Multi-Fandom Oneshots

After

Prompt: "They could bump into each other in a shop or something, talk for a while, and when they r leaving, one of them sticks their hands in their pockets only to find the other's number."

Ship: Terrorsnuckle

Requested by: TrashDemon4Life

Brock's P.O.V

I scavenged a nearby freezer for some sort of defrosted food. I eventually found some chicken nuggets and a few pieces of broccoli at the bottom, which I put into my bag and continued searching. After the takeover of brain-washed geeks from the government, the world is slowly being restored; in big cities. I live in a small town off the highway, a couple of houses and shops so there isn't much food here. Everyone I knew were killed when a fight broke out in the middle of the night between the "Outters" and the townsfolk. Outters being hunters who kill people and eat them so the world "wont be infected", or that's what I've heard. 

I opened an unlabelled can and threw it at a wall, watching maggots splat across the molding paint and bricks making me gag. As I picked up an outdated box of lucky charms, I heard the beaten bell chime at the entrance, meaning either the wind knocked it open or somebody managed to find the shop. I reached for my switchblade and crept around the corner, peaking behind an isle to see a male with spiked up, brown hair in a trench coat looking at a can laid in his pale hand. He hadn't seen me so I flicked out my blade and slowly snuck towards him; as I got closer, however, he turned around and became face to face with me. 

We both stood there in shock at who was infront of us. His emerald green eyes made me lost and his features were soft with stubble on his chin, topping off his perfection. I saw a bead of sweat run down his forehead and down his temple as he looked into my hand. I remembered I was holding my blade and quickly put it away, holding my hands up infront of my chest. 

"Hey man! Sorry about that, I don't wanna be attacked or anything!" I stated as he seemed to relax a bit. He shook the can and pulled a face of disgust, simultaneously putting it back on the shelf.

"Eh, don't worry, it's understandable. Wit' all da bullshite dat's happnin' I don't blame ya." he spoke, a thick irish accent tangled into his words. It made my heart beat faster in my chest the more he said. 

We walked and talked around the shop for what felt like hours, we got to know eachother better and I learnt about his "crew" and what they did. Apparently they were in a few towns over and were looking for people to train up in case of another apocalypse. They were also looking for a replacement for their chief of fire-arms, seeing as their last one was shot to death; "Lui" I think he said his name was. I also learnt that his name is Brian, which I found cute and appropriate for his bubbly and out-going personality.

After ages of looking around, he reached in for a "goodbye hug" which i accepted with open arms. As we were hugging, however, I felt him stick something in my pocket and leave. I got confused and dug my hand into my hoodie only to pick out a small slip of paper with some numbers written on it.

"Call me <3 ##-####-######"