My Sweet Brownie

Drabbles!

1. Silence.

"Why aren't you talking Fritz?"

Fritz Smith cringed at the question, thinking back to the memory.

Mike stomped twice, Jeremy returning it with a single clap; repeating that cycle several times before they broke into song.

"We-" Jeremy sang.

Mike chimed in. "Will-

"We"

"Will"

And together they shouted: "Rock you!" Then repeated the cycle, a mischievous grin on each of their smug faces for they knew Fritz was in the middle of a long call with an important client. They especially knew this would tick him off.

As they went on with the playful annoyance, Fritz's voice was raising louder and louder as the two in the same room did as well. It was pointless to walk out, they would only follow. After a while, Fritz just couldn't take it anymore, screeching till his throat grew raw.

Now into the present, where Fritz is now straining to explain to question bringer of the event while combatting the urge to snap at the snickering couple of morons behind him.

2. Laughter.

The first time Mike found the brightest laugh was the first time Jeremy ever saw Mike grin for a full six hours.

3. Zumba.

Since Jeremy's dad had been deployed into service, Jeremy's mother would always take her son out with her to the gym. The only classes she ever took were those of Spanish dancing or in a much more preferred title: Zumba.

Jeremy and his mother went every Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday and occasionally Sunday, well, that is until Jeremy got his night time job. It ruined their Mommy-Son time. Though, with news of a holiday-vacation coming around, their time together was restored. They even had someone tag along.

Mike Schmidt had no idea what he was doing that was so funny, but apparently, it sure did tickle J. Fitz and his mother. And the instructor.

And the entire class.

4. Zombie.

"Go check out the gym, short stack." A man told a well-known tuff of brown hair as they did their daily check of their perimeter.

The zombie outbreak began about a year ago, the living dead making their way around the world, devouring people ranging from infants to the elderly. As expected, those two groups were taken first. Jeremy Fitzgerald and his family were sent out of their home and followed a survivor and their crew.

When the teen stumbled into the gym, trembling arms hugging a shotgun to his chest, he found something that he thought would be gone forever. A tall figure, thin and pale, walking about the Zumba dance studio with a shotgun much alike Jeremy's slung around the shoulder.

A smile spread across Jeremy's face as he ran forward, his steps light. The figure stumbled to a stop before turning to show something terrible. A zombie's features across his best friend's, shooting down the other's grin. Jeremy took a few steps back when the undead reached an arm out to him, attempting to grab and tear into his sensitive skin.

Jeremy shook his head, green eyes scanning the veined and dirty face, black hair slumping across the forehead. Jeremy cringed at the dead eyes watching its dinner's eyes closing and small tears prickling at the edges. Then full tears rushing down his cheeks. "Mike.."

He shook his head again and again, hoping that this was some messed up dream. Hoping that this wasn't real. "No.. Mike.."

Mike tilted his head back, the nerves not caring much to bring it back up to stare at the crying teen. At its food. At its dinner. At its best friend. "Jerrrr" he grumbled back, stumbling backward; a single hand still outstretched to try and grasp at smaller being. The smaller one whined at the nails that slid against his forehead and eyebrow. The zombie had fallen over, now looking up at the sky. "Jerrr" it grumbled out again before something metal was pressed against his head. He made a grunt of surprise, giving a what seemed like confused expression to the teen with a shaky finger on the trigger.