(a/n: Huh.

I am a hopeless fangirl. ({…} is the only zombie that can make me drool.)

Fair warning: There are a lot of adjectives in this, and long sentences. :| I am a description whore.)

"Your bedhead would make Nicolas Cage proud, Hanna." The zombie smirked softly as he set the dirty dishes from the day before in the sink.

Hanna looked over his shoulder, shirt half off, changing. "Did you just make a joke?" A lopsided grin lit up his face.

Constantine only shook his head with a tiny smile in reply, sauntering over with his long-legged grace to take a paper crane in hand, and scrutinized it disinterestedly. He turned it around in his gloved fingers, then placed it back on the little stack of romance novels and classic literature beside the mattress. (The chair was occupied by Hanna's laptop and a stack of papers that would likely topple if he so much as breathed wrong.) He turned his eyes to Hanna, who was squirming into that flatteringly baggy magenta button-down. (Why didn't he just unbutton it like any other person…? But no. He had to slide it on over his head, because he was Hanna.)

The staples glinted in the pale early moon light through the window.

Napoleon reached a hand out, letting it settle on Hanna's bony broad shoulder. He had a need to feel the younger man's presence—ensure he was there, he was safe, he was breathing, he was alive. Had a need for touch. Maybe because it had been such a long time since he really had anyone to care about and protect. As far as he knew.

Hanna's grin changed to an expression of mild surprise—but it wasn't a bad or unhappy expression. He gave a smaller, softer smile, placing one awkward pale hand palm-flat across Imhotep's leather-encased knuckles.

The blue-green man's expression reverted to the usual one of slight concern and unreadability.

Hanna smiled unwaveringly up at him, then slid out from under his grasp to finish dressing, and to tend to his Nic Cage bedhead. As he applied copious amounts of gel and comb to his hair, he spoke.

"Yanno, Julius, you're pretty lucky in some ways." He frowned at his reflection, fighting with an unruly curl.

"Enlighten me."

Hanna chuckled. He'd never expected a dead man to be so gosh darn sarcastic. "Well, I mean, if you wanna read in the dark, you've got a built in flashlight." He threw a grin over his shoulder, straightening up to face Marco. "Man." He was going to change to subject. "We're pretty much nocturnal, huh?" He flung himself face first onto his mattress, spreading his limbs out wide.

Alexander shook his head in bemusement. This redheaded man never could stay on topic. "Considering the number of establishments open late or all night, it is rather less difficult than one would expect." He paused. "And it certainly helps to keep me mostly concealed." He folded his legs beneath him, sitting beside Hanna's bed, careful not to overturn his papers, brushing his hand against Hanna's arm.

Hanna sat up with a little laugh. "It sure can be convenient." He smiled at his lanky undead friend. Laced their fingers together. "You like touch don't you?" Another subject change. He slithered out of the bed, onto the floor in front of Gallahad.

Orpheus frowned in that familiar way. Said, "What makes you think that?" The boy was so perceptive, sometimes. Perhaps too much so. But he tightened his hold on Hanna's skinny fingers.

Hanna chuckled again, and took Gabriel's other hand in his. He squeezed playfully, and look up at the man's glowing eyes. He wore a silly smile. "I dunno." He pulled the glove off of the zombie's left hand, and pressed his cheek into the wide bluish palm. "I just get that feeling." The look in his eyes was teasing.

George splayed his long fingers out, feeling the strange stiff texture of gelled hair. He pulled Hanna into his lap and wrapped his arms around him. "Perhaps you are correct."

Hanna giggled (the manliest giggle you ever did hear) and burrowed into Ozymandias' cool embrace. He sighed contentedly.

"Yanno, I've realized something." Hanna savored the comfort of being held as if he were a precious thing. Person.

"And what might that be?"

The low rumble of Ringo's voice vibrated through his chest, loud in Hanna's ear. Hanna smiled.

"Well, I've come to the conclusion that, besides girls with big boobs, I also like tall handsome zombies with real long legs." He grinned into Paul's orange shirt.

"That so?" Adam mumbled quietly. "Good."

He smirked, and held Hanna close.

/END.

(a/n: looooololol this totally ended up as a shipping fic. /creys)