fingers along the back of his neck, brushing against the baby curls of his hair. They keep shifting around each other, cinching tighter, knotlike. Finally, their legs open and entwine, and Bucky can feel Zed breathing and pushing against him, can feel his heat and pressure. His want.
Bucky breaks their kiss for long enough to ask, “Should we move to my bed?”
Zed stares at him, then blushes again. “O-Oh—We don't have to—”
Bucky levels him with a look. “And if I want to?”
Zed starts to laugh. “I hope you know you mean more to me than—than sex.”
Bucky's giggling, too. He's never really giggled with another man before. Not like this. “It's not unnatural to want to fuck someone you find attractive.”
“You are,” Zed blurts, and now Bucky's face grows hot, “you look so good, Bucky. You've—You've really become your own person.” His hands tighten around Bucky's waist, and he mumbles, “I always knew you'd kill in a skirt.”
Bucky's heart flutters. “You...” He doesn't want to lie to Zed and say he looks good, too. He looks exhausted. “You look better.”
Zed laughs, then sighs, and the sadness in it causes Bucky to thrum. “I wish I'd reached out sooner. God, I'm such a coward.”
Bucky presses his head to Zed's shoulder. Murmurs, “You have me now. Well?”
Zed's arms encircle him, and he lifts Bucky up. Bucky grows near-breathless with giddiness as Zed carries him to his bed.
And god, he's never laughed like this during sex. He's so warm he thinks he could start a fire. He kisses Zed everywhere he can reach, and then Zed's mouth lowers, and his hands flit up Bucky's skirt. He moans when he finds Bucky's dick, and the sheer, wet warmth of him causes Bucky's mind to transcend.
It's almost like they're kids again, but that fear, that guilty craving's dissipated, leaving behind just the warmth of one another and the joy of it. Zed can't stop smiling, even after Bucky's reached into his pants and stroked at his cock. Even as he climaxes, his smile won't go away.
And the worst of his tension begins to ease off of him.
The best part isn't even the sex. It's after, once they've washed up and Bucky has found every blanket in his apartment, and they've piled them on his bed and burrowed under them, wearing nothing but one another's scent, nestled together, close and fearless and free.
Bucky shuts his eyes, emanating happiness.
He wakes to a cold bed.
Groggy from sleep, stiff from the sex, Bucky rises, a pale dread overcoming him. He carries it in his stomach, the sensation sinking, rooting deeper as he stumbles around his room, finding his bathrobe, searching his living space but forgetting what for.
Then he opens the front door, and a cold blast of wind sweeps across his face.
He sees Zed standing out in the freezing cold, fully dressed, and he remembers.
Bucky should have put on some shoes. His feet protest with cold as he creeps out onto the front porch and halts beside Zed, scrutinizing his face.
Zed looks as tired as Bucky feels. He's staring out onto the street, at the far horizon. The sky lies still and dark, a couple stars twinkling high above them.
“What are you doing?” Bucky asks. His tone is raspy from exhaustion.
So is Zed's. “Watching the sun rise.”
Bucky looks. He notices the golden thumbprint at the very edge of the dark sky.
Bucky swallows. He's shivering. “And then what? Do you leave?”
Zed hesitates, which gives him away.
Bucky's eyes swim. Ridiculously, he starts to cry. Internally, he curses at himself. Shouldn't have gotten his stupid hopes up. God dammit, he knows Zed. Zed isn't out. What would the country, the world, make of that, a zombie on their football team who was also gay?
Zed's voice wavers. Bucky can't see him, but he feels Zed shifting uneasily. Good, he thinks. “H-Hey, Bucky, it's oka—”
“I fucking love you, Zed.”
He hadn't thought he was going to say that. But now it's out. And he knows it to be the truth. His dread still blooms in his gut, cold in its clarity.
Bucky considers taking it back, but he figures, what the hell. Zed might as well know.
“Oh,” says Zed, a few seconds delayed.
Bucky sniffles, hard. “I can't keep letting you in my life. You just break my heart, again and again.”
Zed lets out a small sound—weak, animal-like, pained.
Then his hands take Bucky's shoulders, and he's kissing Bucky, softly, sweetly.
It feels too much like a goodbye. Bucky pulls back, his breath ragged. “Just go,” he says.
But Zed doesn't. Unsteadily, he says, “I-I don't want to.”
“But you don't want to be out. Do you?”
“I-I...”
Fuck. This isn't fair to Zed.
But Zed is out of his mind in his misery. He can't keep going on like this. Something has to change.
Bucky doesn't know if the change can be him, but god, couldn't he hope? Couldn't he try?
Zed still hasn't said anything. Bucky considers making it a little easier on him—You don't have to come out right this second—Maybe we can figure something out—
when Zed whispers, “I didn't know you felt that way about me.”
A broken laugh escapes Bucky. “Really?” And here he thought it radiated from him.
Zed clutches him. “I-I love you too, Bucky.”
Bucky's heart latches.
He almost misses the rest of Zed's words, barely laced with sound: “I really want to be with you. I...”
Shakily, Bucky wraps his arms around him. It's so cold outside that Zed actually feels warm.
“Then, be with me. What's stopping you?”
Zed holds him, silent. Bucky can sense him really thinking about that. What is stopping him?
Zed squeezes him just before he leans down, pressing his forehead to Bucky's. He's close enough that Bucky can see him clearly, through the tears.
“Just me, I think,” Zed breathes. “But m-maybe I shouldn't let him hold me back any longer.”
A brilliant light spills across them as the sun rises up from its bed in the sky. Zed's breath hitches, and he kisses Bucky again in the morning sunbeam.