Actions

Work Header

Rating:
Archive Warning:
Category:
Fandoms:
Relationships:
Characters:
Additional Tags:
Language:
English
Stats:
Published:
2025-12-15
Words:
1,700
Chapters:
1/1
Comments:
27
Kudos:
113
Bookmarks:
16
Hits:
372

i've got nothing to lose, you've got nothing to say

Summary:

The day has crept into late afternoon, everyone is finally settling in to Marm and Avid's house after the fiasco of yesterday, and Viking has a plan.

See, he's been chasing Legundo around, grasping at the tiniest scraps of information, for what feels like the entire time he's been lost in these woods. And he's sick of it. Today, after a moment of relative calm and productivity, he's going to sit Legs down and actually talk to him.

He's only asking for help with his armor, what could possibly happen?

Notes:

viking on stream the other day: i love information! i love knowing things!
me: bet

not strictly "inspired by" but for sure heavily influenced by bsch. because how could it not be. happy december!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

The day has crept into late afternoon, everyone is finally settling in to Marm and Avid's house after the fiasco of yesterday, and Viking has a plan.

See, he's been chasing Legundo around, grasping at the tiniest scraps of information, for what feels like the entire time he's been lost in these woods. And he's sick of it. Today, after a moment of relative calm and productivity, he's going to sit Legs down and actually talk to him.

Apo is… skeptical.

"He's like the sketchiest person here, 'King. I don't know if talking to him alone is really smart." They cross their arms, turning from the enchanting table they'd managed to cobble together. "And I'm still not convinced he doesn't know where the candy house is, and wants it all to himself."

Viking waves a hand. "Nah, nah, I don't think he's lying about that. This guy wouldn't know fun and whimsy if it bit him, just look at him." He tosses Apo his hat. "Here, see if you can get any prot on this one. And listen, it'll be fine. I'm only asking for help with my armor, what could possibly happen?"

::

An hour later, Viking drums his fingers restlessly on the top of the fence bordering the small garden next to the house. Legundo is alternately harvesting potatoes and watching the perimeter, having acknowledged Viking's presence with little more than a glance. Which, okay, rude, but Viking eyes him curiously for a moment. There's something weird about the way Legundo moves that he can't quite put his finger on; like he's not all there, or like he barely has enough weight to him to keep his feet on the ground.

Viking shakes his head. Not the point. He takes a breath, stopping himself from fidgeting with a conscious effort. He's being chill right now. Chill and casual, and not at all impatient.

"Hey, listen, Legs. Can we talk?" He winces. He's totally being impatient. And of course he had to say it like that - what is this, a breakup?

Legs barely makes eye contact. “Yeah, what’s up? I’m talking. We’re talking.” He moves on to the next row of potatoes, and Viking is so, so close to physically holding this man down to be able to have anything approaching an actual conversation.

…He’s also reluctantly aware that crowding Legundo against a wall would not end well. For either of them.

So instead he pulls out a stack of string and cobwebs all stuck together with attic dust. “What’s up is I’m still cold, Legs, can you show me the insulation thing again? I get how the boots work but my pants are still-“

Legs finally looks up at him with a sudden, surprised laugh, and grabs the items from him mid-sentence. “Okay, yeah, let me see - Here, you need the wool first.” He starts tugging at the string, spinning a few strands between his fingers into a loose yarn.

“Right, right. Thanks.” Viking fights back a smile and bends down to finish harvesting the potatoes. Casual. He just has to keep it casual. He can do that. “So, how’d you learn to do all this, anyway?”

In the corner of his vision, Legs’ hands stutter in their movements, his amusement fading. “Like I said. I’ve been here before.”

Viking shrugs. “Sure, but I’ve been stuck out here too, for, what, five days? And I feel like I’m still pretty clueless.” He laughs, gesturing vaguely. “Like, you’re literally doing the work to keep me alive as we speak. You gonna tell me that’s a skill issue?”

“It’s…” Legundo tilts his head. A grimace flashes across his face; Viking barely catches it before it’s gone again. “Hm.”

Viking lets the silence hang. He pulls up another potato.

“It was… kind of a figure it out or die sort of situation.” Legs is back to deftly twisting the string around itself, and Viking pretends not to notice the sideways glances shot his way every few seconds. “So I figured it out.”

“By yourself.” Viking almost makes it a question. But it’s not, really.

Legundo doesn’t answer.

The silence stretches on again. Viking brushes dirt off of a potato. The eyes on this one have grown roots so long they’ve started tangling around one another; he dangles it idly in front of his face, watching it spin slightly back and forth, not quite settling into stillness. Through the network of roots, he can see Legundo finishing up with the wad of string. A mass of off-white yarn now hangs coiled from his hands, and he weighs it consideringly with a distant look on his face.

By now the sun has begun to set over the tops of the tallest pines - golden rays of light scatter across the yard, revealing the dingy, trodden-upon layers of snow and dirt to be as strikingly picturesque as the mountain of frost-covered fruit trees they’d left behind.

Legundo turns to rest his arms against a fence post and tilts his face into the light. Viking watches as, for the first time since they met, tension bleeds out of the set of his shoulders.

“… I had a dog, for a while.”

It takes a moment for the statement to sink in, and then Viking winces at the past tense. “Oh. Ouch.” He blinks sun spots out of his eyes, reaching for the next patch of soil, but he’s run out of crops to harvest. He should find something else to do, to not just stare expectantly at Legundo; but this unexpected show of confidance makes him pause, crouched awkwardly in the dirt. “What, um… what happened?”

A deep breath, and a short sigh. Legundo turns away from the sunset and pushes up off of the fencepost. “Weirdly strong zombie, day fifty-nine,” he says shortly.

…What?

The hair on the back of Viking's neck stands up. Surely he heard that wrong.

Legs holds out the length of yarn, oblivious. “Now come here so I can measure-“

“Day - hold on." Viking stands abruptly, heart pounding. He’s stepping all over the new shoots coming up, but it hardly matters. His deliberate calm is lost in a slow wave of dread. “Day what?”

Legundo freezes, eyes wide, which is all the confirmation that Viking needs. Dread sharpens into fear.

“...That’s. Nothing." Legs says, eyes darting to the fence gate across the farm. "Don’t worry about it, I…”

Viking tunes him out, pacing, talking himself through the slowly dawning implications of what day fifty-nine means for him and Apo and the rest of their little survival crew. “You - what, you were out here for months? Oh, my god, we - we can’t survive out here for months, we barely had a roof over our heads yesterday!" He laughs, slightly hysterical. "How did you even get out of here the first time? We have to start looking for a way to - wait.” He stops. His brain struggles briefly to catch up to his mouth, but that’s… hold on. He's been so stupid. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Legs.”

Legs is inching toward the house, hands raised placatingly. “Look, just forget I said that, it’s not - everything’s going to be fine-“

Viking is dimly aware that he is freaking out, and that Legs is freaking out, and that he had started this conversation with the specific intent of both of them not freaking out. Right now he can't bring himself to care. He points a finger into Legundo’s chest, pushing him backward.

“You were here. For fifty… for at least fifty-nine days. And then you left. You went somewhere else, and you were not here, freezing to death in a remote forest.” Viking is trembling, his voice tinged with a note of hysteria he can’t seem to stop. “Legundo. Legs. Buddy. Why did you come back?!”

The sun slips behind the trees and the world turns grey as Legundo’s back hits the wall of the house.

In the same second, like a reflex, his fist comes flying out to catch Viking square in the face.

A blur, and then Viking is kneeling on the ground, blood dripping from his nose into the tilled soil. There’s a slam as Legundo throws open the gate, and then the quick, fading tsch-tsch-tsch of boots in the snow.

Oh… oh no.

Viking tries to get up, but his ears are ringing and his vision is fading at the edges. By the time he staggers to his feet, Drift has come running downstairs and burst through the side door in a panic, and Legs has vanished into the long, dark shadows of the forest.

Right. Yeah. He was supposed to not do all that.

Drift hovers at his side, asking are you okay, did he hit you, what’s going on; and everyone else isn’t far behind. Their heads poke out the door one by one, looking around for monsters, for Legundo, for an explanation. A fresh wave of dread washes over Viking at the thought of telling them all what just happened. How they might all be doomed to die out here.

The front of his sweater is spotted with red.

Then in a blink, Apo is there. She knocks her shoulder into his, solid and warm. “Hey. Here.”

He stares dumbly at her, and she sighs and presses something to his nose, tugging at his hand until he manages to hold it in place, wincing. The texture is familiar, and he goes a little cross-eyed (which hurts, ow) to see it.

Oh, it’s one of her nice embroidered napkins. Pink, with little cherries; they’d brought them to eat off of in case the candy house also had edible plates. Without thinking, Viking pulls it away.

Apo presses his hand back in place with a sigh. “Don’t bleed out five feet away from the house, yeah?”

“...Yeah. Thanks.” He can barely hear his own voice, congested and muffled behind the fabric.

Everyone else has gone silent, but he can feel them all still staring.

Apo ignores them. “C’mon. Inside.”

He stumbles after her, shuddering at the chill as the light fades entirely and the wind begins to howl in the distance.

At least Legs has that extra wool, wherever he is tonight.

Notes:

*frantically posting this the day before ep 2 drops* ok listen i'm only HALF lying about the dog, technically yes it's from the endless night 100days and happens on day 5 but the yeeter weakness sprinter zombie is very real and scary i promise

also *yelling from the rooftops* i love apo & viking roommates!! they were not going to be a relationship tag but stole my heart and the scene enough to deserve one. ideal dynamic.