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Momentary Distractions	By : Sypheria Category: +G through L > Left 4 Dead Views: 2578 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Left 4 Dead universe and I make no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Momentary Distractions
- 1
Author’s Note: This is a roleplay between myself and a friend from January 2012. The goal was to encourage her to get used to roleplaying Canon characters and we chose Left 4 Dead for having more flexible characters than most fandoms, with me playing Zoey and her Francis. This isn’t the best roleplay we’ve had by far, since we were both exploring the characters, but I decided that, with some editing to transform it into a story, it was good enough to post here. Sadly, we never finished it (it was originally planned to span all six campaigns) and we probably never will, but there’s two chapters worth of content I can post. The next chapter will go up soon. Reviews, as always, are appreciated.

I have full permission from my friend to post this, who would prefer to remain anonymous, but I will give proof to the admins if they ever want to check that claim out.

Chapter tags: No sexual content, minor sexual tension

Momentary Distractions

Chapter One: Sofa, So Good

            Zoey opened her eyes again, the floor uncomfortable, her medpack not exactly the best pillow the world had ever seen. She sighed and stared at the room in front of her, the area darkened, just a small nightlight casting a few areas into a soft glow. The hospital was quiet, disturbingly so. The infected were there, she knew it, but she couldn’t hear anything, even trying her best. She reached out in front of her and gripped her pistol tightly. The cold steel comforted her mind a little and she rested her head back on the makeshift pillow. She had no blanket to keep warm, just the residual heat trapped in the cooling, dead building. She looked over her shoulder at Francis, a small glare at him for taking the couch, which was comfier and held his body heat more easily than her floor, keeping him warmer.

            Sighing, she turned back. It was fair. They’d drawn straws, well, bullet casings, one of which was spent and she’d lost. Doesn’t mean I have to like it… she thought to herself in a small grumble. She looked back at Francis, wondering how he was coping. That charging infected had hit him like a rhino earlier and he was understandably unhappy at the time. A few hours had passed since then, the group taking a break in the saferoom they’d constructed in a hospital office lounge just outside the main lobby.

            Couch or no, though, Francis couldn’t sleep. His ribs ached, the infected were too damned quiet and the couch had clearly needed replacing long before the end of the world. The wood was splintery and sticking out at odd angles. The cushions were hardly that and he fell right through them, onto the wooden supports. He was beginning to think he was actually shafted, getting the couch. At least on the floor, one had their weight dispersed. He groaned and turned on his side, which was not only even less comfortable, but actually hurt. Sitting up, he ran a gloved hand over his shaved head. He wasn’t naturally bald, of course, and he was growing hair fast. Maybe there was a razor he could pick up in the hospital somewhere? He was beginning to think that maybe the collapse of the system wasn’t the best thing to happen to him after all. He found his eyes resting on Zoey, the young woman appearing to be fast asleep. “I hate couches,” he mumbled angrily to himself, slouching and crossing his arms.

            Zoey heard his distinctive grumbling voice and she turned, brushing a little hair out of her eyes. “You’re awake then,” she said softly, aware that Bill and Louis were in the other room and they had fallen asleep the moment their heads hit their tables. She looked up at him, trying to focus on his features, the lack of light making it a little difficult at this distance. She rubbed at her eyes sleepily. “I haven’t been able to sleep… you?” she asked.

            “On this thing? I’d have a better time on a rusty bed of nails,” he complained, actually glad that she was awake, if only to have someone else to complain to for a while. He doubted he’d had given the college girl the time of day before all this, unless it was to get her into bed. Now, he found that he truly depended on her and he’d happy take a punch or a shot or a charge for her, simply on the sole basis that he trusted her and respected her. The apocalypse had a funny way of opening someone’s eyes once in a while.

            Zoey smiled a little. “Guess we should have swapped bullet cases, eh?” She sat up and pushed the medpack away from her, shuffling along the floor to sit by him, back pressed against the couch. She looked him over, able to see him a lot more clearly now. “You’re still hurting?” she asked, reaching up to gently touch his bruised arm, her fingers tracing the edges of a deep purple bruise. “Do you want some morphine?” Two weeks before, she was just on the verge of dropping out of half of her classes. She never would have believed she’d be giving first aid to a ragtag biker… well, thug, really, but with the advent of absolutely everyone else dying, she needed him to protect her, just as he needed her. She found herself caring a lot for his wellbeing, whereas before the outbreak she would have stayed on the other side of the road from him, just in case.

            “Nah, best to save it for when we really need it. Right now, we’re in a good, solid room. Now, if we’re in the streets and I can’t get up, please, feel free to stick it in me!” He laughed and then coughed. “Ow. And frankly, it’d be rude to offer even a vampire this awful couch.” He shifted his weight as he complained, still looking thoroughly pissed at the Charger’s good shot.

            “Zombies, Francis.” She blushed a little and turned her head away slightly for a moment, her real major in college shining through for a moment there. She turned and knelt by him. “Still, you got hurt pretty bad… I should at least change your bandages or something…”

            “Why? So I can sweat those up too?” He had a bit of a ‘whatever’ look when she corrected him. They were pale and wanted to kill him. That fell under the same category, right? He shook his head at her. “Nah, better not. Zoey, why are you so concerned? I’ve had worse beatings from the livin’.” He was irritated still, but her concern was something that would’ve never been seen in his old life and he found he sort of liked it.

            “The living weren’t trying to eat you,” Zoey said, though she admitted she didn’t recall any of the infected actually biting at them with the intent to rip flesh off. Are they really zombies? she wondered idly. “And you’re also the strongest out of all of us, physically. Bill’s knee’s busted, Louis was an office worker and I’m… well…” she simply gestured to herself, her red jumper torn and dirty. “Yeah… if nothing else, we need you alive so we can stay alive.” She smiled softly though. “Besides, once we get under the gruff exterior, I think you’re actually a pretty good guy.”

            “Ha! You don’t know me, girl.” He laughed, but smiled at his own muscles. Yeah, I am pretty impressive, aren’t I? “Yeah, if I become one of those things, yer all gonna have a sweet tattooed Tank on yer hands.” He smiled at her now and grinned. “Ya think Bill would become a Smoker?” he joked.

            “Smokers are easy to fight. I’m more worried about Louis,” Zoey said, grinning and imitating a twitching monkey man. She shuddered. “Jockeys suck.” She looked at his tattoos, actually trying to pick out what any of them were now. “You’d be the most interesting looking Tank I’ve ever seen.”

            Francis laughed. He always figured Louis for a Jockey too. “Right?” He kissed his bicep, looking more relaxed. “You’d probably be a Witch, but the scariest one I’d ever seen. A Witch with a couple of pistols… Ugh, I just gave myself a new nightmare.” It was only half a joke.

            “Better than a Spitter,” she said, laughing as well, though trying to keep her voice down. She clambered to her feet and sat down on the armrest near Francis’ feet. “Oh, it feels good to laugh after today…” she said, stretching out her legs into the air.

            “It does,” he agreed. “The effect is probably, uh, lessened for Louis. That bastard can’t stop smiling. I’m beginin’ ta think it was something his old office put in the coffee, ya know?” He was done teasing for now and his ribs reset his emotion right back to irritated. He looked at Zoey as she joined him and said “Hell couch, right?”

            Zoey shifted around a little, unable to find an area that didn’t dig into her arse. “I’ll stick to the floor I think,” she said, standing again. She looked down at him and hesitated for a moment before leaning in and hugging him gently, careful to avoid his battered ribs. “I… thank you, Francis. I know that Charger was after me… I… thank you for pushing me out of the way.”

            “Aw, it’s no trouble, darlin’.” He hugged her back carefully with both arms. When they had thrown in together to survive, he honestly thought he’d see Zoey as more of a daughter or maybe even a little sister, not as the grown, strong college woman she was. He couldn’t believe that he’d find anything attractive while running for his life, but Zoey’s skinny form managed to prove him wrong. “Like ya said, I can actually take a hit.”

            “Still…” she said quietly. She pulled away a little, but kissed his cheek first. “I really, really appreciate it… you probably saved my life.” She shook her head, thinking. “No, you’ve saved it a lot more than just that once. You’re tough as hell and I really need someone like that in this situation, even if we’re not fighting. It’s good to know someone’s still not really affected by all this, even if they’re faking it. You’re tough and you’ve helped pull me through a few mental scrapes as well as zombie attacks…”

            “I aint fakin’. Seriously, this whole break down thing? It’s tough, but goddamn is it fun. Kinda miss havin’ the guys around, but eh, they’ve always known when to pick the winning side.” He laughed and gave her a quick kiss back and scooted carefully to the floor, deciding it would be better than the devil couch.

            Zoey grabbed her medpack and moved it under where Francis was about to sit. His was long used up and the pack left behind, but he was the injured one in need of a pillow. She positioned it carefully to be directly under Francis’ head when he lay down. “There you go, Francis,” she whispered. “That should be a little more comfortable for you.”

            He smiled at her and let his head rest on the pack. “You should kick Louis off the table, so you don’t hafta sleep on the cold floor. I even stole your pillow.” He tilted his head, tweezers poking his ear through the pack. He held her hand tightly and kissed her thin, delicate fingers as thanks.

            She blushed a little at the finger kiss, her cheeks already burning from the peck he’d given her just before. “Nah, I tried sleeping on a table once at college. Don’t ask. Anyway, not fun for me.” She looked around her and her blush deepened a little. In the dark of the room, she wondered if he could see it, if maybe her face was literally glowing. “Still, I do need a pillow. Would you mind… would you mind putting your good arm out? I can rest on that.”

            He chuckled lightly. It was bloody cold on the floor and frankly, he wasn’t about to complain where heat was going to come from! Even better, he could help Zoey. He stuck his arm out with his eyes closed, his other hand resting on his stomach. “Sure thing, darlin’.” He yawned and indeed, the floor was much better than the couch. At the time, none of them even thought to test the damn thing before drawing casings. Why would they? Who thought one could complain about comfort? It was even one of those awful old ones that didn’t let go of the cushions, he’d found after trying to rip them off earlier.

            Zoey smiled shyly and lay herself down on the ground again, wrapping her arms tightly around her chest, trying to stay warm in the cool air, as she rested her head on Francis’ arm. His muscles were hard beneath her cheek, but they were a comforting presence and better than the floor. She closed her eyes for a moment, facing away from him. She slowly shuffled a little backwards, her body seeking his to share heat.

            Francis bent his arm at the elbow, bringing her closer to him, half-hugging her. His back straight, his body actually comfortable compared to the couch and Zoey smelling wonderfully clean from the shower room nearby, smelling even somewhat feminine, he relaxed completely, finally able to think of sleep as a possibility.

            Zoey smiled softly at his half-hug and her hand reached up to squeeze his. His chest now against her back, his warmth surrounded her and was very comforting. “Thank you, Francis…” she whispered. “Goodnight… sleep well…” She hesitated, then reached forward for her gun, cradling it in her hands.
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Momentary Distractions